Chapter 9

17 January 1784 – Davenport Homestead, Massachusetts State

Connor knew immediately it was a dream.

The flames rose high above the trees, glowing brightly against the ash covered sky. He could hear the screams and coughs as people ran in terror from the crumbling longhouses. Many were on the floor too injured to run from the destruction.

He remembered this day. It was one of the few days in his life that he would never be able to forget.

The day his village had burned.

He ran though the village as he had before all those years ago, dodging burning logs as they crashed to the floor crying out for his mother. Connor knew the route he was taking off by heart, he had spent many dreams over the years reliving the experience. Every dream he had of this time all ended the same as they had in real life.

With him being dragged away from her and hearing the sickening crack the roof caving in.

The dream shifted and Connor found himself in the flame covered longhouse. His mother was pinned under the collapsed roof beams and pleading with him to run as he ignored her desperate cries and continued to desperately lift the fallen wood. The wood didn't move, he knew he wasn't strong enough.

The dream shifted again, and he found himself walking once again through the village.

But this time the village had drastically changed.

Ash was now pilled where proud buildings had once stood. He could see his fellow villagers walking around aimlessly, their faces blank with shock as if they could not accept what had happened to their home. The cries of the injured and suffering filled his ears, everywhere he looked was touched by pain and destruction.

The village had broken that day, and it never had been the same afterwards.

The dream then shifted again. He was now walking between the charred longhouses where the beams still smoking. The villagers who could still move were now pushing through the wreckage moving the embers away with their bare hands, not caring about the burns to their hands, searching for family members who had been trapped underneath.

Hoping that they were still alive.

Like Connor was now doing.

No.

Connor tried to stop himself. Desperately trying to stop his memory from taking him towards the longhouses.

Connor knew what was there and he wanted to turn away.

He didn't want to see this scene again.

But he could do nothing to stop himself as the memory now took over the dream and moved him towards where he knew he would find his mother's body.

Everything went dark as a hand covered his eyes and he was held him in place.

"Don't look Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"Let me go!"

No.

"She is-"

"Let me see her!"

Don't look.

DON'T LOOK!

Connor sat bolt upright in bed breathing rapidly.

His body was tense and cold sweat trickled down his back. His heart thumped like a drum hard against his ribcage and his hands clenched the furs beneath him. Connor sat there for a while trembling in pain and horror at the memory of the day of the fire.

He exhaled slowly and tried to calm his rapid breathing. The room was silent now with only the faint creak from the trees, as the branches brushed together in the night-time breeze.

The sun had not yet appeared in the sky and outside was still dark, signifying that it was still the middle of the night. But Connor didn't think he would fall back asleep even if he tried to at this point.

He wasn't sure if he could bear to face the whatever dreams would come if he did try to sleep again.

Connor ran a trembling hand over his eyes and sighed.

He'd forgotten about this.

He'd forgotten about the dreams.

He had spent so many years helping others, rushing back and forth across the frontier, thwarting Templar plots, living up to Achilles expectations, fighting battles on land and sea, and trying to save his village, that it was rare he could catch sleep. When he did manage to find time to rest, he would quickly succumb to the exhaustion, trying to ignore the crushing weight of expectations and responsibilities, and would be too tired to dream.

Now Connor remembered why he kept busy, why he avoided sleep.

It was so he could avoid the nightmares.

Connor closed his eyes and sat there in the dark as he continued to breathe slowly pushing the memories to the back of his mind.

A shuffling sound came from his left and his eyes snapped open. Swiftly grabbing the blade that he kept under his bed, Connor held the knife out, peering into the darkness towards the sound.

His eyes widened as he realised where the noise had come from.

The abrupt movement from Connor as he had woken up, had caused his wife to shuffle in her sleep. She had been too exhausted to be woken up properly by him and had turned over, only mildly disturbed by his movements. Oni:dä now settled deeper into the furs, blissfully unaware of the blade that was inches away from her.

Connor quickly moved the blade away and put it back under the bed. He was so used to waking up after Oni:dä had already gotten up and left to start her tasks for the day, that he had forgotten that she was still in the room.

He got out of the bed as quietly as he could, so as not to disturb his wife, and padded across the cold floor and towards the chair where he had laid his clothes out the night before. He dipped his hands into the near empty bucket of water that had been placed in the corner of the room and splashed it on his face before quickly getting dressed.

Connor crouched down by the fireplace and relit the fire that had died down during the night. Sitting there for a moment he watched the flames flicker back to life before placing some more logs and turning away, making his way over to the desk that stood near the windows. Sitting in the chair he absently picked up his mother's gorget, as he had many times before, and mindlessly brushed his thumb against the cool metal surface, thinking about the past few days.

He had not forgotten what had happened yesterday.

The guilt he had felt at the sight of both the pile of furs in the kitchen, his wife's tired face, and her wearied words about his sudden disappearance.

Connor looked over to the bed where Oni:dä was still sleeping.

On a usual morning she would have woken up before him and be out working around the Homestead already. But the last few days had obviously taken a toll on her, even if she didn't want to admit it to herself or to him.

He refused to leave her alone without a word again until he could properly explain why he had been gone for so long, and why he hadn't told her.

Connor spent the next few hours fiddling with the beads that laid around the gorget as he waited for Oni:dä to wake up. Thinking about the memory he had been forced to revisit in his dreams and of his mother final words to him.

You must be strong my son.

Had he been strong?

He had wondered often about his mother and what she would've thought about the life he was now living. Would she agree with the choices he'd made up until now, or with the path he had chosen? With all that he'd been through and all the lives he had taken?

Connor wasn't sure.

What about the choice he had made about the connection of the tribes? The one that had brought a new person into his life, and another tribe to protect. Thinking about recent circumstances he wondered whether he had made the right choice, and if hi mother would agree with his choices or scold him for his recent actions.

Connor put the gorget back on the table and looked outside at the rising morning sun. He needed to go to the library and look through the information about the Templars that Achilles had compiled when he was alive. The old man had been so paranoid about anybody that he had ever met, or had even just mentioned to him, that he had information about almost everyone.

Connor had once told him he was too paranoid and the old man had given him a withering stare before retorting that his so-called paranoia would help Connor more than he knew, and 'he'd do better looking through it then disregarding it as an old man's paranoid writings'.

Connor hoped Achilles was right. He needed that information, now more than ever.

The sound of movement brought his attention back to the bed in the corner of the room.

Oni:dä was now stirring as the morning light fell on her face, it had now risen high enough to shine through the upstairs window. She sat up and yawned, the furs that had been covering her fell back into the bed in a heap. She looked to the side of the bed where Connor usually slept, completely missing that he was sat at the other side. Her shoulders became rigid as she obviously believed that she had once again been left alone.

Connor felt the guilt resurface and quickly spoke up.

"I'm still here."

His wife started violently, whirling round she looked at him with wide eyes. Connor also started, surprised at the reaction his words had caused. He hadn't realised his words would be met with such a reaction. But as he quickly thought about it, he realised speaking to someone when they thought they were alone in a room probably wasn't the most calming situation.

"Have you been here this whole time?" She asked composing herself and getting up from the bed. Connor nodded.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

Connor watched as she crossed the room and splashed some water on her face, as her had done earlier, before grabbing the nearby shawl from the basket by the chair and throwing it around her shoulders.

"You needed the rest."

She paused for a moment looking as if she would protest again, but she spoke quietly instead.

"Thank you."

Connor nodded wordlessly. There was a short pause between them, as if neither of them knew what to do next.

Which was, as Connor thought, understandable. They had spent little time together before he had left and recent incidents hadn't helped them in becoming closer.

Oni:dä pulled the shawl closer to herself and shifted slightly before breaking the short silence.

"You said you needed to talk to me?"

Connor walked over to where she was stood and stopped in front of her.

"I'm sorry for leaving without telling you."

"It's fine, you don't need to tell me where you are going."

"You have a right to know." He pressed.

She shook her head as he spoke.

"I don't want you to feel obliged to tell me everything you're doing."

"But it obviously caused you distress and-," Connor started to argue back before noticing his wife flushed faintly at his words and was now looking, her brows faintly furrowed, at the fireplace, not meeting his eyes.

He spoke again but softer this time.

"I want to tell you. I would like you to know."

Oni:dä's eyes flickered towards him for a brief moment, before averting them agin and nodding. Connor took that as a positive sign and continued.

"I often leave at unusual hours. This isn't business for the Homestead, it is business that helps many more people and when I am called to leave, I am needed immediately." He fiddled with the straps that held the leather gauntlet on his wrist as he spoke. Connor had to pick his words carefully, he needed to let his wife know of the circumstances of his journeying habits without telling her about the Brotherhood.

She didn't deserve to be dragged into that mess.

"Most of the times that I leave I will not return for many days, this you have already seen, but sometimes I will be gone for even longer. When I leave, I am never sure of when I might return."

Connor looked up from the leather gauntlet and noticed that Oni:dä was now looking at him intently, her brown eyes somewhat narrowed in contemplation. He was sure she had noticed his careful wording and continued, not wanting her to ask questions.

"From now on I will make sure that you know when I leave." He paused a moment, "If that is what you want."

Oni:dä nodded and spoke.

"Norris has already mentioned that your business usually takes you away for many days and sometimes it will stretch onwards for months." Connor made a mental reminder to thank Norris later about his help. His assistance and words of assurance had helped Connor's wife when no one else could.

"I know this, and it may be selfish to ask." His wife now hesitated before she continued. "But is it possible to know when you might be back?"

Connor thought about it.

He never knew when he was going to be back for two main reasons. One was that he if he had no reason for returning to the Homestead then he would stay near in the towns or the Frontier, helping to guide the ever-growing population of Assassins and assisting in their training. Wherever he was needed he went immediately, going place to place irrespective of the days or weeks that it might take.

The second reason was much more sobering.

Connor had no confirmation of if he would ever return.

The fight with Lee at the harbour those few years ago had forcefully reminded him of that. He could still feel the dull ache of wound at his side where the beam had pierced him.

Connor was not a fool. He knew his own mortality and was aware that his situation was more life-threatening than others.

But he had chosen this path.

He had chosen to follow what Achilles had taught and he now knew the reality and the cost of his choice. He was willing to pay the price in lives for the price of safety and freedom for those who needed it.

Even if it was his own.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton?"

Connor looked back at the woman in front of him who was waiting for his reply with a hint of worry on her face. He needed to let her know of the consequences and reality of his situation.

"I asked too much and I apologise." His wife said firmly, "I do not need an answer, I can wait for your return."

Connor made his decision right there.

"I will let you know how long my journeyings will take and I will return at that time." He said determinedly. "I promise you I will return."

Oni:dä looked surprised at his sudden fierce determination and she murmured her thanks with a hint of confusion, before turning and making herself busy with something else. Connor reigned in his emotions and watched unseeingly as she un-braided her hair.

He had promised something serious.

How could he promise not to die? It was something he had limited control over.

Nevertheless, he had promised it, and he intended to follow through with the promise. He didn't want to make his wife suffer any more then she already had.

Would she even hear about it if he did die?

Would the news ever get back to her or would she be left alone again, wondering what had happened to him.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton?"

Her voice came once again to him nervously and he hummed his response distractedly, still thinking of his promise and how he was going to follow through on it.

"Do you think you could get me some more water?"

Connor was drawn from his thoughts at the request, and he suddenly focused on what was happening around him.

Oni:dä had fully un-braided her hair now and taken off the buckskin shawl that she had been wearing, leaving her arms exposed to the cool winter air. She was now stood in-front of him looking conscious of herself.

Connor realised abruptly, and a little too late, that while his mind had been focusing on other things, he had unconsciously been watching her as she had been changing. To which she obviously hadn't noticed until she had turned around, as she was now stood with the buckskin shawl now tightly grasped in front of her as her face was becoming decidedly more flushed with each passing moment.

He quickly averted his eyes before nodding and, taking the bucket from beside the fireplace, he swiftly made his way out of the bedroom hoping she hadn't noticed the flush that was rapidly creeping up the back of his neck.


Connor returned to the Manor with the filled bucket after some time, he had stayed away longer than the task had actually required, hoping to give Oni:dä some time to change, and to relieve himself of the embarrassment.

As entered through the front door, the sounds from the kitchen alerted him to the fact that she had already changed and had now moved on to other tasks. As he walked into the kitchen Oni:dä turned around and gave a faint smile, acknowledging his presence.

"Do you need me to take it upstairs?" he asked lifting the bucket up slightly.

"Not yet. Thank you, Ratonhnhaké:ton." She took the bucket from his hands and took it to the copper pot she had placed by the fireplace, pouring it in before lifting the pot up and hanging it over the fire.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Could you go put out the fire in the bedroom? It was still smouldering when I left it."

"Of course."

Connor took the near empty bucket from her and walked back up the stairs to the bedroom. He poured it on the fire slowly, the hiss from the fire grew fainter as it slowly died down. Placed the now empty bucket by the side of the fireplace and stood up.

As he did this, something shined light into his eyes. He blinked and moved out of the way of the light, squinting in the direction of where the offending light had come from.

It was his mother's gorget again.

Now the sunlight was glinting off the metal plate and Connor made his way over to it. As he did this, he noticed something he hadn't when he was holding it in the dim morning light earlier.

It had sat on the desk in his room for many years along with the other mementos he had collected throughout the years. But no matter how many he collected this one would always be the one he would treasure the most. Since he was gone often, Connor hadn't been able to clean the gorget regularly and, apart from a few rare instances where he did have the opportunity, it usually laid at its place on the desk gathering dust.

Yet as he looked at it now, he could see that his mother's gorget was perfectly clean and the metal surface now shone in the sunlight.

Connor looked around the room, and for the first time noticed that everything had been cleaned and taken care of. The mats that had been slowly covered in dust had been shaken out and the cobwebs that had begun to appear in the corners of the room had now been removed.

His wife had been carefully taking care of the house and his precious items whilst he'd been gone.

Looking at the now carefully cared for gorget, a thought struck him. Connor clutched the gorget in his hands and swiftly left the bedroom to return to the kitchen. Oni:dä was still in the kitchen placing wooden bowls on the table when he entered, she turned to face him as he came closer.

"Would you like some porridge?" She asked gesturing to the pot, "It's nearly done."

"Not yet. Was it you who cleaned the desk upstairs?"

His wife noticed the gorget in his hands and gave him an anxious look.

"Yes, did you not want me to touch anything? I'm sorry I should've asked." She quickly started to apologise, but her words began to trail off as Connor shook his head.

"No, I wanted to thank you. I don't often get the chance to care for the items there and I'm grateful you've taken the time out to clean them."

"Oh." His wife looked surprised and, unsure of what to say, she turned away from him picking up one of the wooden bowls. Turning to the simmering pot she repeated her earlier question distractedly. "Would you like some porridge?"

"In a moment there is something- Oh, thank you." He took the filled bowl from her hands.

She wasn't looking at him, seemingly quite interested in stirring the porridge in the pot. Connor placed the bowl of steaming porridge on the table, he had not quite finished his task yet.

"Oni:dä."

"Yes?" She still didn't look at him.

"I'd like you to have this," he said holding the item in his hands out towards her.

At this she finally turned away from the cooking pot to look at the item he was holding out.

She took the necklace from him and turned it over in her hands.

"This is the one from the desk?"

Connor nodded. Oni:dä turned it over in her hand and looked at it.

"It's a beautiful gorget" she murmured, touching it gently.

"It was my mother's."

Oni:dä froze, her fingers halting over the smooth surface. She looked back at him in surprise for a short moment before holding out her hands and going to give it back to him, but Connor didn't take it.

"This is too precious to give to me."

"In my care it has only gathered dust." He said with a rueful smile gently pressing her fingers to close them around the gorget before taking his hands away from hers, "I don't think my mother would have wanted it to lie useless on a desk gathering dust."

"Are you certain you want me to have it?" Connor could sense there was an underlying meaning in her words, but he couldn't understand what it was.

"You are my wife." He said straightforwardly. "If anyone has a right to keep it, it would be you."

She looked stunned for a moment before her fingers tightened over the gorget. She began to open the clasp on the back and put it around her neck. With his task completed Connor turned away.

"There is something I need to do. I will take the food with me upstairs and eat up there."

He picked the bowl back off the table, before going to leave the room.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton."

Her voice called out to him and he automatically turned back to her.

Oni:dä was still stood in the same spot, the gorget was now placed around her neck and she looked down at it, brushing it gently with her fingertips.

He breathed in sharply at the sight, he hadn't thought that the sight of his mother's gorget on another's neck would affect him.

But it obviously had.

His wife looked up at him, thankfully not hearing his intake of breath, and there was an emotion in her eyes that he couldn't quite place.

"Thank you. I will treasure it."

Her voice was soft, and Connor felt his heart clench in an odd way.

He could only nod wordlessly before leaving the room.


Hey Everyone! Don't worry I haven't abandoned this story! I've just been really busy and a lot of stuff has happened these past months (I won't bore you with the details). Remember to follow/fav and also leave reviews I love reading all of your messages!

To the Guest reviewer who asked about Oni:dä: Yes she is the mother of Io:nhiòte and the other two unknown children.