Hi,

A/N: I started this story exactly a year ago, on the 7th of October. This isn't the end, I am writing more as I really want to develop it further. So, there will be more chapters to come soon! :)

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

Haytham and Ann return home...

Enjoy! ^^

XX

'Love, liberty, and time: once so disposable, are the fuels that drive me forward. And love, most especially, mio caro.'

He could have sworn he felt Ann's heart beat, fierce – as if participating in a battle of some kind – and fearless. He had no intention of complaining about the cold, seeing the small clouds of contrasting heat that escaped the woman's lips when she breathed. She must have been ice-cold. Her head leaned back against his chest and he felt her hair graze his jaw. He had his arms around her waist, his palms grasping the reins. He felt angry with himself, the situation spiralled out of control and he lost his composure, what was worse, he let the situation slip right out of his hands. He never planned for Charles to find her, she left the blades at home, so why didn't he lower his gun, why didn't he ask her where they were? When he thought back to what he had seen – the woman awaiting an attack, his own sword in both of her hands, but faced with a gun instead – he wished he had time to torture the man he was once proud of, the man he let into the Order. It took Haytham far too long to realise those like Charles were vermin, people the Order didn't need, yet he never saw that until the woman he swore to protect faced death itself. His hold around her tightened and he tilted his head forward slightly, wanting to be closer to her, to hear her breathe and inhale her faint scent. He whispered her name a few times before he heard her let out a whimper and then a cough.

She opened her eyes slowly and carefully, feeling a body behind her, chest moving forwards and backwards with each breath before she realised she was also on a horse, travelling the path she was supposed to take by foot when she left Connor's Manor. Then everything flooded her mind, the two-hour journey, her contemplations, then Charles... He wanted to kill her then and there, he was ready to pull the trigger, she could see it in his eyes, and he was about to. But then... Then Haytham saved her, he murdered Charles with a clean headshot. She remembered her own wound and gritted her teeth, trying to erase anything blood-related from her mind, already feeling as her stomach curled in nausea.

Haytham was warm. She still recognised his aura, his scent on the jacket he gave her to wear – the same as his skin – and his breathtaking sultriness. How was he always so heated while she always felt so cold? As much as she wanted to see his expression, she stopped herself from looking up, still feeling somewhat dizzy.

"I'm glad you're awake," he said under his breath. She nodded softly and saw his hands holding onto the reins of the leather bridle. She extended her left arm, her uninjured arm, and rested it on top of his own so her palm could stroke the off-white cotton sleeve. Haytham registered her touch and for a second diverted his eyes to the source before having to watch the path again. "How is your arm?" He asked after a while.

"The wound stings but time will heal it, I am sure."

"Yes, time heals everything."

"No, not everything," she whispered back. He knew exactly whom she was referring to.

"Still, I hope one day you will forgive me for my bad aim."

"It wasn't your fault," she replied while shaking her head very softly, "I should thank you instead... For saving me again."

"It's my duty to protect you."

"It's not though," her voice was quiet and convinced, "no one has assigned you to me."

"I've assigned myself Ann. I will continue protecting you whether you like it or not."

The girl silenced and smiled softly to herself, her palm taking hold of his forearm so she could pull herself up, adjusting how she sat so that she was slightly higher up.

"You shouldn't move around too much, you're still fragile," he responded, trying to not let the satisfaction he had from her body rubbing against his as she moved distract him. He felt the side of her forehead resting against his jaw after she finally readjusted herself.

"Haytham..," she let out a soft and frail chuckle, "you worry too much."

"No, I don't worry enough. I should have never let you go, this is all my fault."

"I needed training, I had to get the papers somehow..."

"I would have trained you if I had known, we would have bought the tickets or worked for them... Or anything at all."

"You're a good-hearted man Haytham," she replied, "Connor said you hate people who tell you the truth about what you feel and who you are, yet you're kind to me, you were kind even when I said those things."

"You are the first ever person to call me 'good-hearted.'"

"I mean it..."

"I can't deny the truth any longer, you were right, I-," he paused and took a hesitant breath, "I am a hurt man. In a way... It's because of my past. Because of this struggle for a new world of some kind, and the struggles which followed me since I was a child... They were always too much to bear, and the only comfort I found was in the Order itself, its ideals and its acceptance of who I was."

"I understand. I never belonged anywhere," Ann responded, her voice very gentle and comforting to the man, "only my Father understood. I wish I had more time with him, I wish I knew my Mother, my real Mother. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt so hurt, so alone."

"I too wish I had more time to spend with my Father," Haytham admitted and sighed.

"I've always been alone, but then... Then I've met you and..," she couldn't find her words, she felt like all she would be doing was fuelling his hold of her, his control of her. She didn't know if it was true, she wanted Haytham to love her, that was honestly all she desired. The man noticed how she cut herself off and refused to continue, but wanted to give her time nonetheless, maybe she wasn't ready to say whatever she planned to. Would he ever be ready to tell her what he wanted her to hear before she left, when he saved her from the wolf or even from Charles? Those words should have been said when he first met her, as since that moment she was more important to him than anything in the world, and he wanted her to be happy and to stay with him until the end of his days. Was that really the feeling he ran from the whole of his life?

The cottage came into view after they turned left onto a thinner path and he knew everything had to wait. After a few more minutes they arrived before the front door and Haytham stopped the horse, jumping off the saddle before helping Ann get off as well. He grabbed her waist and slowly let her fall forward. Her eyes caught his for a second and she tied her arm around his neck as she was plunging into his arms. He felt great happiness in those moments, and he just wanted to hold her for eternity. As her feet touched the ground, she expected him to let her go, but he kept holding on instead. He leaned down slightly and carefully embraced her, making sure he wasn't hurting her wound, before returning to his earlier position and releasing his hold on her waist. She was surprised at first, but then felt like a coward for never asking him about his intentions towards her. It was as if during her stay at Connor's the Assassin brainwashed her while she convinced herself that Haytham was only using her as a tool. But when he held her like that and spoke words of regret and apologies to her, that judgment seemed far off from the truth.

"Can you walk now?" He asked her and grasped her hand all of a sudden, their fingers intertwining tightly as he looked at her with tender and affectionate eyes. She nodded and he helped her into the cottage, opening the door and shutting it behind them, as well as bolting it closed, all in a swift and painless fashion which the woman gladly appreciated. He led her to the couch he once laid on when he was first brought in by the man he had killed. It was truly nostalgic. She sat down, and slipped her hand from his, the heat escaping like each of her breaths. He proceeded across the room and lit the small fireplace and candles, bringing the familiar orange hue into the room, then he took off his tricorn and placed it next to her, disappearing from her eyes as he walked over to the kitchen, looking for the wooden cabinet where she stored the rubbing alcohol and bandages. Her eyes were cast down, staring at her pale and chapped knuckles, while she heard the clutter Haytham was making while searching for the supplies.

Her hand reached for his jacket, slipping it off from her back. She moved the hat, placing the jacket under it. Her palm lingered on the clothes for a bit longer, her eyes pained. Haytham walked in after a while, noticing her stare at his belongings, she was almost silent and very calm. Her shoulders were tiredly slouched forward, for what seemed like the first time. His eyes darted to the gash on her arm, the fabric of her sleeve completely seeped through with blood, he knew she wouldn't be able to wash it out. He knew she had to take it off. That thought made a certain part of him flare up with desire, even though he knew it was neither the time nor place to feel such things. She heard the creak of the wooden floor as he took a step forward and quickly looked up to see him standing there, staring at her with intensity in his eyes. He sat beside her, closely enough for their bodies to touch, and gave her a pleading look. She then followed his gaze as it diverted to the wound again and she noticed how badly the fabric ripped and how soaked it was.

"Ann... You're going to have to take it off," he whispered, and unlike ever before, she heard slight bashfulness in his voice as he seemed to lose his composure around her. In the still dim light of the fire, he could see her cheeks almost glimmer with a dusty red. She didn't object though, attempting to untie the corset at the back. It was difficult and she felt clumsy and uneasy, having to ask him for help, not because she didn't want his help, but because she knew how her body would react to his touch.

"Haytham, can you-."

"Of course," he replied, cutting her off so she didn't have to say it, his voice slightly breathier than before, lower and more smoky, like the fire itself. She turned so her back faced him and he reached out, leaning in and letting his hands grasp the lace that held the dress together. He pulled on it softly and hooked his fingers in the criss-cross' above the once tied bow, pulling on them as well, undoing the corset. It loosened around her shoulders, causing the sleeves to fall, ready to be taken off. His eyes admired her skin, and he had to keep his hands from caressing the newly revealed flesh. She stood up then, prompting him to do the same. She slipped her arm out of the gown, holding onto it with her other hand, but had no idea how to remove the garment without grazing her wound.

"Let me help you," he said softly, like before, and aided her in taking her arm out of the bloodied sleeve. He then paused and asked her, out of courtesy, "do... Do you have anything under this?" She let out a small and very quiet laugh and nodded. He smiled then, stepping in front of her and pulling the gown down until it fell to the floor. She stepped out of it, her hand holding onto his shoulder on instinct. She indeed wore a short cotton shift under her dress, so it matched the length of her 'Assassin' dress as she called it. She had her featherweight silk stockings on, held up by matching ribbon garters, which were luckily hidden under the shift. The sleeve of the shift was also ripped, seeped with blood just like the gown. Haytham questioned for a second why Ann wore so many layers, yet was still ice-cold. She frowned upon realising that so many articles of clothing were in need of a replacement.

"I-."

"Here," he whispered and helped her remove her arm from the sleeve. She hissed as the fabric slid across the wound, Haytham quickly whispering apologies in response.

"Thank you," she knew it wasn't his fault, none of what happened was exactly his fault. The shift was loose enough and fell past her shoulder, while the woman's whole neckline and collarbone became exposed. She enjoyed the freedom, the lack of a corset and Haytham's warm hands against her skin as his palm brushed along the surface of her arm, sending exhilarating shivers through her body. He urged her to sit back down, and took his place beside her, even closer than before. His hand reached for the alcohol and a pained look crossed her face. He poured some of the liquid onto a clean rag he found, leaning closer to the woman.

"I'm sorry... This will sting only for a little while," he told her and she nodded, forcing a smile. He paused though, the rag inches away from her skin. He looked up into her expectant eyes, and he saw nothing but courage, which she tried so hard to maintain the whole time. "When you're with me," he began with a low breath, "you can cry if you feel you need to. I'm here."

"I know Haytham," she replied, giving him a shy and tender smile, "before, you said you only found comfort in the Templars," she carried on and studied as his expression changed, his eyes darker, wanting to close the distance between them. "now- now I hope you can find somewhat of a comfort with me."

He smiled then, feeling something in him change as quickly as the heat flared in his pupils. His fingers found the rim of her jaw and traced along it delicately, his eyes peering into hers with affection he never knew how to express until he met her.

"You are my comfort Ann," he replied and her eyes darted away, a smile crossing her lips again as her cheeks heated up. "Let me clean your wound." She nodded, still afraid on the pain she would feel. He pressed the rag to the gash, lightly at first, but she groaned in pain. He tried hushing her and leaned in, resting his temple against hers. She closed her eyes then, trying her hardest to be strong. He carefully moved the cloth around, wiping the blood and disinfecting the area. She hissed again, a tear escaping her lashes. He moved along and pressed his lips to the soft area under her eye, catching the tears as they slowly fell.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "for being such a coward all the time, for being so useless."

"How can you say that?" He asked softly, his lips moving against her skin. "You are the strongest woman I know."

"I'm not," she cried out softly, "I'm not Haytham."

He took the rag away, together with the pain, and took her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks fondly. Her eyes looked into his and she couldn't help but weep.

"Why do you lie to yourself, you should have more self-confidence-."

"I'm not strong at all, I doubted you the whole time I was with Connor, I- I thought I was just a tool to you, your only chance of escape to London, back to the Templars. I thought you actually hated me, you were always so mysterious... I could never figure you out," she rushed her words, unable to stop telling him what she really felt, "I still can't... But I was wrong, you appreciate me more than anyone ever had. I'm sorry I thought of you in that way, I'm just so afraid of being used..," her voice died down and she pushed him away softly, pressing the back of her palm to her eyes instead, wiping her tears away. Haytham was surprised, and he felt incredibly guilty, guilty because he never had the intention of making her see him in such a light, guilty because he never told her everything he felt which only led to her pain and suffering, on her own, brainwashed by that son of his, who was right in the end.

"He'll hurt you!" Connor yelled and pointed at the woman.

Haytham clenched his hands in resentment at the man. Ann calmed after a moment and noticed the Templar's fierce expression.

"Despite it all... Despite you being a murderer, a Templar and someone who barely told me anything of his past... I could never stop myself from loving you. You asked me if it was true what Connor said, and now I say it without doubt... It was," she confessed, her hands folding together, cold and missing his touch, obsessed with the man himself. He pressed his palms to the couch, beside her body on each side, leaning forward until their lips were inches apart, she was startled and looked away.

"You've always loved me, I know, I never wanted you to stop," he replied, his voice full of authority like it always used to be, but this time it was layered with great affection towards her. "I still never want you to stop, I live for you Ann, and I would never use you. Everything I do... I do it because I want to stay with you."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I-," momentarily he was at a loss for words, "I know I'm a cold man, I never really knew love. But... I know it now. If you wish, I will profess this love for you every second of my waking life, as long as you never doubt me again. As long as you smile for me every day and become mine. I only know love and mercy and all human virtues because of you, and I can't live without you."

She stared into his glazed orbs and pressed her palm to his chest, fingers grasping at the fabric like she always did. A smiled appeared on her lips and she nodded, "I promise I will never stop this heart of mine from longing for you."

He drew nearer and she tilted her head, closing her eyes as his lips enclosed over her own in a warm and intoxicating kiss, his palm finding her shoulder and skimming across its smooth surface. She gasped when he stopped and lingered on her mouth before brushing her jaw with the edges of his lips, quickly leaning down and finding the sensitive skin in the crook of her neck. His palm then softly pushed her down, another surprised gasp escaping her lips, her back feeling light as air when it felt the pillow beneath. He hovered over her before advancing forward and taking the spot he previously found into his mouth, nipping at her skin with his teeth before he comfortingly ran over it with his tongue, tasting her skin just like he always dreamed. The tender taste was just as he imagined it, but even better. She wasn't able to control herself, her hand, which was still grasping at his shirt, found an opening between the buttons and undid a few of them, slipping her palm in to feel his skin. She involuntarily moaned out in satisfaction when he continued sucking at the flesh of her neck and her hand glazed up his chest, buttons un-fastening on their own from the strain until the fabric came undone at last. Her hand roamed and caressed his skin, earning her a soft groan from the back of his throat, before taking hold of the nape of his neck, his short ponytail tickling her knuckles as she pulled him up, their lips rejoining in an even more passionate battle. This time his tongue quickly lunged in to meet her own and she sighed as he did so. His palm stretched down and found the softness of the stockings that hid her thigh, her leg bending at the knee to let him find the garter. His fingers quickly pulled on the ribbons and the thin fabric became loose. He slid his hand under it and pulled it down while maintaining the hectic kiss which she submitted to, responding with such expertise he felt privileged to be the one man whom she chose. He felt an incredible hunger, rapture, churn in his stomach as he realised he wanted to make love to her. Her heart was beating faster than she deemed possible, and his taste brought her indescribable pleasure. His weight rubbing against her body, his palm kneading her thigh with such tenderness and his hot skin shivering from time to time under her palm made her forget all about her wound, the encounter with Lee, even the world itself. It was just him and her at that moment, alone and thoughtlessly in love with each other, struggling to breathe, fuelled by lust that had its root in their mutual yearning for one another's bodies and hearts. Then she hissed and abruptly broke the kiss, realising the wound was softly bleeding again.

"Haytham," she breathed heavily and he sat up, pulling her with him, both of them unable to admit that they hated the interruption. "My arm... We should finish cleaning it first."

"I'm sorry, I got carried away," he quickly responded and she could hear how husky his voice became, and how he panted, unable to catch his breath. She saw the scar on his neck, still healing and thought if she too was to have a scar on her arm to remind her of her past until the end of her days. She leaned in and pressed her palm to his unshaven cheek, his eyes catching her soft gaze, the colours in his orbs melting as his expression calmed and relaxed.

"I don't mind, I didn't want to stop either," she whispered, "I want it too."

He knew what she meant straight away and any traces of guilt or ideas that he would be ruining her or tainting her faded away. For her eyes were sincere, and her voice completely calm, she knew what she was saying, and how it would make him feel. He knew she wanted him to feel that way though, she knew he wanted her body now that he had her heart. His hand reached for the drying rag, and looked away from the woman's radiant eyes to focus on what he was doing. He poured a bit more alcohol on the cloth and didn't hesitate to pat it against the wound, the flesh sizzling as the woman bit down on her lip, closing her eyes and throwing her head forward in pain. "It's nearly over Ann," he whispered and grabbed the bandage with his other hand, tying it around her arm straight after he removed the damp rag from her wound, not wanting any more blood to escape.

"Your neck, the scar is still there," she said after he finished fastening the bandage, tightly enough to stop the flow of blood, into a ribbon. His palm lingered on the surface of her arm and stared at his work, thinking about what she said. He would forever be reminded of what his son did, but then he would also be forever reminded of how she saved him.

"I don't mind," the words escaped in a single breath and he got up, taking the supplies with him as he departed for the kitchen. She felt better knowing no more blood was gushing out of her arm, but still felt uneasy about everything that happened. In a way she felt sorry for Connor, she wished she was able to reconcile with him and leave without any regrets or conflicts. The man appeared honestly hurt and disappointed with her, and she felt like in a way she wronged her Father, betrayed him by deciding to stay with the Templar.

When Haytham returned he sensed her unease in the air and stood before her, towering over her small form. She looked up when his shadow blocked the light and faintly smiled.

"I love you," he breathed and her eyes dilated, her lips parting as she sat there staring into his sentimental navy-olive eyes, a smile crossing his once calm expression. She nodded after a while and reached her palm out, inciting him to kneel in front of her on one of his knees and rest his palms on her clothed thighs. She leaned forward and he looked pleased when her palm met his cheek in a caress, her thumb brushing over the edge of his bottom lip as she tilted her head slightly so she could feel his breath against her own chapped but still burning lips. She took his with her own, kissing him very softly and carefully. He pulled himself forward so that their lips clashed together, deepening the embrace and closing his eyes as he indulged in her familiar taste, preferring it to every food and liquor he ever savoured. She directed her palms so they found his bare shoulders beneath the shirt and slid down to his back, pulling him forward into her grasp. His skin felt magnificent and warmed her up like fire itself, while he enjoyed her soft moans as she struggled to breathe in between the drunken kisses. At that moment he knew she believed him with all of her soul and was ready to do anything for him, just like he was ready to do anything for her. He loved her, truly, madly and deeply, like he never in his life loved before. That feeling gave him more strength than the Templars ever could, and he never wanted to let the woman go, he strived to keep her for himself, for his eyes only. She was to become his with all that she had, every part of her he wanted, and he relished such selfishness. He had nothing against it, and the way things were, he was sure she didn't either.

A/N: Please leave a review/fave/follow if you enjoyed this chapter and would like more! If I made any mistakes or you have any suggestions or thoughts, please leave them in a review or PM me, I will take all opinions. Thank you! ^^

Till next time!

AssassinSuzy