Just to clarify, I'm pretty sure I wrote this all out so Jacqueline and Connor are the same age. She was trained earlier but they're both about 15 or 16 at the time, or at least that's how I mathed it out when playing. If it hurts your brain don't think about it, that's what I do. Remember to drop a review down there!

W'P

"There's nothing strange about an axe with bloodstains in the barn, there's always some killing you got to do around the farm." –"Murder in the Red Barn," Tom Waits

-o-

That afternoon it started to rain, and it didn't get better as the day progressed. In fact, it got worse and turned into a full thunderstorm. Jacqueline sat in her room and listened to the thunder explode in the sky. It reminded her of the day she came to Achilles. Rain lashed the glass of the window and made the forest beyond a blur of green and brown. A bolt of lightning struck and illuminated the world in a sharp flash of light. Her room was dark but for the fireplace, and the flickering flames cast wavering shadows across the room. It was silent in the manor. Achilles was probably awake, but he usually stayed downstairs at night. She wondered what he thought about, staring into the fire. What past wrongs or regrets he reminisced upon when she wasn't there.

A quiet sense of foreboding sent a cold shiver up and down her spine. She looked over her shoulder at the room. It was empty but for her.

Sighing, she looked back into the fire. It was slowly dying, and she tossed a log in. Sparks coughed up from the embers and swirled into the chimney. Another crack of thunder went out, loud and booming like dynamite. It sounded like the lightning had struck fairly close to the house.

The sense of apprehension came back, and this time she didn't ignore it. Standing, she told herself some excuse about wanting to get a drink and headed downstairs. Even so, she stayed dressed in her robes and even grabbed her weapons belt from the bedside table. Achilles was by the hearth as she had predicted, sitting quietly by himself. She crept past, not wanting to disturb him, and to the back door.

She just needed to make sure her fears were unfounded. Rain sprinkled in when she opened the door, a fine mist. Looking to the right, she saw the stables and the horses inside. If she squinted she could just make out a dark lump in the empty stable, and she suspected the boy had hunkered down for the night.

As she was closing the door, a waver of motion caught her eye. Two more figures were down by the stables, standing under the awning. Even as she watched, her hand went to her belt where her sword waited. The boy stood and approached the two people. Apparently he hadn't been sleeping, after all.

Jacqueline put her hood up against the rain and started off at a jog. The figures were probably Regulars or poachers, and wolves travelled in packs. She didn't need him stirring up trouble. Before she could reach them, they had set into fighting stances. The men who she could now see were poachers put up their fists, but the boy fought back with a tomahawk and to the death. The second man fell as she reached him.

Sighing heavily, she nudged the one body with her boot and folded her arms. The look she gave the boy was a mildly chastising one.

"What was I supposed to do?" He asked.

Jacqueline drew her sword with a gleam and ring of metal. More men were coming around from the stables, drawing their own weapons as they took in the bloody scene.

She only twirled her sword in a figure eight. The men were circling in. She continued to spin her sword, making a show of it and even fumbling on purpose once to make them arrogant. All at once she flung it into the chest of the nearest poacher, who crumpled in a heap without even a scream.

That was the start of it. The rest of them attacked, jabbing with their bayonets and swinging blades. It turned out the boy was proficient with that tomahawk of his, dual wielding with a flint dagger. Jacqueline was having an absolute blast, cartwheeling out of the circle and flipping back to kick a man's head back with enough force that it promptly snapped. A gunshot went off with a deafening bang, and she wondered if Achilles was watching them. She jumped forward at one of them, grabbing his shoulders, and hurled him over her head as she fell into a crouch where he had been standing. Once on the ground she dealt a sharp kick to his temple.

The fight wound to a halt, and the boy stalked up to one of the injured. "Why are you here?" He demanded with surprising force. "What do you want?"

"Best ask the bossman." The poacher coughed out, a little blood spattering his chin.

Stars flashed behind Jacqueline's eyes, and quite suddenly she was facedown in mud with a burning agony at the back of her head. There was some scuffling ahead and behind. Getting enough strength to lift her head, she was able to see two relatively uninjured men standing with their backs to the manor. A towering, muscular giant of a man was holding a club and looming over the Native boy.

She looked behind at the sound of quiet, fast footsteps in time to see Achilles assassinate first one, then the other of the two men, and finally the behemoth lumberjack bloke, just like that.

"Thank you." The boy said, standing. Achilles hobbled over the Jacqueline and helped her up. The world tilted around on its axis in her eyes, and there was something hot on her neck.

"Clean this up," He told the boy over his shoulder, helping Jacqueline along. "Then…I suppose we should talk."

As they walked away and he began dragging the bodies away, Jacqueline put a hand to her head. "That big guy hit me on the back of the head." She grumbled.

"I'll get you cleaned up inside once we're out of this blasted rain." Achilles sighed.

Once inside the manor, Jacqueline took off her larger cape and tossed it onto a hanger. She wobbled into the kitchen and wet a cloth to dab away the blood that was congealing in her hair. Achilles retrieved some bandages and wrapped them around her head, tight to the point of pain.

"Now don't take these off, no matter how it itches." Achilles slapped her hand when she tried scratching.

"Ah!" Jacqueline whipped her hand away. "Fine! It still hurts…I might have a concussion."

"You're fine. It's called getting into an actual fight, girl." He hobbled off toward the fire he had been sitting at earlier. Jacqueline followed, shedding the muddy, soaking wet outer layer of her robes and folding them. "I expect, with the way you're going, this certainly won't be your last. You handled yourself well out there."

"Merci…The last time I was in a fight, I stowed away on a British ship." She said and sat on the floor.

"That must have been some fight." Achilles chuckled drily. He took his seat from earlier and shook some water from his hat.

"Non, I kind of just ran away." She shrugged sheepishly. "It is how I ended up on the ship. For three months, all I ate was raw potato."

"Well, that explains why you don't eat them around here." He smirked.

The opening of the door made them both stop and wait. A few seconds later the boy walked in. He looked between them, and sat in the empty chair. It shattered under him, cracking into its separate pieces and depositing him on the floor. Jacqueline smiled. There was a reason she sat on the floor.

"Sorry." The boy said with sheepishness to match Jacqueline's.

"Not your fault." Achilles waved a hand. "The whole place is ready to come apart. Goddamn miracle it hasn't already. If you're going to blame anyone, blame her," He prodded Jacqueline's shoulder. "For not helping me get this place in working order. Anyway, who are you?"

"My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton." He said, standing awkwardly.

"Right. Well, I'm not even going to try and pronounce that. Now tell me why you're here."

Ratonhnhaké:ton pulled a piece of parchment from his belt and handed it to Achilles. It seemed to be some sort of map, at least from what Jacqueline could see from underneath. On it was the Assassin insignia. "I was told to seek this symbol."

"Do you even know what that symbol represents, or what it is you're asking for?" Achilles was giving him the same look that he had given Jacqueline when she had come to him.

"…No." Ratonhnhaké:ton admitted.

"And yet, here you are."

"The spirit said that-that I…"

Achilles held up a hand to stop him. "These "spirits" of yours have been harassing the Assassins for centuries, ever since Ezio uncorked the bottle. Ah, but you don't even know what an Assassin is, do you?" Silence. "Best settle in, then. I've got a story to tell, and it's going to take a while to get it all out."

Jacqueline stretched and yawned, curling into a more comfortable position. Ratonhnhaké:ton retrieved a chair from the dining table and sat in for the same tale that had been told to her. The weary, soft-spoken voice of Achilles and the crackling of the fire lulled her into a doze. The story wove around her like a blanket, little holes being punctured whenever Ratonhnhaké:ton asked a question or made a remark. For hours Achilles spoke of the Assassins and Templars and the Ones Who Came Before, as he had done with her.

Eventually, the night began to wane. The scraping of chairs stirred her, and she sleepily followed them as they walked to the training room. "Careful," Achilles whispered. "It wasn't a joke when I said this place was coming apart."

"So why don't you fix it?" Ratonhnaké:ton asked.

"What's the point? Besides, I don't have the materials for the job."

"So buy them."

Achilles laughed. "Look at me. Look at her," He tapped Jacqueline's leg with his cane between steps. "You think we can just march into some store, purse full of pounds, and go shopping?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"So naïve…" He sighed back. Jacqueline reached up and pulled down the candlestick, leaning on the wall as they walked ahead. A section of the wall popped out and became a door they could swing open. "This way."

The basement was mild and dim. There were signs of her training lying around, a few knives here and there, an arrow shot dead center at the straw dummy's head. She had been careful about that one, very careful not to hit the fine robes that hung there. Ratonhnhaké:ton reverently stepped up to them, brushing a hand over the shoulder. He knelt and picked up a boot, and got a smack from Achilles' cane.

"You think you can just walk in here, throw those on, and call yourself an Assassin?" He accused.

"I did not—I would never presume…"

"It's all right. I know they've a certain…allure." Achilles disjointedly circled him, observing the boy appraisingly. "Very well. I'll train you. Then we'll know if you've the right to wear those robes."

"Thank you, um…"

"Name's Achilles." The old man tapped his bad ankle with his cane and then gestured. "That's Jacqueline. Jacqueline!"

She looked over to them, having not exactly paying attention. She was feeling faint, and had been leaning on the table. "Oui."

"Introduce yourself. I thought I taught you manners, girl. And move that away from the wall."

"Old habits die hard." Jacqueline pushed herself from the table as they approached and pointed to herself. "I'm Jacqueline."

"I am Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"I heard. Good to meet you." She reached up and pulled away a patched together sheet of wooden two-by-fours that was leaning against the wall. She tossed it away, almost falling with it. Underneath were paintings of the various Templar leaders, with Haytham, the Grand Master, at the top of it all.

"What do the Templars want?" His question was directed at Achilles.

"What they've always wanted—control. They see an opportunity in the Colonies. A chance for new beginnings, unfettered by the chaos of the past. This is why they back the British. Here they have a chance to illustrate the merits of their beliefs, a people in service to the principles of order, and structure."

"I have seen what is to come if they succeed," Ratonhnhaké:ton said. "They have to die, don't they? All of them. Even my father."

"Especially your father. He's the one holding the whole thing together." Achilles turned to gaze up at the portrait of Haytham.

"Haytham Kenway...is your father?" Jacqueline tore her eyes away from the picture to stare at Ratonhnhaké:ton. That would explain his fairer skin.

"Yes," He answered evenly. "But I am nothing like him."

"I think," Achilles interrupted. "It's time for bed. Jacqueline, show him to his room. And if you can still sleep, do so; I won't be letting up on you just because you got a bump to the head."

"I can always sleep," She touched her new bandage. "Especially with this." She waited until they were all out of the basement before closing the secret door. "Good night, Achilles."

"Good night."

"This way, ah…" Jacqueline paused. It felt rude not to call him by name but even more rude to try and be unable to pronounce it.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton." He said for the third time, following her up the stairs.

"Sorry. Write it out for me some day, I'll learn to pronounce it." She put a hand to her head and leaned on the wall as they reached the second floor. The world tilted again, wavering and darkening on the edges.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She waved him off and continued gingerly down the hall. They stopped at his new room, which was bare but for a bed no one had slept in for ages; certainly long before she ever got there. She leaned on the doorframe. "Here you are. I'm down the hall there if you need anything." She pointed to her room on the other side of the second floor.

"Thank you, Jacqueline." He said, and sounded genuine.

"It's no trouble. Get some rest. Achilles is going to run you into the ground tomorrow." Jacqueline smiled tiredly and pushed off the frame to walk back to her room.

-o-

The winter morning was bright. The newly fallen snow dulled the sharp, leafless branches of the dark trees. Everything was white and soft. Achilles waited in the driver's seat of the carriage outside the manor, hunched down with his hat pulled over his eyes as he waited. Footsteps crunched around him as Jacqueline made sure the horses were in good shape. She had abandoned her summer robes for ones with more fur, both inside and around the hems and hood. The garters and skirt had stayed, though. She liked the mobility they provided. Her hair had grown very long in the past several years, so to mark her turning seventeen, she had cut it back to her shoulders.

"Where is that boy?" Achilles grumbled. "He sleeps more than you."

"If you didn't go on working until the sun set, maybe he wouldn't sleep until noon." Jacqueline countered smartly, getting a smack to the shoulder from the walking stick. At this point it was more like a friendly pat than a strike. "Would you like me to go wake him up?"

He sighed, and a plume of fog drifted from under the brim of his old hat. "No, no. Leave him. He'll have to wake up sometime."

"You see, you say that…" She smiled. Her gloved hands coaxed up the hoof of her speckled mare, and she checked for pebbles. "The horses look in good shape. If he doesn't join us in a few minutes I'm waking him up."

Even as she said it, the door of the manor opened and Ratonhnhaké:ton walked out, looking groggy. He gave them a little wave as he walked down the front steps.

"Speak of the devil," Jacqueline straightened up and patted the mare's side. "We were getting ready to storm in there and drag you out kicking and screaming."

"Not today, at least," Connor smirked and walked up to Achilles.

"Good morning." The old man greeted.

"To you as well. You going on a trip?"

"I've decided to do something about the house, and you're going to help me. Get in." He tapped the carriage with his cane.

Jacqueline, thrilled at visiting a city after so long in the countryside, eagerly climbed in. Ratonhnhaké:ton joined her a moment later. Once the door closed, the reins snapped outside, and the carriage lurched off.

"Have you ever been to the city?" Jacqueline asked him, brushing back her hood. Snow sprinkled down on the seat.

"No. Not one so large as Boston. My village was of average size, though."

She grinned in anticipation. "Oh, are you in for a treat."