Shiver

The Great Wicked

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Assassin's Creed nor any characters, they are intellectually property of Ubisoft. I make no money in this, I write for enjoyment.

It seems that confusion was the only thing that followed Connor these days, he felt as though a piece of a puzzle had been dropped into his lap but there was too much cloud cover to see its place in the grand design. He felt as though a piece of a puzzle had been dropped into his lap but there was too much cloud cover to see its place in the grand design. It did not sound like the man that Connor knew, but then again, Connor had only known Achilles for a few years, and at the moment he wasn't really even sure that he knew him at all. Achilles revealed very little about himself to Connor, he was a very private man and while Connor deeply respected him he found himself wanting to know more about Achilles' great betrayal. There had to have been more to the story, there just had to be.

Night had fallen and the skies were dark with clouds, you could not even see the stars, but Connor did not need to see the sky to know it would be only moments before the bottom fell out. His keen eyes scanned the woods for Chenoa but he saw nothing. He had to remind himself that although her skin was that of a colonial woman, she had lived her life very much the Connor had lived his. If she did not want to be found, she knew exactly what to do and what not to do to avoid detection.

His years of tracking served him very well as he caught sight of foot prints, small footprints. He studied them for a moment. They were confused and frantic. A few steps in one direction before doubling back and going another. Then a few more steps and back again. He knew very well that these belonged to Chenoa, she was upset and in an area that was not familiar to her. In a small area of four feet squared he counted at least three dozen individual footprints. Following their patterns he retraced her steps and looked out into the woods, they moved off of the trail and he could see where she had stepped through the brush and on plants in haste.

It seemed that regardless of the knowledge she had to avoid detection she was blinded and no longer cared about remaining hidden. Connor knew that feeling all too well. Wanting to run. As fast as he could in whatever the path of least resistance, to be as far from another human being as possible. For a moment he paused, wondering if he should leave her be, maybe Achilles had a point. Maybe she did need time and space. He considered it carefully before making up his mind. Even though at the moment of his mothers death and the death of his closest friend what Connor wanted wasn't to be alone, not truly or completely but to feel comfort of some sort. He took a step forward and followed her trail just as the rain began to fall.

OOO

Chenoa had no idea where she was or how far she had run, her lungs burned and legs were shaking, yet she wanted to run until she could not. There was so much on her mind, a deep pain that she thought had sealed itself long ago was now ripped open. Exposed to the elements. Her heart was now beating fast and she felt herself running out of air. She ran until she was stumbling, her feet not obeying her, she lost her footing and then slid down a ravine. And there she stayed for a moment, no longer having the will to pull herself out or to push herself to run any longer.

Breathing the fire out of her lungs and trying to calm herself, but she found that she could not. Her breath was ragged and deep, uncontrolled, panicked, and yet she felt as though she could not breathe at all, as though she were being smothered. There was no steadying this torrent, no slowing it down. All the years she had tried to run from what had happened, all those years that she had hoped that someone would be held responsible for her misery. She felt as though while she was in that basement she was standing over a great chasm with no one holding her back, no one to pull her back and all she could do was fall.

There were no tears at first, just the sound of her cries as she finally allowed herself the grief that she was denied. Deep and painful breaths that did nothing to alleviate the suffering that she felt. The betrayal.

While a great wrongdoing had been done to her, there was a moment when she knew she should not feel truly alone anymore, but then Chenoa felt a familiar darkness creeping in on her. She felt the ache of old wounds, she felt like a small child, lost and more alone now then ever before. The unspeakable agony and anger welling up within her that had been trapped for the last ten years was finally released in the form of an earth shattering scream that pierced the night and made the thunder itself a quiet echo. She then allowed herself to slump forward, exhausted.

OOO

Achilles sat down gripping his cane, head bowed in regret. He had never felt so ashamed. At that moment he did not feel worthy to call himself an assassin, nor did he feel that he even had the right to look Chenoa in the eye and apologize or to even beg for forgiveness. While his years of loneliness had built high and thick walls around his heart, in that one instance that he saw the look of heartbreak in Chenoa's eyes, they came crashing down upon him.

But he would not cry, he did not deserve those tears. Achilles who was always a strong and determined man now felt empty inside, he had nothing he could do or say that would ever make things right. Chenoa was right, in his own moment of weakness he had disgraced his beloved Order and the Creed. In his own moment of weakness he had condemned Chenoa to a life of pain, loneliness and despair. He did not deserve to speak to her, but he wasn't alone in his grief.

Across the room Grandfather stood with his arms folded over his chest staring hard into the dirt floor, perhaps he felt just as ashamed as Achilles and felt that there would be no judging glare from the floor. He had loved Chenoa from the day he laid eyes on her, he had seen in her the family that he, himself had lost so long ago. And even though she was a healer by withholding the truth he had wounded her more deeply then any blade.

He had only wanted to protect her from the life her mother had struggled with, was that so horrible? Perhaps, but the simple truth was that he had no right to make the decision for her. Even with as bitter as her was with Achilles abandonment of her family he glanced across at the old assassin and knew that he was just as guilty as he was. He could yell and stomp as much as he liked, but the truth was clear, they had both betrayed her and her parents. What mattered now was not who's failure was greater but how they would begin to make it right. He and Achilles locked eyes and neither of them had the slightest idea of how it could be done, or even if it could be done.

OOO

The sound of the scream made his blood run ice cold, he knew that sound. It was the sound his heart made for the two most important people he knew were taken from him, he ran with a renewed spirit, feeling something greater guide him. Within moments he was looking down on her, the rain poured and yet she did not move, trapped by grief. He waited for a moment, still a little uncertain as to whether or not he should have gone after her but her soaked form wracked with sobs quieted those doubts.

He could feel the heartache radiating from her, it felt as though it was a deep maelstrom that was dragging her down to its unknown depths. He descended into the ravine and stood behind her for a moment, wanting to say something, wanting to do something but he had not the slightest idea of what. He wanted to comfort her, but Connor was never really all that good with words or women for that matter, yet Chenoa wasn't just any woman, at that moment he felt a connection to her deeper then any he'd ever had with any other woman before. She did not seem to notice his presence until he wordlessly he slipped off his coat and placed it over her shoulders bringing the hood up, shielding her from the rain. She still did not move, she looked just as lifeless as the day he had rescued her from the Redcoats. He wondered if he was too late to be of any help at all, but then as though she were thanking him, she gripped the jacket tightly around her, feeling its warmth.

The deep hood with its beak suited her, but not in the way it suited Connor. If he wore it he was an assassin, a reaper of men and a bringer of death. However, on Chenoa it presented the look and feel of an messenger or a divine being. An angel. Although she said not one word, he felt as though he did lift her spirits somewhat, he crouched down and sat with her in the rain, searching for something to say, wishing he had some advice to ease her suffering. He could hardly believe the words he blurted out instead:

"I found my mother trapped under burning debris when my village was attacked. I wanted to save her, but she sent me away." He had just said it, somewhat horrified that he was talking about himself, but as the words settled he felt it was his mother guiding him. Chenoa looked up a little bit, so he continued. "Before I was pulled away my mother said to me 'Ratonhnhaké:ton, You must be strong. You must be brave. You will think yourself alone but know that I will always be at your side. Always and forever'." As Connor finished his story he suddenly felt very vulnerable and confused. He didn't know why he had shared that memory with Chenoa he didn't like the feeling of vulnerability, he felt as though he were a child again. He couldn't help but wonder if his words in any way had in any way reached Chenoa, so he remained silent and sat by her side.

OOO

In that moment when Connor shared what may have been his most intimate memory with Chenoa the deep sting within her, stung a little less and she felt a connection between their spirits. She had never known anything about Connor or his life, and until now not even his true name. His words had been laden with sorrow and grief, and although she did not know anything more of him Chenoa felt the ache that Connor must have felt, having lost her own mother in a similar way. She had not expected anyone to follow her once she left the house but here now with Connor by her side, she was glad he did. She knew him a little better now, and his presence brought a little comfort and the feeling of safety that she felt when he was near.

Chenoa closed her weary eyes and listened. Listened to what the spirits around her were saying, spirits of the earth, the water, the sky, waiting for them to guide her in what to do next. It was the sky that spoke first, as the rain stopped falling, then the wind itself seemed to push her closer to him. The spirits were speaking to her.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton…" She said softly, echoing his name. It fit him properly. He looked up as she said it, perhaps now aware of the fact that she knew his name. He glanced at Chenoa out of the corner of his eye waiting.

"Constance." He repeated her own name hoping that it would rouse her, but it did not. Silence once more. "Chenoa." He corrected himself, she finally turned to face him, she looked a mess. Heartache marring her features, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks stained in rain, dirt and tears.

OOO