AN: Hey pretty readers, this is my first AC fanfiction ever. It is a short story; I'm planning for it to be several parts (perhaps 3-4). I'm editing part 2 right now, should be up in a day or two. Oh, one more very important thing: I actually made this as a reader-insert. However, because this is my first time writing, it is difficult for me to write it without a name, or a face, or a character. So I made my OC, Mia, and you, yes you, are her. I hope it isn't messed up and that you would enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed and its characters. Perhaps I own my OC, but since I put you as my OC, well, I don't know what I own.

PART 1

This early morning you dashed to the seashore where The Aquila was docked. The wind was a little chilly, but you didn't mind. The air was fresh as ever, and the sun was shining brightly. It would be a very beautiful morning if only you did not discover something. Your bag was hanging on your back, your huntress outfit was swinging gracefully with every move you made. No, you know you were never a huntress, but living in the colonial era and moreover, in Davenport Homestead, this huntress outfit might be the perfect choice for running compared to the long, cleavage-showing dress.

You had managed to live well in the foreign land, the land in which you were dumped by your aristocratic family from Europe simply because they found you not of their blood, but that of a lowly servant's. And you didn't wish to return to the awful memory. Instead, gratitude always filled your heart whenever this thought sprung up on your mind, as to thank Achilles and Connor who had gracefully accepted you the day Connor found you almost dead in the frontier. They took you in and cared for you, making sure you live, as your survival skill was even lower than those of the fox's. As time went, though, you learn bit by bit of how to survive, basic hunting and living outdoor skills, basic 'combat' skills. The last 'combat' lesson you learnt well was how-to-attack-groin-when-cornered. Connor did suffer.

Your long hair, tied into a ponytail, swung side to side as you ran. A little more, you gasped for air, just a little more and I'm there! You thought, encouraging yourself. This was all Connor's fault that you had to run. You knew from Achilles that this morning Connor would leave the Homestead for a voyage to the Cuban islands, for what matter it was not too clear. He had kept this from you, and oh what a mistake he had made! You were SO gonna get there, SO gonna go on the voyage with him. How on earth would he leave you and not say a word?! The voyage itself, as fast as it would be, would take two to three months. Wouldn't you miss him? Your cheeks turned red at the thought of that, you were not sure. Why would I miss him? You would like to think that it was the idea of open seas and travelling on a ship that enchanted you. Connor could not go without you. He. must. not.

From a distance, you could see a busy crowd of men, must be the crew of The Aquila. Not far there, sat a man named Peg Leg which talked in a fancy way. Huffing and puffing, you arrived at the dock, and at that point you were panting for life. You regretted skipping morning runs which Connor encouraged you to. Of course, being the only female there, eyes of the men darted to your being – your half panting, half yelling being.

"CONNOR!" You yelled on top on your lungs, head turning around and around to look for the native assassin. It was no way he could not hear you. NO, you thought, this could be dangerous. Perhaps he pretended not to hear you, he could be in that big ship of his, in the captain's cabin, and when you were searching for him, poof! The ship would sail! That should not happen! Growling impatiently, you ran once more through the dock and on to the ship. Sure enough, the crew tried to stop you but hell, you could care less. It was their captain that you needed.

As soon as you were about to climb up the stairs to the wheel deck, the door of the captain's cabin opened and out from it the gorgeous native assassin you had been looking for, complete in his captain attire. For a moment you stood there dumbfounded, gaping, admiring. You never saw him in such a fashion. His navy blue coat matched him perfectly, and his captain's hat only outlined his face more. Your eyes widened at the view of him, it was not the first time your little girl's heart stopped beating for a moment.

"Mia? What are you doing here?" Connor, as surprised as he was, could not hide the annoyance on his face accompanied by the gentleness of his voice. He knew trouble would come. And you were his trouble this time. He had tried to keep the voyage from you but it seemed you got your way nevertheless. He blamed the old man.

Connor approached you in an unamused style. He stopped right in front of you, his brows furrowed seeing your little baggage and your huntress outfit. She must be up to something, he thought.

"What am I doing here? Jesus, Connor! Why did you hide this from me? I am going with you to the Cubans!" You frowned like a little girl. You wanted it, and you were gonna get it. At least that was what on your mind.

Connor crossed his arms in front of his broad chest, his eyes scrutinizing your soul, and he sighed. "Go home." Then he turned away, walking towards the stairs.

What?

"Excuse me?"

"I said go home." He was persistent.

"Connor!" You tugged at his elbow, he kept walking, and you had to drag along. "Connor, please! Why won't you let me go with you? I promise I be good. Please, please, please…" You whimpered.

He gently peeled your fingers away, turned to you and helped you get up. Wasn't he so sweet despite being irritated?

"Mia, it is dangerous out there." He raised one hand as to point out the last word, "I cannot let you go with me because I don't want you to get hurt or slow me down. This is a mission, not a vacation. That is why I kept this from you because I know you would tag along." His hazel eyes stared at you point-blank, his voice stern. Damn stoic.

"I know, I know! But please, I promise I will take care not to get hurt, I promise! I won't be a bother too, I will behave. Please, Connor…" Your voice changed, and he could notice that your eyes had gone watery. Connor shook his head in exasperation. He might have dealt with The Templars, Redcoats, drunken crew members, but not with a nagging girl on the edge of crying.

"Would you please act your age?" And by acting your age he meant acting as an adult. For him, 18 was a legal age to act like an adult. No wonder he was 20 and he acted like a father to you.

"I am acting my age! Come on, Connor. I beg you," you grabbed his arm once more, only to unintentionally made a scene to which all the crew on Aquila stopped whatever they were doing to watch their Captain being nagged by a young woman.

Connor had to peel your hand away again, and this time, not wanting to draw more attention from his crew, he sighed defeat. "Fine. However, I demand you obey my words so long as we are on the ship. Understood? And stay where it is safe. I cannot risk you getting hurt." His words caused you to squeak like a school girl, you jumped out of excitement and hugged him tight, a habit. Connor tensed up at your action, to which you immediately released, your cheeks cherry red and your mouth beaming with grin.

"Thank you, Connor! I promise, I promise!" You giggled, jumped around and to the wheel deck, screaming excitement multiple times before greeting Mr. Faulkner, to which he greeted back with the good old laugh of his.

If Connor wanted to hide his amusement he should have tried harder. He tried to suppress the little smile – or more like a chuckle – seeing you. At last he shook his head with a tight guarded smile, and took the wheel.

Now that you thought about his words again, butterflies started to fill your stomach. "I cannot risk you getting hurt." Does it mean anything? Does he care that much about you? You smiled yourself silly as your cheeks heated up while you were gazing onto the horizon as the ship had started to sail.

"Full sail!" The captain commanded. From behind, you saw Connor steered the wheel in such a manly way, his legs spread wide, and his muscles contracting with every move he made on the wheel, although they were hidden behind those fabric. You wished you were the wheel.

"You heard the capt'n! Full sail! Catch every inch of wind!" Mr. Faulkner, the quartermaster of The Aquila, shouted to the crew.

The wind blew into your face, the smell of salty sea filled your nostril. You rested your elbows on the wooden railing of the ship behind you, and sighed relieve. Finally you were on board, watching the native assassin run the voyage. This 'free' feeling never occurred to you before. Yes, you felt free when you ran across the Homestead – or more like several yards of the Homestead in front of Achilles' manor or sometimes near Warren and Prudence's land, well, because you couldn't run far or fast. Truth be said. You felt free at that time when you stood on top of a mountain, the river and fields bowing under you. With Connor watching over, of course. But this feeling, it was a different one. An open sea triggered nausea, you used to think, but now it wasn't true. It triggered a sense of freedom.

The crew of the Aquila started to sing sea shanties. Surely everyone was in a good mood with the warm light of the sun showering them. From such short distance, you could hear the brief conversation Mr. Faulkner had with Connor.

"You surely have somethin' goin' on with the lass, aye Connor?" the old chap asked. You froze on your feet. Surely he knew that you could hear them, didn't he?

"What do you mean, Mr. Faulkner?" Connor, focusing on the traffic of the sea, and by traffic it meant rocks and cliffs, asked back with the gentle yet stoic voice of his.

Mr. Faulkner laughed, harder than he needed to. "Don't fool me, young man!" He slapped Connor's shoulder, hard enough to make Connor glared but in confusion.

"I'm afraid I really do not understand what you're trying to say, Mr. Faulkner."

"You really—" Mr. Faulkner coughed, amused that Connor wasn't fooling around when he said he didn't understand. The poor young man really had no idea what the older one was talking about. "You ain't got a clue?" Then he laughed again, now more sympathy filled in his tone.

Connor shook his head. Drops of sweat began to appear so far as you could notice, as his maneuvers on the wheel surely was a sort of sport. Delicious sight. If only you went sweaty on me.. Stop! You scolded yourself.

"Well, boy. What I mean is – let's make it simple. You and the lass –what is her name again? Mia, is it? – like each other. I be damned if I'm wrong!" Damn, you thought, how could he…

"We, what?" Connor's face heated a little, the color changing. "I don't think the idea of… I'm not sure—" He shifted in his robe. You felt butterflies in your stomach, as Connor shifted more uncomfortably and suddenly turned his head back, as if to locate you behind. And he did locate you. Now that he did, he was sure you could hear the talk, and he sighed. "Mr. Faulkner, I don't think it is wise to talk about such subject on an important trip as this one."

Deep down, you were upset. You wished that he would… Ah, but how could he possibly have any feelings towards you anyway? You pouted unintentionally, twisting and curling your now loose hair in front of your chest.

"Aye, Capt'n. We shall find out, shall we?" Faulkner laughed again. The boy was so naïve, he thought. But the lights of his eyes and your eyes when the two of you met, they could not lie. He was too experienced that just a sight of you two could bring him to his final judgment that you and the assassin were both crushing hard. Love or not, he wasn't sure. But like, crush, yes. Hard.

AN: So how was that? Feel free to comment. And I'm sorry if there are any errors; English is a foreign language to me. Moreover, my fic writing skill is as near as zero (seriously, when I write it is usually just essays for college stuffs) so be easy on me please and do review! :)