April 14th-15th 1861

Upstate New York

Lealan Residence

Five weeks.

Five glorious weeks full of relaxation and rest. The weather was perfect, so Margaret and her two daughters spent most of their time working in the flower garden. She showed them how to bake the perfect loaf of bread, caught up with friends in town and spent time with her husband.

Everything was fine, almost borderline perfect.

That is, until news reached their home by the way of a local Native American that was a part of the Assassins in New York.

The South Carolina militia had attacked the Federal Stronghold of Fort Sumter. The Union Army had surrendered the fort yesterday at two in the afternoon. The only good news that she received was about the minimum casualties, but it wasn't very good regardless.

A civil war had begun.

That night, after the children had been put into bed, Margaret sat at the kitchen table. In front of her were the telegrams and letters, all of them from the Assassin bureau in Maryland. They had come flooding in after Canaqueese had delivered the news. Some of them were orders from Mentor Kellan, telling her she needed to come to the Maryland Bureau to receive her orders in the coming conflict. Margaret knew, deep down in her gut, that this conflict would not end quickly.

The Templars that had control of the South. And they won't give up their power so easily.

Margaret regretted not removing the Templar threat sooner. But as her grandmother had said, the Templars were like a Hydra.

Once one was taken down, two more rose to take the vacant place of power.

Margaret gathered up the twenty-six telegrams and letters when Lionel walked in. He had noticed the influx of letters and telegrams over the day and had seen how each one sent his wife spiraling down further and further into a darkened mood.

Lionel was no fool. He knew that his wife was hiding something, though he was pretty sure it wasn't infidelity. He knew that her family was a part of something long before they met at that town dance all those years ago. Lionel knew that she would tell him when she was ready. Margaret hated not telling him sooner, but fear about what would happen to him when he became aware, when the blinders were taking off...that was stronger than the hate she felt toward herself.

He wasn't going to push and demand an answer.

He would be there for his wife if she needed him.

"Everything okay, Maggy?" He asked, rubbing her shoulders.

She couldn't do anything but nod. "Yes. Everything's fine. Father's business is in trouble, what with all this conflict going on in Charleston Harbor."

Lionel just hummed in agreement. "Would you like for my mother to stay with us while you go and see your father about it?"

"No. I will respond that unless there is an absolute need for me to be there, I won't go." She knew that the Assassins would need every skilled warrior they could get in the upcoming conflict, but right now she needed to be with her family, knowing very soon that she would walk out that door and possibly never return. Margaret glanced up at her husband, his eyes shining with worry. A mirror of her own countenance. "Hopefully, hopefully, everything will end soon."

"One can only pray." Lionel whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Come. It's late. We have a long day tomorrow."

Margaret allowed Lionel to take her form the chair and lead her back to the bedroom. As they laid down, with the moon shining down into the room, Margaret let the moment sink into her memory. Allowed the feeling of Lionel snuggling up against her with his strong arms around her waist protectively to linger. Took in the scent of her home around her.

Once shots were fired in a major battle, Margaret wouldn't be able to ignore Mentor Kellan's summons.

But she was going to hold out as long as she could.

She closed her eyes on the night of April fourteenth, hoping that the news the next morning would be a little better.

It wasn't.

Lionel brought in the morning paper, his face gaunt and grim. Margaret had just sat down when he handed her the newspaper, laughing and joking with her children. When she read the newspaper headline, the mood plummeted.

President Lincoln confirms rumors of insurrection; calls for seventy-five-thousand militia to quell rebellion of southern states.

Margaret had to swallow her bile upon reading it.

This wasn't good. While calling on the country to band together to fight these insurgences, this would only provoke the fires of war even further.

There was something bigger going on. This went far beyond the Assassins and Templars.

But theories and suspicions would have to wait.

"Excuse me a moment." Margaret stood and prepared herself to go out. Quickly scribbling a small note and grabbing a wad of cash, Margaret left the homestead and rode all the way to the telegram office.

"Hello," the clerk greeted her as soon as she stepped into the office. "How may I assist you today, ma'am?"

"I need to send a telegram to Elizabeth Kellan in Baltimore, Maryland immediately." She placed the paper on the desk.

The clerk glanced down at the slip, reading the words scribbled on there, For your part, I wish two years away if you can manage. If not, only for times requiring all hands on deck.

"Right. That'll be ten dollars please."

Margaret counted out the amount and handed it to the man without too many words. She left the clerk in haste, hoping that the telegram would get to the Maryland Bureau soon. She stepped out of the office, taking one last look at her home town in peace time before taking to horse and riding off into the distance.

AN: Due to personal issues, I am going to be taking a break until December 12th.