A/N:

Haii my ladies and gentlemen, I hope you haven't missed me too much! (Nor will kill me for this late update D:)

I was in Barcelona (Spain) with my parents for a week and worked all weekend with posting my other fanfiction, which was due to the day when we were leaving but I never got the time to finish it. ._. I got an iPad (!) from school and wanted to use it during the trip, but it's practically useless without internet connection...

So, without further ado, here's the next chapter! I hope you've had a great week thus far! And sorry once again for the no heads-up; I should've mentioned something in my last chapter, but I had counted on being able to write there... My bad!

Oh, btw, I got a couple of comments about that my writing style has changed immensely from the first chapter of this series and even though I wanna claim it was all my doing (:3), it's not. I did have a plan to make Melissa more mature in the language she uses and describes with all along as she grows up, but it's also thanks to my improving writing skills. I wanna thank all of you followers/favorites/reviewers for your feedback as well as those of you who only read and stay somewhat anonymous (I can track down your IP address and find you, I swear ((Not really ^^')). I wouldn't have made it this far without all of your support and just wanna thank you for making me so motivated to work with writing! It's really a total blast and something I wish I would've come up quicker with, but never mind grudging for the past!

Long A/N, I know, but I just want you to realize how important you are to me ^^ So thank you all for this amazing experience!

Chapter 7:2

1777, November 30th

A year had passed quickly yet again, but still I could not remember if there had been any colder winter during my seventeen years in the world.

"Feeling a bit chilly?"

I turned to my master and mentor, Mr. Haytham Kenway, with an excusing smile on my lips. "No sir, I feel alright," I replied and pulled my aunties scarf – which I had "borrowed" - into an even harder knot around my neck. My throat was sore and I feared that I was starting to get a cold. I was actually wearing a jacket as well, together with a pair of thick gloves, but whenever the wind came swooshing by, I could feel the snowflakes nestle through my thick reinforcement of fur and cloth and ravaging my flesh of its heat. The winter was brutal, relentless and season hated the most, this winter in particular. It was always dark and cold, and the weather required of me to wear thick, rigid clothing, something I felt most uncomfortable in. But it was also the time of the year when almost everyone I knew celebrated their birthdays, namely my eccentric and quite snappish aunt – who had started to loosen up actually, especially as of late – and Alex.

Another year without being there for you, friend, I thought sorrowfully and pressed together my lips. It's been too long, Alex, way too long. But I'm not sure I know you any more. You've changed so damn much – but so have I.

"...listening? Excuse me, Melissa, but am I boring you out?"

I snapped out of my reverie and rose from the slippery ground. We were standing outside an abandoned chapel, where we were searching for clues. The reason why we had ended up there was a dire one indeed; Mr. Benjamin Church had not only double-crossed the Continental Army but as well deceived the Order of the Templars, then joined the side of the British for his own, selfish needs, something I had never thought to be occurred. Loyalty was an absolution that my mentor always taught me to respect, even if it was from one person I despised very much to another person I despised likewise. There was nothing more honorable than the aspects of regard and fidelity in his view.

It had therefore not been much of a surprise when Mr. Kenway decided to execute this mission personally, with me as his only ally, as Mr. Lee was busy managing politics under Washington's command. My teacher had taken the betrayal deeply at heart and I knew that vengeance for him in something as unforgivable as breaking the bond of trust, would be established in nothing but the struck point of his hidden blades. Mr. Chuch would die, there was nothing more to it, and as the faithful servant I was and would always remain, I had accepted this mission with much humbleness. There was an abysmal depth into Mr. Kenway's dark eyes, his hazelnut-colored orbs filled with cold, calculating fury. It almost made the chill of the winter nothing but a hot gust of wind, a late summer night by the sea. Almost.

"I apologize, sir," I said and scratched the back of my head. "There's nothing on the ground, not what I can see."

Mr. Kenway chuckled softly. "I don't care about what 'unique' type of dirt you can find on the ground, Melissa; there's someone approaching."

"Excuse me, sir?" I asked, "I can't seem to hear any-"

But then I heard it. Sounds of someone's footsteps, crushing the crispy layer of snow beneath his or hers weight. It came from somewhere in the woods and I opened my mouth to correct myself when Mr. Kenway tucked me beneath his arm and pulled me into the old, frozen chapel.

"Sir-" I started but he silenced me with a roughly put hand over my mouth. I made the instinctive move to evade his grip but he caught me before I could finish my motion. Our eyes connected and he pointed towards the ceiling of the building and I understood his notion. We were to ambush the unknown visitor, or perhaps kill him. It would depend on how much information we could gain from him or her.

Mr. Kenway and I quickly maneuvered upon the ledge above the entrance of the sanctuary and waited in stillness. I, because I had a feeling that the wood would break beneath our weight, and my teacher, because he wanted not to ruin the opportunity. We were both tense, ready to jump immediately as the person came into our view – maybe it would be even Mr. Church himself – and seize the intruder of our investigation, when I recognized the tall, white-hooded man casually strolling in. I couldn't believe my eyes, but the rest of my body did and I immediately grasped for Mr. Kenway, who already had unsheathed his hidden blades. He looked at me inquiringly and I stiffened.

Who was I to stop the man I owe everything to? Mr. Kenway has offered me everything, I thought grimly. Denying him the opportunity to end his only source headache would be unbelievably brutal and rude of me. And I promised him my allegiance.

Mr. Kenway waited another heartbeat for me to explain my sudden gesture but I shook my head, urging him to jump down first. He raised an eyebrow at my bold command and I quickly regretted what I had done, averting my gaze in respect. My teacher didn't seem to have anything else to add but leaped down, feet first, aiming for the Assassin. The latter was just starting to turn around and a look of surprise splayed across his handsome features. Connor's eyes caught onto mine, but only momentarily, as his hazelnut-colored eyes caught onto the descending Templar.

And that was when a far forgotten thought swung back and hit me with full force. Because I had recognized his eyes, once very long time ago. I had admitted how awfully familiar they were and now the answer was obvious in plain light.

The two men clashed violently and the Assassin was thrown to the cold, wooden floor. I landed shortly after Mr. Kenway and my knees were shaking in fear. Could this... Could something like this really be possible?

"Father," spat Connor before he collided with the ground and grunted in pain.

I couldn't even contain my shock even though my mind had already processed with the information since long. This was something I had imagined just for fun, one late evening when I was unable to sleep. I had been lying on my bed – it was pouring outside, thus immobilizing me from any outdoor activities – trying hard to fall asleep, but was unable to and busied my mind – and notebook – with nonsense such as this. Ironically, I was wondering what could make my life impossibly more difficult, and I remembered what had been my scribbled answer:

If I will succeed achieving what my heart longs for and then lose it because of my adamant faith of justice and morals. Or if Connor's eyes would stop reminding me of Mr. Kenway's.

The last had only been somewhat of a joke, since I usually always filled my journal with all kinds of thoughts and mementos, but in retrospect I realized how right I had been.

Alas, horrible irony and fate: why is this always happening to me?

"Connor," replied Mr. Kenway dryly and a shiver ran through my spine. How had he come to know? And since how long? "Any last words?" he asked and pointed his weapon towards his... son.

The Assassin pushed back his assailant with a well-placed kick which missed Mr. Kenway with only a hair's breadth, and rose to his feet. My teacher recollected his posture and the two murderers started circulating each other, a tense atmosphere heating up the otherwise icy environment.

"Did you come to check up on Church?" asked Connor angrily and his eyes flashed to mine. They were dark and full of restrained hatred. "To make sure that he has stolen enough for your British brothers?"

Mr. Kenway scoffed haughtily and sheathed his weapons. "Benjamin Church is no brother of mine, no more than the Redcoats or their idiotic king," he replied scornfully. "I had expected naivety but this-" He sighed. "The Templars do not fight for the Crown. We seek the same as you, boy. Freedom, justice, independence-"

"But-" started Connor and looked at his... father.

"But what?" interrupted my teacher mockingly. "Hmm?"

"Johnson, Pitcairn and Hickey." He pointed accusingly at Mr. Kenway. "They sought to steal land; to sack towns; to murder George Washington."

I tried to cut in with an opinion of my own, but my mentor raised his hand and I closed my mouth in obedience. Connor's gaze flickered to mine and something hurtful filled his countenance before returning to watch Mr. Kenway. The Templar chose not to comment our wordless exchanges but something similar to a smirk flashed by his lips.

"Johnson sought to own the land, so that we might keep it safe," explained my teacher with another sigh. Father and son were still circulating each other as hostile targets. "Pitcairn aimed to courage diplomacy, which you cocked up thoroughly enough to start a god damn war!" he exclaimed irritably. "And Hickey..."

Mr. Kenway averted his stern gaze from Connor and looked at me. "George Washington is a wretched leader. He has lost nearly every battle which he has taken part," he continued and turned back towards the Assassin. "The man is wrapped with uncertainty and insecurity!" He paused and sighed. "Only look at Valley Forge and know my words are true. We're all... better off without him."

Connor stayed quiet and I understood that Mr. Kenway had proven his point. I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn't. There was still the shock of their family bonding

disclosure but also the strangeness of it all. And still, in the midst of all this chaos, I could see a light.

Hope.

"Look, much as I'd like to spar with you, Benjamin Church's mouth is as big as his ego," said Mr. Kenway sarcastically. "You clearly want the supplies he has stolen; I want him punished. Our interests are align."

Connor seemed to be contemplating for a moment, hesitating several times before answering, but finally readied a reply. "And what do you propose?"

"A truce," answered Mr. Kenway immediately. "Perhaps..." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps some time together might do us good. You are my son, after all, and might still be saved from your ignorance."

With a look of despise and disgust, Connor clenched his fists and did not answer. I tried to intrude their conversation once again by voicing my opinions, when Mr. Kenway unsheathed his hidden blades and made a threatening gesture.

"I can kill you now, if you prefer," he said coolly and stopped pacing around. "There will be nothing to it, even though you are my son."

The Assassin moved with lightning speed and suddenly appeared behind Mr. Kenway, not even a yard from where I stood. I heard the sound of knives parrying but could not track their movements with my eye, and after only a couple of seconds, Connor had his hidden blade pressed onto the soft flesh of Mr. Kenway's throat. My teacher's arms were locked behind his neck and he was rendered defenseless.

I reacted in an instant and pulled up my flintlock pistol, aiming the gun barrel at the back of Connor's head. The point of the blunt weapon almost touched the fabric of his hood and he stiffened.

"Let him go," I said and tried to stop my hand from shaking. Please, don't make me have to shoot you. "I don't want to kill you."

Mr. Kenway scoffed. "I agree."

Connor had no choice and we all knew it. The moment grew, as did the tension between us, but then he finally moved. The Assassin reluctantly pulled back his hidden blades and Mr. Kenway shrugged him off with a content smile.

"Excellent. Shall we be off?"

My teacher gestured for me to take point to exit the abandoned chapel and I obeyed. He seemed fairly satisfied with the course of events but I was still clenching the gun with both of my hands, knowing that the reason why Connor had stayed his hand was not because of his father, but something else entirely. I wanted to thank him, but knew that it was impossible for the moment.

"Do you even know where Benjamin Church has gone?" wondered Connor mockingly and Mr. Kenway came to a stop. "Or are we just to run rampart in every city?"

The Templar sighed. "I'm afraid not," he replied, his voice filled with disappointment. "I had hoped to ambush him when he or one of his men returned here... though it seems I'm too late; they've already come to clean the place out."

I paused at the entrance, noticing how close Connor had sneaked upon his father, and readied myself for another confrontation with steel and violence, but nothing came, to my relief. I exhaled and put away my gun.

"Maybe we can ask around in the nearby area?" I asked halfheartedly. I didn't want to stay out in the freezing cold for any moment longer; I wanted to ask Mr. Kenway about why he had chosen to let his... son stay alive. It wasn't like him.

Connor nodded and our eyes locked. My heart skipped a beat as I recalled the touch of his lips against mine, the gentleness of his large hands and how they caressed my cheek, all the way down to my collarbone... I couldn't remember how many times I had repeated the scene over and over again in my head, almost like the memory was my only dependance to wake in the morning or a glimpse of a happier life. It also reminded me of what I had lost with Alex.

Alex...

"There's a man over there," noted Mr. Kenway casually. "He might possess the information we require."

I shook my head clear of all distracting thoughts and followed his gaze. The poor man was trying to free his wagon from a ditch in the road with only his hands. I guessed that the snow had hidden the pit, making him lead his horse across it without knowing.

What misfortune, I thought and grimaced. This is definitely not his luckiest day. He isn't even wearing gloves for God's sake! "What's with him? Sir?" I asked and hurried after them since father and son already was starting to close in on the man.

"Are you Benjamin Church's man?"

Connor's voice was polite, almost kind, but that didn't seem to persuade the stranger. He immediately charged off into the woods, but was only able to get a couple of yards; the Assassin was much faster and could easily grab onto the man's collar and brutally pushed him into a tree. I glanced at Mr. Kenway and he nonchalantly gestured for me to approach the two.

"Where is Benjamin Church?" demanded Connor to know. "Where is he?"

The man panicked and started ranting about everything between earth and sky; I didn't even notice when Mr. Kenway took my flintlock pistol and pointed it towards the stranger. Thinking that it was a way to make him talk, I turned to look at the bald, white-bearded man.

And his head was blown into smithereens.