Hello!

A/N: Sorry for the long wait - I've been writing other things and have just finished NaNoWriMo, so hopefully I'll find some time to publish more chapters of this particular story :)

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

Ann meets a mysterious stranger, who captures her with his kindness, at first sight.

Enjoy! ^^

XXXI

'It is a good life we lead, Brother. May it never change. And may it never change us.'

The night…

It was a pulsating pain that emanated from inside her head, and Ann felt like the world around her was completely shattered. Everything felt numb, unreachable, but she was certainly warm, not something she expected. She hesitantly opened her eyes, despite the inward fear trying to prevent her from doing so, and moved her arms around only slightly, feeling the surface of a soft fabric against her skin. She breathed in deeply, her eyes still not adjusting. She wasn't dead, that was certain, except if such a warm and pleasant place was heaven indeed, yet her mind was completely blank; empty of any memories or events, it was just her human instinct that flooded her mind. Telling her she needed food and water, but other than that she couldn't seem to bring back thoughts of any other kind. She then took an arm out from under the fabric that was covering her, but it wasn't a cold breeze that caused the shivers on her skin, it was the realisation that nearby a sparkling fire was burning, that she was in a home of some kind. Her eyes finally opened wide, as if they had a mind of their own, and she looked up immediately, an ivory ceiling greeting her, its surface lit up in some areas, as if reflecting the fire and the several candles that must have been scattered around the room that she resided in. She wanted to lift herself up, get to know her surroundings, but the constant weakness that folded itself around all her limbs kept her down, she just had no strength to do anything that her mind wanted her to.

"You're awake!" A relaxed, deeper baritone voice spoke up from somewhere unknown. Suddenly a man appeared in front of her eyes, replacing the ceiling, incredibly surprising her to the point that she lifted the covers up to her eyes, hiding in fear. Nothing felt familiar any more, she didn't recognise where she was, how she got there, even who the slightly foreboding man seemed to be. She never saw him before, and finding herself in a strange room in a bed which was not her own was a very frightening experience. "I'm sorry," he quickly added, his accent seemingly Irish. She moved the quilt down until it reached the tip of her nose, her eyes opening again to look up at him. He was slightly taken aback by how brightly those emerald eyes of hers shone, almost reflecting his own. Yet him staring into her eyes, admiring, wasn't a working strategy, since she was beginning to slide the quilt back up. "Please, don't be afraid, I'm a friend," he murmured softly.

"I..," she spoke up very quietly, pushing the fabric away from her face so that he could see her again. "Where am I?"

"This is my home, I found you in the area, you were injured and unconscious."

"You've brought me here?"

"Yes, I couldn't have left you out there to die."

"I… Thank you," she whispered and sent a soft smile his way, her lips pale and chapped.

"You must be hungry, here let me help you," he said, leaning in to slip his hand under her, causing a soft raspy cry to escape her once calm lips. He helped her sit up, and to his surprise she snaked her arms around his neck as he did so, prompting him to kneel down beside the bed. She was now only slightly taller than him, thus her arms easily relaxed. She watched his reaction change as the surface of his cheeks became painted lightly with a blood red hue. She let him go quickly, muttering an apology of some kind, while he managed to readjust the pillows so that they helped her recline into a position which allowed her to eat and see the whole room. She leaned back into the pillows when he smiled and looked around, finally able to see her surroundings. There was a lit fireplace to the right of the bed, while opposite was a wall with a doorway, leading to another, unknown room. On the wall hung a small painting of a landscape, under it on the wooden floorboards rested a round oak table and two chairs, all of it quite small, making the atmosphere in the house incredibly cosy and warm. Next to the fireplace was a small wardrobe and on the other side a desk and chair with several books and documents scattered across.

The man disappeared quickly and returned with a plate and a cup of what seemed to be steaming hot liquid. He was tall, with a sculpted, almost chiselled and weather-beaten face. It was graced with only a few deep set lines and wrinkles, so she assumed he was in either his late forties or very early fifties. His hair was of a dark, sable, shade with several strands of dark grey, and was swept back neatly into a short ponytail, with light sideburns and an unshaven jaw to complete the gruff look. He wore a darker-coloured shirt, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His breeches were jet black and he wore no boots. After all, he was in his own home and had the right to dress in any way he liked, even if it made her slightly flustered. He approached her, noticing how she must have examined him, and handed her the plate. It had some bread and vegetables as well as various oats and dried fruit. There was also a small cupcake, with jam spread on top. She literally felt her mouth water at the sight, and looked up at him, a wide smile forming at each corner of her lips, as if waiting for his permission.

"Do you..," he began, his voice slightly softer and more nervous than before, as if he was a bashful individual despite looking the complete opposite. He had no idea why he was reacting in such a way, she was just different, different than any woman he had ever met, for some peculiar reason. "Do you need any help?" He asked, evidently misjudging her reaction for one which was asking for assistance. She was confused for a moment, yet it was enough time for him to grab the plate from her palm, it's surface cold but astonishingly soft, like velvet. "I'm sorry if it's not much, it's all I had, since I last went to the city last week."

"No, I-, it's enough for me, it's more than enough," she quietly countered. He smiled then, again, and took hold of some bread, resting the plate in her lap as he ripped a piece off with his other hand.

"Here," he whispered, and she noticed his hand was shaking ever so slightly as it neared her lips. She had to admit she wasn't exactly able to eat herself, since all power seemed to completely escape her hands at that moment, probably from the unordinary tension of the situation. Considering she was still starving, she accepted the help he was obviously keen to offer. She felt the rough and dry surface of the bread touch her lips and opened her mouth to eat it. Upon closing her lips she felt his soft fingertips against them, the touch almost painfully electric, his eyes watching her like a hawk, before he hastily took his hand away. He continued feeding her like that, until she devoured everything on the plate like a craving animal. "You must have been starving," he said as he slipped through her lips the last piece of the cupcake. He helped her drink the tea, her eyes closing as she focused on the refreshing taste. He put the plate and cup to the side, hearing as she sighed in content.

"Thank you, I was, I can't remember when I had eaten last."

"What's your name?" He asked, and she opened her lips to answer, quite eagerly, but discovered no sound came out. Only silence. She tried again, wrecking her mind and struggling to find the answer. Then he frowned as he saw the sudden change on her face, her eyes widening and her hand reaching out to cover her lips as she parted them in shock. She looked up at him then, their eyes meeting in a sad embrace of some kind, and she shook her head very softly.

"I… I can't remember. Oh my god, I can't remember," she answered with an almost strangled voice, panic causing it to waver. He was sitting on a chair beside her, and leaned in to place his palm on her shoulder, caressing it very delicately in an attempt to console her.

"It's alright, don't worry, I will fetch a doctor in the morning. Maybe one of the things you had with you had a name on them?" He suggested in a soothing and fruity voice.

"Things?" She asked, evidently confused. He got up and reached for the duffel bag he found beside her, which was now resting beside the bed. He lifted it up and placed it in her lap, her eyebrows furrowing in even greater confusion.

"I found this with you, so I assumed it must have belonged to you."

"I see," she murmured, but then felt like whatever was in the bag - she didn't want to see it, she didn't want to remember. "Can we look at it another time… I… I feel like I'm not ready."

"Of course," he nodded, taking the bag away, guessing it must have had things which her mind associated with some kind of painful memories. He then resumed his position and noticed that the bandage around her head had to be changed. "I'll be right back."

She nodded and sighed, looking under the covers to discover that she was only dressed in a dark shirt, like the one the man wore. A sudden heat engulfed the skin of her cheeks and she gasped, realising he must have changed her clothing. She lifted her arm up to sniff the fabric, it's scent resembling the smell of aromatic woods and a citrus of some kind. It was a subtle and fresh scent to say the least, and she had to admit she liked it. The man returned after another moment and noticed what she was doing. She looked up to see him and put her arm under the covers, blushing again. He smirked, feeling like he had some kind of power over her, and sat down on the chair, leaning in with a fresh bandage in his hand. He undid the knot on the bloodied bandage around her head, his chest and the few undone buttons of his shirt suddenly coming into view, right in front of her face. His skin emanated with heat, and the same scent as before radiated off of it. She closed her eyes, inhaling it, feeling as if it was the only aroma she wanted to smell from that day on. They didn't even know each other's name, but it felt like she heard of the man somewhere before, as if she was to meet him on some occasion in the future. Hesitantly she reached her palm out, about to feel the skin of his neck, but he retreated with the ragged bandage in hand, blotches of blood drying from it's surface. He gazed down, catching her palm as it was about to reach for his neck, her fingers curling inwards as she figured she didn't have enough time to retreat and make it look as if she wasn't doing anything. He caught her. Her cheeks must have been on fire just after cooling down, but he just smiled sympathetically at her. He threw away the old bandage and then reached out for the fresh one, again leaning in and tying it around her head very carefully, making sure it covered her injury.

"You banged your head for sure, but it will heal, it doesn't look to be too serious," he said, his voice hinting at his continuing nervousness. The woman was capturing him, like no one ever did before, even though he knew nothing about her. He spent his life hunting those that wronged humanity, so he never had time to focus on what would happen after he completed his mission. He wasn't good with women, despite being a cold and ruthless killer as well as a diplomatic and charismatic speaker, who made his own luck in the world, but when it came to actually finding a woman who would look past everything he had done and the man he became, he always believed himself hopeless. Was she sent by some force above, or was it his luck going at it again?

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her palm finally finding the skin of his neck, her fingertips caressing it in such a featherlight manner he barely felt it. Her touch sent pleasant shivers down his skin, it was cold yet so soft he could have sworn he never felt such satisfaction before. He tied a knot and leaned back, yet moved from the chair to the side of the bed, sitting by her, closer than before, however her palm already left his neck, and he felt too flustered to ask her to touch him again, he didn't know if it was right of him too, if it was appropriate - what her reaction would be. He didn't even know if it was right of her to do such things to a man she barely knew, to set his skin on fire like that, to make him feel such unexplainable emotions. Maybe she was looking for comfort, after all she was lost, not knowing who she was or where she came from. She might have been married, seeing how attractive she was, so she might be missing someone deeply enough to confuse them with him. Either way, as much as he questioned it, he couldn't deny the pleasure he got from even the slightest of her touches, he couldn't deny he wanted more.

"Why are you apologising? You haven't done anything," he replied after a while, smiling at her again, evidently comforting her judging by how her eyes lit up with relief.

"I don't want to be a burden," she mumbled and he shook his head, he was never so kind to anyone, but then he became a Templar, even if to correct his mistakes, to become a good person. He wanted to destroy the causes of human pain and allow everyone to have the right to live a life without being threatened by the cruel and inhuman Assassins. So what he was doing was fulfilling his ambitions, he was getting rid of her pain. He was protecting her, and he couldn't help but desire to protect her.

"You aren't, I'm rather glad that you're here," he replied and leaned in, placing his palm - seemingly innocently - beside her quilt-covered legs.

"Thanks," she whispered and looked away, her cheeks a rosy hue which he wanted to feel and touch. He observed her youthful skin, how porcelain-like it was, pale and smooth, his eyes glazing over her neck. She looked back but his hazel-tinted eyes no longer stared into her own, instead they seemed to be filled with a hunger of some kind, one she had seen before, but could not remember, as they traced her collarbone. He caught sight of the necklace she wore, the Templar Cross, and he questioned whether she was part of the Order. He reached out to her slight surprised and grasped at it, slowly turning it around.

"There is an engraving on the back of your necklace," he announced, prompting her to attempt to look down to catch what he was staring at with such intense eyes.

It clearly read, To my beloved Annora Collet, in very small, bold fancy letters. He turned it around again, his eyes fixed on the object, widening, he was shock-stricken at that moment. He couldn't believe it, how could such a coincidence occur, how could he have known? Why was it her, of all people, why?

"Your name is Annora Collet, do you recognise that name?"

"I think I do, barely, but I do," she whispered back, a layer of confusion in her voice. He then looked up to see her eyes light up as she softly smiled and mouthed a 'thank you,' with her lips.

Then he remembered it clearly, since it only happened a few days before.

"Shay," the old man said, the youngest Templar immediately looking towards them, "I betroth you to Anne Collet, starting later this month you will court her and you will marry her soon after."

It was her, that was for sure, there was no other woman by that name in the whole of London. She was Master Kenway's mistress. Yet she remembered nothing, not her own name, not her residence in Kenway's Manor, nor their relationship. Nothing. It was his chance, he could run away with her, take her away, or marry her and do the same. Gain favour within the Order but keep the one woman that he now craved so much. Finding a wife was one thing, but the thrill of taking the woman of the man who was once the one to give him orders and control him, even if they were indeed friends, was much more rewarding, much more desirable. Had he known, he wouldn't have been so reluctant. He never imagined the woman to be such a young, beautiful and evidently vulnerable girl who was searching for someone's shoulder to cry on as well as someone to touch and embrace. But she - she forgot everything, she wouldn't even know that she was betraying Master Kenway, to her he would be a memory she did not want to remember, especially since he gave her away so easily…

"I can't choose between the Order and her, I've been part of the Order since I remember, there is no other life that I know of. But she… She is my life. I love her."

"She must become a Templar, only then will the Grand Master cancel this circus act!"

"She won't listen to me, I don't know what to do, I can't force her to live like us, she can't kill Shay, do you understand? She won't kill."

"So what? You'll just let me marry her? Is that really love Master Kenway?"

She wouldn't hurt over a past she couldn't recall, to her he would be her first love, if she only loved him. That was the greatest challenge of all. He didn't even know why he felt so eager and determined to go through with such a cruel plan, maybe it was because he was attracted to her so much, or maybe because he loved to feel like he had power over a delicate creature like her, or… Maybe he loved her already. He did not know. He just wanted her, and the reason was of no interest nor importance to him in those moments.

"Is something the matter?" She asked, and he suddenly looked up into her eyes again, his train of thoughts broken when he felt her palm against his hand, shaking him softly. He smiled, shaking his head and lifting her hand up with his own, leaning in to press a kiss to her knuckles, his lips warm and moist.

"No, don't worry," he said, "I'm Shay. Shay Cormac."

"Shay," she repeated, her voice like a melody to his ears. He wanted to hear her say it again, many times, endlessly, until she could speak it no more.

"Can you say it again?"

She let out a soft and very quiet laugh and leaned her head to the side slightly, as if being playful and questioning his behaviour, "okay," she whispered. Then she reached her hand out and prompted him to lean in closer. He did as he was told and came so close that her lips brushed the rim of his ear, her palm resting on his shoulder for support. "Shay, Shay Cormac. Shay…"

"Ann," he whispered back and heard her laugh faintly in his ear again, "can I call you Ann?"

"Yes, Shay, you can Shay," she continued the little game that they seemed to be playing. He then considered telling her something that wasn't genuine, such as that he was her fiancee - which he in a way was, as recognised by the Grand Master - or some best friend that she hasn't seen in a while, since she wouldn't remember anyway, anything to give her a sense of security around him, anything to make her feel like she should give him even more of her affection. But he didn't know if it was the right or just thing to do. "Shay," she whispered again. Something caught in his throat, and he felt the incredible need to kiss her, to touch her or to embrace her at least. His heart was rattling in his chest, begging him to do something, to say something. To act in a certain way towards her, so he wouldn't risk losing her or the possibility of being with her. Why did he want her so much? He hated how the answer seemed non-existent, he just wanted and wanted, but there were no motives behind it, no valid reason for why he felt like she was the only woman he ever wanted to love.

"Ann…"

"Shay, when do you want me to stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Stop saying your name?"

"Never," he replied, leaning down to press his lips to the incredibly smooth surface of her neck, feeling her pulse as it sped up upon contact. "Never stop saying my name."

"Okay," she simply breathed out, "Shay," she teased though, causing her tongue to hush the 'sh' out of her lips slowly, with an incredible tinge to it. She questioned why she was acting in such a way, but she guessed that if she acted in such a natural way around him then she must have had a reason which she may have forgot. He just felt right, he felt familiar, comforting, like a man she felt she knew for so long they may have been lovers. She felt like she was falling in love, but didn't know what it was like, or at least convinced herself she didn't. She thought she was never in love before, therefore it must have felt just like it did at that moment with Shay. She was wrong, of course she was, but she didn't remember.

"Shay, stop," she whimpered, suddenly feeling as his lips found the soft spot under her ear, kissing her skin forcefully, not even considering her protests, knowing she was weak, powerless and could never resist what they both seemed to so suddenly want. He left a moist trial of kisses down her neck until he reached her collarbone, his palm finding her arm and caressing it's surface. She moaned as his other hand began to undo the first few buttons of her shirt, the shirt that belonged to him but now covered her, hiding her body from him. "Shay!" She pushed him away with whatever force she could muster, and they looked at each other dumbfounded. She didn't want to stare into those amber eyes, they consumed her, they tempted her, so she quickly looked away, closing her eyes and pressing her palm to her temple, unsure of what to do. He was so forceful, as if he expected her to comply, did he know something about her that she did not remember? Then... Why would he be hiding it?

"I'm sorry," he said and then looked down at the pale quilt, he too lifted his hand to his temple, annoyed at how easily he lost control. "It's just that…"

"What? Is there something you're not telling me Shay? Please, if there is anything you know of me, you might help me recover my memory…"

He had to think, he had to, what he was about to say would label him as a traitor in his Mentor's eyes, but it would let him take her with him, it would force her to love him, because it would be natural, it would be right, she would believe him, the trust she already developed for him was evident. Maybe it was some sort of fate, she must have been found by him for a reason. He was after all betrothed to her, if Master Kenway wanted it or not, and it would help him become a Grand Master anyway. It would be even better because the woman would love him, at least he hoped she would, so it would be a happy marriage, she wouldn't suffer, and he would take her with him on his next voyage onboard the Morrigan. It was all meant to happen, it was right, and she had a right to know of it. Even if he indeed omitted the rest of the story and her relationship with Haytham, whom she would probably not even remember. But if her memory loss was only short-term, then that meant everything would eventually come back, and then she would know how he lied to her. He would only tell her that they have been together for a year or so, or maybe half a year, or maybe that they fell in love at first sight. He sighed and then leaned in, taking her hand into his own.

"You are my fiancee, Ann, we're betrothed to each other."

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Till next time!

AssassinSuzy