Chapter 3: A Familiar Face

When Kira awoke, the first thing she noticed was how foggy the world around her was. The prison cell in which she now found herself lying appeared to have been swamped with some sort of strange mist, which although she knew was a creation of her mind, threatened to choke her at any second. She raised a pale hand to the side of her head, which ached with a now dull and yet still unbearable pain. It was where Haytham had struck her, she seemed to recall, as the events of the previous night began to form themselves in her mind. She pressed her fingertips to her temple and massaged it softly in an attempt to lessen the pain that rested there; he must have hit her harder than she thought.

As the fog around her began to clear, Kira took a moment to survey her surroundings. She had been lying on a tattered mattress which was caked with mud, and other substances she didn't wish to think about. The walls around her were stone, and likewise, the floor was paved and had since been covered in a layer of dirt and dust. At the front of the room were sturdy, and yet somewhat worn, prison bars. She stood, her hand still pressed to her head, and glanced out of a small window which lay amongst the stone of the wall furthest from the bars. It was beginning to grow dark outside, and it struck Kira just how long she had truly been unconscious for.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a deafening sound, which brought back the searing pain in her head which she thought she had banished. Taking a moment to hold her head tighter, the pain now almost overwhelming, she turned quickly to the source of the noise. It was a key, turning the lock in the door of her cell. She frowned at how such a small sound had appeared to be so much greater. A guard was unlocking the door, and then proceeded to pull it open. For a moment, it crossed Kira's mind that she had a chance to escape. She turned herself towards the door, taking a step forwards, considering the opportunity she had been provided with. But as her head swam with a new dizziness, formed from her one small advancement, she acknowledged she was in no position to try. She would be too vulnerable, too unable to fight for herself. It wasn't worth the risk.

She managed to reach the right-side wall of her cell, and leant against it, grateful for the support. The stone felt like ice as the coldness of it seeped through the thin sleeve of her dress, and the suddenness of this sent a shiver down her spine. She stared at the ground below her, trying to stable her mind, trying to get a hold on what was happening, and trying to think clearly. As the fogginess that clouded her thoughts began to clear once more, she became aware of the sound of footsteps, at first approaching, and now entering her cell. They stopped, and she heard the creak of the door as it was closed behind her visitor, who she could now sense was watching her, waiting for her to make the first move.

She didn't. She did nothing, just continued to stare down at her feet, for this was the only thing she felt she had strength for. After a minute of silence, the visitor must have grown impatient. They took a step forwards and spoke suddenly, breaking the silence, and also somewhat shattering the stability Kira had just created in her mind. Haytham Kenway's voice struck her almost as hard as his sword's hilt had, the night before. "Good evening," he said, simply. "It is good to see you are finally awake."

She waited a moment, recovering slightly, and gathering her thoughts. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she had gained consciousness. He wasn't displaying any emotion at all, he just met her gaze, expectantly, and awaited her answer. "Good evening," she replied, wanting desperately instead to have said something clever, something to make her sound so much less fragile then she felt. At present she struggled to think of any such remark.

Haytham could clearly see how weak her last encounter with him had left her, and so gestured to the ground. "Perhaps you had better sit down."

He didn't receive a reply- he hadn't expected to- instead she just nodded slightly in agreement, and then slowly lowered herself to the floor. Once she had settled, she looked up at him warily, but this time he saw at least a slight strength in her when she spoke. "What do you want from me, Mr. Kenway?"

"Answers." His tone was curt, with an underlying sense of threat. "I have no intention of wasting my time, nor yours. Answer my questions to sufficiency, and I will allow you to leave."

Once more no reply came, and he took this as a prompt to continue. "We will start with your name, Miss…?"

He was met with laughter, though where she found the strength for it, he didn't know. "I am not answering any of your questions, Mr Kenway," she said, her head shaking in amusement.

He sighed, a little frustrated at her clear desire to be uncooperative. He should have known better than to hope for an Assassin not going out of their way to be difficult. "Look," he began to explain, "can you not see yourself? You have barely the strength to stand, let alone fight." He stopped- drawing his sword to emphasise his point. "I do not want to have to kill you. But if you do not answer my questions, you will leave me no choice."

There was a menace in his voice that wasn't there before, and a sincerity she couldn't deny. He spoke calmly- softly, even- but there was an impatience in his tone that suggested he was in no mood for games. His sword glinted in the little light provided by the few lamps outside of the cell, and he held it with confident composure. He was right, for looking up at him now, she didn't fancy her chances in opposing him.

"Let's try again, shall we?" he lilted a little playfully. "Your name, Miss…?"

She waited a moment before replying. She would not lose her life over a few questions, but if she was going to sacrifice her integrity, she was taking some of his precious time with her. "Lawrence. Kira Lawrence," she said finally, regretting every syllable she uttered.

In return for her answer, Haytham sheathed his sword quickly, startling her slightly with the suddenness of the action. "Good. Now we're getting somewhere." He paused before pressing on with his next question. "Of what age are you, Miss Lawrence?"

She glowered. "Does that matter?"

"Not particularly," he taunted, toying with her a little before continuing more pragmatically. "Then again, a person's age is an excellent gauge of their experience, and thus, the threat they pose."

The logic of these words only furthered Kira's reluctance to answer the question. She sighed, irritably, reminding herself of her ultimate goal to simply survive this interrogation. "I am six and thirty."

He regarded her, quirking an eyebrow in apparent surprise. He had presumed her to be a little younger, though he could credit this to either her looks or her youthful spirit. He allowed himself a moment to admire just how beautiful she was. Her long brunette hair cascaded freely over her shoulders and down her back, loose and dishevelled from the poor quality of her sleep. Her deep brown eyes burnt with the same defiance he had already began to be accustomed to, the passion behind their glow apparent, despite the low light. There was something undeniably attractive in the expression.

He shook his head subtly, interrupting his own thoughts, and resuming his questioning. "You are obviously British- your accent makes that clear. So what are you doing in here, in America?"

"I might ask you the same question." She had noticed him admiring her, and couldn't help finding it mildly amusing. After receiving a warning look, she proceeded to answer the question- properly, this time. "I am British. My mother died not long after I was born, and my father was killed when I was fourteen. With no other close family in England, I decided to make the journey to America, for I heard the Assassins were prospering here."

"So you have been training as an Assassin here for over twenty years now. Who is your mentor? The old man, I presume?"

"If you mean Achilles, then yes."

Haytham began to ask something else, but before he was given the chance, he was disturbed by the presence of someone outside of the cell. "I am sorry to interrupt, Grand Master, but if we don't leave now, we shall be late."

Kira recognised the man immediately as Charles Lee, and turned to eye him suspiciously. Haytham frowned, before he recalled what Charles was referring to and smiled good-naturedly. "Of course, yes. It had quite slipped my mind."

He walked to door, waited for the guard to open it, and headed towards his companion. He made out that he was getting ready to leave, and noticed that Charles was staring at the captive Assassin. "Sir," the man asked, "aren't you forgetting something?"

Haytham followed his gaze, before approaching the cell once more, looking through the bars at the woman who was now finding herself able to stand. "No, Charles. That I hadn't forgotten." He raised his voice to now address the person in question. "Miss. Lawrence? I have one final question for you."

She looked into his eyes, resentfully. "Yes?"

"Are you a threat to the Templar cause?"

It was an odd question, one that seemed designed to catch her out in some way. She pondered over it for a moment. "I certainly hope so," she eventually shrugged, never one to back away from a challenge. "If I am not, then I shall gladly admit to have having wasted the past twenty two years of my life."

She looked at Haytham, who, after what felt like an eternity of showing no emotion whatsoever, smiled, satisfied.

"Good. You may go."

The door was opened, and Kira tentatively exited the cell, afraid that this was some sort of trick, and expecting the situation to turn at any moment. When it didn't, she struggled to understand why plainly admitting to being a threat had granted her liberty. It was something to be reflected on, once she was rid of this place and had cleared her head. A guard was tasked with escorting her from the premises, and she followed him, tensing as she passed Haytham and Charles. Still, they didn't stop her. Charles waited until she was out of sight before turning to his master, confused by his actions. "Sir, why have you let her go? She is a threat, she said so herself."

Haytham stared after the woman, before adjusting his hat which had fallen slightly sideways on his head. He didn't look at Charles as he responded. "Because she is of much greater use to us free than she is imprisoned here." He paused before continuing, "now, let's be off, shall we?"


Author notes:

Hi, everyone. Thanks for taking the time to read my story so far. Please review, follow, or favourite my story, as I appreciate all feedback, and I'd love to hear what you think. :)

I think I've settled on Thursday as the day I'll post my chapters, but it'll probably vary every now and then.

Thanks again,

Kittycat312