Yay! Another chapter!

! AC3 Ending Spoiler Alert ! Disclaimer: All characters (except Annora and Marie) belong to Ubisoft, as do the cover images.

While visiting Boston, one thing leads to another and Ann finds herself realising the truth about Haytham's nature and his past.

Enjoy!

VIII

'But love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit.'

The next day...

The city of Boston welcomed all kinds of people, the rich and the poor, the lively and the lonely.

In this particular instance, Ann was neither, only searching for the merchant she always bought her groceries from when she traversed the crowds of people at the market. The somewhat fresh air and all the unfamiliar faces she saw provided an ounce of the comfort she needed after everything Haytham told her the day before. The sweet smell of fruit or the fragrance of freshly baked bread usually had her enchanted, smiling as she chose her favourites. But she no longer acted like she was expected or supposed to, everything he said hurt. It hurt more than Charles' betrayal, than her sister's cruel words, than the thought of leaving everything behind. By saying those words he caused her the suffering he tried to protect her from in the first place.

"I won't let you fall in love with me."

She would never let him dictate her feelings, what if she was already in love with him?

"Miss, are you alright?" A man asked as she stared into space, hand in wallet, stopping mid-sentence. She nodded and apologised before paying and quickly rushed away in embarrassment, she convinced herself she wasn't in love with him before, because she didn't feel ready, because it was too early. She didn't even know what real love was, and it seemed as if he had her all figured out already, was she so obvious?

Or was she just oblivious?

Even if she didn't love him, he didn't have any right to stop her from doing so. She wanted him to stay out of selfishness, and admitted she couldn't stop him from leaving, but he still refused to supposedly hurt her in the endby staying close to her. It hurt already, to be apart, and no matter how much he wanted it, she couldn't bring herself to despise him nor stop thinking about him. Remembering her pleading with him made her feel weak, how badly did she want the man? What if desiring him to stay so much and hating everything he said already meant she loved him?

She struggled to deny it.

But he didn't want her to love him, he would reject her, all to prevent her from suffering.

Did he not realise she was suffering anyway, more than ever before, because she needed him so badly?

"Is this what it feels like to love someone?" She questioned under her breath, suddenly feeling a large body clash into her.

"Watch where you're going!" She heard a man shout and looked up, startled to see a guard before her. He suddenly grinned and grabbed her arm, she felt a cold, unpleasant shiver run down her spine as fear dominated all her senses. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

"Please leave me be," she tried to stay calm and maintain a composure but he violently shook her and growled.

"I won't ask again!"

She stared into his vicious eyes, feeling powerless, and useless. Until a nostalgic voice broke what felt like an everlasting silence and washed away her panic, but when she turned, hoping, wishing, knowing it was impossible, she saw a man.

But it wasn't Haytham.

It was a man in great likeness to him, as if a younger Haytham stood before her.

But it wasn't him.

"Please excuse me, she's with me," he interrupted, his voice not as deep as the one she knew but rather clear and musical. The guard looked at him for a second more before letting go, a hint of fear passing through his eyes as he turned, mumbling something, cursing and then walking away, not giving them another glance. She caught her arm and rubbed it in pain, catching the watchful stare of the man who saved her. He was tall, well-built and had a darker shade of skin than the people she usually saw around Boston. Native. His hair was shaved off on both sides with a long chocolate-brown section left in the middle. As he looked around in caution she could see he had a very short ponytail sticking out. He looked wild on the surface, yet his hazel eyes were calm and his face well contoured, sophisticated.

"Thank you," she let out as their eyes suddenly met. His lips parted slightly in awe, she looked so vulnerable, so delicate, captivating. He took a step forward until she felt his heat nearing her, eyes still locked. He reached his hand out, to her surprise, and smiled warmly.

The smile was the same. Just like Haytham's. Except more innocent, this man must have been around her age. She slipped her hand into his and he softly took hold of it, shaking it up and down slowly. Their warmth interlaced and he admired her incredibly soft and pale skin, while she only looked away, knowing she started blushing the moment she saw him.

"May I know your name?" He asked tenderly. She caught his eyes again and smiled briefly before replying without hesitation.

"Annora, but friends call me Ann."

"Ann," he repeated, while she feared that he was exactly who she thought him to be.

"I'm Connor."

Her world froze, eyes glazing with tears. Anger and hatred were what she felt first, he was the killer. Then she felt regret, pain. He knew her name, he held her hand, still. At last she felt shattered, touched and enticed by him and his resemblance to the man she was supposedly in love with. All the feelings settled and the truth was clear to see, this man, he was an Assassin. He was the hero.

Haytham was a Templar.

All this time she admired him, encouraged him, even desired him. But he was never the hero. He was a tyrant, he killed so many, he was the one who turned Charles Lee into the man he was. That's why he was supposed to die.

Yet still – she felt like – she loved him, or at least became infatuated with him.

She still wanted him to stay.

But it was impossible, it was never meant to happen, he was meant to die.

"Ann, are you okay? You look tired," the one who called himself Connor asked quietly. She suddenly realised he was still there so she tried to quickly let go of all the thoughts that clouded her mind before he noticed something was wrong. Smiling softly, she shook her head while he let her hand go.

"Everything's fine, I guess I'm still a little shaken up."

"Do you want me to walk you home?" He asked out of the blue. She dreaded the thought, but was still afraid of going alone anywhere after what had happened. The walk from the frontier to Boston was well-lit by the bright sun and only took a few hours, but now the weather was going sour and it was already afternoon, the journey back would drag especially on foot. And she had a basket full of groceries as well, not to mention she bought a few other items as well. She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping forward as she realised what she got herself into.

"I live out in the frontier, near to Valley Forge and Concord. I would be so thankful if you could-."

"It's no problem. You live in a dangerous area though," he cut in before she had a chance to finish. He started walking ahead and she quickly caught up with him, trotting down the dirt path by his side before replying.

"Yes, but I prefer being out in the open, on my own."

"You live on your own?" Connor asked, surprised. She was used to life alone before Haytham came, but she couldn't tell Connor that. It would've have been wrong to betray someone and risk their life. She wouldn't be able to live with herself.

"Yes, is that surprising?"

"No, I mean, in a way," he quickly replied, she thought he would make a lousy comment about how women were supposed to live with their family or their husband. To her surprise, she was completely wrong. "It must be lonely, but I guess it also means you're independent and have a lot of courage."

She swore she felt herself blush at that moment, especially when the back of his hand gently scraped her knuckles as he suddenly took the heavy basket from her grip.

"People don't usually see it that way, or say that, Connor."

"Well then they know not what they see nor say," he muttered and smiled her way. She gasped, remembering how Haytham said the same thing just the day before, and she swore she could have seen him shining through Connor's personality, even if just for a moment.

"I suppose you're right. I'm not really able to leave the cottage though, my Father left it for me. I wouldn't want to dishonour him by rejecting the only part of him that is left."

"I see, that is very noble of you," he agreed and sent her another melting smile. She wanted to scream at him to stop complimenting her so much, it was making her feel even worse.

"I'm nothing compared to how courageous and noble he was," she countered fondly before looking onwards, seeing the wooden town gate in the distance.

"What was his name?"

"Francis Collet," she replied before regretting it. His question caught her off-guard and she instinctively gave an answer.

"I heard of such a name, or rather, read it in a records book at the manor."

"What? What manor?"

"I live in the Davenport Manor, there's a lot of land, a small community nearby and a beautiful view of the sea. I also received the house from my Mentor, Achilles."

"I see," her voice was feather-light, intrigued. He could see her smile out of the corner of his eye, while she imagined a wonderful sea view, she always wanted to see the coast.

"The name really rings a bell... Wait," he suddenly stopped as they reached the gate. She didn't turn to look at him and continued walking, but at a slower pace. "He was an Assassin. You knew didn't you, Ann?" She felt her wrist locked in his grip all of a sudden and stopped mid-step, still avoiding his knowing and prying eyes. Unlike Haytham, Connor evidently liked to find out more than he was allowed to know.

"Yes, I was trained under him for a short time. But he was killed."

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling her wrist so she finally looked into his eyes. They were already glazed over like before, he knew she desired to cry. She knew she was too weak, always crying, no matter when or where. She had no right to be called an Assassin, she wasn't strong enough, she was a coward. Both Haytham and Connor were wrong saying she was courageous, except Haytham was always there for her, he understood. And that's why at that moment she missed him and wanted him by her side so much.

"I'm sure your father would be proud of you."

She stared at him for a moment, surprised once again, and then broke free from his grip. He approached the nearby stables as she watched him, still unable to comprehend what he told her. She never saw it that way, she knew her Father loved her more than anything, but to say that he took pride in her. Maybe she never really noticed, another regret piling itself on top of the ones she already had. Connor quickly came back with a silver-white horse, its saddle ready to be mounted.

"If you don't mind, it'll be faster this way," he explained and suddenly took hold of her hand again, pulling her towards the animal. It was beautiful, so gentle yet strong. "You can stroke him if you want, he won't hurt you."

The man directed her hand up and rested it on the horse's head, its skin grazed her fingertips as she petted the wonderful creature. Connor's palm was still softly resting against the back of her hand while she felt his chest press against her shoulder-blades. He was comfortably warm and she relaxed into his chest without realising it. The horse shook his head, evidently happy with the attention, while Connor took hold of Ann's arm with his free hand before sliding it down her silky patterned sleeve sending shivers down her skin. He was so warm. Hotter than before.

"He likes you," he whispered as she realised his lips scraped the edge of her ear, he was suddenly so close to her, his breath sultry on her skin.

"We should get going," she replied, her voice weak, as if struggling to hold back a satisfied sigh. He took a step back, the colder chill of the afternoon air replacing the heat he provided the woman with. She shivered and then noticed he was watching her, waiting for her next to the saddle.

"I would prefer it if you sat in front of me, I apologise if it's uncomfortable for you," he admitted and held his palm out, she hesitantly took it and he pulled her up, helping her get onto the horse. He tied her basket to the side of the saddle until he was sure it wouldn't fall off. She adjusted herself before feeling the weight of his body against her back again, the warmth of his chest coming back to her as if she waited - craved - for it. She felt his arms tie around her body, and just as she was about to object she noticed he only did it to take hold of the reins. She felt like an idiot for a moment, getting all flushed for nothing, the heat deciding to stay on her skin in the form of a scarlet glow. Connor shook the reins and made a movement with his legs she couldn't see, prompting the horse to move through the gates slowly until they were out and treading on a long dirt path, the one she usually took to get to the frontier. There the horse started to gallop and she gasped loudly in surprise.

"Everything alright?" Connor asked, his breath closer to her ear than ever before.

"Yes! I just haven't been on a horse for a long time," she replied, nodding.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall off, I promise," he said before chuckling, his tone fruity and laugh melodic. He slowed down the pace of the horse only slightly and let go of the reins with his right hand, the other holding onto the leather loosely. She felt this free hand suddenly press against her stomach as he tied his arm around her waist, protecting her. She felt so flushed and embarrassed at that moment, but couldn't deny that she enjoyed being held by him.

"Connor," she said quietly, resting her palms on the hand that so dearly held onto her, as if she would really fall out of his embrace. His skin was soft to touch, like Haytham's, it had the same familiar texture that she loved the sensation of.

"Hmm."

"Thank you for helping me, I don't know what I would have done without you."

"You don't have to thank me, nor owe me anything, I'm glad I met you and..," he took a breath, "that's the best reward."

She noticed he had a similar bracer on his forearm to her Father's. It was made of soft, dark burnished leather and had a metal insignia tied to it. She remembered the one her Father wore and showed her, and recognised the cut metal as the symbol of the Assassin Order. It must have been a hidden blade. Connor noticed her observing it with curiosity and stopped the horse, easily getting the woman's attention. She looked up to see him smiling at her gently with fondness in his eyes. He moved his hand from her stomach and lifted it up so she could see the contraption up close. She reached out her fingertips and ran them over the metal, the weapon suddenly sliding out, a gasp escaping her lips. The blade was smooth and well cut, gleaming in the faint light of day, but was incredibly sharp and deadly.

"Be careful," Connor murmured in her ear, "I wouldn't want you hurting yourself." She only nodded, enchanted by the object, it was so much like her Father's. She remembered though how her Father had a hook and blade instead of just a blade from the time when he travelled to Constantinople some time before her birth.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Just like you."

She didn't speak, accepting his compliment, the man surely had a way with words. Noticing her acceptance of his sweet words, Connor shouted a loud remark and the horse started galloping again, while he replaced the blade so it was safely hidden away. She knew he could see the glow on her cheeks which seemed to permanently settle on her skin, she knew he felt the rapid beat of her heart against his chest, and she knew he could easily breathe in the floral scent of her skin, with him being so close to her. She had an effect on him as well, his breath was hot and heavy while his voice deepened.

"Maybe one day you'll become an Assassin as well, like your Father probably wanted you to."

"I would need a Mentor, I can't train by myself, I'm too weak."

"I can teach you to become strong, I'll be your Mentor," he whispered and her eyes widened in surprise at his words before shutting in regret, wishing she could accept, wishing she could continue on her Father's legacy like he asked her to.

One day I will no longer be by your side, my child, so please, find someone who can continue your training. I want you to be able to defend yourself. I want you to continue protecting the people of this land, in my name.

"I'm sorry Connor, I don't feel ready."

"Of course, I'll give you as much time as you need," he admitted, a hint of disappointment in his voice, then he added, "you know where to find me if you change your mind though." She only nodded in response and felt bad for turning down such an offer. She always considered her Father's will the most important, above her own, however she had to wait, at least until Haytham left her, maybe then training and becoming an Assassin would help her forget him and the pain he would leave behind. Until he left, Haytham was still her priority for some bizarre reason. She had no intention of betraying him.

They continued on in silence, Connor's breath still close to her ear, slow and deep. Even the wind seemed to stand still while the sea of trees on either side of the path refused to move or make a sound. Her heart ached, knowing the truth and fearing Haytham's reaction upon finding out how she met Connor. They were both so alike in appearance, voice and even personality, in a way. But they were still two different people, and the worst thing was, Ann desired the wrong person. The one who she feared would break her heart in the end, but still the one who her heart belonged to. And wishing everything turned out differently would never change any of the feelings she held for Haytham, he could never be replaced. He was Haytham Kenway, and he was the man she fell for.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :) Please leave a review/fave/follow if you would like more. Thank you! ^^

Till next time!

AssassinSuzy