After the conflict between the brothers, life continued as normal. Edward and Eleanor were shortly married and soon after that, in January 1742, their first daughter was born. Still reminiscent over the stories that his parents used to tell him, Edward decided on calling her Anne after the infamous Anne Bonny.

"Edward?" Eleanor said as she stood at the door to her daughter's bedroom.

Her husband turned, sitting beside the crib, his head resting in his hand. His eyes were barely open and he slouched in his chair.

"Yes?"

"Edward, come to bed, you've been here nearly all day and all night!" Eleanor sighed as she approached him. The light of the candles were so dim, the wax in a puddle around the short stumps.

"Just a little longer." He yawned, his eyes barely leaving the small baby beside him.

"Honey, she'll be fine." Eleanor put her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "You need to sleep."

Edward said nothing but reached into the crib and with a gentle hand, he held the baby's hand. Her eyes were closed but her tiny hands, curled into fists, reached out for her father's hand and gripped his finger.

"Okay, now I really can't leave." Edward smiled and his wife grinned.

She stepped away for a moment and went to the bookshelf, nearly empty since all the stories Edward told his daughter were stories that his parents had told him. His memory of the stories came and went like a summer breeze, but it was the audience of his young daughter that made the stories clear again. On top of the shelf was a soft, slightly worn teddy bear. With a smile, Eleanor took the bear down from the shelf and passed it to her husband.

"I think it's time to introduce Kenway." She told him.

Edward grinned at the bear he was given on the first he arrived in England. He had named the bear Kenway after his parent's friend, Edward Kenway.

He placed Kenway in the crib, curled up beside the baby. They were practically the same size. As Edward slid his finger away, Anne reached out and clasped onto the furry limbs of the bear.

"Kenway's looking after her now. Come to bed."

Edward stood, stretched, his body weary after being in one place for so long. Hand in hand, they left the room, putting out the candle stumps. Edward lingered at the door, watching his baby girl and his childhood friend cuddled up in the crib.

"Just think," he whispered, "one day we'll look back on this moment while she's off having adventures of her own."

"Yes, but until then, you need to get some sleep." Eleanor said and tugged his hand. "You're a father now and very soon, sleep will be something you will sorely lack."

"I know, dear." Edward sighed, kissed his wife and left his daughter in the protection of Kenway.

Eleanor was not wrong.

It was 1750 and Anne was eight and his second daughter, Mary, was five, going on six and both girls found energy to burst from their beds every morning to rush down the stairs and slam into their father who had just returned from a full night of... Assassin business.

"Papa! Papa!" They cried as Edward stumbled, his sleep deprived body desperate to climb up the stairs and into bed.

"Good morning, girls!" He laughed, wrapping his arms around them. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get some sleep."

"Papa, do you remember? You said you would take us to the fayre today." Anne pulled on his sleeve.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry, girls, but I don't think I'd be able to-"

"Edward Young!" A stern voice came from the end of the hallway and all eyes looked to Eleanor, dressed in a night gown and robe, hands on her hips.

"My dear-"

"Don't you 'my dear' me!" She waved a finger and she stormed towards him. "You promised Anne and Mary that you would take them to the fayre. Don't you dare back out now!"

"But I'm tired!" He whined and Eleanor glared.

"You have three hours to get some sleep before we leave." She told him. "Next time, make sure your business meetings don't interfere with family promises."

"Of course, darling." He said, kissed her, and ran as fast as he could up the stairs.

Edward practically fell into bed, not bothering to change from his Assassin uniform. His daughters always asked what he worked as, and why the uniform was like nothing they'd seen before, but they always were given the same answer.

'In time, you'll know.'

'Its just boring business things, you wouldn't be interested.'

'Its not important.'

He planned to tell them before long but he'd rather they had a normal childhood, rather than be burdened with such knowledge of the warring sides of Templars and Assassins.

As his eyes shut, he remembered all those years ago when Anne was just a baby. Eleanor was right, sleep was in short supply around here. Particularly when you're a father and husband by day and an Assassin by night.

There were not enough hours in the day.