Hello readers! I hope you are liking this series. :)

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

Charles visits Haytham, finding out that he lost his chance with Ann while she visits her Father's grave, getting into trouble once again.

A/N: You can find the translation for the Mohawk phrases I used in the A/N at the end of the chapter. :)

Enjoy! ^^

XI

'She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore to be won.'

Friday 28th September 1781

"You wished to speak to me, Sir."

"Yes, I have been visited by a doctor and will be ready to leave early October."

Charles looked into his Mentor's eyes with dismay, even though a part of him felt glad that he would have Annora all for himself.

"I will arrange a passage with the best merchant ship our Order back in London can offer. It may take some time, but I know there will be a large man-of-war stopping by the nearby port in a week or so."

"Excellent, be sure to arrange passage for two passengers," Haytham added, watching Charles as his face contorted in question. Ann was out of the house at that point, knowing seeing Charles would only end in nothing but agony and arguments.

"I would like to remain here and take over as Grand Master, if you allow me to, Sir."

"You aren't the second passenger."

"Wait..." Charles got up from the armchair, the possibility crossing his mind, yet he knew it was absurd to think Haytham would want the woman to go with him. "Then who is?"

Haytham pulled himself up onto his feet, calmly giving Charles a smile, and then walking over to a nearby shelf, pretending to busy himself with the collection of novels resting upon it.

"I think you already know the answer to that question."

"I do not understand your motives, nor I intend to, but please, do not take her away from me."

"Ann loves you no longer, you should move on, and let me handle her well-being."

"Why? She has never travelled beyond the frontier, do you know how difficult it will be for her to leave, have you even..."

"She already agreed to it."

Charles could have sworn his heart stopped for a moment, realising he missed everything that went on between his Mentor and the girl, never once stopping to think what the consequences of ever bringing him to her house would be. He may have saved the man who trained him and helped him rise in the ranks of the Order, but he diminished any hope that was left of reconciling the relationship with the woman who once belonged to him.

There was a moment of silence, after which Haytham took out one of the books, flipping through its pages, eyes barely moving to follow the text, only for the sake of looking as if something else was on his mind. As if he didn't care about Charles' reaction.

Well, truthfully, he didn't.

"Has she told you about me? About her past?" Charles asked, hoping that she still thought about him, mentioned him, whether with hate or love in her tone. Haytham looked towards him, shrugging, before looking back at the burnished paper.

"No, I don't like digging into people's past."

"Are you not curious in the least? You want to take her with you, yet you know nothing about her."

Haytham was agitated, and shut the book with a loud thud, slipping the copy back to where it belongs. He walked towards the man, fists clenched, not far from the point where he desired to spare Connor the trouble of killing Charles Lee. He was getting on his nerves.

"Watch what you say for I certainly know her better than you do. What sick joy do you take in replaying those memories - that pain her so much - anyway?"

"I do not take joy in doing so, I only wish for my Mentor to learn of her true nature," Charles spat out with evident sarcasm.

"You misuse the term Mentor, Charles, I am no longer your teacher."

"She was betrothed to me."

Haytham wasn't surprised, he gathered as much without either of them telling him.

"And? She no longer has the will to marry you, therefore you no longer have the power of keeping her here. If you have a valid argument against that, enlighten me."

Charles was taken aback, not thinking any of his – non-existent – arguments through.

"Betrothal means nothing if both sides do not agree."

"What will she do though... If she finds out the truth about us? About our Order?" Charles easily changed the subject and upon hearing such words Haytham turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in question, as if nothing could surprise him any-more.

But Charles spoke up again, a smirk threatening to play on his lips. "We killed her beloved Father."

"It's time Father, I must retrieve what you wanted me to have."

Ann felt the onset of a cold breeze run through her bones, a chill crossing her spine as she stared at the engraved stone cross before her. The tip of her boots dug into the damp dirt as she stood in the middle of the small graveyard, groups of tall oak trees surrounding the area, as if they wanted to shelter the ones who were already resting. The day was darker than usual, but that never stopped anyone. She took in hand the wooden handle of the heavy shovel she found outside the walls of a small, bombarded, chapel which stood on a small hill nearby, it's still intact tower the only visible feature above the sea of trees.

"I hope I'm not going to disturb the dead if I search for the blade," she muttered.

"Ann!" She heard a sudden shout in the distance, nearly jumping out of her skin, heart feeling like it had just shattered from fright. She turned to find a familiar man in the distance, he stood by his horse, waving his arm around. She dreaded what was about to happen.

The breeze was disrupted by the panting of said man who sprinted towards her, his Assassin robes moving around in the wind along with the decorative feathers that were attached to several parts of the outfit.

"Connor! Hi," she replied half-heartedly while the man smiled at her with so much joy, she thought he would have thrown himself at her, acting as if he hasn't seen her for years.

"What are you doing here?"

Probably the question she wanted to ask him as well as with something along the lines of 'were you following me?'

"I have some unfinished business to sort out." She replied, as if her standing in the middle of a graveyard with a shovel in hand wasn't suspicious enough.

"How does it involve the dead?" He asked, wanting to chuckle but stopping himself when she moved out-of-the-way so he would see the name engraved on the stone behind her.

Francis Collet. 1713 – 1771. Nothing is true, everything is permitted.

"I see," Connor mumbled, approaching the woman, her eyes catching his before he turned to face the grave, kneeling down on one knee and bowing his head. His lips moved in a silent prayer, the whispers resembling what seemed to be his native language. She stared at him, unable to resist being moved by his simple yet so respectful gesture. He got back onto his feet, his eyes still admiring the words engraved into the stone, as if he knew the man just by believing in those words, in their creed.

"Thank you," he heard Ann say, her voice soft, caring.

"Every Assassin is like family to me, whether alive or already resting."

"That is very kind of you, Father was my only proper family, today is the day he died. Exactly ten years ago. Today is the day I fulfil his request."

Connor took a step closer to her, his hand taking hold of the shovel. She looked up into his eyes, his lips turning into a warm smile, and she realised that when she leaves, she will miss Connor, even if only a little. Even if he wanted to kill the man she loved, he still showed her compassion and chivalry and she had to appreciate it.

"I'll help you fulfil your Father's will."

He began to dig, piles of soil scattered around within minutes, continuing to rise into small hills until the man saw the dirty surface of a box coming into view. Ann crouched down, pulling the object out of the soil, and heard the shovel clash with the ground as Connor dropped it to the side, moments later crouching beside her. She pushed away any remaining debris with her hand off the top. The wooden box looked handmade and was quite large, but not that heavy. She pushed the lid, opening it to reveal the contents. Connor's eyes widened in surprise as he laid his eyes upon two, carefully placed, hidden blades. The leather bracer's were burnished, worn out, but were cut in a specific style he never saw before. They were decorated with a small, silver-plated Assassin insignia, with matching feathered wings attached behind it, the details on said wings were beautiful. She remembered when her Father had worn the weapons, often coming back with the blades soaked in blood, yet she never felt afraid around him, knowing all he ever wanted was to protect her.

"They are admirable," Connor broke the silence and she looked at him, noticing that their lips were inches apart. She felt her knees weaken from the strain and struggled, not knowing what to do, flushing already at the feeling of his breath against her skin. Noticing this, the man reached out, his hands taking hold of her shoulders, balancing her. She heard him chuckled and noticed one of her eyes closed in fear of falling over. She opened it, slowly, as if she was still threatened by the ground beneath her feet. He suddenly stood up, pulling her along, her legs wavering and the box nearly dropping out of her hands. When she finally settled down, she clutched the box to her chest, that was the treasure her Father wanted her to have, to use, to protect herself with.

"Thank you...Again."

"You should wear them," he said, guiding her eyes to the hidden blades. She shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing in worry.

"No, by heavens, I wouldn't know how to use them, what if I hurt someone by accident?"

"It's only me here, and don't worry, I felt like that too when I first got mine. The ability comes naturally though, it flows in your blood Ann."

"Maybe another time, I want to save them for later."

"As you wish, just remember I'm always here to help you if you need me. I'll do anything for you, you are like family to me," he explained, his voice so calm and loving. She gazed deeply into his dark eyes, they showed her everything, he had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. A small smile played on the corners of her lips, no one ever said that to her. He barely knew her, yet just because she was born an Assassin she already became one in his eyes. BecameFamily. She wanted to be part of something since she was a child, waiting so long to hear those words.

"I'm not an Assassin though, so why..?"

"It doesn't matter. You are Annora Collet, and that's the real you. The you that I care about. The you that I consider family."

She put the box down on a small wooden bench that stood close by, Connor following her. She sat down beside the object, closing the lid and then folding her hands together, her dress wrinkling, and her skin shivering as she regretted not bringing anything warm to wear. She then thought about what he told her, and asked, "you care about me?" Still unable to process how quickly the man became so fond of her. He sat next to her, the bench shaking a little bit from the impact. His eyes looked ahead. His hands were clasped together, mimicking her.

"Yes, because Tiatén:ro."

"I don't understand your native language Connor," she admitted, laughing softly, "as much as I would like to."

"It means, you and I are friends. Are we not?" He then looked to the side, noticing her eyes watching her hands as they turned paler and colder. He moved along until their shoulders pressed against each other, and he took the opportunity to reach his hand out and take her palm into his own, her fingertips freezing, skin shivering as it reacted with the unparalleled heat of his own. She craned her neck, turning to look at him, he was taller than her, almost as tall as Haytham. He had so much affection in his eyes that her chest ached with sadness. She was betraying him the whole time, sheltering his Father, the killer, and even going as far as leaving everything behind for him. Just because she was undeniably and irreversibly in love with him. Haytham didn't want her to come in contact with Connor after everything that happened the previous day, but said man seemed to appear everywhere she went.

"We are," she confirmed, her eyes watching as his fingers caressed her own, her lips craving his when she noticed him smile. Just like Haytham, the man who sat next to her drew her in, every part of him telling her to get closer. His skin was slick with beads of sweat as he evidently struggled with an internal conflict or decision.

"Konnorónhkwa," he breathed, leaning in while he pulled Ann's hand forward so she also moved towards him, she was unable to process what was going on, her eyes focusing on the man's lips while her mind told her to carry on, to discover his taste, the texture of his skin, his heat as it came closer and closer. She became aware of his breath entering her lips as they were softly pressed against his own, her eyes closing on cue, neck relaxing to the side as he did the same. Softly and slowly he played with with her lips before parting her mouth, feeling as her hand dragged itself along his collar until it reached his neck, her short nails pleasantly digging themselves into his skin, her small body writhing under him as he found his palm taking hold of her waist.

What felt like eternity lasted only another few seconds before she stopped herself, breaking the kiss, only a string connecting them, eyes staring into each other in wondering agony. He didn't want it to end, he loved the feeling of her against him, and quickly caught her bottom lip with his again, caressing it roughly. She leaned her head back, wanting him to stop but instead his grip on her back tightened, keeping their bodies together, inseparable. His lips travelled along her skin, letting her breathe while continuing taking the pleasure he was due, nuzzling himself in the unreal scent of her neck as he pressed kisses down her skin, hearing her let out a soft moan, feeling her move as she pushed him softly, her lips catching his in a deep embrace again.

And then it was over, she pushed him away, more forcefully, eyes widening in horror at what she just committed. She felt like in a completely different world when he was kissing her with such passion, but it was wrong. She had Haytham, she was being unfair. She was betraying the man she convinced herself she wanted to stay with. Yet there she was, lusting after his own son, a man about her age, innocent, trusting her. He had no idea who she was. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, he cared for the wrong woman. For that woman already belonged to his Father. Everything was wrong. It wasn't meant to happen.

"Ann?" Connor asked, reaching his hand out but she backed away, as if he was poison, ready to kill her. Her eyes were terrified, her body shaking, unable to contain the hate that she held for herself at that moment, how would she live with Haytham, knowing every day that she kissed another man behind his back all the while wanting to be with him for God knows what reason. Haytham never told her he loved her, he desired her, but whether that was love she did not know. Was Connor different, what did his words mean, what did his sweet and intoxicating kiss mean? She loved every second of it, she wanted more. Haytham never kissed her with such vigour, in such ways. Yet she loved the man nonetheless.

She got up, her hands quickly picking up the wooden box. She gave Connor one last look, his eyes pained, rejected, craving more of her, confusion on his lips as he opened them to speak but before he had the chance she quickly broke the gaze. Then without a word, apology nor explanation, she let her feet guide her away, as quickly as they could carry her without running at full speed, the blades rattling inside the box, her eyes filling with tears as she left behind the one man that cared for her with all of his heart.

A/N: Translations:

Tiatén:ro = You and I are friends.

Konnorónhkwa = I love you/I show you I care. :3

More chapters coming soon! :) Please leave a review/fave/follow if you would like more. Thank you! ^^

Till next time!

AssassinSuzy