Hello readers! Here's another chapter!

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

Ann returns home, afraid of Haytham's reaction. Will her love for him survive?

Enjoy!

IX - Part One

'Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.'

Ann's pace was quick but silent, her body shrinking in as she tried to stop the stairs from creaking, slowly opening the door when she crossed the boundary between the bottom floor and the loft. She looked in, everything was quiet, serene. Light entered through the small window while the moss, which grew outside in the little creaks, cast a barely visible shadow.

The full moon was out again on that night, its cold and motionless glow welcomed by the darkness of the small room. Everything else was sheltered by that darkness, by those untouched shadows, which hid in the corners of the walls. The light shone directly on Haytham, his body lay still on top of the thin cotton covers, except for the slow rhythm of his breathing, which caused his chest to move up and then down in a never-ending pattern, gracefully like a bird in flight, gliding despite the resistance of the winds around it.

She closed the door, holding onto it with both hands until it quietly reached the peeling wood of the doorway. She moved across the floor like a gazelle, escaping from the predator, with natural stealth. She threw off her shoes when she got to the edge of the room, softly kicking them along until they sat next to the wardrobe, its hinges and handles rusted, and what was once painted white was cracking in several areas, aged wood shining through the gaps. Her hands stretched behind, pulling the fabric which held her gown and petticoat together. She carefully opened the wardrobe, hanging the garments. She turned her head, making sure Haytham was still asleep. She had no intention of waking him, especially not in what she was wearing, and having to explain her early arrival. If not for Connor, she would have been back by morning at the earliest.

Haytham could have sworn he thought Connor appeared out of nowhere when an unknown figure hid in the darkness, surrounded by the familiar fragrance. He raised himself up, his eyes adjusting to the shadows as he finally realised it was Ann. It was definitely a surprise to see her back, and as she didn't notice him waking, he decided to stay silent, watching her from the light.

She untied her stays before hanging it also, and then swapped the chemise she wore for her favourite patterned ivory nightgown, with short puffed sleeves. As she did so, Haytham felt like he was intruding. He saw every inch of her, at least from the back, and was slightly enamoured. His eyes darkened, he felt his chest clench tightly as he admired the woman before him. He felt regret again, regret she couldn't be his. He held so many desires within himself at that moment that he almost said something, stopping himself at the last-minute, only a breath escaping his lips as he struggled to look away. No matter what she thought, it wasn't easy being a man around her. It would only get worse now that he'd seen this much of her. To him, she was breathtaking.

She stretched in a struggle to throw on the garment while he smiled at her failed attempts. Deciding he wasn't able to resist any longer, he got off the bed. He walked along the wooden floorboards as if they were ice, but she heard nonetheless, her body freezing on the spot, with the dress in her hands, its fabric burning through her skin. Or was it her own skin that was so hot, she didn't realise until that point. She was completely oblivious to his waking until that point, and she felt horrible when she considered the possibility that she wanted him to awake at that very moment, that she wantedhim to see her at that very moment. His tall form towered over her, casting a complete shadow over her field of view. She refrained from turning around, feeling embarrassed as it was. Fire radiated off his skin, he was only wearing dark wool breeches which tied at his waist, and she still wondered why he refused to wear the linen shirt she bought for him to sleep in. She felt this fire envelop her, just like Connor's did only an hour or two before.

But Haytham caused her reaction to be stronger than just flushing a scarlet shade and feeling awkward, no, around Haytham she felt like she would lose any grain of dignity she had, she felt paralysed. Especially when his skin pressed against her back, the coarse bandage that was tied around his torso scratching at her shoulder-blades, breaths escaping her lips one after the other as she started to lose herself in his scent, in his own slow and timed breathing. His hair was down, and it grew by less of an inch or so since he arrived, her eyes darted to her vanity table, noticing the carmine ribbon hanging, as if untouched. She looked back down at her hands, trembling under the fabric of her nightgown. She suddenly felt hands slip under her arms, reaching out to take the gown from her palms, while she gasped. He wished he could observe her unclothed form for much longer, but instead sighed, smiling to himself, thankful for at least a glimpse of such a beautiful woman. Her skin was a pale ivory, with rosy areas on her shoulders and elbows while her hair fell in very loose curls down to her upper back. He grasped the fabric from her grip and noticing she didn't protest, got hold of it, throwing it over her head. She moved in response, feeling utterly embarrassed at having to be dressed, but went along with it, knowing she would never be able to hide anything from Haytham. One way or another, she wasn't able to manage putting the gown on without waking him anyway so he was doing her a favour.

That was of course one of the excuses for letting him continue.

"Haytham," she mumbled, raising her arms up so she could push her hands through the sleeves with ease. He hummed - in the same manner as Connor - in question, but that's not what she wanted to hear. She wanted to hear his actual voice again, she wanted to hear him speak her name with the same fondness that he did when everything was fine between them, when there was just an unlit, unmentioned spark.

"I know," he said. She turned her head to the side, wanting to look him in the eyes for the first time. Wanting to see what secrets those betraying eyes hid. He tied the lace at the back of the dress very loosely, not moving his hands away when he finished. The silence manifested itself again, and he looked at how the lace hung loosely in criss-cross' in the open corset-like part of the gown. He was a coward at that point, afraid to love anyone again, and he hated such cowardice. He didn't deserve a second chance, but he was wasting it again, just like he wasted all the years he was meant to spend with Connor.

He wasted time trying to figure out if he wanted to risk hurting Ann by letting her love him, or if he'd be fine loving her by himself, away from her in London, alone for the rest of his days, with only her memory to accompany him. He didn't want a life like that. He tied his arms around her, hearing her gasp again in surprise. He buried his face in her hair, embracing her tightly, her body instinctively leaning into his own.

What was worse was that he felt jealous of his own son. The whole time he was with her, Haytham feared for her safety, afraid that Connor would target her. But instead the man showed her affection, courtesy, and was probably already considering another meeting. He would make an Assassin out of her, and would trap her in his innocence, pretending to be a friend when all he really wanted was someone to love. Someone to ease his loneliness. But he had all those people at the Homestead, he didn't need anyone else, he had his community, his family. While Haytham had no one. He wouldn't let his own son take away the only person who ever understood him and wanted him, loved him. He knew Ann would be enough, he would never ask for more. If she only agreed to escape everything with him. If only she forgave him for being the way he was, for always arguing, for never letting her break the wall he built. For being a Templar.

"Haytham?" She asked, quietly, worry glazing her tone.

"You were with Connor."

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

Till next time!

AssassinSuzy