Hi. Another Chappy for you!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed 3. I just enjoy messing with the story lines!

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Ngozi

Fenrir woke Ngozi the next morning, as he did almost every morning by licking him, and bouncing up and down on his chest. Ngozi was half asleep. The book he'd been reading the night before, Prose Elda was tucked neatly under his pillow. He'd started reading it a few weeks before Fenrir was born, despite everyone's protest that it was too large and complicated a book for someone as young as him to be reading.

But he read anyway, making it a point to underline the verses he did not understand to ask his father and mother when they were not busy. They did not seem to mind that he much preferred books of Greeks Gods and Goddesses, and heroic tales of Odin and Beowolf, over the books the other children were reading about fairies and stupid women who could not keep up with their shoes. After all, most of the books he had, he'd gotten off his Father's shelf in the Manor.

It was from the tales of Odin and his Sons that he'd gotten the idea to name Fenrir, the runt of Obi's latest litter.

" Just wait," he'd told his Mother as he held the frail, sickly pup in his arms, " He'll grow up to be a big strong wolf like Fenrir in the stories, and it'll take more than a hundred men to stop him."

It was from that day on that Ngozi called the wolf by the name Fenrir, and while he was still small for a pup, Ngozi had no doubt he'd grow up to be bigger than even Obi or any of the other wolves.

" Fenrir," Ngozi said holding the still bouncing wolf pup still, " Calm down." Almost immediately Fenrir fell still, his bushy grey tail the only thing shaking behind him. " Do you want to go outside."

Fenrir's tail quickened.

" Go. Go."

The wolf jumped from the bed then out of the open door and down the hall.

Ngozi could hear his mother opening the door and letting him out, then the loud footsteps of someone as they walked in. It was not his father, because he never made any noise when he walked, not even in the woods, surrounded by dried leaves and sticks. It was a skill Ngozi hoped to one day learn, but hadn't yet succeeded in doing so.

He would practice now, he decided, since he was temporary rid of Fenrir who would blow his cover. He slipped from his bed and gently lowered himself onto the floor, already having partly memorized which sections of the floor creaked the loudest.

It was not his Mother he was hiding from, but Brianna. For someone so old she had wonderful hearing.

He made it to the top of the stairs, where he could hear part of the conversation below.

" Well pups don't stay pups forever." It was Dr. Lyle's voice. He sounded concerned. " He'll be big one day."

Dr. Lyle had been coming to the house, more and more, and whenever he came around, Ngozi had to leave the room, by the request of his mother. He always wondered what they talked about, and wanted to know if any of it was about the poppy tea that made his mother happy.

" I am quite aware doctor," his mother said. " I presume you come with news?"

" Well yes," Dr. Lyle said clearing his throat. " I have been studying these past few weeks on your condition. As there are few books or resources available on the subject," he paused, Ngozi could hear the ruffling of papers. "Your birth of Ngozi, was difficult, and the fact that the both of you made it out alive, is a miracle. But I fear that his birth has left your womb weakened. You are very welcome to continue to try as you already are, but it is very unlikely you will birth another healthy child. Although the odds present a possibility of success, you will likely continue to have more failures before that happens."

A long silence past in the room, in which Ngozi could hear everything, his mother's calm breathing, and the breath of Dr. Lyle, the birds singing outside the window, his own heart thumping in his chest. He feared that they might even be able to hear him in the silence, until his mother spoke again.

" I understand," she said softly.

"I implore you to tell Connor of the-"

The wood creaked as someone stood, Ngozi could only guess it was his mother.

" How much do I owe you Doctor." The sound of money in a bag rattled across the house.

" Udua-" Dr. Lyle began.

" I insist," her voice sounded flat and lifeless. It scared Ngozi to hear his mother sound that way, when she was always so cheerful, and happy, even when she cried, she was always smiling.

He understood little of what they were saying, but it still concerned him that something was making her upset.

" Take care of your mother…"

So far he wasn't doing a very good job.

" I will tell him."

" I am sorry, Uduak," Dr. Lyle said. The door opened, and the sound of Fenrir's footsteps echoed across the floor. He bolted up the stairs to take his place beside Ngozi, a bloody rabbit locked in his jaw.

Ngozi stood from his crouched position and walked down the stairs, to where his mother stood in the kitchen, hands folded over her mouth, as she muzzled her own cries.

" Mother," he called.

She did not turn. Her shoulders and hands shook.

He called her again, and this time she turned, smiling, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

She bent down in front of him, taking his hands in her own. " My little wolf," she said her voice breaking. Her eyes were still red, and tear filled. " Are you hungry? I'll make you something to eat."

" Fenrir brought a hare," Ngozi said beckoning to the wolf pup still holding the hare.

She did not look at the wolf, nor the hare, but continued to glance at Ngozi. " Then hare soup it is." She touched his cheek, " Go, help Brianna heat water for your bath, everyone is expecting you to be nice and clean today."

She let him go and stood turning her back on him. Usually he would argue with her, try and find every reason why he should not take a bath, but he could not find the strength.

" I love you Mother," he said instead, knowing that always made her smile.

Sure enough she turned and grinned at him. " I love you too, Ngozi." But even through her gleaming teeth and her crinkled lips, she still looked very, very sad.

Myriam

They stood, crowded on the sandy press of the river, dresses and shirts bellowing in the mid-spring air, watching as Father Timothy and his assistant, a young man from Boston stood, Ngozi between them, in the rushing water of the river. Their Sunday pants soaked to the thighs.

" Today, brothers and sisters, fellow children of God," Father Timothy said aloud, " Is an amazing milestone. Today, we come together, to celebrate and commemorate Ngozi's Christening. As we all know, it is the Christ who said, let the children come to me, so that they shall be blessed. On this day Ngozi, one of the youngest among us, has heeded his call. Let us take a lesson from the children of God, and as always, we give thanks and praise for the remarkable gift of Ngozi's life."

Myriam glanced over, at Uduak standing at the head of the crowd, her hands folded at her chest as she watched Father Timothy take Ngozi gently in his arms and dunk him in the water.

Ngozi arose, wet and stoic, his dress clothes hanging off of him like a saggy mop. He was calmer than the other children had been when they'd received their baptisms. Most came up flailing and grasping at Father Timothy's clothes as if the man had attempted to drown them, instead of save their souls.

"It is done, may the Father and the Son bless you dear child." Father Timothy said pressing a damp hand to Ngzoi's wet hair.

The wolf pup bolted in after them then, having torn his way from his holds, barking and whimpering in excitement, splashing water all over Ngozi and Father Timothy. A roar of laughs and claps arose from the crowd and Ngozi slung through the water to the shore, where a group of homesteaders followed patting Ngozi on the shoulder, and hugging him.

" It is nice, no?"

" Norris," Myriam called turning to greet him. He was grinning in only that way that Norris could grin, his large hands still dusty with gunpowder from his explosives. " I thought you weren't coming?"

He drew her in close, wrapping his arm about her waist. She did not pull back away from him, as she would have normally done, but instead glanced down at his exposed arm. She examined the muscles there, thick and veined from mining all day. It brought her a small ping of pleasure and pride that she was only woman on the homestead that knew what his arms felt like when they were wrapped around her form.

" Would not miss this for anything," Norris said.

" Are you sure it has nothing to do with Prudence making apple pie," Myriam said

" Only half I think," Norris said letting her go to trail over to Ngozi. Bending down he picked up the frowning boy and spun him around in a full circle.

" That was exciting yes?" Norris asked sitting Ngozi down.

Still frowning Ngozi looked away. " No," he mumbled.

" He dislikes anything that reminds him of a bath," Uduak said.

" Can I change now?" Ngozi asked.

" Yes. But put on the suit Ellen made you, and hurry back."

" I will," Ngozi said trailing away from the crowd.

" When did he get so big?" Prudence asked. " A year ago he was no bigger than my Hunter, now he seems ready to tower above him.

" They grow so fast," Uduak said.

" Sooner than we know they will be men, and we grandmothers," Prudence said laughing.

Uduak smiled, " I feel that way now," she said, " One would think by the way Ngozi stomps about the house, giving orders and trying to care for me, he's already a man full grown."

Myriam couldn't help but smile, what she'd said was true. "There are some days," Myriam said, "that I think he catches more game than I do."

" And quite the little charmer," Ellen said. "Every Wednesday he brings me flowers. He thinks I don't know. I look forward to it every week."

" Such a helpful lad," Diana said. " Just the day before last I was saying how much I needed a certain herb, and before I could go get it, he'd already brought a whole score over. I would hate to imagine how things would have turned around without the little man around. He's a little mini Connor he is."

Myriam watched Uduak's lips turn in a flattered smile. " I did not know he meant so much to you all."

" Of course," Prudence said, " Children are so few here in the homestead, every little soul is precious to us."

" Speaking of precious souls," Catherine said, " Should we be expecting anymore little ones anytime soon Uduak. The homestead needs daughters."

The women's faces turned to Uduak then. Blush crept up onto her cheeks, and her eyes darted to the ground.

" No…no…I could not possibly…Ngozi is handful enough, besides and I am too old."

" Old!" Ellen exclaimed. " If you are old then, I am ancient. Don't be ridiculous."

" Yes of course," Uduak said. " It is just…conceiving children is harder than I imagined…"

" Say no more," Catherine said. " We all know so very well."

A small smile brushed Uduak's lips before disappearing. Everyone trailed away then, distracted by the call of Father Timothy to gather in Mile's End to enjoy a feast for the community. Myriam started to trail behind them, but stopped when she noticed Uduak still stood behind the crowd, glancing towards the direction of her home.

" Uduak," Myriam called. " Is something wrong?"

Uduak turned to face Myriam, her eyebrows crinkled, her mouth set in a frown.

Almost immediately Uduak's worried look was replaced with one of pleasant surprise. "Everything smells so wonderful," she said. "I cannot wait to see what everyone pre-"

" Uduak…" Myriam called softly. Something was wrong and Uduak was trying to cover it up.

God you are horrible at hiding your feelings. Myriam thought. Uduak turned so that she was facing away from Myriam.

" We should go get something to eat befor-"

" What's wrong?" Myriam blurted before she could stop herself. It had been so long since she'd asked Uduak that question. They were not nearly as close as they were before. Somehow in the mist of all the confusions, the secrets and lies, a wall had been put between them. Now as Myriam glanced over that barrier, she saw just how alone, frightened and desperate Uduak really looked.

" There is no-"

" Uduak, you are my best friend. I wish for there to be no more complications between us…if something is wrong you can tell me."

She was speaking to much, Myriam knew this, yet she could not stop. Her words were true either way. Uduak was her best friend and closest friend, alongside Prudence and Norris.

" Whatever it is you need. You can tell me."

" Humor me Myriam?" Uduak said softly.

" What?"

Uduak clapped her hands. "Now shall we go eat?" She sounded cheery, and carefree, the very imitation of a woman without a problem in the world. Uduak walked ahead of Myriam, without another word, leaving the unanswered question hanging in the air.

Uduak

Everyone was at the mile's end when I arrived, already settled with plates of food. Pies of beef and pork, strained vegetables and soup, fresh bread and rum littered the tables, filling the room with the satisfying smell of food. The homesteads, spoke in small groups, lingered around the bar or danced in the space between the tables, while sailors walked in and out, pipes of tobacco in their hands.

" Oi," Catherine called, " You just missed Connor. Spirited off by the children he was. He asked where you were."

"They are so fond of him," Corrine said admirably.

I made a plate consisting of soup and bread, fearing I could not stomach anything else, and trailed outside, where Connor played with the children, rounding them up one by one as they ran from him, and placing them in a makeshift circle in the dirt, dodging the fingers of the children within the circle as they reached for the bits of clothe hanging from his pockets. It was likely a game of their design, and it surprised me none that he was playing with them. Unlike the other adults, and on occasions myself, Connor did not scold the children for being children.

Perhaps they sensed, like themselves, that in some way he was also a child deep inside. Striped of the childhood he once had, peaceful and full of whimsy, replaced with hate and the raw need for vengeance.

He let one of the children grab a cloth from his pocket, then turned to snatch up the boy before he could run, only to have the other children pile on him in bunches, like sacks of potatoes, falling in his arms, on his shoulders, around his feet. He mocked struggle, falling to his knees under the pile of twisting limbs, before lifting his hands in surrender.

I couldn't help but smile. Still beneath my smile, I felt nothing but sadness, and guilt.

When this is all over…when he head home, to the place that is most familiar, what will happen then?

I have to tell him… I have to burden him with the knowledge of his lost children, of my damaged womb…I felt joy after Ngozi's birth, the joy of knowing that perhaps I was like other women, able to enjoy the choice of child birth, but now that joy had been stricken from me.

Three. The number of miscarriages I'd counted in the year since I'd returned to the homestead. Tiny lumps of flesh and blood that signaled yet another lose, sadness. All occurring while he was away.

Only Brianna knew, for it was she who'd cleaned and collected what remained, held me in my bouts of despair.

The third was the worst. The body of the child had already begun to form, the tiny arms and legs, fingers and toes, the shape of eyelid nose and mouth. And so much blood. I held back screams during those times, fighting the pain, promising myself that I would tell Connor, and failing when I actually got the chance.

Now the soothing dregs of opium lashed my tea, and settled my moods, being the only thing that could contain my anger, sadness and guilt.

When desired moved him to want me as truly and passionately as any man could want a woman, I did not deny him, nor myself of taking all he could give. Afterwards I drank the potions and draughts Brianna once gave to me secretly in the past, rendering my womb barren and useless. I could not stand the thought of yet another child, nor the sight of their blood and flesh as my useless body expelled them.

I knew unlike before, when Connor finally learned the truth, there would be no forgiveness from him. After all they were his children too, and the despair was rightfully his to partake in.

" Uduak." I glanced up.

" Connor," I called. He looked angry. "What is wrong?"

" Slavers," Connor said.

" Here?" I asked moving to stand. He held his hand up stopping me. "How do you know?"

" Ngozi found them. I am going."

" Alone? Maybe you should call-"

He started to walk away from me.

" Connor…at the very least take someone with you. Perhaps call for one of the Assassins and-"

"I do not have time to waste," his voice was firm, a tone away from a shout. I knew this part of him, frustration he displayed when someone got in his way. Regardless of whom they were. In that moment I forgot the decision I'd made to not stand in his way. I approached him, angry and reckless.

" What of your son?" I asked, "What of us? If something happens to you we-"

" That matters little right now," he said placing a hand on my shoulder and moving me out of the way. " Account for the children. I will handle all else."

I clamped my mouth shut then, and glanced away finding I could not meet his gaze.

" Yes…" I said. " Yes of course."

Nothing more had to be said. He turned from me and headed to the wood, weapons in hand.

Ngozi

" Let go!" Ngozi demanded Nela, one of the orphaned, once slave child, that his father had brought to the homestead just months before. They lived in a newly built orphanage up the hill, close to the church, ran by a fat old lady named Miss Hans, who always smelled of milk and lemons.

Nela said nothing. She never did. Instead she pulled him harder, trying to lead him back towards the homestead.

At first Ngozi assumed her silence was because she was stupid. After all she was his age, and he could talk, as well as the other kids, but she couldn't. But it wasn't until his mother explained that tragic circumstances sometimes made people mute, and that Nela was a victim of such circumstances.

During lessons with Father Timothy and Miss Hans, instead of writing she often drew pictures on small pieces of papers. They were often pictures of animals, rabbits and bears, wolfs and goats, which held little to no meaning to him, but seem to, by the way she smiled while drawing them, mean the world to her.

The adults thought, just as Ngozi had at first, that she was stupid, gone of mind, because she never wrote, or read when they asked her to. But Ngozi knew differently. He knew she would write he'd seen her do it numerous times, when they were away from the homestead sitting in the wood, Obi beside them sleeping or whining for attention, she wrote him notes.

Once against his mother's orders, he'd asked Nela why she refused to speak. She'd drawn him a picture, of men and women standing in a crowd looking up at two darkened bodies hanging from trees. The faces were unrecognizable but Ngozi understood that the lightened figures on the ground were supposed to be white people, and the figures hanging from trees blacks. Among the crowd just in the middle was a small girl, sitting on the ground and crying.

Ngozi understood, then perfectly without words.

Afterwards she'd asked him to read one of his books to her; and he had, stopping and skipping words neither or they knew, reminding himself to ask his mother or father later. He'd stopped, when they got to the part where the hero saved a fair maiden in trouble.

"Just like the hero in the story," he said to Nela when she'd nudged him to continue reading. "I'll protect you. You and mother," he'd said.

Nela had grinned at that, and then tried to hold his hand, but he'd pulled back embarrassed.

" I'm not going back," Ngozi said. "I have to follow father."

Alerted Nela shushed him, and then leapt into a bush pulling him behind her. They settled, quietly, and she pointed ahead through a hole in the bush.

Four white men sat camped in the hill below, a fire burning in the middle of them, above the fire the cooking carcass of a rabbit. Beside the men sat a metal cage, atop a wagon, inside five black men, and a woman and child. They looked dirty, and starved, and not at all happy.

A figure arose from the bushes beside where the men sat.

Father….

His father attacked, drawing his tomahawk over his head and into the shoulder of the nearest man.

Even from where he sat Ngozi could hear the crunch as the man's bones cracked under the strain of the tomahawk, smell the blood as it poured from the man's wounds. Ngozi flinched despite himself, then turned to Nela who watched seemly unaffected her eyes aloof, mouth set in a frown.

Nela stood as his father finished the last man.

" Nela," Ngozi called reaching for her. She ran before he could stop her, down the hill towards his father. Ngozi took off after her, reaching for her hand as she slid down the hill.

His father turned momentarily surprised at first, then angry.

" Ngozi," he called. " What are you doing?"

He reached for Ngozi, blood still on his hands, staining his clothes and face. Ngozi took a step back, remembering the sight of his always gentle, kind and caring father, doing the very thing his mother always said was wrong.

" Ngozi…"

" No," Ngozi said pulling back again. He took Nela by the hand, and pulled her away from the cage.

He ran then, Nela to one side, Fenrir to the other, his entire form shaking.

Connor

Connor saw Uduak before he did Ngozi. She stood placing wet clothes on the line.

" Warren's goat got out again," she said when she finally noticed him. "He ate through your best shirt." She held up the tattered clothe and frowned. " I just ordered this shirt too. I'll talk to Ellen tomorrow and-is something wrong? You look-?"

" Ngozi," Connor said softly just as he caught sight of him walking from the house, bow in hand, arrows in his quiver.

" Ngozi."

Ngozi paused in his movements, but did not turn to face Connor. He sat right where he once stood, folding his legs.

Connor took a step forward, and then another and another until he stood beside Ngozi.

" Mother says those who kill for unjust reasons are monsters," Ngozi said finally after a long moment, his hands moving to pick up another arrow, only to set it back down again.

" I did not kill those men for unjust reasons," Connor said softly. It did no good to speak to Ngozi as if he were a simple child. He was too well taught, by observing the actions and words of the adults around him, taking in everything much like a rag, whether he understood it all or not.

" I know you are not a monster father…" Ngozi said. " But…" He paused, his fingers twisted about the grass near his bare feet.

" What is it?"

" Grandmother," Ngozi said finally after a long moment, " She says, that those who kill, no matter the reason, are beast." Ngozi shook his head, wisps of loose, hair falling from the once neat ponytail Uduak had put in earlier that day. " I do not understand. You killed them father. All of them." He glanced up at Connor then, his hazel eyes searching, large and confused, as if asking him to deny all that he'd seen, to scold him for a lie, when he was telling the truth. In that moment, he looked more like to a child to Connor than he'd ever had before, tiny and weak

" Are you a beast father?" the question spoken from Ngozi's quivering lips, was as sincere and confused as his gaze.

Something within Connor lurched, sending a dull ache radiating though his chest.

How can I even begin to explain? The complex nature of what I do?

He reached out for Ngozi, to hold him, or to scold him, he did not know. Ngozi flinched, before Connor could reach him, and Connor withdrew his hand.

He is afraid of me…my son is…

" Ngozi…" Connor began.

" Dinner," Uduak's voice broke through Connor's words.

Ngozi stood. " Mother," he said. " I should go," then he was gone, and Connor did not try to stop him again.

In his place sat his bow, arrows, his shoes and his lingering question.

" Are you a beast father?"

Am I? Connor thought as he watched Ngozi approach Uduak, who bent down examining his face and hands, before letting him pass through the doors.

She glanced up smiling, her hands twisting about a cloth, the veins in her hands withering about each other like roots.

" What is wrong?" She asked Connor as he approached.

" Ngozi…he…" Connor glanced over at her, taking in her worried eyes, and frowning mouth. "The slavers. He saw me kill them."

Her frown deepened. " That…"

" I will speak to him," Connor said placing a hand on her small shoulder. " Do not worry."

" You always say that," she replied touching his hand softly. " Yet I always seem to worry. Give him time, after all he knows very little about what you do, and like you, he hates surprises."

" He is old enough to know the truth," Connor said.

" Connor I don't think-" Uduak said starting to argue, stopping to glance over his shoulder.

He turned in the direction of her gaze to see a carriage coming down the dirt path towards them.

" Were you expecting company?" Connor asked.

" No," Uduak said.

The driver of the carriage a skinny man wearing a curled white wig and glasses sped to the carriage doors, attempting to open them when the doors themselves opened.

" Emily?" Uduak said stepping forward, examining the blond headed woman clothed in an elaborate pink satin dress.

She glanced up, revealing her powered face, and painted heart shaped lips.

" Oh Uduak darling," she said rushing forward, nearly pushing over the carriage driver. He ran forward clutching her parcel, mumbling something about the sun and her complexion. Connor watched, half confused, half cautious as the woman pressed a gloved hand to Uduak's cheeks, then leaned forward and kissed Uduak on the mouth.

Surprise prompted action then as Connor stepped forward, ready to pull the strange woman away.

The woman pulled back before he could reach her, patting Uduak's cheek. "Let's not get carried away dear. There are people watching." It is such a delight to see you. How long as it been? Two, no three years?"

"Over ten" Uduak said rubbing her lips against her sleeve, leaving an imprint of red against the white cloth.

Her painted eyebrows furrowed. "Really?"

" I have not seen you since I left Boston, and that was a year after your wedding" Uduak said.

" Oh that," she snorted. " I was a drunk as a sailor," she said. " I hardly remember any of it."

" I could tell," Uduak said rolling her eyes.

The woman pushed Uduak gently aside and strolled towards the door. "Anyway dear, I am here on important matters. Business proposals and the like." Connor stopped her ascent up the stairs, stepping in front of her. He did not know this woman, did her trust her.

Uduak rushed forward, " Emily, this is Connor Kenway. Connor, Emily Johnson."

Emily's mouth made an O shape. " Is this the lucky lad that took you from Boston? Why he is not at all as I imagined."

" Yes this is him."

She reached out with both hands and took Connor by the arms; he stood stiff as she examined him head to toe with blue eyes and a frowning mouth. Connor leaned back, making no show of hiding his discomfort. The woman smelled strange, like the perfumes Uduak wore, combined with whisky and tobacco, and something else he could not quite place. "I'll have you know Mr. Connor Kenway, any friend of Uduak's is a friend of mine." Then leaning forward before he could stop her, she kissed him full on the mouth.

Hey guys. How long has been? I've recently moved for college so things have been really crazy and hectic. My new place doesn't have internet readily available so uploading has been really hard.

Anyways here's a new chapter. Still introducing characters, developing Ngozi's character...yada yada yada.

Stay tuned. I've been collaborating with a friend of mine, and we're working on a mini comic to go with this Fanfic. I'll be posting the first couple pages soon. So look out for the announcement. Would really love to say more, but I literally have 15 minutes left to work in the community lab at my new place. So until next time guys.

Feedback seriously wanted!