Hello. Finally another chapter after forever.

Disclaimer: I do not own AC3 or any AC stuff. I just write fanfics about it. Why cause that's what I do.

Thanks for all the Faves, likes, and reviews. You guys keep me going and stuff.

Enjoy!

Myriam

Connor's blood tainted the water a light pink as Myriam cleaned the bandages that once covered the wounds on his chest.

"How is he?"

Surprised she glanced over, to see Norris had taken a place at her side. So lost in thought, she hadn't even noticed him approached. Which was not like her. She tried to be as aware are possible. It came with being a hunter, noticing even the tiniest of signs and using that to her advantage.

"He is healing," Myriam said. She glanced down at her hands, the palms stained pink. She could do very little to help. Dr. Lyle and Diana were trained for such work after all. "He drifts in and out of consciousness, but the worst has past."

" And Uduak?" Norris asked hesitatively. Everyone always did. As if to ask such a thing were forbidden.

Her state is the most delicate of all…Myriam thought. After all, it was Uduak who'd forbidden anyone from visiting her or Connor. Myriam was surprised Uduak even let her in. Perhaps she sensed, that unlike all the others, Myriam would not take no for an answer.

"She…" Myriam searched for the words to say. What could she say about Uduak? Each day she seemed to draw further and further away. She did not eat, she barely slept, and her days were spent caring for Connor. Washing him, changing him, feeding him, her gaze empty, and seemly unaware. Connor's comrades visited, giving her messages, updates on their apparent search for Ngozi, and she regarded them much as if they were never there.

" She…" she cut her own words short. " I am sure she will be better when Connor is well."

Myriam realized she did not sound so sure. She glanced back down at the task at hand.

What am I even doing? I'm not useful to anyone here.

Norris touched her hand, pausing her hectic movements.

"It will all be fine," He said hopefully.

She shook her head. "I'm not so sure. The entire homestead is in disarray. Everyone is trying to go about like nothing is happening, but…" She sighed in defeat.

"That was not a question," Norris said squeezing her wet hand. "Everything will be fine."

"Your right," Myriam said. "When did I become such a worry wart?" She stood wiping her hands on her pants. "I should get back inside."

Norris grab her elbow. "I love you Myriam," he said grinning.

She smiled. "I love you to-"The sound of crashing, and shouting interrupted her. She stood, dropping what she was doing and running to Uduak's home. Norris behind her as she ran up the stairs.

Connor was attempting to restrain a struggling Uduak, while she kick, fought and screamed.

Her foot hit the wound at his side, and he let her go to stumble from the bed. Uduak sat up, and sprung attempting to come at Connor again, and Norris grabbed her, wrapping his thick arms around her middle and lifting her up. She screamed and fought against him, but Norris was not wounded, so her struggles went in vain.

Myriam rushed to Connor side, along with Dr. Lyle. The stiches in his side had broken, but the wound at first glanced did not seem too severe. Still Connor's gaze never left Uduak. Even wounded and half beaten, Myriam could see the concern in his eyes, how much he longed to reach for her, despite everything.

" It's not," she mumbled. "It's not."

Connor pushed their hand away, beckoning to Norris with his gaze to let Uduak go. Uduak slid to the ground the moment she was released, her head down, her hands balled into the fabric of her dress.

She cried, thick wet sobs.

"Uduak…" Myriam started.

Norris placed a hand on Myriam's shoulder. He gestured to the door, pulling Myriam when she resisted.

She sat on the porch with Norris in silence, until the door opened and Connor came out, fully dressed.

Both she and Norris stood at the same time, their gazes questioning.

"I apologize," Connor said slowly. "For causing so much trouble and worry." His hands went to both Myriam and Norris's shoulder.

Norris shook his head. "It is fine my friend. We are a family here, it is the least we can do."

Connor nodded solemnly, but Myriam could tell his thoughts, his being was still inside the house, perhaps still inside the room where she knew Uduak was.

His turned his attention to Myriam. "Thank you."

She did not have to ask for what. She knew he was thanking her for caring for Uduak, and he was asking without words for her to continue doing so.

And how could she say no. As difficult as Uduak was to deal with, how could she, in the face of the man she—the homestead owed so much to, say no?

In the end…why am I here. Before she'd told herself it was for Uduak. They were friends after all, and being there for each other was what friends did, was it not? But now that she was faced with realization, it was hard to think about.

I must be honest with myself…Myriam thought. I wasn't able to be Connor's woman…so I told myself…that in the end…I would be anything else he needed me to be. That was the least she could do after everything he'd done for her.

That meant being Uduak's friend. She saw the way Connor looked at Uduak, how her sadness and loneliness, transpired into his sadness and loneliness, how her happiness brought about his. Myriam like every other homesteaders, wanted Connor to be happy.

Happy…could any of them be happy after all this was over?

"Yes," Myriam whispered in answer to his unspoken question.

She wasn't sure if he heard her, neither did it matter, as he walked past them, his weapons strapped to his form, his stance determined.

Myriam did not watch him go, she had a more important task to attend to. Instead she trailed back into the manor to join Uduak, still sitting on the floor of Connor's room, form shaking.

Connor

Pain.

He was not surprised. Pain was a constant in his life.

He watched, Uduak as she stepped into the room with a tray of soup and bread. Gone was her black hair, the shades that once guarded her emotions.

Their gazes met for half a second, then her eyes flickered downward.

"You should eat," she said sitting on the stool beside him. She pressed the spoon down into the soup, ladling up some of the brownish liquid. He glanced over her hands, let his eyes run over the ways the veins crisscrossed beneath the skin.

She held the spoon up to his lips.

"No," he said pulling his face away. "I can feed myself."

She sighed deeply. "Open your God forsaken mouth."

"Uduak…" he lifted a bandaged hand to grab her shaking wrist. " It is fine."

She was on him then, sending the contents of the tray, sitting on her lap scattering to the floor. He lifted both hands to lock around her wrist as she came at him. Her face was unrecognizable as she fought against him, a mixture of sadness, anger and desperation.

"It is not fine!" She struggled. "It's not. It's not."

Her knee hit his closed wound, and he gasped in pain, feeling the stiches break. Sliding his hands up her arms, he flipped her, swiftly laying her on her back and pinning her down.

The door opened and Dr. Lyle, Brianna, Myriam and Norris came storming in.

Ignoring the pain from his wounds he half stumbled, half stood from the bed, holding his side, watching warily as Uduak stood and came at him again, only to be contained by Norris, who took hold her by the middle and lifted her up. She struggled in his arms, screaming, and wailing before growing tired and falling still.

"How can you say that?" She cried.

Norris glanced at Connor, asking with his gaze what he wanted him to do.

Connor nodded, and he let Uduak go. She fell to the floor on her knees, holding her mouth as she cried.

They left, leaving him and Uduak alone again, and Connor approached her slowly. His hands out sketched as if soothing a wild animal.

Uduak…He bent down slowly beside her, holding his bleeding side, cursing inwardly as every broken rib shifted, and every cut seemed to reopen. Cautiously he pressed a hand to her shoulder, ready to move back when she flinched suddenly.

"I can't do this," she said. "I can't…I can't…" She wiped her face with her sleeve, "I am not like you…I am not strong…"

He wanted to tell her that he wasn't as strong as she thought he was, that he was as afraid, always had been of what the future held for them.

"I will find him," Connor said instead. Dead or alive I will find our son.

Uduak glanced up then, eyes red and swollen, her gaze meeting his, and for a moment it seemed she did not recognize him, then back down again, roaming over his body, the opened wounds soaking blood through the bandages, the bruises on his chest and shoulders.

He knew she was thinking about how he planned to do it, broken and injured as he was.

"I will," he said again.

She rubbed her hands against her arms, "Is this to be our fate?" She spoke the question to the air, refusing to look at him. "I could have…I should have…waited…to have you another time…when all was over."

She blamed herself, as she always did. He reached for her, to tell her she was wrong, that if anyone was to blame it was himself, these were the enemies he had made, his foes he had to defeat. They would have targeted the ones he cared about regardless, whether she was there or not. She pushed his hands away, and shrugged back from his touch.

"At least give me this," she said. "To hold for you. As you bleed for our sake, let me carry the scars of the wounds we cannot see." Her eyes met his then, sad and heavy, and his heart despaired.

For a long while he'd thought he could forget, at the very least as long as he was with her and Ngozi, what he was, what he had to do. He thought he could separate the two. But there was always something there to prove him wrong. Always something to remind him that he wasn't meant to be happy, to actually have something of his own.

"In your quest to save the world make sure you don't destroy it first…"

The world…my world…is crumbling.

Reaching up she touched his cheek, then leaning forward kissed his forehead, the side of his mouth, his lips. Her lips tasted of salt and blood, and her hands felt like paper against his skin, so breakable, so light.

"I will find him." He said the words with as much determination and promise as he could muster, under the crushing weight of her gaze.

Myriam

A woman came to the manor hours after Connor left, beside her Fenrir. The wolf pup reacted the moment he saw Myriam, lifting up on his hind legs to jump on her. He was bigger than the last time she saw him, and the force of his jumping almost knocked her over.

"Down boy," Myriam said laughing. "Yes I've missed you to."

The woman at the door took a half step forward. She was tall, with golden skin, and long brown hair that was twisted into elaborate braids. Beads and feathers hung from the strands, along with tiny skulls and animal bones. Tiny white dots surrounded her eyes, cheeks and mouth, coming together to form the imprint of a skull against her face. Large earrings hung from the lobes of her ears, golden bands clung around her elongated neck. She wore a simple brown dress, the bottom ragged and dirty.

She was both strangely beautiful and terrifying. Yet Myriam felt at peace.

She smiled, and all at once Myriam was reminded of Uduak.

"I have come to see my Sister," the woman said.

"Your sister?"

"Uduak."

"You—"Myriam had heard Uduak mention she had a sibling, but it was always fleeting.

The woman nodded. "Is she here?"

"Yes," Myriam said. "She is inside." She turned and started to lead the woman inside, not thinking twice whether she should ask Uduak if she wished to see the woman or not. Her feet seemed to move merely on their own, so ready to please this woman she didn't even know. Fenrir raced in front of her, bolting into the room that was once Achilles, where Uduak sat.

"Fenrir," Uduak said surprised. "Thank the Gods you are alright."

Myriam stepped into the room, the woman behind her, and Uduak glanced up surprised.

"Jeri?"

Jeri nodded. "Hello Sister. It has been far too long."

Uduak stood, the action so quick she almost stumbled. Brianna gripped her arm steadying her.

"Why are you here?" Uduak called, her voice suddenly raised, insistent. "Where were you when I needed your help?"

"I am sor-"

Uduak cut her off. "Where is he?"

Jeri shook her head. "Uduak you must remain cal-"

"No," Uduak barked. "Where is Ngozi. I know you know. Please just tell me."

"The Templars," Jeri said, "They have him. But-"

Uduak took her hands. "Please Jeri. Was it not I you who pulled him from my womb, you who cared for him as I lay, half dead. Are you not also his mother?"

Jeri hesitated. "Mother…"

"What of mother?" Uduak asked.

"Mother is among them."

Uduak's face fell. "What do you me—"

"They came," Jeri said. "Seeking the power of the Gods. Seeking the future. We told them as we have all. We see only that which She allows us to see. Those whose futures most shape her will of time. Nothing more, nothing less. Still they demanded. I refused, I would not push to see that which could not be seen, test Her will. But Mother. She agreed to go with them. And although she could not help them…she knew of one who could."

Ngozi…

Myriam understood little of what was happening, but she knew enough to know to which Jeri was referring. Something like fear settled in the pit of her stomach, and she wondered if perhaps she should walk away.

"Ngozi," Uduak said echoing her thoughts. "But he cannot-I thought only you and mother…"

Jeri shook her head, the action causing the beads and bones in her hair to click together, the sound radiating across the room like tiny beating drums.

"We," Jeri said and her hand tightened around Uduak's. Myriam glanced over the skin of Jeri's hands. Even they were tattooed with tiny dots forming the shape of finger bones, the nails black as night. "Are Her servants," Jeri said her voice suddenly filled with joy. " I, you, Mother, her mother before, on and on throughout time. Ngozi, like Ratonhnhaké:ton was born with the blood of Gods, as his ancestors before. The blood of Gods and of servants."

Uduak pulled her hands back, rubbing her palms against her skirt, staining the fabric black.

"I care nothing for this talk of blood and Gods. Where is Ngozi? All else does not matter."

"I do not know," Jeri said. "I cannot see."

"Then what good are you Jeri," Uduak said her voice almost a shout. "They could kill him."

" They will not."

"No they will use him as a weapon. And my Mother, our Mother is to teach him all he needs to know."

"It will take time," Jeri said.

Uduak rushed past her.

"Sister."

"Someone needs to warn Connor," Uduak said.

"You mustn't, Jeri said reaching out and gripping Uduak by the arm. Uduak paused. "I do not know if this is the madness of Mother, or merely Her will. I have done all I can, I dare go no further. I ask you do the same."

"He is my son. All I will have when Connor is gone, when the moon falls from the sky and the heavens crack. He is the only thing reminding me that all this is real. I cannot merely stand by."

Jeri let her go. "Then do as you will Sister."

Uduak did not hesitate did not look back as she ran down the hall. Myriam watched her, confused, wondering if she should follow, before once again holding back. When she finally glanced back up to gaze at Jeri, she was surprised to find the woman crying. Her lips moved, yet no sound escaped. And Myriam could only guess what she was saying.

A prayer perhaps…to the God she spoke of….

Then she left, without another word, or without warning, walking in the direction that Uduak just took.

Fenrir did not follow her, instead he stood by Myriam's side, watching the doorway, until Uduak returned stone faced, Brianna at her side.

Luke

"Fancy," Sana said as she glanced upon the Ebony wood doors, both eyebrows raised in clear surprise. "Why do we not have doors like these?"

"Are you saying you prefer a door over wine, women and weapons?"

Sana touched the door, her tan fingers running considerably over its elaborately carved frame.

"Well?" Luke inquired.

"I am thinking on it," Sana said a curl of a smile on her lips. She knocked on the wood, with the preciseness of one who knew the quality of such doors, and wished to test its thickness and quality.

"There was no need to knock," Luke said "There is a reason he keep us waiting." He withdrew his daggers then, pulling the sharp blades from the harnesses attached to his arms, hidden within his sleeves. Blades withdrawn he threw them, tip down into the bush bed beside the door.

Sana sighed. "I see." she said withdrawing her weapons as well. Throwing knifes, dozens of them, hidden in places Luke could only imagine. She dropped them in the dirt one by one, the metal clinking like change.

Still the doors remained closed.

Luke pulled off his boots, and Sana followed suit, slipping knifes from their hidden compartments, to join the other assortment of weapons.

They are nothing if not cautious.

The doors opened then, just as he was about to slip back on his boots. A young man stood at its frame.

"Welcome Mr. Rhodes. You are expected."

"Am I to believe this is how you treat all your guest?" Luke asked pushing past the young man to walk inside.

"We must take the utmost precautions you understand Sir. I do hope you did not take offense."

"I have," Luke said. "Wine," he snapped his fingers. "The best you have."

" Yes. Very good sir, and for the lady?"

Luke glanced over at Sana, already she was checking the place out, picking up vases and setting them down, examining paintings. He could see her fingers twitching in anticipation. For a moment he considered whether it was a good idea to bring her along. It would only be a matter of time before she picked the place clean.

He decided his visit would be short.

"My Lady," the servant said, "If you would be so kind as not to touch that-"

"Am I not your guest," Sana said starting to argue.

Very short.

"Where is-"Luke began.

"Still the needy little brat I see."

Speak of the devil and he will come…Luke thought as a figure descended the stairs.

He was tall with straight auburn colored hair, and eyes the color of the sky. Unique traits that labeled him immediately.

"Still holding a grudge I see," Luke said his lips curling into his characteristic smirk.

"And what pray tell would that be?"

"Of us all, I have always been the better looking one of the bunch. The others have accepted this. You although, seem to still be holding on to false hope. Gained a little weight I see. You always had a weakness for sweeties."

A frown, small but there. Luke's grin widened.

This was a game they always used to play. Who could get under the other's skin the fastest? Luke was proud to say, one he usually won.

"Enough, I did not call you here to play games."

"Pray tell Brother, why did you call me here?" Luke said. Gone was the amusement in his voice. He'd been summoned-no more like threatened.

"Come, we should speak in the meeting room. There are others there I would like you to meet." He ascended back up the steps, leaving Luke to follow.

He glanced over at Sana, telling her with his gaze to tread lightly, but keep her guard up. She nodded and filed in behind him as he climbed up the stairs.

They were waiting as promised, all gathered around a large table. Faces Luke did not recognize, or even cared to, but he knew who they were. Knew it by the clothes they wore, the insignias scattered across the room. They all lifted their gazes from the table when he stepped in.

He counted quickly. Six in total, not counting his brother which would make seven.

"Gentlemen," his brother introduced. "This is Luke Rhodes. The man I was telling you about."

The oldest in the group stepped forward, he had to have been about fifty or sixty, give or take.

"A pleasure to put a face to the name," the man said. He out sketched his hand, and Luke glance down at it, noting how wrinkled it was. "I am Arnold Bar-"

"Delightful," Luke said not taking his hand. He strolled past the man to sit at the edge of the table across from his brother. A bottle of wine sat there, and he uncorked it and took a sip, frowning at its lack of quality. All eyes watched him with a mixture of shock and repulsion. " A poor vintage," he said sliding the bottle away.

A small form arose by him seconds later, holding a platter, on it a fresh bottle of wine and cups.

Luke glanced down at the boy, all freshly dressed, the speckles of freshly cut hair still on the tips of his reddened ears. The boy did not look up at him as he sat the platter down in front of Luke, and walked away.

Luke took the fresh bottle poured himself a glass, and took a sip.

"Better."

"Luke," his brother's voice was raised slightly in irritation. Already he was frowning, his neck flushing red from anger.

"Of course," Luke said arranging himself on the table so he faced his brother completely. "Forgive me gentlemen. It has been far too long since I held company with Templars. Even farther still that I have been requested to hold a meeting with them. I do hope you will forgive my lack of curtasey."

Happy, they were not happy with him. He could see it in the frowns etched deep into their faces. See it in the way their fist balled at their sides, and their shoulders tensed.

His brother was the first to speak. "We require the services of your men."

Luke poured another glass of wine for himself.

"There is a universal language, all men in our occupations speak," Luke replied. "Money. Have you yet tried that?"

Two windows, one door. It did one good to count these things when playing with fire.

"Do not jest," his brother said taking a step towards Luke. "Were it that easy, you would not be here."

" I am here," Luke said, " Because you claim to be in procession of something-"

Something…someone…no he never claimed to have it…only alluded to the fact.

"Bring it in."

An item was thrown onto the table then, large and brown. Luke glanced over, almost doing a double-take before he realized just what it was.

"Is this supposed to mean something to me?"

"Is it?" His brother asked. "Perhaps you should take a closer look."

He pushed the object closer to Luke, until it touched his hand. He pulled back, against his own will, as if it were hot.

The savage…?

What game are you playing here Brother…

Movement shifted at the corner of his eye and he glanced over to see the boy who'd served his drink had taken a step closer.

"You are Templars. We are Mercenaries. It only natural that we deny your request upon first asking, as I can recall, you lot have never been very kind to us. Perhaps your first offer was not an enough. As you so well know, money cannot always cure a broken heart."

Whatever game you play brother. I do hold any valuable pieces, nor do know the rules. So I shall play the one way I know how.

His eyes flickered to Sana then, barely a glance, but she noticed.

She sprung first, already ready for the command. Her hands wrapping about the neck of the person closest to her. The silver glint of a tea spoon pressed against their neck. Luke was next, considerably slower than Sana, having had to pick himself up off the table. He withdrew two small pistols from his sleeves, and pointed them at the two closest people in the room.

"Don't move," Luke warned. "We may be out numbered, but I can assure you, my comrade alone will have at least three of your lives before I can waste even two."

A laughed. "You insult me. At the very least four… I've never killed a man with a tea spoon before. I imagine it cannot be that difficult."

The cold of metal touched the skin of Luke's neck, and he sighed.

"I should have known," he said. "This was far too easy. Hello Isaac."

"Anthony," Isaac said as a response, "What do you wish for me to do?"

Luke shifted in Isaac's grip. It never was a pleasant feeling having a knife pressed up against the throat. Something about the sharpness of it, the cold.

"Yes brother," Luke said. "Whatever should he do with me?"

Sana smiled. " I can think of a few things."

"It would seem," Anthony said. "We are in a stalemate. I have you killed, and your wench kills me. With a tea spoon no less." He smiled.

"I can assure you," Luke said. "She is just as excited as you are."

"Luke…" Beside Luke the boy shifted, his eyes wide at his studied his face.

Luke looked at the boy, truly looked at him, their eyes meeting, hazel against blue. And Luke suddenly felt like he knew him, had seen the boy a dozen times before. Something in the way his lips curled into a frown, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Kill him," Sana said, "And you can forget about the Mercenaries joining you. You can forget about anything but war." Somehow she seemed happy at the prospect of him dying and war between mercenaries and Templars insuring.

"Tell me boy what is your name?" Luke said. Suddenly everything else around him felt like background noise, unimportant and annoying.

The boy glanced at Isaac, his eyes wide, then at Luke. "Ng-Peter," he said.

"Delightful." Luke said. "Now Sana, if you would as kind as to release my brother. Who will in turn call off his lap dog."

Slowly she took a step back releasing Anthony. Isaac followed backing up from Luke, his knife the last thing to leave Luke's throat.

"I will need time to consider this. Be sure to have a room prepared for me and my comrade, as well as dinner, and several bottles of your finest wine." Reaching over he patted Isaac's cheek, "You can handle that all, can't you old boy?"

Luke started for the door, Sana filing in behind him. Still he could fear the boy's eyes on him, demanding without words. That gaze was unsettling.

"Why didn't you let me kill him?" Sana whispered fiercely behind him. "Those sniveling cowards are all that's left of the Templar leaders in this area. We could have easily killed them all and-"

"Not just yet, there time will come. There is much I must discover first."

"You wish to know," Sana said, "Whether or not that women is in danger."

Luke paused.

"Why…would you-"She started but he placed a hand on the top of her head silencing her.

"There is a great deal that is more important," Luke said. "Send word to the Dens. Tell them I am here, and I wish to convene in exactly three days. Tell them no decisions will be made before then."

"What of you?"

"I will remain here. Try to uncover what my dearest brother has planned."

"You should not be alone," she said. "They may try to kill you."

Luke snorted. The girl's concern really was sweet, if not a bit unnecessary he'd been playing this game a lot longer than her, moreover he knew his brother, knew him almost as well as he knew the back of his own hand. They were cut from the same cloth after all. "Better I would think," Luke said examining his own scarred, calloused hand, "As small as their numbers are, they do not want a war."

"And that hidden blade? Did it belong to-"

"Yes," Luke answered, "It belongs to an old Savage friend."

WHT! Yes you get no Uduak, nor Ngozi perceptive this chapter. Not quite sure it that's a good or a bad thing. Good I guess in that you guys get to see how everyone else views what's going on. Honestly for me, lately Luke has been the funniest to write. Maybe that's why I' brought him back? Cause I miss the little wanker...who knows. Anyhow. So much stuff has happened.

Uduak. Omg. Her mental state is a little iffy right now. As far as Luke goes, I don't even know myself what he's feeling. I've always been super mean to my characters. And Uduak and Luke are of no exception. Connor may not be my character ( curse you Ubisoft), but I can torture him to. YES THEY DO NOT GET TO BE HAPPY! So no happiness for them. Why because I'm evil. Huhahahahahah.

THE FEELS! OH THE FEELS!

But no seriously, there will be happiness...eventually. I'm just not sure right now. You will just have to keep reading to find out when.

Background info stuff:

Luke: So I really haven't given a lot of info on Luke's family. We know there is his father( dead), his mother ( we assume is still living), his twin sister Alisa(dead), Anthony( Just introduced), and a whole other score of siblings that are frequently mentioned in passing. It's safe to assume Luke hates at least half of them, and there are a good bit. While this is not a major point in the story, just to curve some curiosity, I will say that there are at least six of them, Ailsa being the only daughter, and Luke the youngest. As far as whose the most established of the group, its hard to say, seeing how they all have their hands in something different, thanks to their mother. Yes, their mother. Who we will, hopefully, probably, soon, sometime, maybe, get to meet. ( Looks around awkwardly).

So what do you guys think? Is it to much? To little? Your feedback is greatly wanted and appreciated. Wooden doors and Tea Spoons for everyone who reviews!

Until next time!