Hello!

A/N: Here's another chapter! :)

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

Ann decides on what's best, but hurts the most...

Enjoy! ^^

XXIX

'You bring the sun down to burn, when I'm feeling cold.'

That night…

"I have to do it," Ann quietly muttered to herself, packing the small duffel bag as she was sat on the small rug in the middle of her room. She took her blades, as well as other small things that most mattered to her. She then went around blowing out all the candles before opening the door by only a small crack, making sure no one was outside. She returned to throw the duffel bag over her shoulder and then exited the room, closing the door ever so carefully after her. She tiptoed across the hallways and then up all the stairs. When she reached the end of the hallway on the highest floor of the Manor she saw the familiar double doors, resting the bag beside them and opening one by an inch, letting her eyes wander around as much of the room as the crack allowed her to, noticing all the candles were out, noticing that the man was asleep. She opened the door a little more, enough for her to slip in unnoticed.

She got a better look around, finding Haytham in his large bed, the covers barely covering his body. She ripped her eyes away though, trying to focus on what was the most important thing to do first. She already had her knee-length silk skirt on as well as a belt, as she didn't plan on leaving in a dress of any kind. Her hands struggled to find the handles of Haytham's wardrobe in the darkness, but when they finally did, they slowly opened the doors, sliding in to search through. She felt the various fabrics, the shirts and the breeches and jackets. All the articles of clothing were covered with his scent, the one she knew she had to memorise if she was to leave.

There was no choice in the matter, had she stayed the man would think she agreed to the Templar Grand Master's conditions, but she had no intention of doing so. She'd rather aimlessly ride through the British countryside and live in poverty than marry a man she did not know, a man who wasn't Haytham. She'd miss him, hell, she couldn't imagine life without him, but she felt like his life would become so much easier if she wasn't around to disrupt him and all his plans of power and fortunes and titles and ranks. Everything that she didn't need, but he craved for, he lived for.

That was their only difference, and that was what made her an Assassin and him a Templar.

She took one of the smaller shirts, one which he must have bought by accident, and put it on. She found a crimson strip of velvet fabric lying on one of the shelves and conveniently tied it around the shirt so that it fit around her waist better. Haytham's jackets were, quite naturally, much too large for her, so she settled with the thick and hooded, woollen coat that she took along with her, making a mental note to take it out of the duffel bag. She tied another crimson piece of fabric around her shirt collar, in the fashion that Haytham always had done. She noticed a spare holster and pistol lying around, and after an internal battle, she took both and fixed them to her leather belt, then carefully closed the wardrobe. Nearby she found a small leather sheath which Haytham must've planned to discard, since it was slightly ripped and messy at the edges, so she took it and hoped to have time to return to her room to grab the sword she kept safe, the one that Haytham gave to her back in America.

Everything belonged to him, making her feel as if she was stealing from him. At the same time, everything would remind her of him. Maybe it was for the better, since she never wanted to forget the love that she desired to harbour for him forever. She loved him, no matter what he did, but what kind of love would it be if she married to someone she hated? She would be betraying not only that man, and Haytham, but also herself. She sighed and stepped over to the Templar's desk, finding all sorts of papers scattered all over. What caught her attention was a small box with a note beside it. She read it first, not wanting to open something which might have not been hers. The writing was indeed as beautiful as always, yet it had some sort of disturbance to it, as if it had been written in an incredible rush or in a moment of anger and distress. The ink was still slightly fresh in some places, so she assumed he must have wrote the note that evening. It seemed to be a reminder rather than a letter for someone.

To give to my beloved Ann. Tell her that she is eternally mine.

At that moment a tear escaped her eye, colliding with the parchment. Then a few more until she stopped them with her palms, quickly rubbing at the surface in hopes of forcing herself to cease the useless crying. She opened the box, the glint of the jewellery inside blinding her slightly as it contrasted with the darkness. She pushed the lid further back and gasped silently, discovering a silver Templar cross, it's inside painted in a blood red colour which reflected the little light that entered the room. It was attached to a silver chain, made to fit around her neck perfectly. She lifted it up and realised that all this time Haytham wanted her to become one of them, just so they could be together. Just so that the Grand Master wouldn't make her marry someone out of the blue like that.

It was Haytham's intention to make her a Templar for he seemingly wanted to marry her. But since he asked so rarely, it seemed that he never wanted to force her to become one. He knew her so well after all. And it broke her heart. She wished he indeed forced her instead, in all honesty. All that marriage business, it wasn't his fault. He promised after all. But… She couldn't stay, not when she knew Haytham would go through with it for his and her own sake. She wasn't planning to give herself to another man, especially to a man she neither met nor loved. She took hold of the quill pen Haytham must have used earlier and dipped it in ink, quickly finding a spare piece of paper nearby. She sat on the chair, very quietly, and began to write. She couldn't leave him whilst knowing he had no idea where she went. Of course she wouldn't tell him where she was going, she just wanted to say good bye. She just wanted him not to worry about her. That was, of course, impossible.

Haytham, my only love,

I'm sorry. I must go. I can't live like this, I can't live knowing I can't be with you. Don't search for me. I want you to achieve success here, I want you to become the Grand Master you were always supposed to be. I am no Templar, nor Assassin. Like I always say, I'm just Ann. Know that I will love you, I will love you and love you until the end of days. Because even though that's the only thing I'm good at, I'm proud of it. I don't have any regrets. I became yours, I kissed you, I heard you speak my name, I felt your warmth beside me every night. That is all I could have asked of you. And you have given it all to me. You helped me find a meaning to this existence, you made me love again.

Thank you, for everything. I love you Haytham,

Yours forever, Ann.

The writing was rushed, slightly messy, but still readable. It was even messier because of the tears that kept slowly dropping from her lids, but still, readable. She returned the quill to it's place, took the necklace and put it over her head and around her neck. She wrote at the end of the note a quick 'thank you,' and then put the quill back again, scolding herself for her awful forgetfulness. She then took the note and walked over to the man's bed, placing it on the small table beside it. Then she bent over him, very softly placing her palm against his cheek. His torso was bare and his hair was messy, his stubble growing. Her eyes couldn't help but weep, she hated it. She didn't want to go, but she had to. She didn't want to imagine having to never see him again, never being able to caress his skin or kiss his lips. He was her air, her water, her light. Without him, she would lose the capability to breathe. To live. Or to ever love again. His breathing was slow, and only slightly ragged.

She slowly leaned in and kissed him, for what she felt was the last time, so softly that he wouldn't wake, but enough for her to memorise the ridges on his lips and the sweet taste of their surface. She traced his scars with her fingertips, and then the ridges of his chest and stomach, just like when she first met him. It was just like it. It was a dark night, it was the same atmosphere, back then she also believed it was the last time she was seeing him or feeling his breath. Except this time he was safe and he would eventually forget her, eventually he would continue his existence as a Templar Master. Eventually she would let go. Eventually they would both let go and be only a distant memory of passion, warmth and love. At least that was what she believed back at the time. She convinced herself of such beliefs so that it would not hurt as much, so that the pain would become bearable, but it hurt even more so, and the pain would indeed become as unbearable as it could ever be.

She kissed his forehead and then his cheek, whispering apologies and proclamations of love. Then, when she knew it was time, she gazed at him one last time, with a new dose of bitter tears in her eyes, and then tore her orbs away hesitantly. There was no turning back.

She packed everything in the duffel bag and made her way back to her own room, sheathing the sword Haytham once gave her. Then she went to the bottom floor, putting on her coat. She found the tiny room where Penelope slept, near to the kitchen, and woke her, careful as not to startle her.

"Mistress Anne?" She asked, rubbing one eye in confusion as she rose up.

"I'm sorry to wake you, I just had to tell you that I'm leaving. Would you like to come with me? You will be free, in a way."

"What? I don't understand, where are you going?"

"Things have happened and I need to go, I can't stay here anymore. Please, come with me."

"Miss, you know I can't," Penelope replied with a sort of sadness in her eyes while Ann's expression sunk even more, her bloodshot eyes, which only just dried from all the tears, pleaded with her, but it didn't work. "I appreciate your effort though, I truly do, and I thank you for it."

"I understand. I've tried everything I could, maybe one day mercy will come upon you and you will return to your family."

"I hope you will find what you are searching for Miss, you will be in my prayers."

"Penelope, don't tell Haytham of our conversation here. Please, I don't want him to know where I've disappeared to. I want him to live in peace, and I am not the peace he seeks."

"I won't say a word."

"Thank you, farewell, Penelope."

"I'm glad to have met such a woman as you, Anne, there is no one out there that strives for my freedom as you do, you might think yourself weak, but you are stronger than you know," she replied, a warm smile crossing her lips, "farewell."

Ann nodded, sending a half-broken half-appreciating smile her way before disappearing through the doorway. She swung her bag over her shoulder, putting her hood up. Then she easily exited the Manor through the back door, searching for the stables. It wasn't hard to find a horse and equip it with what was seemingly at hand, Ann however feared how to climb onto the animal without anyones support. She indeed struggled for a few moments, but somehow managed to get the horse to trot down the path into the forest below the Manor. She looked back only once, patting the horse as if it was supposed to make her feel any better.

It took half an hour or so to get out of the forest and onto a main dirt road of some sort. She recognised where she was after looking around a few times, remembering how she travelled down the road in a carriage with Haytham a few times when they were on their way to the centre of London. She didn't exactly plan on going to the city, there would be too many people there, and she had no money on her so she wouldn't survive a night. She also feared the people that would be there, she was a lone, young woman after all. She still wasn't that good at combat, so she wouldn't be able to hold her own in a fight against several men. She was defenceless, poor and the only positive light that she could shine on the situation was the fact that it wasn't winter anymore, hence the weather wasn't that cold.

"I was stupid enough to forget to take any food or money, so what the hell am I going to do?" She questioned under her breath. She thought for a while, continuing the slow gallop down the path, and decided to go to the outskirts of the city instead, hoping to find a merciful soul that would at least let her stay for the day and share some food. If all else failed she could always try selling any valuables she had, after all it was the only thing to do if she wanted to prevent starvation. She let out a loud sigh, noticing that she was completely alone, and fought to stay awake. She gently hit the sides of the horse with her feet, just like Haytham used to when he took her out riding, and the horse began to gallop much faster.

After what felt like an eternity but was only less than an hour or so, Ann began to see a few small houses in the distance, windows dark and unfortunately quite uninviting. As she slowed the horse down and entered the small village, one of the many which were always scattered around the city centre, she noticed a brightly lit up tavern. It wasn't the best of ideas knowing that it was always filled with mostly drunk men, so it took her a while to decide to go past it. As inviting as the area looked to be, she wanted to stay out of trouble. The horse led her around the village, down several paths, and into another forest. It was a difficult decision to leave home, and Ann couldn't help but keep on thinking if she did the right thing. It was still night, and Haytham wouldn't have seen her note yet. She was alone, not as warm as she would have been in his room before the fire, and because of being awake for so long, she was starting to feel the slight hunger building up in the pit of her stomach.

She noticed a safe spot in the forest which she ventured into without even considering the precautions, without considering the danger of wild animals or thieves. She was attacked by a wolf once, and was only alive because of Haytham. What if such thing happened again? He wouldn't be there to save her, no one would. She stopped the horse and tied the reins to the tree, after which she jumped off and rolled out a quilt she took from the Manor on the ground. She laid upon it, looking up to see the sky staring back at her, the stars watching her every move, every breath, lighting up the night, somehow making her feel safer than before. For a moment she imagined Haytham by her side, but in reality, even if she wished it so, he was no longer with her. She rummaged through the duffel bag, eventually finding the small crimson ribbon that he tied his hair with. He long since replaced it with a new one, but that one was for her to keep.

She took three small strands of her hair and began to plait it, tying it at the end with the ribbon. Her hair was cold, and unusually fine. She took out the sword from her sheath and watched it glint in the light of the half-moon. She watched it like that until her eyelids became heavy, and sheathed it back in time right before she knew sleep was taking over. She whispered a goodnight to the man she left behind in the Manor. She loved him, and she would whisper such good mornings and good nights until the end of her life, just like she did when they were together. Soon enough she curled up, preserving all the warmth she could, and let her eyes close, sleep following soon after. It would be a hard and long sleep, but hopefully the hunger wouldn't wake her too soon. She fell asleep with a soft prayer on her lips, and Haytham in her heart, yet on her mind only survival.

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Till next time!

AssassinSuzy