HAYTHAM

I was dreaming.

I had to be unconscious; perhaps Church had wounded me. This wasn't right. This was...impossible. My gaping, watering eyes flicked to Connor. But he gazed straight back at me, tears coursing down his cheeks. I was awake, surely, but hallucinating. It took my mind a long time to focus. It wasn't the exact image of Ziio that I remembered: her rope-thick braids had streaks of white, and the eyes I'd once loved were dappled with tiredness. But still they sparkled like stars. She hadn't aged a day.

I am hallucinating, my head yelled over my deafening heartbeat. This is a dream.

I opened my mouth to say her name...but all that came out was a squeak. I didn't need to say anything, for soon enough, she did.

"Haytham..." Her throat was clogged with tears, but it was her voice. She took a moment to breathe...and collapsed into a stream of tears. Ziio's arms – really her arms – flung themselves around my neck. She pulled herself into my coat. But I couldn't feel her; I was numb with shock. My hands were paralysed, my lip trembling.

"Z–Ziio?"

I could feel her shaking strenuously against my chest. Her scent of wildflowers mingled with mine. But it made no sense. I couldn't comprehend it. Oh, but it didn't matter – at this moment, nothing else mattered. The moment my hands brushed her shoulders, sparks of ecstasy and relief flashed through my eyes. And I couldn't stop myself: I melted into a fit of sobs. I felt Ziio's thumb stroking my neck, comforting me.

"I knew that I'd find you," she whispered into my shoulder. "And now...you are here."

Suddenly I felt another warmth: Connor had risen behind us, and joined the embrace. His shoulders slipped between us. His hands extended to pull us into him. Not just his mother – but me, too. I welcomed him with open arms, and the three of us simply stood there. Nothing else was significant. Truly – as Ziio held us like we'd disappear – we were complete.

It felt like minutes that we stayed that way. Sixteen years worth of words were simply stuck; none of us said anything. None of us needed to. So many questions dissolved in her presence: why was she an Assassin? How was she not in slavery? Why was she wearing the mesh? Was that all Eva and Jack's plan to surprise me? None of that was significant now. I was surprised, by God. It was the most heart-wrenching surprise I'd received in fifty years of living.

"But Mother...how?"

Nearly two hours later, we sat in a compact cabin on the Belle Rose. Ziio, Connor and I balanced small bowls of stew on our laps. I barely had an appetite, my stomach wrenching like the tide. Ziio had busied herself, slipping out of the (still unexplained) Assassin robes, to reveal a plain white blouse underneath. With a heavy sigh, she sat down beside me and pulled off her boots.

"How is it that you are..."

"An Assassin?" she finished Connor's sentence. Now her soft fingers reached for her equally soft hair. With barely audible laughter, she began to loosen her braids. "Many reasons. Most of them hinged on chance, but many also on choice."

Earlier on, Eva had come in to interrupt our reunion. It was probably best: it must've been five minutes in which Ziio, Connor and I just stood together. As before, very few words were exchanged, but the silence was filled with a joyful disbelief. I couldn't stop running my fingers along Ziio's beautiful jaw, making sure she wasn't a phantom. I couldn't tear away from her bewitching gaze. I couldn't stop my stomach turning at the sound of her voice; that of a songbird kept from freedom.

Eva told us that we were to board the Belle Rose for dinner, and allow us – firstly – to form a plan of action; secondly to allow Ziio to explain. Before she'd had the chance to explain anything, newer faces came into the picture.

First there was George Stirling: Eva's husband and the Belle Rose's captain. He was not an Assassin and wasn't present on Church's man-o-war. What he was – in every respect – was a gentleman. With a strong willing to make a good impression, he shook mine and Connor's hand firmly. His blue eyes sparkled with tame enthusiasm, and he reminded me of a thirty-something ideal of myself.

"I've heard much of you both," he chuckled to us.

Connor and I exchanged one of our glances, but a tender (no longer gloved) hand put us both at ease. Ziio simply kept reassuring us that all would be revealed...when she was ready. Wondering what sort of horrors she'd need to be "ready" for, Connor and I submitted. Ziio put her arms around both of our shoulders and led us under the deck. She pulled us tightly – like we were buckled to her hips. I quickly slipped my arm around her shoulder, feeling my heart ram against my chest. Still this all seemed unreal.

What seemed almost as unreal was whom we encountered next. We strolled silently along the corridor, when out of a doorway came two children.

Children. On a war ship.

One was a boy and the other a girl; both looked eleven or twelve. They had strikingly similar facial structure, the same black hair and semi-brown skin. Siblings? Probably, I thought, judging by their proximity to each other. The boy wore a white shirt with maroon breeches; the girl a flowing, lilac dress and matching ribbons in her hair.

On seeing us, the boy began to speak to Ziio. His language wasn't English, but a language I'd heard many times before. It couldn't be...native American? How? And that still didn't explain why they were here.

Ziio slipped her arm off my shoulder, and replied to them in English: "Aaron, Alexa, there One was a boy and the other a girl; both looked eleven or twelve. They had strikingly similar facial structure, the same black hair and semi-brown skin. Siblings? Probably, I thought, judging by their proximity to each other. The boy wore a white shirt with maroon breeches; the girl a flowing, lilac dress and matching ribbons in her hair.

On seeing us, the boy began to speak to Ziio. His language wasn't English, but a language I'd heard many times before. It couldn't be...native American? How? And that still didn't explain why they were here.

Ziio slipped her arm off my shoulder, and replied to them in English: "Aaron, Alexa, there are some people I wish for you to meet. This is Haytham..."

I attempted an amicable nod. I must've intimidated them, for the girl's mouth opened slightly, while the boy seemed to shrink back into himself. His eyes flicked between three focuses: me, Ziio and the wooden floor. Did these children even know English?

"...And this is Ratohnhaké:ton. Connor. The Boston Assassin?"

"Hello." At last, the girl beamed at us. She extended a hand, and I shook it. Such a young lady, I thought. But why are they here?

"These are the twins: Aaron and Alexa," Ziio continued. Her voice was wavering somewhat, as if she wanted to continue. But she didn't: she only turned to us briefly and whispered: "Wait here. I must have a word with them in private."

Before I knew it, Ziio had strode forth, taken the stunned twins by the hand and led them into the cabin whence they'd come from. I stood in silence, listening to distant voices from other Assassins' cabins. Why all the secrecy? It didn't make sense. I was about to voice this to Connor. I glanced at him – only to find that he wasn't paralysed with confusion – but concern.

"Father," he murmured, "those children spoke my native language."

"And?"

Connor leaned in closer to whisper, eyes tepid. "I heard the boy say 'Ista', which translates as 'Mother'. He called her 'Mother'."

I took a step backwards. "What?" I retorted quietly. "Are you sure?"

"I am certain." He swallowed; we looked at each other worriedly. No. Those mild assumptions we both had...they weren't true. "Is it...is it at all possible that...before Mother left, you –"

"No!" I interrupted indignantly. "They'd be too young. And if you insist on knowing, no, we did not!"

Connor scratched the back of his neck uncertainly. "Come to think of it...they bore a remarkable resemblance to –"

"Ziio," I finished. He was right, too: the hair. The deep brown eyes, the dusting of freckles around the nose...but no. Even if they were Ziio's children (and I hardly doubted they were, looking at the way she held their hands), they couldn't be mine. But whose? My gut twisted and wrung like a wash cloth. There had to be a reason for this. There had to be. "I can never believe it."

After that, there was total silence. In our deep confusion, the babbles of other voices seemed to disappear. I'd had enough revelations - but Ziio? Children? I couldn't even put it into perspective. Half of me wanted to lie down; to wake up and realise that this was all the sea air playing with my head. Knowing my luck, I'd wake up any moment now...

I didn't. Instead, I pricked up to the sound of the door opening. Ziio peered around the door, a slightly exaggerated smile on her face. Aaron and Alexa were sharp to follow her, but instead of peering around the door, they walked straight into the corridor. Their little eyes hinged on Connor and me; even when they'd completely turned, Aaron kept glancing back. I watched them go, particularly Alexa's flowing black hair. Aaron, too, had some of Ziio from the back of his head. His every step - every mannerism - mirrored his mother's.

His mother's?

In the extended quietness, Ziio beckoned us to the cabin. "Come in. The kitchens are full of your crew, and Eva has offered to deliver dinner here later."

Again, Connor and I looked at each other doubtfully. Nonetheless he stepped into the room, and I soon followed. It was smaller than our cabin on the Aquila, but contained two single beds, as before. The scent of fresh wood rained from the ceiling, lifting my spirits. I ran my fingers along the wall. That only made it look like I was relaxed - but Connor wasn't putting on a show. He looked incredibly shifty by the door, shoulders slumped like a great bear. Ziio noticed this, closing the door and putting a hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?" she murmured in English.

Eyes glazed like opaque glass, Connor blinked. "Yes...yes, I'm alright."

"Good." Ziio retracted her fingers elegantly. I watched the motherly sparkle in her eyes as she looked at him. Now I knew how much it must've pained her to be away from Connor for so long.

She perched herself on the edge of the nearest bed. The sheets were creased and unkempt; Ziio brushed them into shape and beckoned to me.

"Sit."

I did as I was bade. The moment my hip touched hers, I felt no desire to shuffle away. I edged right up to her, until our arms were touching.

Should I put my arm around her?
Oh, what does it matter?

I slipped it slowly around Ziio's neck; her hand reached up to drape behind. Connor still stood uneasily, until Ziio pointed to the other bed.

"Here. There is not enough space for all of us."

Connor obeyed. Inspecting the pale wooden walls, he seemed so unfocused. Wondering still? Well, perhaps we were about to find answers.

I stole a glance at Ziio's watering eyes. They seemed less content than before, but her entire body was relaxed against mine. What did that mean? Was she alright?

"No doubt," she began unexpectedly, "that you wonder how I am here. Why I wear these robes."

Connor swallowed, before gasping for air. "Mother, I thought you were -"

"Dead?"

"N-no," he stammered. "In slavery."

Ziio's pupils flared with darkness. She even let go of my hand, bringing it into her lap. "Slavery. Yes, slavery. I will not question your source, Ratohnhaké:ton...but you are correct."

Why does she seem so distant?
She must be recalling something painful...

"But...Aaron and Alexa," Connor blurted. His words were streaming uncontrollably, like tears. "Th-they called you 'Ista'. What -"

"I will explain." Ziio's voice was uptight, eyes closed. With one exasperated look to the ceiling, her eyes clouded again. There was a story behind the children. And not a pleasant one; I knew it from the way she avoided my gaze. I slipped my arm back around her.

"Ziio, are you content with sharing this?"

"Yes." She let go of another sigh. "I must. I promised myself that if I found you, I would tell the truth."

Ziio looked at us both: a look of deep sincerity, but also a great deal of pain and sadness. Clasping her hands together, she said: "I'm afraid we will be here for a while."

"Take all the time you need," I soothed. "I'm ready."

Well, that was what I thought.

Hey guys! So I'm on the ferry back to England as I type this, so hopefully chapter updates should be back to normal. I know not much happened in this update, sorry! Wifi is about to time out, better post! Thanks for reading.