Hey you guys, I know it's been a long time but settling into college has been rough. I've had literally no time. It's unfortunate but updates will be sporadic from now on. But, to get you through it, I've thrown in a huge twist! Hope you all enjoy! I do not own AC3.

The Letter

I sat in the living room of the house, sharpening my dagger with a faded gray whetstone. I took great pride in its care, it being the oldest of my possessions that I had brought here from the house aside from my mother's locket, which I kept around my neck at all times. The blade shined up brightly at me, reflecting the light of the window onto the ceiling in a shape resembling an arrow. Connor was once again in the secret basement doing who knows what, and Achilles was most likely with him.

For the past two days I've been wondering why Connor's been acting so strangely towards me. Ever since the incident with Mr. Filbrook, it seems like he's been avoiding me. He didn't join me for our usual training, when I suggested we go hunting he said he had something he had to do, and when I asked for a spar he flat out refused! Just this morning, when our hands had brushed he'd snapped his hand back like he'd been burned. It was as if my presence had suddenly become repulsive to him. And, to top it all off, he would just randomly turn his face away from me at the most odd moments. Did he not even want to look at me? Have I upset him so much?

I went over all the events in the past couple of days that would cause his attitude to change so drastically, and could think of none. I sighed. I knew I'd have to confront him about it some time, we were partners after all, but I was dreading the moment. But what if he should choose not to tell me why he was so angry? Should I still apologize?

Another sigh escaped my lips. I had never worried so fervently over a man. There was something about Connor, something that made me think of him all the time, constantly wondering what he thought of me or what I thought of him. What a mess he's made of me! I used to be strong, able to keep my emotions in check even in the most embarrassing of situations. But Connor, with one look, was capable of turning me into a fluttery, unsteady, blushing mess.

And of course, that spurred the question, why? My devotion to his cause seemed a bit unnatural even to me, but it wasn't respect for his mission that drove my to the end of my sanity. It was his beautiful golden eyes, his strong hands, the way his deep, rough voice curled around my name with his slight lilting accent. There was no end to the list of what that man does to me. I would be the first to admit I had a huge crush on him, but for me to act like this to such an extent, could there possibly be more to it? Could it be...

My ears perked up as I heard a knock on the door, completely scattering my train of thought. It was not often that we would receive company that would not just ignore proper courtesy and barge in, as most of our neighbors tended to. I got up and walked to the door, hand on my dagger just in case the visitor was less than friendly. Opening the door cautiously, I found an unfamiliar face staring back. A man of about forty years was standing uncertainly on the front porch, bald and dressed in common clothes. He looked to be a messenger, if the tattered letter pouch on his hip was anything to go by.

"Can I help you?" I asked the man politely. He looked startled to see me, whether from my odd choice of clothing or the fact that I held a very long, very sharp knife in my hand, I didn't know.

"I am looking for a man named Connor. I have a delivery for him." He told me, holding out an envelope. I made to take it, but a dark, calloused hand reached out from behind me and grabbed it before I could. I looked back at Achilles as he opened the letter, giving it a quick once-over.

"What is it?" Connor asked as he came up behind the old man, looking handsome and severe as always. His brow was coated in a thin sheen of sweat and his eyes glistened with the work out he had clearly just partaken in. My previous thoughts came back to me in a rush and I blushed at the sight of him. I blinked and returned to myself when Achilles answered Connor's question.

"A request for aid from Paul Revere. Seems the Redcoats are up to something in Boston. Guess you made an impression on the Sons of Liberty." Achilles said, a hint of amusement in his voice. I'd heard talk of a group called the Sons of Liberty, but didn't know much about them. Only that they were a group of men who worked under the radar to remove British influence. I respected their cause, and would be willing to help them. Connor, however, was another matter.

"They confuse me with one of their own." He said, as if he were not going to help simply because he didn't want to be affiliated with the group. Yet, for some reason, I felt that there was some other motive for refusing the request. "Please tell Mister Revere that he has my sympathies, but I cannot help at present."

"You might wish to reconsider, John Pitcairn is mentioned by name." Achilles said, stopping the courier from leaving. I recognized the name as the one that William Johnson's letter was addressed to. The Templar who had the unfortunate privilege of being our next target. It seemed Connor recognized the name as well, and had a dramatic change of heart.

"Where am I to go?" Connor asked predictably. Trust mention of a Templar to make him forget his childishness. He was all business.

"Mister Revere's house in Boston. If you'd like, I can..." Connor made to push past him but I grabbed him by the hood, effectively stopping his rudeness and nearly choking him at the same time. The assassin sent a glare my way, but I stomped on his foot discreetly with a polite smile to the messenger who was looking confused. I heard a muffled grunt and smiled a little wider. That would teach him to jumble my feelings and be randomly moody with me. It felt distinctly satisfying to cause him pain for all the confusion he's caused me in the past two days. Perhaps I should add "sadistic tendencies" to the list of things Connor does to me.

"Thank you for the offer, but we must politely decline." I looked meaningfully at Connor, signaling for him to agree and redeem his rude action earlier. He glared but nodded stiffly, knowing that I was a stickler for courtesy to well-meaning strangers. I smiled as if to say "good job" and let go of his hood. He huffed in that annoyed manner of his and set off to ready the horses at the stables. It irked me to no end when people were ungrateful, and I would not allow Connor to show such rudeness to a man that had come all the way here just to give us that letter. The courier nodded respectfully.

"If you would be so kind madam, as to point me in the direction of the Potion Witch's abode? I have a letter for her as well." He asked. I frowned at my nickname. Couldn't people just use my fake name and be done with it? I went through all the trouble to give myself my mother's name and people weren't even going to use it. I was not some sort of hag stirring magical potions over a bubbling cauldron.

"You do not have to look too far. I am she." I told him a bit irritatedly. He looked startled, as if I was not what he had expected.

"Are you really? I had assumed..." He stopped when I gave him a glare, "Never mind. Here you are Miss." He handed me a small, crisp white envelope. I thanked him and he bowed and turned to leave. My eyes travelled over the envelope, searching for the name of the sender, but found none. No one had ever sent me a letter under the name of the Potions Witch. My father and Finley, the only people who knew of my presence here, only sent letters with my fake name. It could be a letter from a client with some problem they'd encountered, although I'd never received such a letter before. I opened the envelope, curious.

I almost dropped it when I saw what was inside. It read:

To the False Witch,
I know who you are, Neela. I know where you are. I know who you are with and what you are doing. I can find you, and I can destroy everything you now hold dear. But, I will give you a choice. Come alone to the clearing outside of Boston, and no one will get hurt. If you do not show up at precisely 8:00 in one week's time, someone you love will die. Choose wisely.
James A. Guildor

My face paled in horror and my hands shook. There was a loud ringing in my ear that blocked out the noise of the outside world as I stood, terrified, in the doorway of the manor.

How did he find me? I had taken every precaution. I changed my name, told no one but Finley and my father, both people that would never betray my trust, where I was going, had hidden my face for every person I had met outside of the homestead, and still he had found me. What was I going to do? Which of my loved ones did he have? There were so many people, innocent people, he could hurt if I did not comply. Too many to count. And what if I did not show up? He would just find someone else and kill them instead, on and on until I had a pile of dead bodies on my head. And he said he knew where I was as well. He could send his entire platoon of soldiers into the homestead and destroy everyone and everything in sight.

He would do that. He was so plagued with insanity that he would kill innocent people to get to me. And I wasn't sure I could handle it.

That night in the forest had traumatized me far more than I had let on. What I had made out to be a mere trifle still haunted my dreams at night. His cold eyes, his wandering hands, his voice laughing evilly with the sound of the rain. He terrified me. Even though I now had skills that far surpassed those I had before, the thought of seeing him again sent shivers down my spine. And now he would be unleashed on those I loved.

I couldn't let it happen. I would die, give myself to him, before I let anyone be hurt in my stead. I would do anything to avoid the pain of an innocent life on my shoulders. Never again would I feel the guilt I felt so long ago, of failing to save a life. I had a deep scar on my heart that I refused to let grow with more guilt. I would give up my own life if it meant someone would be spared the consequences of my own actions. I would even give up Connor.

My heart clenched at the thought. He couldn't know. He would try to stop me and whoever James would make a victim would die. I had to act natural, do everything as I normally would until the day I... left. Even thinking of leaving, and all it implied, left a large whole in my chest. It would take a while to come to terms with this decision, but I knew it must be made.

I don't know how long I stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide as dinner plates and face white as a sheet. Long enough for Achilles to grow restless beside me, worried at my strange silence.

"What have you got there?" He asked, referring to the seemingly harmless piece of paper still clutched in my hands, the object that had put me in such a trance. I gasped as his voice brought me out of my horrifying daydream and crumpled the letter in my fist so he could not see. He looked suspiciously at the parchment in my hand.

"I-It's nothing, Achilles. Just a letter from a client. Nothing to worry about." I said hurriedly, my voice shaking a bit at the end. I stuffed the letter into my jacket pocket and smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring way.

"I had better get going to Connor now." I told him, hoping he would let my strange behavior go. He narrowed his eyes but nodded. I laughed nervously and turned around.

"Good bye Achilles." I said once my face was turned, so he couldn't see the devastation in my eyes as I walked away. The words had much more weight then they ought to, as they might be the last words I spoke to the old man. I wanted desperately to turn around and hug my mentor, but he would think it strange. So I would have to make do with this.

"Good bye, and take care of Connor while you're out there. Don't do anything stupid." He said behind me. I nodded, my back still turned, and took a deep breath to muster my courage.

"I don't plan to."

And with that I walked away from my home for what I assumed was the last time, leaving Achilles standing on the front porch clutching the still wrinkled letter he had just picked from my pocket.

Dun Dun DUN! Woah, didn't see that coming did you? I've been waiting for that for a while now, and I'm so glad it's finally up. This is where the drama starts to flow, and where things heat up between Connor and Neela. Oh goody, I can't wait to write it! Even though it'll probably be slow going with all the homework I have. Blah. Anyways, until next time dearies! And don't forget to review. That's the only thing keeping this story going.