I didn't think it was possible to write as much as I have since posting my last chapter but I'm completely wrapped in this world with Haytham and Amelia right now that I just have to keep writing their story. These next few chapters are set from the book forsaken, so if you haven't read it; it may be somewhat difficult to follow though I have tried my best to explain things as simply as I can but to a point that it makes sense. Anyway here's chapter 11 I hope you enjoy it and I hope I don't disappoint. I also wanted to point out that I'm going on my own timeline of events in this story so it won't match up completely to the book or the games storyline. I hope that doesn't doesn't ruin it for anyone. Just to let people know, currently through the past chapters and the next few Haytham is 30 and Amelia is 29 in my head. Enjoy
The lulling sounds of a crackling fire was the only sound that surrounded Haytham. He sits quietly rubbing his hands together, his numb skin desperate for heat as he blows the last of his warmed breath into his trembling palms. Alone in his quiet little room, his mind races; replaying everything that brought him to this tiny cottage.
'I have found her.'
Those were the only words on the letter, but they were enough for Haytham and Amelia to tie all loose ends in New York before traveling to meet his friend Jim Holden. Amelia found Holden to be a kind and decent man, who remained deeply loyal to Haytham. It was an obvious realization that she and Holden were the only true friends Haytham had left in the world.
Rescuing Jenny from the hands of the slavers had proven difficult but possible. Haytham remembered the look of relief as she stared at him, her eyes growing wider, misting up tears as the years fell away and she recognized him. Her little brother finally coming to take her away from it all. It had come as an equal shock to recognize the young woman stood by his side as little Amelia Beckett.
It had all happened so quickly when the guards were called. Holden, Amelia and Haytham had managed to kill a handful of guards between them before the swarm burst into view ready to challenge them. He remembered Jenny screaming at them to go. It had all been too much to think, Holden had insisted that they leave without him as he held the guards back. Though Haytham had held much reluctance in leaving the man to fight alone, he had practically pushed him and the girls out the door to safety before taking the guards head on.
Learning later on that Holden had not be killed but captured, Haytham traveled to Egypt with a heavy heart of what he would find. Arriving at the Abou Gerbe monastery on Mount Gehel Eter, he couldn't have even imagined the state he would find Holden in. The utter disgust and shock that sat with him even now when he witnessed himself just what the men had done to this friend. The guilt weighted heavily in the pit of his stomach. But even then Holden didn't hold Haytham responsible for anything. He insisted that it had been his decision to stay. To fight alone. But that didn't lessen the guilt Haytham felt as watched his friend grow unconscious from the pain he endured before he managed to take him from the accursed place and back to safety.
Now back at the tiny cottage, Haytham took a shaken breath as he stood from his seat by the fire and made his way back into the main living room; where Amelia and Jenny sat at a table with the remains of a meal and a single candle between them. Not far away, Holden slept, feverish and every now and then Haytham would change the rag on his forehead for a cooler one.
"Our fathers were Assassins."
Jenny said as Haytham took a seat beside Amelia.
"I know."
"You know?"
"Yes. I found out as did Amelia."
Jenny pursed her lips and shifted uncomfortably.
"But if you both knew then why does Birch live?"
"Why would he be dead?"
"He's a Templar."
"As am I."
She reared back, fury clouding her face as she looked between Haytham and Amelia.
"YOU! - You're a Templar! Amelia tell me you're not-"
"No. I am not a Templar. I'm an Assassin as our fathers were."
"Well, thank god one of you has some sense in your head. Haytham that goes against everything father ever-"
Haytham signed deeply, leaning back in his chair.
"Yes I am a Templar Jenny, but it doesn't go against everything our father believed. Amelia and I have come to realize that the Templars and Assassins perhaps aren't as different as we'd like to think."
He stopped. Jenny was slightly drunk, there was something sloppy about her features all of a sudden. She moved forward with her cup in her hands and made a disgusted noise to match the glare she sent towards him.
"And what of him? My former fiancé, owner of my heart; the dashing and charming Reginald Birch? What of him prey tell?"
"Reginald is my mentor, my Grand Master. It was he who looked after me in the years after the attack."
Jenny's face twisted into the nastiest, most bitter sneer Haytham had ever seen.
"Well aren't you the lucky one? Am I to believe your lovely little Assassin over here is to know about all this?"
"Yes. Haytham told me, we discussed everything that happened to both of us in the years after the attack."
"I see. Well Haytham while you being mentored, I was being looked after too- by Turkish slavers."
Haytham felt as if Jenny could see right through him, as though she could see exactly what his priorities had been all these years. He dropped his eyes then looked across the cottage to where Holden lay then back to Amelia and Jenny. A room full of his failings.
"I'm sorry."
He said quietly. As if to all three of the people he felt he had let down.
"I'm truly sorry."
"Don't be. I was one of the lucky ones."
Finished, she hoisted the beaker of wine to her lips and glugged. He wondered what awful memories the drink helped suppress.
"It was your friends the Templars who attacked our homes, I'm sure of it."
"No they weren't Templars Jenny. I've run into them since, they were men for hire. Mercenaries."
Jenny scoffed in reply as she set down her now empty beaker on the table. Haytham gave a quick side glance to Amelia before leaning forward in his seat.
"I was told that father had something- something they wanted. Do you know what it was?"
"Yes. It was a book. Brown, leather-bound, bearing the seal of the Assassins."
In that moment Haytham's blood ran cold. He felt frozen, numb. Things began to make sense to him. Everything he had known- his entire childhood, all of it built on a foundation of lies. Growing up William Beckett had been like a second father to him as had Edward to Amelia. The two families were bonded as one. Two head of houses, Assassins; brothers. And Reginald had once been considered a great friend and ally to them both.
"The book you saw that night Jenny, Reginald has it."
"So it was he who organized the raid on our houses. They were looking for that book."
"I suppose given our fathers' close friendship, they each shared the responsibility of protecting the book. There would've been no way of knowing which had possession of the book that night."
"So Reginald is responsible for both the death of your father and mine."
The room grew silent. But the pain of loss, betrayal and anger screamed volumes. Haytham's heart ached as his hands trembled. His breath sharpened when Amelia softly took hold of them in her own. As their eyes met yet more guilt tugged at Haytham.
"It was Reginald that told me Amelia. It was he who told me you had died that night along with your father."
"That doesn't matter now Haytham... I'm here now aren't I?"
Haytham gave a weak smile rising from his chair as he moved to soak the rag from Holden before placing it back on his forehead.
"When his fever has broken, we'll leave."
"To go where?"
"To France."