"You didn't have to do this." Matthew said. He and Connor sat at opposite ends of a dining table. At Connor's side, away from Matthew, was Alexandra and Helena. Matthew smiled at Alexandra, but his new stepmother simply gave him a cold look in return. At least his half-sister seemed a bit more interested in him, and she was polite enough to smile back at him. The housemaids were laying out many platters of food and drink. The room felt deathly quiet… he hadn't anticipated his "family reunion" playing out like this. "Honestly, I would've been fine with just one slice of bread."

"I wouldn't be. I know that just one slice of bread isn't going to be enough to feed a man your age." Connor said.

"You'd be surprised at what's enough to satisfy your appetite after months of nothing but army rationing." Matthew said in return. "Between that and all the stray bullets, I'm surprised I made it home alive without having anything amputated."

"You kill people?" Helena asked him.

"Do you want to know?"

"I won't be very happy if my brother is bad… killing others is bad, isn't it? " Bad. For killing people. Matthew found something strangely amusing about the way the kid naively said it. It was the sort of naivety that only existed in the innocent, black-and-white worlds of children like her. But all the adults at the table were rather uncomfortable in their expressions. Even Alexandra seemed to be unsure of how to respond to her daughter's question, and Matthew was certain that this Englishwoman hadn't killed anything deadlier than a housefly in her life. The lucky cunt.

"That's not very polite now, is it, dear?" Alexandra said almost nonchalantly after sipping a bit of tea. "No self-respecting lady on either side of this ocean would just run about asking people if they're killers or not."

"Sorry…" The five-year old girl apologized.

"Nothing offensive, really." Matthew said.

"I'm sure what my daughter means to say is are you a soldier or not?" Alexandra asked Matthew again, her voice as cold as stone pavement.

"Well… think of me more as a tactical adviser…" Matthew said and winked at his father. "Working behind the scenes and occasionally getting a bit of action."

"What do you do, then?" His half-sister asked him. But then her mother spoke up. "Bedtime, sweetheart."

"But-"

"You're a growing lass and you need your sleep, I'm afraid." Alexandra said apologetically to her daughter as she scooped her up in her arms. The girl clung onto her mother, but she kept her eyes focused on Matthew.

"But-"

"Don't worry, you'll miss nothing fun, my sweet. Just a bit of barmy adult talk…" Alexandra carried her daughter away from the dining room.

"What just happened?" Matthew asked, holding his unsipped wine glass in confusion.

"She tends to overreact sometimes." Connor sighed. "She's honestly more doting and protective of the girl than me… I think she knows what you really do for a living, Matthew, and she doesn't want our daughter finding out. I don't know why else she would be acting this impolite… she's a better host than she's been so far."

"What we did for a living, Father." Matthew corrected him.

"I haven't done that for nearly a decade now, Matthew. I'm retired and my only business is helping run this town." Connor said.

"And you intend to shield your daughter from the truth? To protect her innocence from this cruel world we live in? You showed no such intents with me…" Matthew questioned Connor.

"We all have our own secrets. Even my wife hasn't told me everything about her early life. But… I have no such intents to hide the truth from my daughter forever. She will know one day. But not for now."

"Why not, Father?"

"I want her to have the childhood that so much of our bloodline has lacked." Connor explained. "From your grandfather to me to you, our family tree seems to almost be defined by the tragedy that pervades all of us. My grandfather Edward was slain in a home invasion perpetrated by the Templars, and they took his son and made him into one of them. When I was but a child even younger than her, the world I knew was taken from me. I don't think I have ever fully recovered from the trauma, even to this day. And you… Matthew…" Matthew saw there was a cloud of regret in his father's eyes. He saw that Connor's fists were clenched. "I wasn't there for you enough."

"Father… it's not your fault."

"Don't try and tell me otherwise." Connor said, his voice melancholy but stern. "I thought that with your mother, Deborah Carter, I had the opportunity to walk away and live a normal life. But then she died, and not even before her corpse was cold, my Assassin duty came calling. Damn it all… I saw you so little during those years warring with Hamilton's rite. I wanted to tell you how much I loved you and promise that it would all be over soon, that I would spend all the time I could, but I couldn't. Even on the days we could be together, I could see it in your eyes. The questioning, and eventually, on the day you ran away…" Connor paused. "I felt… no, I knew that I failed as a father."

"You didn't." Matthew insisted. "Listen… I felt nothing but anger towards you back in those days for never being there, but I was a goddamned teenager who thought the world was after him. I understand now, why you weren't there. Because it wasn't just your son you were looking after, it was a nation and the very notion of freedom as well. Father, I forgive you… and though you might have failed me as a father, but what you did for the Brotherhood by defeating Hamilton, is what you accomplished not worth a bit of mutual heartbreak? And I see your daughter… you are God in her eyes. You haven't failed her at all."

"Matthew…"

"Say nothing more." And Matthew, before he knew what he was doing, felt himself embracing his father. And his father hugged him back.

"I love you, Father."

It hadn't gone down as he had played it out in his mind, but it was the best family reunion he could've asked for, Matthew supposed.

It was dark in her room, and she lay under a heavy sheet of blankets, but Helena Kenway's eyes were wide open. She couldn't sleep. There was just too much to think about. Until today, she thought that she was an only child. But all of sudden, there's a mysterious stranger in her house and he turns out to be a brother. This revelation was enough to astound the young girl, but there was something just mysterious about her brother. And why didn't Mother like him? Mother was always so friendly to other people, even that creepy Dr. Tomlinson whose mannerisms had frightened Helena (but she remained polite to him because she didn't want to disappoint her parents by telling them what she really felt), but she never spoke nice in her voice at all today.

Helena then heard footsteps coming by her room. She quickly turned and put the side of her head against her pillow, pointed towards the side of the room where one could not see her eyes looking in from the doorway of her room. She heard the door creep open, and heard her father's voice.

"Sleeping like an angel… not a worry in the world."

"Been a while since I've done that." Her brother's voice. Just exactly who was Matthew Kenway? That was the big question on young Helena Kenway's mind.

"Good night, my daughter." Her father said as he closed the door. Helena waited for the footsteps to fade away before she slowly rolled out of bed. She held her breath as she pushed the door open. The entire manor was shrouded in darkness, no sign of candle-light or lantern glow anywhere. The whole place was so dark that one could hardly see their own hand in front of them. But no worry… Helena closed her eyes. Concentrated hard. And when she opened her eyes, the world had changed.

She was only five, but the daughter of Connor Kenway already had her fair share of secrets. She'd discovered it only last year. But she hadn't told either of her parents or anyone else. Truth be told, she didn't think of this odd ability of hers as a blessing. It scared her, to be honest, the way the world just changed how it looked when she used it. She was worried that word of it would leak out into town, and all the other children would ridicule her as a freak. She already received taunts from some like that witch Abigail just for having a quarter of what they called "savage blood" in her. What would happen if they all found out that Helena could by will make the world in her eyes turn dark and make certain people and objects start glowing?

Helena looked in the air. She could see the faint trail of a candle flame illuminated, like a slash of paint on a canvas. She knew that must've been the way her father and her brother had gone. Tiptoeing, holding her breath, she crept and followed the glowing path. This path went downstairs. Helena made sure not to step on any of the old stairboards that creaked when she made her way down. Eventually, the glowing path led towards a room with its doors closed. Helena could see that from the glow behind the small openings, the inside was light. Helena could hear muddled voices. She was big enough to reach the door handle, and she cautiously gripped the knob with her hand. Slowly turning it, she pushed the door open just wide enough she could see inside.

Inside were her father and her brother, and they were both glowing blue. His father reached inside one of the desk cabinets and he pulled out a spherical object. Helena shuddered as she saw it. She didn't know what exactly the black ball, but it had put her father to sleep for a long time when he had touched it the last time she saw it. He had promised her that he wouldn't touch it again as long as he loved her, but here he was holding. Why? Her father had lied… but why? Helena's heart dropped as she pondered that question. Her father handed the black ball to Matthew.

"Do you have an official name for this object?" Her father.

"I don't know. We just called it the Black Apple because it looks like the other Apples of Eden discovered by the Assassins over the year, except it was black while they were gold."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I'll take it with me to the Mentor when we have reestablished a main base of operations. It'll probably be in the capitol city again, once they rebuild it. There we'll study it. Have you used it?"

"It showed me a vision when I touched it…" Her father said.

"What sort of visions."

"I saw my father and mother. The Templars I had killed. Commander Washington. Your mother. And I don't know… I think the vision showed me a future that had yet to come… I have yet to make full sense of all I saw."

"Huh. Maybe I should use it and see what it shows me."

"I wouldn't recommend that, my son."

"I can understand. Even just holding it… I have never felt such power from one single thing in my life before now. It's tempting… if we could somehow figure out how to use this as a weapon against the Templars, we could win this war for good. And perhaps… fix the world afterwards." This certainly wasn't any barmy adult talk, as her mother had put it earlier.

"We barely know anything about the Precursor Civilization, Matthew. If it were up to me, I'd just dump this ball into the damn sea and forget about it."

"Hmph. But it's tempting… one object that can control the minds of thousands… think about it, Father. We could finally abolish all the blights from this land like slavery… the abuse of your people…"

"And do you suppose that it's in your place as an Assassin to use force and control of that magnitude to accomplish what you want? Nothing separates you from them if that's so…" Her father said. What were they talking about? Assassins… Precursors, Templars, so many new words that she didn't know the meanings of.

"Yes… I don't know what got into me. Say, Father, did you happen to have an African family knock upon our door earlier?"

"Yes… I suppose it was you?"

"Guilty as charged." Helena was about to hear the rest where she heard a hand tap on her shoulder. She whirled around in surprise, breaking her concentration and snapping her out of the strange glowing vision. There was the sound of flesh hitting cold floor as her foot touched the ground, her heart racing, but she calmed down as she saw who it was standing in front of her. Mother, holding a candle, and looking very concerned. How did Mother sneak up on her like that? She thought that her Mother was already in bed like her… Helena prepared herself for the reprimanding.

"Helena… don't you know it's rude to listen in on people like that?"

"Mother…" She said, unsure of what to say next. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"I'll talk to you in your room…" Alexandra said as she lifted Helena up and walked back up the staircase.

"Did you hear something?" Matthew asked, and pushed the door open. There was nothing.

"No." Connor said as he placed the Black Apple back into his cabinet. If it hadn't been for his son, he'd have fired that damn artifact as far as he could've into the ocean with a cannon by now. He still worried that his daughter would come across it by accident, and who knew what it would do to her?

"Must've been my imagination, then." Matthew said. "I'll be off, I guess. How much is the inn fare these days?"

"Inn fare? Are you joking?" Connor said. "Your old room is still vacant. Come, let me show you." Connor led his son up the stairs like he had done when the boy was still young. As he reached the second floor, Connor turned his head and saw candle glow coming from Helena's room. Alexandra was probably checking up on her. He couldn't have asked for a better, more caring mother for his child.

Her mother was softly stroking her cheek. She didn't seem to be mad at Helena at all. Just a soft slap on the wrist and a promise to never be caught peeping on people in this house again. Helena was grateful that she had parents like hers… she'd seen some of the other children in the Homestead whose parents were not as soft as hers when it came to punishing naughty children.

"Mother…"

"Yes, Helena?" Alexandra looked down at her daughter, scholarly eyes ready to answer any questions her daughter might have of her.

"Do you hate my brother?"

"Matthew? No… I just don't trust his type. That's all."

"Why?"

"Well, you see… your brother isn't a soldier, but he's part of a different organization that's sort of like an army… only hidden."

"Freemason?" Helena asked. Some of the other children sometimes talked about Freemasons, although Helena didn't have too much of a grasp of what a Freemason really was, other than that they really liked to build secret passageways. Helena had spent some time looking for secrets like those around her house, but her parents both assured her that there was nothing like that around. Still, she still liked to look around and pretend there was. It was all part of the fun of being young, and each day bringing a new adventure to embark upon.

"No. Freemasons are just a group of bored rich men like Dr. Tomlinson who like to gather around and just talk… the organization that Matthew is a part of… they're the ones that you actually have to watch out for, my luv."

"What do you mean? Is he bad, my brother? He doesn't seem bad…"

"You detest arrogance, don't you?" Helena thought about Abigail, and the punches they'd exchanged last month. She nodded to her mother as the candle her mother held flickered, casting shadows across both of their faces. "I don't know about your brother… but the people he works for, they claim to follow a Creed. Do you know what a Creed is?"

"No, mother."

"No matter. All you need to know is that this Creed is an antiquated notion of laughable idealism that they subvert to their own pursuits. They claim to believe in freedom, but only freedom that applies to who they think deserves it. They don't care who they hurt to get what they want, they don't care if they reduce civilization to the brink of anarchic destruction as long as their vision of a 'free' world where nothing is true and everything is permitted is achieved. And worst of all, they take children like you and indoctrinate them into coldblooded killers, blinded and unable to see the grievous crimes they make you commit."

"What… what are they?" Helena asked, her voice quivering.

"They call themselves Assassins. And they are nothing more than a cabal of ruthless killers. And your father…"

"What about Father?" She almost cried.

"He was one of them." Helena's heart shattered at this revelation as the words escaped the lips of her mother. She couldn't believe it. Her own father… he killed people? With the very hands he used to stroke her hair and carry her to bed at night? And still, he reprimanded her for hitting another girl? Her mother noticed her discomfort and spoke softly to Helena, patting her on the head to let her know it was alright.

"Your father, despite his former allegiances, is not a bad man. He's one of the few good ones… there's no need to be afraid of him. But promise me one thing… if your so-called half-brother does anything suspicious while he's in this house, or says anything that discomforts you, tell me and I'll see to it that your father or better puts him in his place. I'm sorry, Helena… for dumping all of this on you. I hadn't intended… but I had to let loose my reservations about that man sleeping in our house at this very moment."

"Alright, Mother." Helena, unsure of what to seek. She was only five and already learning so much. None of it made sense… it all felt like some blasted fairy tale like the stories her father would tell her on nights like these. "One more thing."

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes." Alexandra smiled, and her eyes seemed cloudy. "You two… are the greatest things that could've ever come into my life, and I despair of what would happen if I were separated from either of you." She came in close and hugged her daughter, kissing her on the cheek. She waited until Helena was fast asleep. Alexandra could feel tears welling up, and she didn't know why. She was suddenly full of concern for the future, even though she knew that moments like these were bound to arrive one day. She whispered to her daughter, a message tinted with love only a mother could provide.

"Sleep safe, Helena. And may the Father of Understanding guide us. All of us."

A tear slid down her cheek as she realized that this act of the play was almost over and the finale was about to play out. Tomlinson's arrival in December had guaranteed that. She had trained her life for this moment, but none of that mattered. She was completely unprepared for what was about to happen… what she was about to do. What she was to do. She reached underneath her clothing and pulled out a small silver cross. Her father had given her this cross with his own bloodied hands… he'd been murdered in London by one of the men in the white hoods right in front of her. The man in the white hood had looked at her, and there had been nothing in his eyes but malice. Alexandra had always been sure that he'd have murdered her if friends of father had not arrived to chase him off. And she had carried the cross with her ever since. She knew what her mission was… but she wasn't so sure that after all this time getting to know the man and the place, that she could still do it as easily as she could have in 1804.

She needed to talk to someone. But there was no one that she could talk to about this sort of thing in this world. She was alone. Alexandra got to her feet. Stroked her sleeping daughter's hair. It was only a matter of time now… they'd never forgive her. Wiping her tears away… she was an adult and adults don't cry easy, she blew out the candle and walked out of the room.

"You were up early today." Connor commented as he rubbed his eyes. Helena was up by his side, clinging by his legs. "Is it something special?" He asked Alexandra as the two saw her busily preparing a breakfast.

"No… just had a rough night's sleep, I'm afraid, guv."

"Nightmare?"

"You could say that." She did her best to smile. How little he knew… "It was ghastly. The whole bloody manor had burned down and I couldn't find either of you. I kept screaming for you and Helena, digging through the wreckage, but I couldn't find you. Only embers and ash. And then I woke up. I couldn't go back to sleep after something like that…"

"It's just a dream. I've had my fair share of bad ones too." Connor smiled and put his arm around her. "But why let a dream haunt you, when instead you can look forward to what is real?"

Before Connor could do anything, she leaned in and up and kissed him on the lips. Helena backed away as they did this, allowing her parents a space for their bit of affection. She was still thinking about what her mother had said to her the other night about her father's past. How he was once a killer but also a good man. A good killer. Was there such a thing? She wasn't afraid of him. She still loved her father regardless of what he might have done in the past. Her father was a good man… she knew she could trust her mother, and more importantly, she knew that she could trust her own heart.

"I love you… both of you." Alexandra said to Connor and Helena, and she embraced both of them. Matthew passed the dining room as he walked towards the door. He glanced at them briefly, and smiled. He never remembered his father being this happy the last time he'd been at Davenport, but good on the old man for finally finding something that would keep him smiling until the day his heart stopped beating. Matthew paused his thoughts as that last word slipped by him. Stop beating. It seemed impossible. Matthew was the son of a legend… and even as a man nearing twenty-five, Matthew still felt that legend would outlive them all. He opened the door and walked outside. He retraced an old path he remembered to a place near the mansion towards the cliffside. He hadn't been here since he was three, when the displaced earth was still fresh.

He stopped at the gravestone. He wiped away the small plants that had grown over it. He looked over at the words etched on it.

Deborah Carter 1736 – 1793

It's nice to be a part of something. His mother had said those words. About her brief period of work for the Assassins before the yellow fever took her life. And below, those words were words his father had carved onto the gravestone. Words in his father's native tongue. And at the ground, he noticed something that had been placed fresh.

A white feather. He didn't have to ask around to know who did it. Matthew looked around, and there were other tombstones with feathers and other mementos lying upon them. Many of his father's friends, his family, and allies were here. And Matthew remembered that sometimes when he was a child and growing here, Connor would take a trip to New York City to visit "family" as he told Matthew. Matthew looked down at his mother's grave once more. He realized he had no idea what to say to her.

And he walked away.