A/N: For those that are caught unawares, I had not meant to upload this story until the release of my multi-chaptered fanfic, "Where The Snow Falls"...but alas in due time. For now read and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Assassins Creed Franchise or Ubisoft in any sort of manner or form aside from publicly sold merchandise and perhaps my own art pieces.

It had been a subtle thing, hardly noticeable. Gerald himself couldn't pinpoint the exact date of when everything started to happen but the change was apparent, at least of all to him. He was no stranger to Avelines' temperament, he had known her for most of his life.

Ever since the death of Madeline de L'isle, Aveline's stepmother, the Frenchwoman had become quieter if not more vigilant to the ever glaring and gruesome fact that her father had been the victim of the Templars' controlling ministrations without her knowledge. It was still undoubtingly fresh in her mind, and Gerald knew that the woman could have only been blaming herself for what had conspired to pass. He had expected for her to open up to him with time, but perhaps he had been too hopeful. She had not spoken a single word of the events since.

The stress of believing that she could have saved her father had become too great and instead of finding a shoulder to cry on; the lady assassin had opted for what she had always done best. Aveline had returned to preoccupying her mind with the newest of Templar threats, insisting to roam the streets of New Orleans endlessly. On more than one occasion, Gerald had been taken completely by surprise at the fact that she had left for the Bayou without warning. Her anger got the best of her if questioned, and mouthy comments or sudden yet rapacious outbursts were never in short supply.

He allowed her the luxury, after all there was only so much a woman could do before breaking and it was not in his place to refrain her from what was her safety net. Her way of life had always been of the adventurers and the daring so the accountant was unused to the approach he'd have to take to stall her from her actions. The rigorous mistreatment of her tired body had become very apparent.

Gerald knew why Aveline didn't want to linger for too long, everything about New Orleans haunted tales of memories, her life forever changed. There would be nobody to come home to in the tired yet true Estate of the Grandpre, no more mentor to guide her amidst her journeys, not being able to bring her mother back to the French Quarter. Rueful to the fact that she was an only child, unable to ever attain her inheritance and the fact that he legally was the one to acquire her assets made him almost feel guilty, though it was indeed the only way of securing her reputation and status. He knew that he could never truly understand her innermost thoughts, but the feeling of complete isolation must have been one of them.

Why couldn't she see that he would always be there for her? The reason why he had left Aveline to her biddings was the fact that Gerald had hoped that she'd come back to her senses overtime. But now it seemed his hesitance was because he didn't want to hear her say the words that she felt 'indebted' to him. Her belongings would always be rightfully hers in his eyes, and he prayed that Aveline understood that too. Keeping faith that she'd see him beyond all the social politics of her life.

Months had passed, and it seemed that skittering around had finally taken it's toll on Aveline. While she had continued on the path of becoming the best Assassin she could possibly be, the cocoa-skinned woman had refined her goals and collected herself. No longer as impulsive and insistent as before with less traveling for reasons hardly underlying suspicion, the threat of Templars had dwindled greatly. What had transpired was an improvement but she was nothing like her former radiance.

While in the day she'd be the embodiment of her talkative nature dressed in the most beautiful of elegant garments, her eyes held an aloofness that wished to shield any personal thoughts during the night. It was obvious that the woman hated to return to her manor, the Frenchman could only imagine the restless nights filled with nightmares and childlike dreams of sadness. Among the darkness that webbed itself onto Aveline's life, she still held a purest of innocence that resonated within her like how a butterfly flutters through the wind. It was enchanting and the complete undoing of him.

He made it a personal effort to propose to her the idea of herself actually spending more time in her own headquarters, Aveline had cracked a thin smile then. There were less missions to be undertaken during both the morning and the night so it comforted him to have her company despite her unhappiness at writing extra papers than what she was used to. It was his profession not hers.

Aveline had tried but Gerald couldn't help the tension that remained whenever quasi-silence accompanied them . His incessant mumblings of "ers..." and "umms," were not helpful to eithers' comfort level. He'd hope to find the right time to confess but his nerves kept on getting the better of him. Unpleasantly, Gerald couldn't help but notice her awkwardly shifting hands while fiddling with her pen and the low huffs of resignations. She probably wrote better alone with the company of her own thoughts and once again became an aid by leaving her to her own musings.

She hadn't resided that much to the office after that, though sometimes he'd find her writing trading contracts that required attention.

Again another set of months slipped by without much political unrest. In fact the economy of New Orleans as a whole was spectacular and for what it was worth Aveline's shipping business had never seen such heights. It put Gerald at ease.

Aveline herself had finally loosened her shoulders and was frolicking with both the higher and poorer of societies as expected. She mingled more often with the rich due to the steady speed of revenue involving her company. Her faithful eyes and ears always watching in places where she could not. Things really were coming back to normal after a handful of years filled with turmoiled emotions. Her playful spark had come back though more reserved and used with care. Aveline was evolving, having adjusted to the trails of her past.

And she was more the woman than ever.

That left Gerald once again thinking about a way to finally court her.

But as usual, with less time on their hands; Aveline became unavailable, always attending social gatherings and setting meetings for many interested partners or associates. And at night she squandered around as the Assassin she truly was.

Withdrawn, Aveline though careful not to be too direct; gently admitted to Gerald that she felt uncomfortable living within her old mansion given the circumstances and reluctantly acknowledged that being within her office put her at ease. Paper work was beginning to become a norm for even herself and it pulled her away into a lulling relaxation that helped against her sleepless fits.

The maiden had inquired for a spare key that same night and Gerald had one molded for her the very next day. Normally he was in charge of the warehouses shortcomings, given the fact that Aveline was a woman who often traveled. It was his duty to supervise and protect her interests, and it was in his personal interests to see her soothed, even if for a moment of recluse by herself.

Recent nights followed with Aveline stowing away into her office to write up what he could only conclude to be arrangements for the companies multiple load of documents. Keeping busy was relatively easy within the confines of the warehouse, and the scritch and scratching of a well crafted pen was actually a charming sound to listen to.

Gerald could see the relief in her eyes at the fact that he didn't prod when she came by, a silent acceptance that he understood it comforted her to have her office to herself. And for the first time in a long time, a thankful yet swift smile reached Aveline's hazel orbs, but a genuine one. Gerald only prayed that she did actually earn a proper good nights sleep for herself. He often worried at the prospect of a woman being alone in the night, but he'd shake his head right after and instantly remembered that she was no ordinary woman.

While she did show up, back and forth how ever she liked during the week, Aveline always came during sunset at least twice a week and he took his leave silently. They had adjusted to her habit easily and on rare occasions Gerald would find her the next day, hands propped against her face as she slept soundlessly, the curls of her hair still in perfect condition. He knew her back would be aching during her wake but she never once complained.

Up in the morning Aveline went about her duties, some of her 'friends' that were well off in New Orleans finally mustered the courage to invite her to their 'friends only' parties. The dark looming shadow was no longer apparent enough for them to see. To Aveline it was business in a way, she was constant and always thinking. But she enjoyed their company.

It was mid-spring when details began to take a road of their own, it was inconspicuous and easy to miss; but whenever Aveline would make a hasty retreat to her desk while he shuffled papers on his own, he gradually began to realize that the aura of the room had changed. It took a while and looking towards Aveline he could see that she didn't look any different with her head dipped down into a long list of trading companies... but something had stirred within which made him know better than to set aside his intuitions.

And it was true, Aveline's disposition was brighter, more charming and translucent. Her face shined a warming glow, eyes lit to a fire of burning hazel coals. Beautiful thick lashes notably longer than he remembered. It startled him and for a moment, almost put him to a veering edge. The butterfly of his life was finally coming back, but to what, he wasn't exactly sure.

Puzzled by the change, Gerald lightly mumbled it over to himself for days. It came to him that she was spending a lot more nights in the warehouse than he had initially recalled. Perhaps, her hobbies were changing? No, that couldn't have been the cause.

His suspicions reared it's neck at full force when one night he had forgotten one of his belongings at the headquarters. The blanket of midnight had completely encompassed the sky, the stars bright enough to see up high but not much else.

Gerald used his key and creaked up onto the staircase with much ease, not a sound was made by the weight of his little feet. That was until the Frenchman briskly opened the door and heard an undignified yelp from a female voice who turned out to be Aveline; as she scrambled to shuffle newsprints over something he momentarily saw but couldn't identify. It was obvious that what ever she wanted to appear to have been doing, he would not be falling for it.

The woman staggered for a moment, before asking him what he was doing so late. Gerald himself had been surprised, she hadn't told him that she'd be using the office tonight. He mentioned to her the very same day that the Assassin needed a nights rest and Aveline had promised so. Obviously, she wasn't truthful. While giving a short reason, he swiftly left right after.

He tried to ignore the implications of what she had been hiding, he had heard of such situations...

That a suitor would leave endearing notes of affection to his potential other. A mix of curiosity, shame and jealousy biled within him. To instantly assume that she was accepting romantic lavishes from an unknown lover without proof had brought guilt in him. His feelings for her were obviously showing their colours. Worse was the fact that to him, it still appeared to make sense.

-

Gerald's assumptions were driving him mad and the nagging of his thoughts brought out misgivings. To imagine Aveline with another Frenchman was heart wrenching and it plagued his mind every second. But still he could not stomach invading her personal items just to sate his wariness. How could he ever distrust his sweet Aveline? She could not have met a man that meant so much to her during one of her parties, could she?

When the frustration of not knowing became increasingly needle-piercing, Gerald finally decided to take it upon himself to do something. If people knew exactly what he was doing, they'd probably gasp at the rudeness of it all but Aveline had done the same, why couldn't he?

And so during a beautiful shining Monday, Gerald had decided to follow Aveline who had disguised herself as a slave, as he hid without ever being seen. It could have possibly been one of the only Assassin-like talents Gerald had, due to his slight frame and weight. He hid in every nook and cranny as if he had been doing it all his life. It was thrilling to say in the least, as long as no one he knew recognized him amoungst the crowd, he would be safe.

After a rather long winded walk that the brown-haired man was not accustomed to, they had reached the rich district in the center of New Orleans and Gerald was finding it tougher not to have people he knew pass him by. Thankfully, the only time when someone approached him, Aveline was within a dressing chamber, away from earshot and was changing into one of her emerald lady gowns.

When she did come out they ventured into what he discerned to be the Le`Marchal Estate but to his surprise, the woman didn't enter. Wasn't she on good terms with the family, or was her romance a hidden affair? After all it was an understandable custom given her background but surely Aveline was above all that.

Suddenly, she turned her head in his direction and for a moment Geralds heart froze to a complete stop. His eyes wide in fright. He was well undistinguishable within the crowd but her skills weren't to be taken half-heartedly. A slender man who was in front of him, suddenly trotted to his right and seamlessly slipped away into an alley and Aveline sedulously followed.

The adrenaline filled Gerald again, he had not recognized the man within the crowd but as he walked away; Gerald knew him to be one of Avelines trusted eyes, Mathis Rieu. He wouldn't make the mistake of assuming they were in a relationship; he was doubly her age with a good wife. If either of them noticed, they had not alerted each other of the accountants presence. It was sheer dumb luck that they didn't see him and he continued on. Cutting though the lines of people, he shifted into a spot where he hid in the bushes. His heart continued to hammer, it was such a close call.

They were in earshot as they spoke of weather and the tides of the ocean. Which confused Gerald. If they were talking about her shipping business, there would be no need for Aveline to speak with Mathis. While the older man wasn't of the Brotherhood and knowingly didn't perceive all that he could about it, he was an ally to the Assassins. They spoke a bit longer before, Aveline mustered.

"Has he any word?" Gerald took notice at how her eyes shimmered with an silken sheen of hope, as her beautiful moist lips parted. Her words were airy and almost anxious.

"Oui, Lady Aveline. Mr. Kenways' sent another parchment."

"Have you any from his acquaintance's that brought you this?"

"Not a single mention," the helper supplied, "My best guess would be to simply read the words for yourself, madame. It's a true one, no one can forge a Davenport crest."

Mathis pulled a letter from the inside of his dirt blacked shirt, a bawdy hat obscuring his face. Gerald watched as Avelines dainty fingers easily grasped the folded paper.

"Merci de m'avoir aidé...(Thank you for your help.)" Aveline said, "I must take my leave."

Aveline had rushed away back into the fray of Frenchfolk, leaving the dimmed area as if she was never there. Gerald's mind reeled, she was taking an interest in an Englishman?! That was much worse than even a Frenchman, probably the worst he could think of. Englishmen had no manners when it came to the heart, they lacked the sophistication of the French. This Kenway was coming between whatever himself and Aveline had, at least it felt that way to him. She deserved so much more.

But why had the name seemed so familiar?

Later on she related to him that she wanted to use the office for the night and begrudgingly he accepted. He was at odds, if Aveline really did have a possible suitor; he had surety that she'd let him know.

Perhaps, the feeling that one day he might take her away into a place unfamiliar left Gerald unhinged... If his assumptions were true.

He knew he was jumping to conclusion, Aveline was nothing short of an angel despite her career. She was no lax woman and even so, letters were not offensive in comparison to being too forward in physical affection. That this man was not of the French seemed foreign, try as he might, he could possibly not be what he seemed. His people were now siding with the Patriots, there was no animosity. It irked him to feel such multitude of emotions he couldn't quite place. This man was of the English, more or likely, but for the rebelling party as the Assassins swayed more to their favour and had most likely been the reason on how Aveline knew this man.

Yet there was nothing much else he could do, his mind was still in doubt. This stranger may have simply been an associate and if this were the case, he'd be feeling awfully foolish for the majority of his days. So he continued to observe her without being intrusive.

Still she emanated that sparkling glow which made his heart feel weak. She laughed more often than before. And when she did visit for her nightly sessions, there was a skip in her gait and even he could tell, a restrained control in her voice that reminded her not to appear too buoyant. He had to do a double-take and see if perhaps, that was only what he was seeing. But business partners and acquaintances alike agreed that her new contentedness was starting to rub off on them.

Gerald noted that she spoke to him more often, and even appeared to enjoy his companionship regularly. While it made him happy, it confused him altogether. Was this mysterious man truly healing Aveline with simply words?

-

It was during a certain night in May, when Aveline was not around and his restraint could hold no longer, that his hands jumbled through the personal items within her desk. It was a crime, but now that he knew for certain that this man was fueling her loveliness, he just had to know why.

The brown-eyed man was startled to find a decent amount of parched paper within the lowest drawer of her desk. They had stained yellow due to stank air, the ends were withered and some frayed.

Gently handled, he examined them closer. His eyes furrowed, the man's handwriting was polished, flawless and an ease to read. He had heard that the majority of writing peoples in the North barely knew the ways of it as an art. Whether it was available to them was an entirely different matter.

There were dates at the top left corner of each, the calligraphy done in perfect strokes. He leafed through till he got to the one with the earliest date and silently read.

January. 12. 1779

Dear Miss Grandpre,

I write to you in an act of respect and recollection of your short yet meaningful trip to New York. It has been over four years yet your actions still remain vivid to me. My deepest respects to you and your passed father. I hope you are boding well and ask how you are. Time passes as we are slowly gaining momentum over the British, though the threat of Templars continues to linger. It was my hope to solidify the unity of the Brotherhood throughout our distances as it has more than once come to my ears, that you are truly the forerunner to our cause within New Orleans.

If you were be so kind as to represent those of us in your area, in time we shall strengthen our resolves. I urge you to write of widening threats, to simple musings of your thoughts, so that mayhaps we could ease our worries.

Sent with special trust and confidence in your loyalty, understanding you will respond to the best of your conveniences.

With your brothers,

Connor Kenway

-

Gerald's realization to the identity of this Kenway, had him to a hault. This was not what he had been expecting this whole time. This letter was a simple act to reinforce the Brotherhood and suddenly he felt really stupid. The mark of the Assassins lay beneath his signature. Kenway was obviously a good man, Gerald himself had been the one with the information to send Aveline to New York. How could he have forgotten?

He had meant to put away the rest of the letters, when suddenly an image of Aveline's radiant smile and cheerful eyes came to him. He did not have any of Avelines' letters which had obviously been sent to Connor and he had wished to see the manner in which she wrote. His subtly greening heart continued to read.

The man's letters were all rather formal at first, dwelling on missions and the like; though gradually they started to become the personal whispers of a man in solitude. Gerald shifted, guilt was starting to etch him; he was looking into another mans inner workings without permission. However personal or impersonal they may be. There were no declarations of love, no tender confessions, nothing to presume romantic incline. Simply a man and his thoughts, most of them negative which spoke of the morality of nature and man. There were ideals that he simply asked to be consolidated or questioned.

Oddly enough, through his writings, one could tell he was a complicated man; that hadn't bared his whole soul even in his replies. A puzzle.

He read his most recent letter out loud.

-

April. 1. 1780

Dear Madam,

The Assassins of Boston have made leaps in progress, I cannot fathom it but to be of their own unique strength. My heart feels contented in having taken your advice to consideration, people truly do have their own ideals to abide by whether it be from peoples to cities. I hope you do not mind that I should mention your father again, but I think he must have been a deep man to have made such a stong daughter as yourself... I gather you hold him close to your heart and I am honoured to keep him in my memories for you.

I find myself watching a leaf through the air, and it without warning reminds me of my people, who I have not seen in many a time. It makes me weary...that I can not see the road in front of me. That it could only be worse for them... to blow into nothing through the gusts of air.

Is this how you feel? When you glimpse your people?

What hope is there to protect them, if they themselves have been deprived of just that? One must think themselves dead to the world.

It is said that the best chief is not the one who persuades his people to his point of view. It is instead the one in whose presence most people find it easiest to arrive to the truth. But the truth is never easy, and if one does not see the point of view at a grand scale, then the majority is lost. And even we have not seen such the scale that is truth.

What is the goal for an Assassin, that bears the weight of knowledge that they cannot fully understand? Yet knows, that they alone cannot fix the future?

Your replies have been nothing but insightful. Something I appreciate.

Thank you.

Yours truly,

C. Kenway

-

Dear Connor,

Thank you for your kind words, if only my father were here to see where I am now. Your genuine words leave me frustrated that I am unable to comprehend. If I may be so forward, the guilt still lives inside of me and I doubt that it will ever be removed. How we are so distant yet compassionate of the others circumstances makes me happy.

The way I feel about my people is only a mixed bag of emotions. Some who refuse to see that there is a possible future for them, cannot be blamed. They are in the roughest of positions and it would be a sin to say they are wrong in their insights. No right and wrong exists for them, simply just to live another day. The people who do wish to revolt are easily swayed much like the leaves you mention. The only thing we can do is to persevere and try. Sometimes I feel like there is only helplessness to my situation. Some of the slaves that know of my breeding believe that I only mean to do worse.

I am not a full-blooded French and neither am I African. I've been indulged into a world of both, yet where does my future belong? In the future that I know I will not reach in my lifetime, I suppose.

We are the same.

Sincerely,

Aveline de Grandpre,

May 9, 80.

-

A pang of shame hit Gerald hard, as he read Aveline's newest reply that had yet to be sent. He had done a great error and in his envy gained insight on something that wasn't his to take. They shared a special bond, whatever it was. It was one thing to take from a man you did not know, but to take from a cherished friend was a sin.

Filled with remorse at his actions, Gerald stuffed away the objects that were invisibly constant in his mind for the past few months.

If she was certainly being courted than Aveline would have been much smarter to dwell with such issues within her chambers. This was not of the sort, and Gerald secretly asked for forgiveness from whom ever could possibly be watching. Connor must have been from two worlds for Aveline to have seen him as such.

He tried his best to ignore what he had done, and the week had left him with nothing but regrets but also a slow insight.

Aveline was not aware of the feelings laying dormant inside herself.

Her eyes held a compassion and anticipation for something that perhaps even she misunderstood to be excitement for a simple letter. A letter from an understanding friend who spoke on her level. But Gerald wasn't stupid, he could see something more. The way she'd struggle to keep eye contact as he stared into her beautiful brown orbs spoke volumes. She had blinked and looked away more than once. But it was different than before. Not like the simple nonchalant, indifference to his actions but an almost unconscious hesitance.

When she entertained her female counterparts, they spoke of their feminine tales. Often times bragging about certain men they slept with or the love of their lives and the happiness they shared. Aveline listened with an acute ear, Gerald could tell due to the rosiness of her cheeks. Before she would have never be so affected. Her exposure to being an Assassin so early changed her that way, she had no time for it.

It was disheartening but he knew that Aveline was not being genuine to herself. Most considered her too old and out of her prime. There would be no suitors from New Orleans. She would take no husband, take no children and in the end drive herself to the ground with work. Her mind was already set on becoming a closed book.

If he knew how to let her go now, it could possibly be her only chance. Aveline deserved it more than anyone else he ever knew. Or would get to know in his lifetime.

She held a fondness unlike he ever recognized for this Assassin named Connor.

So swallowing his pride, and reminding himself that she would always be the love of his life. He did only what the best of friends would do.

Gerald went about finding a suitable mission that would send her to New York, or Boston.

For a very long time.

It is done.

To be honest the reason why I didn't start with 'Where the Snow Falls' is because I had lost my save file of Liberation during my first play-through. I had already completed the whole story mode but I wanted to get the Platinum Trophy for the game, instead I lost my data to a horrible bug. So I'm starting a new playthrough and I need to refresh my memory on certain details in order so that I can do my former fanfiction to the best of my abilities.

Happy New Year!

Please review!

Assassinita