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

Achilles was tired. He had just finished writing a letter that he had tried to write a hundred times before but the words were never right. The truth was the truth but it still stung him, he looked now at the finished letter re-reading it for the fifth time, searching for whatever it was that was lacking or what didn't belong. After his seventh re-read he decided it was finished, and that he wasn't really looking for mistakes but rather a reason to burn the letter or throw it away. Any reason for the letter to never see daylight.

As the stillness of the house began to unnerve, him a low and raspy cough rumbled from his lungs and brought an odd comfort to him. He pulled his timepiece from his pocket and carefully inspected it, noting the time, imagining that rather then time moving forward his own time was dwindling. It was another uncomfortable truth, it was an odd irony that Achilles was so uneasy with the concept of 'truth' and yet the creed was 'Nothing is true, everything is permitted.' Achilles Davenport did not have much time left, and as much as he hated the idea, he had yet another tale to tell Connor and Chenoa. If they were to carry on in his stead as Grandfather had said. It was a thought that brought hope to him, to know that after he was gone Connor and Chenoa would carry on and not make the mistakes that he had made.

He wasn't blind and you would have to be blind to not notice the bond that had formed between the two of them, normally Achilles did not condone the idea of a union among members of the Order but something about Connor and Chenoa seemed almost appropriate. They were always very aware of where the other one was and what they were doing, at first it was more of a surveillance to see if the other was alright, but gradually over the last few days the nature of their relationship had changed and now their glances were those of an affectionate nature. An odd feature Achilles had also noticed from Connor was that whenever he and Chenoa locked eyes and she had left the room he had a soft smile long after she was gone. It didn't seem to bother him that Achilles had seen this time and time again.

The two of them just seemed to fit together. It was thoughts like this that brought peace to Achilles as he glanced once more at the letter. He nodded and leaned back in his chair, his eyes were so heavy and yet he didn't want to fall asleep just yet, there was still work to do. It was time to teach Chenoa.

OOO

"Will you be gone long?" She had asked him as he gathered the last of his things. "That is, do you know?" It was a nervous question, now that she understood the nature of Connors work. It had been a long conversation after the wedding, the same story Achilles had told Connor when he had agreed to train him all those years ago. Talk of Gods and a people that were wiped out, an impending disaster and somehow Connor was the key to stopping it. The entire thing made her head spin and frankly it sounded like a story that her elders would tell children of her people so that they would behave. Was she that child? Regardless what the story was, this was Connors work. it had been her mothers work once too and she wanted to share his work with him.

"An assassin never truly knows." He responded with the distance that was natural to him before his assignment. "But," He added trying to ease her, he hadn't meant to come on quite so ominous "I am confident that I will not be long, and rest assured, the time will go quickly." Chenoa seemed very much indifferent to his words as though they provided no comfort, Connor saw this and ceased his preparations. "You do not seem very convinced."

Chenoa drew an uncertain breath, not wanting to worry him. The bond between the two of them since that night in the branches and boughs had been largely an unspoken one, they were very drawn to one another. Connor looked into Chenoa's uncertain features and tried to read them, he wanted to give her peace of mind but once more her lovely features were marred by uncertainty.

"Chenoa?" Connor asks reaching out to her, but she didn't move. She seemed as though she were deep in an ocean of doubt and fear and uncertain of which way to swim for shore. "What is it?"

"I am as conflicted as I once was as a child. I do not know where I should begin, or even what I want out of all of this." There was defeat in her voice and she was truly torn within. Connor struggled for something meaningful to say to her.

"What do you want now?"

"I suppose to know my place here." Her answer was unclear and confused Connor slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"When my mother died I wanted only to run away and hide. When grandfather took me away he let me hide and that was the end of it. He began to teach me the path of medicine and how I could preserve life. That I should do what I could in all things to protect it and ever since then I have dedicated my life to healing. Yet in these past months, when I was with the Redcoats and I endured their cruelties, I looked into the eyes of Hell and all I could do was nothing. I had never felt so powerless before, not even when my mother died. I was filled with the desire to strike back, but more then that. I wanted so much to hurt these people who hurt me. I saw in them everything that was horrible in the world." She paused for a moment forming her words and sorting her thoughts. "I was driven to hurt them, I had violent thoughts that I've never had before. And then I killed one of them." Connors train of thought stopped that instant. He didn't know that. He had seen fresh blood on her clothes and her face but he just assumed that it was hers. She killed a man? The idea of Chenoa killing seemed very wrong and he now thought he understood her personal conflict now. "I slit his throat with broken glass and when I felt him slump against me and his blood stain my hands, I felt a terrible weight, one that has never left me. I am not a killer Ratonhnhaké:ton, I am a healer. How can I find a place in all of this when the very notion is to kill the enemy. I am not an assassin, and I do not believe that I ever will be."

"There are many ways in which you could assist the Order," Connor hesitated a moment not wanting to mention the other possibility. "You could also, always return to your life with your people." Chenoa chuckled in satire.

"No, that life is gone. I suppose it was never truly mine to begin with." Chenoa paced and looked at the robes that lined the walls of the training room. "This is what my life would have been, had mother not died."

"But you cannot force yourself to live a life that causes distress to your heart."

"And now you see my dilemma." She looked hard at the robes that had been worn by her mother, she wasn't entirely sure why Achilles had them but it was a comfort that not everything her mother had ever touched was destroyed. She touched the hem of the sleeve, hoping that her mothers knowledge would somehow transcend the material, but she remained unenlightened.

"Even if you do not know what it is that you are supposed to do, you are certainly in the right place to discover so." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "Maybe, you are right where you ought to be." The tiniest hint of a smile adorned the corners of her mouth now, it did him good to see her spirits lifted slightly.

"You are right," Satisfied that he had helped he returned to his packing, nearly ready to leave. "Ratonhnhaké:ton, will you do something if I ask?" Connor faced her before he left. "I do not know how to proceed or what it is that I am to do. Will you help me find whoever is responsible. Only then can I move on. Help me solve this, whatever it takes." She placed special emphasis on the last part of her request, Connor thought for a moment, knowing full and well that it could very well have been his won father that issued the order. He knew that his father had to die to complete his mission, was it any different to say that he would also kill his own father for Chenoa? It should have bothered him, but it didn't. What else could he say? How could he deny her this? He couldn't.

"I will."

Chenoa reached up into his cowl and covered his head, then placed a kiss once more to his scarred cheek. His heart sped up a bit as it did whenever she was near, he kept his calm and composure and placed a kiss to her forehead and then went on his way.

Why had she said 'whatever it takes'? Perhaps because it was for her own sake so that she could justify whatever horrible deeds needed to be done, but then again that was why she asked Connor. If she could not do what needed to be done, she knew that he could and he certainly would.

OOO

The basement was still and quiet, Connor had left many hours ago and Achilles had left her alone in the basement to state the the portraits that were on the wall. Some had white 'X's painted over, others had 'X's slashed through by a blade. The thought had crossed Chenoa's mind many times that the person responsible for the deeds done to her family could very well be on that wall. But who was it? Did she really want to know? To burden herself with that information, did she really need to know?

She had grown accustomed to Achilles nature to creep up on her in his quiet manner and his tendency to stay silent for a moment and observe. She now could feel his presence, wondering what it was that he was thinking, but with Achilles it didn't matter how well you knew him, you could never really tell. The steps creaked when he began to descend followed by the telltale sound of his cane gently thumping with each step.

"You are thinking about the past?"

"No," she replied, gaze still on the portraits on the wall. "Only my future."

"And what is written in your future?" He asked gauging her reaction carefully.

"That is not for me to know just yet. All I have now is the present, and that present," she turned to face him now "Is in your hands." Achilles seemed pleased with this answer and nodded with a slight smile of approval. "You said you had things to teach me, will we begin now?" Achilles nodded again and turned towards the smaller room that contained the array of weapons Connor had collected throughout his travels and deeds, a few moments later he returned with a box that had the same 'A' symbol carved into it that adorned Connor's vambrace.

"Futures are written by the victors and the victors often write that future in the blood of their enemies." Inside the box was a hidden blade, "This is the tool that allowed your mother to carve her own future. The hidden blade. This is the weapon of the assassins and has been for many hundreds of years." Achilles paused and handed the blade to Chenoa. "It is a heavy burden to wield this weapon, a blade to kill, a blade to protect. If you can wield it then this may be the tool that vindicates you."

It was much simpler then the blade that Connor carried, it was made by devoted hands, from a different time. A different place. Despite her dislike for killing and spilling blood the item held an allure hat she could not ignore as it slipped effortlessly onto her forearm. The weight was not as much as she would have thought, but then again it was made from the simplest of tools. Hard leather with words engraved into it, a simple spring mechanism that triggered the blade.

It sprung out with lightening speed, she hadn't even realized she'd triggered it until a steady stream of crimson blood trickled down her left finger. She was lucky it didn't take the whole finger, but then according to Achilles that was the mark of an assassin. It didn't even hurt for a moment, it wasn't until the blood dripped onto the floor that she felt its hot sting. Still sharp after all of these years. Achilles watched the spectacle unfold before him, she was curious and the speed of the blade had enthralled her. It was an exhilaration that she'd never really known. Was it even possible for her to wield it?

Achilles handed her a handkerchief, she tied it around her finger stemming the bleeding.

"In the old days an assassins initiation was a target and once they took that life the blade would take their finger as well. A mark of permanence. Nowadays its far too obvious of a sign for our enemies. Our mark isn't quite as literal now, but it is no less permanent." Achilles pulled his sleeve up revealing an aged burn around his own ring finger. "There was a grand ceremony for such times as well, but it's been a long time since one was held as they used to." He was reminded of a time when he was young and full of ideals of justice and equality, that heroes still existed. That was a very long time ago. "A minor adjustment will see to it that your finger stays where it should."

A solemn look came over Chenoa's face and she resolved that, as Connor had said, there was more then killing. She would find her own path within the Order, not as a killer, but as Achilles had mention. A blade to protect. "Let us begin."

OOO

Another chapter is up and I hope you guys liked it! Also, mixed news; I'm finally playing AC3 and sadly I have to say that I hate the controls. I've been playing video games since I was three and I have to say the controls are some of the worst I've ever encountered. HOWEVER, I've decided that I'm going to persevere and play the damn game because it's a great story and to better tell mine I need to play it through although it may take me a while. Hang in there with me everyone! I'm working as best as I can and I'm having a bit of trouble with what comes next so I would LOVE some of your input! Talk to me! I love hearing from you all! Read and review, you guys are amazing!