WARNING: MILD DESCRIPTION OF RAPE (it's the part in italics – you'll know it when you see it).

Hello, me again!

Wow. 13 days to write 4,000 words really isn't acceptable...my writing mojo has plummeted over the past few weeks, and the chapters are becoming less and less thoroughly planned. Still, I won't give up on Everbound! NEVER (until it's finished obviously – and I bet you're all hoping that will be soon, considering how LONG it's been going on for).

Back to Ziio's POV for now. Enjoy, and thank you as ever for your support on both FF and tumblr :*

ZIIO

"Where are we going?"

Ohitekah trudged ahead of us all, his feet thudding on the path. He carried a pewter jug almost full of red wine...though I was none the wiser than him as to why. In the basket which I often used at market, Haytham had stacked two loaves of fresh bread, a bunch of white grapes and other fruits (where he found them in early March, I didn't know). Imala had been tasked with carrying an old cloak of Haytham's, while he took four cups.

"To see Connor?" Ohitekah tried guessing again.

"No," Haytham smirked.

"To Boston?"

Imala rolled her eyes. "No, that's in the other direction. Think."

"Do you know where we are going?" he retorted.

Imala looked down at the valley below, breathing the crisp dusk air. "The village?"

"No," Haytham tutted. "Close...but no."

My son glanced my way indiscreetly. I only shrugged (though it was more like a shiver). As the basket slipped up my elbow, I wondered if those loaves would grow crystals at any moment. I breathed the frost through my nose, wrapping my cloak around me more tightly. It hadn't been this cold since the attack on the village last week. In fact, I had not walked through this valley since...certainly not with Haytham.

Why had he been so withdrawn? Why had he sprung from his office today, like a hare from a trap?

As the children marched on ahead, Haytham's hand moved to interlock with mine. I flinched...but did not know why. He looked me in the eye, seemingly offended, but said nothing. We continued to walk in silence.

"Here we are," he said eventually. "Alexa, you and Aaron scout ahead...place the cloak on the plain down by the river."

"A picnic?" Like the dusk, Ohitekah's eyes glowed softly. "I knew it! But why?"

Haytham chuckled, in that all-knowing way he always did. "You'll see. You'll see."

Carefully, I descended the steep slopes which led to the river bank. The flask of wine in Ohitekah's hand bled a droplet on the grass; it turned rosy like the sky. Haytham scowled at this waste, but I only smiled at him. A picnic? His opinion on fickle days away were the same as mine – that was, needless.

By the time we reached the river bank, Ohitekah and Imala had spread the cloak wide enough to seat the four of us. I lowered myself down with the basket, sighing with the river. Haytham flung off his coat and placed it around him.

"Now. Wine, anyone?" Without waiting for a response, he took the flask and poured four cups of it.

Immediately the mother instinct growled like a bear...though it came out as more of a chuckle. "Are the children even allowed?"

Haytham's silver brow flashed lightheartedly. "No. Don't worry, I shan't tell a soul."

Ohitekah and Imala exchanged triumphant glances. My face, however, remained half-twisted.

"If George and Eva were here to see this..."Nonetheless I ignored the generous amount that Haytham handed to them. He then gave a cup to me in an exaggeratedly elegant manner. I took it from him, curtseying my head. "Niá:wen."

As I sipped the thick liquid, I glanced sideways at the river. The sunset kissed the water's surface, turning it a glorious gold. Haytham was obviously thinking the same: he swallowed a drop of his wine and smiled.

"You know," he smirked, indicating a rock in the stream, "In that exact spot in the river...right there..."

"Haytham!" I gasped, alarmed. "Don't...tell them that."

"What?" He looked around innocently. "I only meant to say that I shot someone there. Edward Braddock. On the mission we met."

Another tease. I dipped my head, a little embarrassed...but the twins looked at each other in an impressed fashion. That was before they returned to the cups of wine in their juvenile fingers. Ohitekah lifted the cup to his lips, and the brown in his eyes disappeared in a grimace. Only a moment had passed before he'd spat the wine back into the cup, retched, and rubbed his tongue like it were made of sand.

"Why do adults drink this?" he spluttered. "It's horrible."

"I like it," Imala said impassively, handing him a handkerchief from inside the basket.

"Good. And it is also good for you, Ohitekah," I smiled. "You won't ever need wine to misbehave."

At this, all of us laughed in agreement...and for a moment it seemed like this was just a family picnic. But it wasn't. From the daunting silence which followed, I knew Haytham had a real reason for taking us out here. What was he planning? A speech? A magic trick? Perhaps I should prompt him, I thought.

No need: my daughter decided to do it first. "All right, Father, enough of this. Why are we here?"

"A celebration."

"What are we celebrating?" I chuckled unsurely.

"Well. Alexa, would you like to search that pocket of my coat? No – not that one," he interrupted hurriedly. "On the right-hand side."

Imala rummaged in the pocket of the blue coat. After a few seconds, she clutched in her palm a small round object.

"A ring," she frowned.

"Ah. What sort of ring?"

After swivelling the ring in her palm, both her and her brother understood. "A Templar ring," she said in unison with my thoughts.

"My Templar ring," Haytham responded enthusiastically. "And do you know what I plan to do with it?"

A dumbfounded glance rebounded from me to Ohitekah. "Um...no," he shrugged.

Having been bursting with charm, Haytham's eyes fell in a sigh. "Don't you see? This is my official denouncement!" he exclaimed, as if it were blatantly obvious. "This is me resigning as a Templar before the eyes of my family. I have had the ring in my possession for over a year now. I wanted you all to watch while I threw it in the river, where long may it stay."

There were mixed reactions at this. Ohitekah emitted a loud: "Oh!", clapping his hands together. Imala laughed at this idea, though seemed pleased. I was the only one whose head was twisted to stare at Haytham finely.

"This isn't like you," I said simply. "Symbolism is one of Soyala's qualities, but you?"

Again, he shrugged in an overly flirtatious manner. "I know. Spontaneous enough for you, Ziio?"

"I never had high expectations," I laughed, nudging him with my elbow. "So yes. Very surprising."

With a smirk and sip of his wine, Haytham stood. "Here. Give me the ring."

Imala handed it to him; he turned to face us melodramatically. "Are you all ready? I won't be doing this a second time, so watch closely."

I rolled my eyes at both children, sipping my wine again. "Go on, then! We're waiting."

"Throw it, Father!" Ohitekah chimed.

"One...two...three..."

And after stringing out his time for as long as possible, Haytham turned, raised his arm and hurled. The Templar ring made a small ripple on the water...almost on the exact spot where Ratohnhaké:ton was conceived. Then it was gone. Sinking like the rays of sun.

Haytham turned and bowed to an applause. He didn't have much of an audience, but it was who watched that mattered. As he sat down again, I couldn't help but sigh at his wide smile.

"There," he said, picking up his cup confidently. "That gave me some form of relief. The first name I'll be protecting from now on is Kenway. Any objections?"

"Yes. Me." Half-seriously, I glared like a mother patronising her children. "What about the Brotherhood?"

"That isn't a name," Haytham said cleverly. "It's a notion."

I rolled my eyes again, but couldn't resist his arm pulling me up onto the grass. Ignoring Ohitekah and Imala's grimaces, I pressed my grinning temple against his lips. What had encouraged this charm? I hadn't seen it in many weeks; I was glad to see Haytham being himself again.

With slices of bread we watched the sun retreat into the horizon. It was a glorious evening and – despite the frost – I felt filled with the warmth of spring. Of a new beginning. At one point, Ohitekah and Imala stood to walk around the riverbank. Haytham and I were left alone.

We admired the way our children laughed harmoniously. Since their gazes were diverted in the distance, I reached up to his jaw and stole several kisses. His arm twisted around my waist; I felt his breath melt the frost in my mind. But despite all this, something was still wrong. Something I couldn't express rationally.

"What is the true reason for all this?" I breathed. "You have spoiled us tonight, but I know it's for more than a little ring. What is it?"

Under my fingertips, his jaw locked tightly. After a moment's look at the river, he sighed. "For once, I don't know. Nothing I can quite lay a finger on. Hm. Thinking twice...if that is the case, it can't be of great importance. Perhaps I just wanted to take my family on a pleasant outing."

At this point, I gave him the look. It was a wordless expression of exasperation and disbelief. Haytham glanced sideways and saw this, and his arm slipped away from me. He shuffled to face me squarely.

"All right, I know it's unlike me to evade you. I've been a little too close to the Templars recently...too close for my liking."

"What do you mean?"

"Old documents I came across, mostly," he mumbled. "Things I'd forgotten to dispose of."

I nodded sincerely, hoping he'd elaborate, but all I received was silence. Again his eyes glazed over in a form of exhaustion. That was all he'd tell me...for today. I wouldn't force him to talk further.

"Mother, Father! Look! Come over here!" Ohitekah called from a little way downstream.

Haytham and I shook our heads amusedly, and stood to follow their amber outlines. They were half-crouched over something, Imala approaching us excitedly.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Snow. We've found a patch of snow!" Imala heaved.

"Really? But it's early March. It should've vanished...are you sure it isn't frost? It – ah!"

Haytham was cut short by a small white mass colliding with his jacket. Imala attempted innocence, not looking at her brother, but he only dashed to hide behind a tree. Haytham brushed the frozen white powder from his clothing and simpered.

"That does it!" he called jokingly. "Just you wait, Aaron Kenway. You wait!"

And before we knew it, both of us were running for the pile of snow. Quicker than we could resist, Haytham and I were playing like children. The cold snow on my fingers was exhilarating; even more so when I hurled it at my daughter. Now the four of us were screeching, laughing, enjoying each other's company in a way we hadn't for months. All worries were forgotten – not that Ohitekah and Imala had many, but I certainly did. I had more underlying troubles than grey hairs on my head.

But the who and the why simply melted away. In this moment, at least.

"Ziio, look out!" Haytham called.

I ducked – just in time – as Ohitekah's ball of snow raced towards me. It landed in the river with a light splash; I breathed on my fingers to warm them and bent to craft another like it. Twenty-two years ago I played this game with Haytham...although now, we were on the same team. Still, it didn't stop him occasionally smearing snow down my side as a jest.

"You can't escape us. You're too old for this!" Ohitekah jeered, but still screamed as a snowball came flying his way. He returned the blow to Haytham, who dodged far too nimbly than was fair for his age.

But that was when something fell out of his pocket.

It was a small envelope, which – when it settled on the snow – flipped over to reveal something unexpected. The seal was brandished with a familiar symbol...no, two familiar symbols. One was the Templar cross; the other, the Assassin symbol with little scratches over it.

Everything grounded to a halt. Even the sun, burning the last of its daylight, gave up and disappeared. The forest was immediately colder; the twins and myself were still. Haytham's eyes rippled with the symbol, staring at the envelope with a sort of guilt and shock. I eyed him sideways (my wordless way of demanding an explanation). Again I received none. Only Haytham bending to pick the envelope up, stuffing it back into his pocket.

And I watched as the grin slid from his face.

I don't like this place. It's too familiar.

Blankets thrown into corners – moth-eaten and thick with dust. I clutch one around my frail knees, attempting to find some comfort. It is cold. So cold.

And I don't like the solitude. Usually I would be glad of some peace...but this is not peace. Tonight in this dark room, it is isolation. Those who know of my existence, are those who cage me.

I remember this life. It was so many years ago, but close enough for me to feel; see; relive. I remember this night. I am reborn in this night far too often. My hands scrape the solid stone of these walls, and despair coldly at their fate. My eyes are frozen within themselves; I know even with no reflection. No light.

I don't like the dark.

This is the part when I'd normally sit up in alarm. Tonight, I am not alarmed when the keys jangle and the door opens a slither. I'm used to it. So why does my heart continue to race; my throat to dry? Because nothing can ever prepare me for him.

Compared to his deed, the torments he makes seem trivial. They go on for two minutes at least...but the words matter little. Inside I feel my stomach melting into vomit, anticipating what is about to happen, but keep a face of steel. So does he. It is a familiar face – it has been for many years now. I never thought I would see him quite this soon; quite this frequently.

His loveless hands caress my cheeks. I want to struggle from him (his grip is weak), but I cannot. My bones are paralysed. His hands move now to my waist, weakening every muscle they pass.

"Stop it," I say weakly.

Suddenly I feel myself flying backwards, my head hitting the stone wall. Hard. He forces a kiss onto my trembling lips. The cider on his breath is as strong as the man himself.

"Hush now..." And his voice is distorted.

I'm fully aware now. And I'm terrified. "Stop!" I cry. "Stop! Stop it!"

"Haytham was right about you," he slurs huskily. "You're beautiful, savage."

Heart racing, I feel the hotness of the tears and the blood in my throat. I don't like it. I don't like this, I don't like this, I don't like this. I need to regain strength. I need to push him away. Through my dizzy vision, I see the door. It's wide open. If only I can reach it...

The thought of freedom gives me a sudden ember of courage. The coarseness of my voice is back as I yell: "Get off me!", kick his stomach and run. Every bone in my body is screaming; tense; becoming weak. A firm grip on my wrist trips me halfway to the door. I gasp.

"Going somewhere?" he taunts.

I don't like this. I have no option but to scream for help. And I do: the words are pelted from me in a fusion of panic and breathlessness. If I shout loudly enough, will any hear?

"Silence, you whore!"

Before I can wail, move or even blink, I am hurled against the solid wall. And the chill of his warm body is up against me. And it hurts. It hurts more than I knew a being could hurt.

This is far more vivd than I remember. Too much. My heart racing, yet flickering and dying at the same time. I am reduced to a woman I never knew. Not even a woman – a voiceless voice. I am part of the wall around me, but scream in vain and terror.

"Leave me alone!" My voice is never like this – never this hysterical; mortified. "Leave me alone, you bastard!"

His hand clamps over my mouth, like a master would muzzle his dog. "Hold your tongue," he hisses, "else I'll remove it myself."

It hurts. It hurts so much, for so long. Every time I relive this, I simply want it to be over. For every bead of sweat I shed, there are two more tears. Now I cannot bring myself to make any sound. Even as I slowly suffocate, there is nothing to suggest that I am there. I can no longer squirm, nor struggle, nor even move. My once-tense bones are loose and exhausted. Forever exhausted.

If only this would stop...

Just as I thought I could hold my breath no more, I woke. It never had been a comfortable feeling, falling from dreams to reality. I sat up under the covers and gasped for air. Already my forehead was tingling with sweat.

All down my back, my nightgown was sticking to my skin. I could always measure how bad a nightmare had been by how much I'd sweated. This one must've been worse than usual.

Of course it was. A sixth sense could still hear my muffled screaming; feel the numbed agony inside. I rubbed my eyes – catching my breath – and looked around.

All of a sudden, Haytham was sat up beside me. His strong, bare arms were wrapped around me so gently, I barely felt them. His breath was slow and calming on my neck. Looking up at him with bleak eyes, I could barely see his face in the darkness of our chambers.

"Ssh, ssh," he whispered, his thumbs stroking my biceps. "Another nightmare?"

I nodded. "Sorry to wake you."

"No, no. I was awake anyhow." He leaned into the darkness and gently kissed my temple. "You haven't had one in a long time."

"I know." I let out a long, defeated sigh...and let go of the dream. "I had hoped it would stay that way for longer."

"What caused this?" Haytham asked. "What was the trigger?"

What was different about this nightmare? Why had it caused me so much distress, despite having seen it countless times before? I knew the answer inside, but to voice it would be to give myself away. But this was Haytham – he loved me, and I him. He deserved the truth.

"I meant to tell you, Haytham, honestly I did. Last week I...I saw him."

"Him? Oh." His jaw suddenly became slack. "Where?"

"In the village. You know, the attack last week?"

"He was a Templar?" Haytham exclaimed. "It was a Templar who...who did –"

"You seem surprised."

"I – no, I'm not surprised. It was Johnson's gathering, after all. It was bound to be." Anyone else would've thought he was being insensitive, but I could see he was only thinking aloud. "Was he one of those behind the attack on your village?"

I shrugged. "Possibly. But he was there."

Haytham was itching to ask, but even he was being careful. "Someone...someone I would know personally?"

"I would not have thought you knew him too well...though he had heard of me. I'm not sure."

I don't want to think of it.

Though he made no sound, I could see him frown, thinking of the possible culprits. I was thankful that he didn't press further, but squeezed my shoulder in a lukewarm affectionate way. "Is anything else troubling you?"

The fortnight of misery. The silence. The sudden visiting Achilles. The letter which dropped from his pocket earlier today. Yes. This was the something which had bothered me for weeks. Until today I'd passed Haytham's behaviour off as nothing important. But after that letter...

"I think you're hiding something from me," I said bluntly.

"Do you?"

"You haven't been yourself of late; no-one in this house can deny it." I swivelled to face him in the dark. "When you said you'd been to close to the Templars...what did you mean?"

"Exactly what I told you," he replied coolly. "That I came across some old documents –"

"Haytham." For a woman who'd just woken from a nightmare, there was a certain harshness in my tone. "You and I both know it would take more than documents to distress you. Now, what did you really come across?"

His eyes centred, the way they always did when I defeated a lie. "Alright. I feel as if the Templars are watching us. And before you protest," he added quickly, holding up his right hand, "this is not an intuitive assumption. I have evidence."

"What? I don't understand."

Haytham's hand became loose and accidentally pulled my sleeve off my shoulder. "Where do I start? I had an encounter with an old friend – and yes, a genuine friend. I warned him to leave the area or one of the Assassins would strike him down."

"I don't like that tone," I murmured. "Why would you help a Templar?"

"He wasn't a Templar, Ziio! He –" Haytham broke off, sighing deeply. "It remains a mystery to me what he was. Certainly too much of a good man to be slain. But he was sent by Charles to gather information from me...oblivious to the danger it put him in. If he was a Templar, Ziio, then you'll have to forgive me."

I was still too busy drinking in the information to forgive or object. I nodded either way. "What else?"

"Well. Do you remember the commotion in the village?"

Too well, I thought spitefully.

"I can't believe Aaron has kept this from you, little snitch that he is sometimes. Naturally I didn't want to take the village path home, so the children and I went via Boston." Haytham swallowed hard, shifting under the sheets uncomfortably. "There was a Templar watching me in an alleyway. He ran off before I could. pursue him..but not before he rolled a ring across the street. You know the seal on the letter today? It was that same symbol. A warning, I think."

I could picture Ohitekah and Imala witnessing this – asking too many questions for their own good. "What did they say? The children, I mean."

"Nothing. We left as soon as possible." Haytham's bare torso rose and fell fast. "And just a week later, I began receiving letters from various Templar contacts and diplomats, asking how I've been. It all seems very innocent, but that symbol is there to taunt me."

With his distress and my exhaustion, I could hardly scold him. Instead I slid my hand over his chest, calming his beating heart. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I...I didn't want to trouble the family. Not when you've brought about such stability in my life." Sardonically, he added: "Hm. Makes a change."

I was sweetly touched by this. It was an act of protection, even if a little suspicious. I knew deep down that he feared living without me, or Ratohnhaké:ton, or Ohitekah and Imala. Even in this moonlight, I could see shame shimmering in his eyes. His beautifully pure eyes.

"Haytham...your behaviour has caused me more suspicion than if you'd told me the truth. And if you ever fear that I will feel unsafe here...don't. I am safe. You are safe. All of the Assassins are safe – we all operate together." I rested my ear against his collarbone and kissed his neck meaningfully. It was several seconds before I opened my eyes again, to the warmth of the covers and his embrace. "I will find out one way or another, so do not conceal your thoughts. You can tell me anything. I love you."

His chest rippled with a touched laughter. "I love you too," he whispered. "And I'm sorry to worry you."

But I was not worried. I was tranquil as the moonlight, falling asleep in his arms, so I couldn't begin to contemplate the gravity of what Haytham had said. I was lulled into a bubble of peace, in which I felt that no Templar could reach me. Not for now, at least.