A word from Hack: Minor Fem OC.

I think you'll like her.

Also mentions of the death of a Male OC.

Having Desmond and William inside a car together isn't a good idea.

That is... until they pick up a hitchhiker.

On the 2nd Day of Xmas the Brotherhood gave to me...

Two complaining Miles'?

"Why am I riding with you?" Desmond asked his father, slouching in his seat with crossed arms. The elder Miles had been trying to talk him throughout the ride; Desmond only replying with short answers.

"Because your friends thought it was a good idea for us to start bonding." William said with exasperation. His son wasn't even looking at him!

"Wow. I could've went with Rebecca, but you insisted."

William clenched his teeth. Desmond was impossible to talk to without getting a scathing golden-eyed glare (which he knows his son inherited from Altaïr somehow, it was honestly terrifying) or getting snarked at the moment he said something wrong (he's pretty sure Malik is rubbing off on Desmond).

"We have several more miles till we meet up with your...ancestors at the safe house." Desmond's father risked a glance at his only offspring.

Desmond merely snorted in response; still looking out the window and refusing any other interaction between them. Clearly that pun wasn't appreciated. William heaved a sigh.

"God, it's cold!" William shivered as he turned up the heater. The car was old; however, so it only warmed the air to an extent.

Desmond couldn't help but agree. "You think? I'm more suited for Syria's summer than a Canadian winter!" He was glad he had his signature white hoodie.

William was momentarily surprised at Desmond's agreement. Being careful not to push it, he responded with, "What was Yusuf thinking!?"

Desmond for some reason didn't mind. Maybe it was the cold, or the fact that travel made them both tired but at least they had found some common ground. "Yusuf Tazim? He's never seen snow before. Ezio thought it was a good idea to host the Christmas with the Canadian branch."

William hadn't considered that the Turkish man might want to see snow; but it was too late now. He noticed the snow, though, as they drove through it.

"It's snowing heavier."

"Great. Just what we needed! A fuck-ton of frozen water!" Desmond grumbled.

Desmond shivered and tried to curl up against the doorframe of the car; hunching in on himself to stay warmer.

William shot a quick glance over at his son's mildly contorted frame.

"You're wearing a hoodie that's zipped to the neck in a heated car. How can you possibly be colder than I am?"

"I just am," Desmond mumbled grumpily, tucking his chin into the neck of his hoodie.

"Seriously, with that hoodie over a long-sleeved shirt...I thought you would be sweating by now. At the very least, I expected you would be unzipping it."

William's pronouncement was met with a sullen silence.

"You did put on a long-sleeved shirt like I told you to, right?"

Desmond squirmed in the seat as though trying to find a more comfortable position, but didn't reply.

"You didn't put on a long-sleeved shirt," William said with an exasperated sigh.

"Honestly, would it hurt you to just once-"

"Stop the car."

"What?"

"Dad, just stop the car. There's someone out there..."

Desmond had noticed a woman walking down the road; apparently trying to flag down a car.

"In this godforsaken weather? Who?"

William didn't want to slow down, much less stop, but he was forced to when Desmond took off his seatbelt and jumped out the car. "Desmond! Get back here!"

There was a gust of cold wind that slammed the door shut. The elder Miles peered through the windshield and watched his son take off his hoodie to wrap it around the large woman.

"You're going to catch a cold!" William shouted as-leaving the car running-he stepped out and rushed over to help the woman and his son. Desmond was shaking hard as he slipped into the passenger seat after helping the woman into the backseat.

Once he was back in his seat and fastening his seatbelt, William tried to ignore the tickling feeling building in the back of his throat as the snow he had inhaled began to melt. It was proving impossible to ignore, though.

William sneezed.

A voice came from the backseat.

"Willy?"

William turned to look at the woman. Something about her seemed familiar.

An African American elderly woman, with greying hair pulled into a bun, wearing a patterned dress with a old, worn coat and holding a wide dish covered with tinfoil. Her body was large; pleasantly plump. Age lined her face and she had a commanding presence as she sat in the backseat.

"Imagine that..." she said, a trace of humor in her voice. "Big Walter's lil' Willy; all grown up and with a lil' one of his own. Not that you're exactly little, either of you."

Desmond sniggered, trying not to laugh. His father shot the younger Miles a glare as he began to drive again. The look only made it harder for Desmond to ignore and he let out a small laugh.

"Do you know him?" Desmond asked their unexpected passenger.

"Course I do, child! What ya' think; I just say that fo' fun?" she huffed. Brightening, the old woman introduced herself. "I'm Ms. Bertha!"

William's brows furrowed, obviously trying to think.

Desmond looked back and forth between them, trying to piece the situation together on his own as well.

Ms. Bertha frowned.

"What were you doing out here?" William asked, slowing down when a car in front of them slowed to navigate the snow.

Ms. Bertha looked at him with intense, dark eyes.

"Well I was needin' a ride to that celebration that's up in Canada! But that young novice that was 'spose to pick me up never came! Just up an' nothin'!" She squinted at the two men, then said, "Ya' really don't remember Mentor Adamanth, do you?"

The name seemed to click when William gasped and did a double take at the rearview mirror. "M-Mentor Agatha?!"

"There ya' go! I remember you was a smart one for such a little thing! Thought ya' wasn't old enough for the Brotherhood!" She laughed.

Desmond was laughing hard as began recounting embarrassing things about his father; like how awkward he was as a teenager and his irrational fear of cats.

Desmond lost it when she told him how William met Desmond's mother when they were still novices.

"Love at first sight! After he laid eyes on her I said, 'boy ya' look like somebody done gone and hit ya' with a fryin' pan!'" She continued talking with a fond look on her face, "William came runnin' to Big Walter in the rain! Didn't know what to do with himself, saying he was gonna marry yo' mama!"

"Mentor Agatha!" the older Miles said in what sounded like a complaint. Desmond's father looked horrified that she was telling his son how he met his wife; he could just see the evil glint in Desmond's eyes.

William was red, trying to look smaller.

Desmond was smirking. This was just comedy gold! He couldn't wait for everyone's reactions to this woman. He asked just to goad her and spite William.

"Big Walter was the Grandmaster Assasin?"

"Yes he was! And a good one too, the best in his day. You should've seen him; lots of folk be surprised how fast he could move! He was a big boned man; built like an ox and stubborn! When Walter wanted to move, you better keep up or get left behind!" Ms. Bertha gestured with her hands as she talked; animated and excited. "He loved football too!"

"Can't imagine what it must have looked like if he tackled my dad as a punishment!" Desmond grinned.

The grin dropped off his face when the elderly woman put her hands on her hips and fixed him with a stern look.

"Big Walter was my husband." Ms.Bertha then crossed her arms and glared at Desmond. "I'd never let my Walter Mathis Adamanth do that to his students. He was a gentle giant and you best remember that, boy."

"S-sorry." Desmond muttered and shrunk back. This old woman was scary. Scarier in some ways than the folks at Abstergo.

William heaved a sigh. Leave it to his own flesh and blood to say something stupid.

The silence in the car was awful.

William figured he could say something to break the ice (pun not intended) so Desmond wouldn't make another mistake. Desmond beat him to it.

"Is Big Walter coming too?"

The black woman in the backseat looked at both of them with solemn eyes. "Nah, honey. He ain't comin'."

William raised a brow, glancing back at her after he drove around a bend. He felt a bit disappointed, despite the embarrassment that he would be in for at the safe house he had hoped Mentor Adamanth would be there. The man had been a father to him when his own was killed; and Mentor Agatha had been a mother to him as well.

"I would've liked to see him. Why wasn't he out there with you? He was never one to leave somebody alone out in the cold."

Ms. Bertha asked quietly, "When was the last time you saw Big Walter?"

William thought about it. "That was when I was transferred right? Then I saw both of you again when I married Zeynib."

Desmond's eyes widened at the mention of his mother's first name. He remembered what Altaïr had said, after looking at Assassin records, that his mother had an Arabic name.

"Maybe he's busy, Dad," Desmond said, thoughtfully.

There was more silence until William asked directly, a hint of hurt on his face, "Why can't he make it?"

Ms. Bertha seemed to age more when she exhaled slowly, "Cancer took him, honey. He passed."

William paled, "When—? Why didn't they tell me? Why didn't he tell me he was sick?"

"He wanted you to remember him the way he was at yo' wedding," Ms. Bertha told him, her voice gentle. "He was always talking about how great his Willy boy was gonna be. Said you'd make a great Mentor." She took a shuddering breath, "Always an optimist Big Walter was; said better this than a Templar. He held on as long as he could. Waited to see all Desmond's baby pictures and that one visit when he was five. He passed away when Desmond was six."

The rest of the car ride was silent, the humming of the heater the only constant noise in the background.

The trio in the old car finally arrived at the safe house in Canada.

Everyone loved the dish Ms. Bertha had brought with her, and just as Desmond anticipated and William dreaded, she began to tell tales about when Desmond's father was growing up.

Ezio grinned ear to ear. Altaïr face palmed.

However, even Desmond didn't expect Ms. Bertha to start showing pictures of his father as well.

That was the icing on the cake.

Lmao William will never live this down.

In AC 3 Desmond's mother is confirmed to be alive, however there is no mention of her name, and since lots of fanfics I have read draw on his heritage from Altaïr and the fact that the only reason Ezio is related is that someone married into the Miles family with his bloodline I thought why not make Desmond's mother Syrian? Her name is supposed to mean desert flower (google translate and then searching the English spelling of the Arabic word for it) Here is an excerpt from Wikipedia for her name.

Zaineb (also spelled Zainab, Zaeneb, Zaynab, Zainub, Zeinab, Zeinabu, Zeinabou, Zeineb, Zenab, Zeynab, Zeyneb, Zeynep, Zejneb, Zejneba or Zeynib; Arabic: زينب, examples on Arabic pronunciations: [ˈzeːnæb, ˈziːnæb, ˈzajnab] is an Arabic female given name meaning "a father's precious jewel", "the one who glorifies a father". It is derived from the Arabic root words "zeenah" (meaning precious jewel, what glorifies someone, source of beauty) and "ab" (meaning father). It can also mean "fragrant flower". [1]