Author's Note: So I finished AC3 and now there's this voice in my head saying 'Fix it! Fix it! Fix it!' And that is essentially what this is, a fix-it fic. It's a slight self-insert OC, OC is designed from me but is a bit braver. I'm doing the research and replaying the game to make sure I get this right. Not Connor/OC, it's more of a friendship fic. Slight spoilers, might want to finish the game before you read this.
FYI: I changed some things about the manor and added the Homestead residents earlier on then when you find them in the game.
In the darkness, after the end, while the world still burned, two voices spoke.
The words echoed in the deepest darkest pit, far away from any living thing, in a place where no one would ever think to listen.
These voices, in this place, they spoke of revolutionary tactics.
"The spark is dead, all is lost."
"No, there is still hope."
"How can you say that Tinia?"
"You think I would only allow one spark to exist Minerva?"
"You mean, all this time-"
"I did not trust Juno to go down so easily, something told me to be ready. There fore I instilled another and have a plan for this new spark."
"So there is still hope, there is another?"
"There is another."
Chapter 1: Saving Kyle
December 14th, 2012. East Texas, in a meadow.
It was actually snowing this year!
The past two years Texas hasn't gotten any snow, but this year we're getting a plethora of the little white flakes. It was so beautiful to still see the red, orange, and yellow leafed trees covered in white. It was very rare Texas got this much snow at all; I was actually getting to use my snow days this year. I'd been out of school the last three days, just chilling at home with hot chocolate and my sketchpad.
But today my backyard called to me, and to help you picture it imagine a forest on all sides, stretching as far as you can see, only one medium sized stone house settled in the center, nothing else but trees. My family actually runs a ranch out here. We had horses, cattle, and mules. I've grown up here, and I've always been in the forest, my blood was practically made up of raw dirt and leafs.
My dad had taught me hunting and fishing out here, my step dad bow hunting, but I've never killed an animal for sport before, but I am well practiced in firearms and bows. So you see, I am a nature girl by heart but not for the more sportsman side of it, more for the beauty.
Usually you would find me inside however, drawing, writing, and playing video games. But today was so perfect, the snow falling, sun up, cool and shining. My pencil begged for the chance to draw the meadow a few meters from my house. It was the only clearing for miles, not man made either.
My black leather combat boots crunched against the snow, I don't normally wear these boots as I am unpracticed on walking in them, but walking around in Converses in the snow was not a good idea. Also I got cold easily, still a chill biting at me with so many layers on, I wore a long sleeved shirt under a gray hoody, which was under a black leather jacket. My hoody was up but did not cover my long curly auburn hair. I even wore a silk red scarf around my neck as well as fingerless leather gloves. Yet even after all of that I was still cold!
There was a large boulder at the edge of the meadow, I remember resting there after my play fights with the many male friends I had had as a young girl. If there was one thing people could not say about me it was that I am not good fighter, because frankly I was or am. But it had been at least three years since I had gotten in a decent brawl, people told me I looked frail but I wasn't, my dad had taught me tactical fighting, which most would call dirty fighting, but hey what worked worked.
I sat down on that boulder and settled, putting my sketchpad in my lap and pulling my pencil from my pocket. The meadow was silent except for the quiet sounds here and there. It was a complete circle with no trees except for the ones that surrounded it.
I began to sketch this, a light sketch, and every time I'd make a mistake I'd lightly erase and try again. Trying to get the leafs just right was hard for me, as well as how to rightly represent the snow on the ground. But when I got to the lower part of the sketch, drawing the center of the meadow, something caught my eye. There was something shining right below the snow.
As I am a curious person and one that sought knowledge at every turn, I set my pencil and sketchpad down and walked lightly over to the center of the meadow. I kneeled down when I saw what was causing the light and glare. I dusted off what looked like a sphere, when I could see it more clearly it looked like the top of a disco ball.
My brows furrowed, I felt confusion and something else curl in my gut. I then put the palm of my hand down on the top of the orb, tracing it in the snow. There was a spark, like a small bit of lightning going through my hand and up my arm. I tried to pull back, a reflex action, but my hand was stuck.
My heartbeat started to race, panic settling in, I kept trying to tug my arm back but no matter what it wouldn't budge. Suddenly the ground started to shake underneath me, but the trees around me did not move. Birds cawed and flew off as the Earth began to quake. At that moment I wished I had wings too.
Abruptly my arm began to lift, but it wasn't my arm that was actually rising it was the sphere. A pedestal was coming up from the ground, the sphere on top of it. Around me three arched beams rose as the pedestal did, each one's sharp end pointing directly to the center, right at me.
I was practically sweating bullets. All this was happening so fast, and you know it wouldn't be so bad if I actually knew what was going on! One second I'm sketching, I find a buried disco ball, then boom I'm stuck to the essence of the seventies and about to get, I don't know, shot by lasers?
Actually I was closer than I thought. The sharp edges of each of the arches were starting to charge up with what looked like lightning. Sparks were going every where now, some forms striking right next to my feet, getting closer and closer each time they shot out.
'Okay I'm about to get grilled alive by, what, Zeus' left out toys? Think, THINK, THINK, THINK! I am not going to die because of a DISCO BALL!' I grabbed my arm roughly with my other hand, I tried tugging and pulling, but no amount of force would budge the thing off of me.
Then one bolt of lightning hit the sphere, it started to glow lightly and give off this tingling feeling that started to flow into my body. I felt myself fading, it wasn't painful, it actually felt like it was taking away my ability to feel all-together, like the feeling after complete numbness. And when another bolt struck the ball, that feeling multiplied by ten, my eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, and when I looked down at my arm it was transparent. If I didn't feel high as a kite I would scream.
Finally the last arch sent a bolt of lightning out and it hit the orb dead on, there was a sudden explosion of golden glowing light and my eyelids became to heavy. I closed my eyes and let my muscles go lax, it felt like something caught me but I didn't get to think about that for long as everything went black and I fell into unconsciousness.
"Tread carefully, you are humanities last hope."
Richmond, Virginia. March 23, 1775.
"No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House."
My head felt like someone had just made a smoothie out of my brain. My eyelids flutter open slowly, a small amount of sunlight shining down onto me. My vision is blurry, and my body trembles as I try to get up. The first thing I realize is it is hot, like all of a sudden summer. The next is that there is stone like concrete under my hands, and two buildings beside me. I am in some sort of alleyway, a strange looking one at that. I can hear people walking around on the streets, but one voice rings above all others.
"But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I do opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve."
It sounded like someone was on their soap box, the voice most definitely male and very loud. I muttered curses under my breath as I got up shakily. I used the brick wall next to me as a support, my legs like noodles. I then tried to remember what had happened, if I had fainted, and if I actually knew where I was.
"This is no time for ceremony. The question before the House is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate."
Something about those words sounded familiar. Like some speech I'd learned in a classroom once. I couldn't shake the strange feeling inside of me. I pushed myself forward, slowly. Sunlight finally hit my face as I got to the exit point of the alley. What I saw shocked me.
"It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings."
Streets you'd only see in an old painting, people you'd only see at reenactments or in movies. It felt like the colonial era all over again. While my brain was trying to think of a reasonable explanation for this my gut already knew and was freaking the frick out!
'OH MY GOD THAT DISCO BALL WAS A TIME MACHINE!' I mean, how do you not think time machine when you see something like this? There was no way someone could do this good a job of re-building the original Richmond from during… Patrick Henry's speech! Give me liberty or give me death! How could I not have recognized that?!
"Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty?"
'Okay, I know where or when I am. Now big question; how do I get home? You know, if this isn't just one hot chocolate induced dream.' The thought quickly crossed my mind as I decided to pull the hood over my head, something told me my extremely green eyes might or might not draw attention to me. I'd really rather not take the risk, and I didn't even think about the fact I was wearing blue jeans and large amounts of leather on my person.
I walked out of the alley cautiously, as I did I saw Patrick Henry speaking to the people and his fellow patriots, almost literally on a soapbox. I thought I read he spoke in some type of capital building? 'Huh, guess they got that wrong.' So many people were gathered around him that I could easily hide my presence from others, all of their attention being on the speaker.
"Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it."
Richmond, if I remember my history right, looked exactly how the paintings had depicted it. The old brick buildings, the new coble stone streets, the horses, the people, everything. It was absolutely beautiful; my hands itched to sketch it. But I had to resist the urge and keep walking, soldiers in old blue uniforms were gathered around Patrick Henry, but British soldiers in red uniforms weren't too far off, keeping their eyes on the rebels.
As long as everyone focused on good 'ol Patrick I'd be fine. I started walking away from the crowd, trying to get as far away from wherever I was as I could possibly get.
"I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received?"
Question was though; where would I go? Who would know what happened to me? Who would believe me? I was lost in a city in the seventeen hundreds! I stopped dead at the thought; would I ever get home? I had turned and now there was a building blocking my view of Patrick as well as the sun. I sighed, and then jumped aside as a large group of marching Redcoats nearly ran over me.
"Stay out of our way gurl!" One yelled as they headed straight toward where Patrick Henry's speech was taking place.
Were they going to stop the speech? They couldn't, history said Patrick finished his speech! Something wasn't right, my gut was telling me to run back, make sure history played out. But what could I do? The only thing I could do was create a…distraction. 'Oh sometimes I hate my life.'
I sighed again, deeply, as I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Before I could dissuade myself from the act I found myself running. 'This is such a BAD idea! I'm so going to die!' I yelled inside my head as I quickly turned the corner again to see the Redcoats getting close to the crowd. 'A girl that's clearly suspicious drawing attention to herself purposely, great idea, glad I thought of it!' I sarcastically scolded myself as I rolled my eyes, still running towards the British soldiers.
Why would I commit what is clearly a bad decision? Because I'm a history buff and I've always respected people that fight for what they believe in, so, guess what? I'm about to sacrifice myself to save one of the speeches that really pushes America to be free. Well, what would you do in my place?
"Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir."
I took one last deep breath before skidding right out in front of the soldiers; they stopped abruptly and glared at me. My mind went blank, and then I had a brain vomit.
"Did you're mother dress you, or did you dress yourself?" I said in an insulting aggressive tone. I smirked but that smirk slowly faded as I realized they were just standing there, blinking at me as if they hadn't understood my insult. I sighed and shook my head. "It means that you look horrible, 'ya numbskulls!" I shouted, frustrated, my very light southern accent coming out.
That's when they got angry, at the numbskull bit that is. They started shouting angrily and that's when I started running and they started running after me!
"These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument?"
'Yes, let's try argument!' I thought as I was running, to and fro, trying to stay away and dodge swords and bayonets. The Redcoats had split up, trying to take me from all sides, shish kabob me like meat. Some blocked the entrances to the alleyways I was trying to escape down, I would always turn the opposite direction though, and some were trying to grab me.
"Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament."
I was basically circling the center of Richmond, Patrick staying right in the middle. I was trying to evade the British bunch but they were on my tail at every turn. I was starting to run out of breath, wondering how Connor could ever possibly do this, out run all of these soldiers for so long.
But when I thought of Connor an idea popped into my head. I was running down one of the cobble stone roads, I turned a corner abruptly, out of British sights for at least a second, and jumped into the back of a wagon carrying hay.
It was itchy, warm, smelled, and was uncomfortable but from what I could see through the bale the soldiers were stumped about where I had disappeared too.
"Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free — if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained — we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!"
I stayed in the wagon for a while; it seemed to be making circles too. I kept seeing the same buildings over and over again, and every few minutes I could see the crowd that was still gathered around Patrick. 'God, I don't think he's taken a breath yet!' I've been able to hear him this entire time, and it seems like hours now, but he still wasn't finished!
I wondered then though, the wagons of hay, the redcoats, everything. It all seemed so much like Assassin's Creed three. I had just finished it days earlier, and now I felt like I was in it. But a time traveling disco ball was one thing, but a disco ball that can travel through dimensions, I don't think so. That was just too impossible.
That didn't mean I didn't wish it was true though.
"They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable — and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come."
If I remembered right, the speech was winding down to an end now. So I decided to jump out of the wagon, carefully I might add, and skirt around the soldiers. When I was out I headed into the back of another alley. I tried to be silent, hood up all the way again.
The alley smelled of death and something else, not that everywhere didn't already smell of horse crap. There were people, devious looking men, dotting the alleyway doing devious deals. I avoided eye contact and tried to disappear, they seemed to not have noticed me, and I took a deep breath as I exited the alleyway.
But then I ran smack dab into more British soldiers.
"Oi! You're the gurl from earlier! Get her!"
And then I was running for my life again, for the second time in the past two hours. What a day, right? I just kept running, even when my legs burned and I felt exhausted. My lungs were on fire as I breathed quick shallow breaths. I just wanted a break, to be back home, but no! The British have to come after me. It's only just now I remember I'm basically an anglophile. The irony!
I run down another alleyway, but the difference this time is that this alleyway has no back exit. It's just five Redcoats, a brick wall, and me. Talk about between a rock and a hard place!
"You're gonna die now gurly." The one in the center of the five growled, he held out his bayonet and kept getting closer. I had my back to the wall and couldn't move as two other soldiers blocked my only other way past.
Before I know it the bayonet is on my shoulder, about to make its way inside my flesh. This was it, I was going to die. 'I hope your stupid speech was worth it!' I begin to cringe and close my eyes as I waited for the pain.
"It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace — but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!"
The pain never came. No death for my Liberty. Instead the sharp tip touching my covered shoulder was suddenly gone. My brows furrowed and I frowned. What could have happened? Did he decide not to kill me? I was afraid to open my eyes, incase he was just waiting for my guard to lower and my stance to relax.
But when I did open my eyes I gasped, heart leaping into my throat. There, standing not two inches away from me was a hooded figure. Brown-gold eyes gazed intensely into my emerald ones, I felt myself freeze, not with fear but with anticipation.
It was Connor, no doubt what-so-ever in my mind about that. I guess that disco ball can travel through dimensions after all. The question was; did he just save me? If so, why? Not that I'm not thankful, because I am very thankful! So thankful in fact I found myself with a face full of Connor's chest as I hugged him as tight as I could.
"THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!" I said so quickly my own head was spinning. Connor was tense as I hugged him, most likely as he thought I was going to attack him, but once he realized I was just hugging him he relaxed.
"Are you alright?" He asked gently, his hand on my shoulder, the shoulder that was nearly stabbed. Connor actually sounded concerned, this made me feel a thousand times safer. You'd never hear that tone from Altair! Not unless you were either Maria, Darim, Sef, or Malik. So, to say the least, I was so very glad the disco ball was kind enough to drop me here instead of the eleventh century.
I took a deep breath and steadied myself. I then looked up so that I could answer Connor clearly. I nodded at him. "Yeah, I'm okay." I swallowed, wetting my dry mouth and tongue. Connor stepped back, but left his hand on my shoulder.
"I am glad. I was surprised to see someone risk themselves to save Mister Henry's speech. I am sure he is grateful for such an act, but perhaps next time be more prepared for such action." He stated, his hand now patting my shoulder. A strange smile came across my face at his words; it was the smile of an exhausted person who just got punched in the face by realization.
Connor was supposed to save Patrick's speech; he was most likely poised and ready to defend it. All I did was lose a few pounds to my already tiny frame, running around in circles like I did. I felt so stupid.
Funny thing is, or it was to me, that was the moment my body decided it was too tired to stay awake any longer. So it shut down and I passed out in Connor's arms.
Boy did I feel like a girl!
Davenport Homestead, March 24, 1775.
"What is that?"
"I do not know, I found it in her coat."
I was starting to wake up; I could hear two familiar voices hovering over me. I shifted and groaned; it didn't hurt this time. Actually it felt like I was waking up from a good night's sleep, instead of a freaking coma like last time. The more I began to wake the more I realized that I was warm, comfortable, and could smell something cooking.
"Looks like she's waking up."
I was so very tempted to mutter; 'five more minutes mommy'. But I think Achilles, if I'm right that that's who that was, would find that a bit insulting. So instead I kept my mouth shut and opened my eyes. Only a small amount of light was streaming in through the windows, my head was already tilted that way, and from what I could see through said windows I was guessing we were on the second floor of the manor.
Did that mean I was in Connor's bed? Well, this has been an interesting first day. I turned my head to see Achilles sitting beside the bed and Connor standing by him. I then looked past them to see my jacket, hoody, scarf, and gloves lying on a chair next to Connor's desk at the corner of the room. Had they been rifling through my things? And I thought privacy was more than a concept.
"Good morning miss…-" Achilles said, waiting for me to introduce myself. My brain did loop to loops when he asked this. If I used my real name they'd be suspicious, my real name would be funny sounding at best to them. I had to think of a different alias and quick!
Instantly I remembered a story I had written once, where a girl ends up traveling to another world entirely due to strange circumstances. Her name pops into my head and I have another case of brain vomit. "Kyle! My names Kyle." 'Oh, smooth move idiot! Give them a guy's name! That's not strange!' My mind once again scolded me like a child and I just tried to sit up while ignoring the harsh words. One day I really needed to see a psychiatrist.
"Well, Miss Kyle you fainted in the alleyway." Connor comes up and explains. I finally succeed in sitting up in the bed and I leaned against the headboard as I watched him. Achilles watches me closely and all I can say is it's terrifying being under the scrutiny of an Assassin, even as old as he is. "I did not know where to take you as the soldiers were still looking for you. So I brought you here, not far from Boston. You will be safe here, we are where the British dare not tread." He finishes, holding his arms behind him as he elaborates.
I look around and nod. "Thank you, if you hadn't saved me those soldiers would have shanked me for sure." There is a quick look of confusion from Achilles and Connor when I say shank, but it passes. Obviously they use the context clues to figure out what that means.
"Yes they would have, but… do you have some where to go? Do you have any where that you can stay?" Achilles asked, his hands on his cane as he leaned closer to me. I bit my bottom lip as he did; I truly had nowhere else to go. I shook my head and Achilles sighed. "Well this place has already become a sanctuary for those who have no where else to go, you might as well stay here." He stated, a small smirk appearing on his face.
I beamed at that. I could stay here with Connor, Achilles, and the others of the Homestead! It made sense that he offered me this; Connor would have done the same. So, lucky me I already had a nice place to stay. But something inside of me itched for more, so much more. But one thing at a time.
I nodded gratefully to the two. "Thank you! I wish I had some way to repay you, but I don't really have anything." I admitted knowing all I had was what I had in my pockets. To tell the truth, I didn't even remember what was in my pockets.
"You are welcome, no need to worry about repayment." Achilles said as he stood, tipping his hat. "Now if you excuse me I have supper to attend to." He stated as he slowly trekked across the room and outside the door. I could hear him walk down the stairs before he was out of earshot.
I looked back up to Connor then to see him playing with something rectangular and silver in his hands. My eyes widened when he flipped the top of it off and fire came out. 'My zippo!' Now my brain was officially crashing, if that had been in my pockets who knew what else was.
"What is this? How is fire coming out of it like a candle?" Connor asked curiously as he gazed at it in wonder. I didn't know what else to do but jump up and yank it from his hands. I closed the top and quickly went to shove it back in my jacket pocket.
"It's just something my dad gave me a long time ago. He…-" I paused, trying to come up with a convincing lie, all that came out was this: "He invented it. The stupid thing ended up burning his shop down and killing him, the daft idiot." I ended up chuckling sadly, not an intended side effect to the strange declaration but it seemed to push the lie home.
"I…. am sorry for your lose." Connor apologized, his tone sad as he held his head down. While I started putting my clothes back on he continued to speak. "What of your mother then?" He asked, turning to me as I zipped up my hoody.
"Also gone." I said bluntly, not completely a lie since she doesn't exist yet. I then pulled my leather jacket on and pulled the hood up over the jacket. "I've been alone for a while. The only things I've found to do to pass the time is help the rebels." 'Or save a speech and nearly get myself killed.' I thought as I sighed and began to put my boots back on. I decided to leave my scarf and gloves behind, I was warm enough.
"Yes, I noticed. It was a very brave thing you did, diverting the Regulars away from Mister Henry's speech. I spoke with him about it while you were unconscious, he is very thankful." Connor nodded, a small smile on his face as he watched me. When my boots were finally on we started walking towards the stairs, Connor in front of me, leading the way.
'Great, an important person in US history owes me one. Nice.' I smirked and tried not to laugh as I thought of how strange that was. "Yeah, well, I did it to protect the liberty he was talking about." That's when an unspeakable urge over came me, and a whole heap of brain vomit occurred. "By the way, how were you able to stop those Redcoats? Where did you learn to sneak like that?" I asked, leaning closer to Connor as we hit the last step of the stairs.
"I-" Connor paused; you could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He had to think about his response. "I can not say." He finally stated, and I nodded in understanding.
"I get it. Don't worry about it, I'm just glad you were able to save me." I admitted as we walked into the kitchen/dinning room of the manor. Connor nodded, a look in his eyes that said he was grateful I understood. Achilles seemed to be making something in the kitchen, as he stood over a stove, and at this point it could have been rabbit for all I cared, I was starving!
"By the way," Achilles turned to the two of us as we stood at the threshold of the kitchen. He looked content, his hands on his cane as he slowly walked towards us. "I am Achilles and this," Achilles pointed his cane at Connor before slowly putting it back down. "-Is Connor. The manor you are standing in now is my-our home; we call this land Davenport, or as Connor calls it; Homestead. Already others like yourself have made houses here, there is a man by the name of Lance O'Donnell who might be willing to help you build if you are interested in staying." Achilles explained, then tipped his head again and went to sit at the table.
"But until you have a home of your own you are welcome to stay here." Connor added as he sat down beside Achilles at the table. He looked over at Achilles after saying this however, he probably was checking to see if it was actually okay with the Old Man that I could stay here. When the offer was not taken back I guessed it was okay with Achilles as well.
I couldn't help but smile, a warm fuzzy feeling in my gut. It made me feel so much safer knowing that even though I was so far away from home I still had somewhere I could be. I stood at the table then, and when Achilles nodded towards a seat I sat down.
"Connor tells me you gave those British bastards a run for their shillings. What else have you been up to?" Achilles asked, a deep chuckle in his voice as he spoke. It was then I remembered how this 'Old Man' acted towards Connor at first, he was so cold, but from what I can see now Connor truly has melted his old icy heart.
This made me smile too. I shrugged to his question though. "Not much." I put my elbows on the table and leaned in. "Although I have been looking for answers." And here came some more brain vomit from my devious and tactical mind. "I hear rumors, whispers really, about some of the higher up British soldiers not really working for the crown. Some guy-person said they all worked under one certain guy-dude-man. They call themselves knights or something, like some secret order. Weird, right? I hear those guys-men are trying to stop the rebels. But if their not working with the Redcoats, then why would they want that?" I struggled to maintain proper English while speaking to the two colonial era Assassins. But in the end they got the gest of the mess.
I sighed and leaned back in the chair as I let the two chew on what I had said. "But, when I went to investigate the rumor I nearly got my head chopped off. So I decided to leave it be and focus on protecting the rebels." I shrugged again in innocence, and just played my hand.
From across the table Connor and Achilles were having a staring match. Some type of silent argument, it really says a lot about someone when they can have a whole disagreement with no words said at all. I wondered what they were fighting about, I pretended not to notice but when the room became incredibly tense it was hard not to.
Finally Achilles sighed and the two stopped staring at one another, from Achilles' sigh I imagined that Connor had won. The two said nothing however and I was left completely in the dark. I pouted on the inside and stayed silent. I understood if they didn't want to tell me, I could be Templar for all they knew. I'd have to prove myself first. I could do that.
"Connor, the stew should be done." As Achilles said this Connor got up and started serving what I imagined was rabbit soup. Well I did say I was hungry enough. In the end it was okay, it filled me up and that's all that mattered.
Nothing else was really said after that, except for my thanks for the meal and my question of where I should sleep. Connor offered his bed and I told him I didn't want to impose, the floor was just fine. When Connor caved and let me sleep on the floor he ended up giving me his blue blanket, the one he slept on in the stables so many years ago. I took it and fell asleep beside Connor's bed.
And yes I slept in my clothes, because guess what I found in my jacket pockets; a rubber ball, my second sketchbook, my ipod, a pencil, and the already established zippo. I was so close to butter fly effecting this era it was scary. Later I would decide a locked chest was the best place for these things, well some of them anyway, but until then the jacket would remain in my sights or hidden.
Davenport Homestead, March 26, 1775.
A day or so passed, and even though I should have been talking to Lance about a home I found myself hanging around the manor instead. I still hadn't been out to meet the rest of the Homestead gang yet actually, but I was busy with other things the first few days.
Every morning Connor would get up early and disappear until noon, then come back and wake me up for breakfast, which would usually be fresh milk and bread. The second day I admitted I was good at hunting and fishing, nowhere near as good as Connor but I wanted to help, so I offered my services. After that Connor started waking me up early, because that's where he would go at sunrise, out to hunt. Lucky me right? Up at the crack of dawn to track doe, it was exhausting but the best learning experience of my life.
After the first day of hunting, which was more or less me trying to figure out how to use Connor's bow that he had leant me, we decided some lessons would be in order.
First let me establish how warm it is in Davenport during March, warm enough to have me sweating like a pig with sweat glands. So a smart decision on my part was to leave the scarf, hoody, leather jacket, and long sleeved shirt in a secret place at the manor, I did however wear the gloves. The day before hand, thanks to my clothes beginning to smell like moldy hay, Connor had given me an old tunic shirt of his. It was big on me but fit nonetheless, I wasn't that much shorter than Connor just a lot less muscled. I kept my blue jeans on though.
So I was out in the middle of the forest, the sun just barely raised, with a sling of arrows slung over my shoulder and a flat back wooden bow in my hands. We had walked a ways, Connor tip toeing around as if Templars could pop up at any turn.
We then reached a spot where the sun came down just enough to see a tall oak in the center of what was similar to my meadow at home. The oak looked to be marked with many holes, as if Connor had used this tree to train as well.
I did have to admit Davenport was beautiful. I thought in the game it was amazing; imagine seeing it with your own two eyes. Flowers were in bloom, animals were everywhere, trees towered above us, and the grass was greener than I'd ever seen before. I was most definitely going to sketch some of this as soon as I could.
"Show me what you know." Connor said, breaking the silence and my train of thought about the surroundings. I looked over at him, his arms crossed as he was watching me carefully. He was teaching me, sure it wasn't how to use a hidden blade, but it was a start.
I pulled the bow up in my arms, put my fingers on the wooden bit of the bow where I was trained to and plucked at the string. It was strong and moved like a rubber band, as it should. I tested my grip then pulled an arrow out of my pack. I slowly slotted the arrow between the string and wooden part of the bow. I pulled back then looked sideways down the arrow in aiming. When I was happy with where the arrow was I pulled back, relaxed my shoulders, took a deep breath, and let go.
The arrow sailed through the air and landed about four inches down the tree from where I aimed it. I gritted my teeth in frustration, getting used to using a different bow could be difficult sometimes. My brows furrowed as I angrily sighed and looked over to Connor. I didn't imagine he was going to hold up a paper card saying ten any time soon.
"Good." Was the simple one word response he gave me as he nodded his head and rubbed his chin in thought.
I tilted my head and gave him a confused and exasperated look. "Good? That was terrible!" I argued, and if this had been my bow instead of Connor's I would have let it fall to the forest floor out of frustration.
Connor simply shook his head and walked behind me. He got way to close for comfort as he started situating my shoulder and fingers to where they needed to be on the bow. I was trying not to breath as he was actually so close to me I felt his chest touching my back. I couldn't close my eyes and panic though, I had to pay attention to what he was showing me. I knew this was going to happen, it's the exact same thing that happened when my dad was showing me how to use a bow. Yet that was very very different. But if Connor was going to teach me anything I needed to pay attention!
He moved my fingers about an inch higher on the bow then they were before, he pushed my shoulder down then moved my other hand to the string. He gently handed me an arrow and helped me slid it into place.
"Take a deep breath, then let go. Don't tense up." He whispered in my ear, I closed my eyes and took two deep breaths in in fact. I tried to shake off the feeling of hormones in my system; I was unsuccessful so I just pushed it to the back of my mind.
'I can do this, I can do this.' I chanted in my head as I adjusted my grip on the string, took a deep breath, and relaxed my shoulders. Then I simply let go and watched the arrow fly. It hit dead center this time and I cheered. "Yes!" I fist pumped and watched as Connor smiled, him now standing off to my right.
"Good." He nodded to me. "Now do that a hundred more times." He stated abruptly and very seriously. I looked at him, my jaw now on the ground. I can imagine my expression was like that of a very surprised cat. "If you wish to master the art, you must practice it first." Connor explained and I sighed, because I knew he was right.
I had eight arrows, I had to practice that shot a hundred times, can you do the math? I had to go fetch those same arrows about every five minutes. But I did it, no whining or complaining. Connor even trusted me to do the training enough, in fact, that he left me alone so that he could go hunting. Because Connor actually went hunting for everyone here at the Homestead too, not just for him and Achilles, well everyone that couldn't hunt or fish for themselves already anyway. It made me proud to say that soon I'd help feed the people of Homestead too! Just like Connor and Myriam.
It was noon by the time I was done practicing. Connor came back just as the sun was over the trees, to see about my progress. When I showed him that I could get the arrow right in the center of the tree every time, the only thing he said was:
"Tomorrow we will try a moving target then."
Lunch came and passed, Achilles was happy to hear about my rigorous training. He laughed lightly then asked Connor how I'd done. Connor said that I was a good listener, a quick leaner, and already had some skill. Connor also mentioned my irregularly fast heartbeat. When Achilles asked Connor to explain Connor told him what had happened, the second he did Achilles was laughing harder then I'd ever seen him laugh before. Obviously he understood what was going on, I cursed at him under my breath as I blushed, but Connor just stood there with a deadpan look on his face.
As soon as we were done eating, Connor asked me if I would like to help with something else. I nodded and told him I was always happy to help. After saying that Connor dragged me back outside to Lance's house. Lance was already outside working on some type of chair.
"Oh, so this is Kyle! How do you do my lady?" Lance said as he went to kiss the top of my hand. I tried to smile but all that came out was a crooked thing on my face. I covered that up by embarrassedly fake laughing.
"Uh, hello Mister O'Donnell." I responded politely, taking his hand with my other hand and shaking it. Lance looked confused but then went 'o' with his mouth as if he suddenly understood something. I think I could read his mind because to me he was thinking tomboy. If the clothes didn't already explain it then the handshake did.
"We are here to help." Connor finally explained. When he did I took my hand back from Lance and took a step back, so that I was standing beside Connor, nodding to assure I was also there to help.
"Oh, splendid! I need some more wood actually. I even have the perfect bit of trees picked out for the job. I've marked them with chalk, they stand at the end of the clearing near the cliff." Lance said, pointing the direction in which they stood. Connor nodded in understanding and grabbed the axe Lance was handing him.
I said goodbye to Mister O'Donnell and headed after Connor. I followed him to exactly where Lance was talking about, on the way though I kept getting my long hair stuck on branches and twigs. The one thing that I could have used, which was not in my magic future pocket, was a ponytail holder. So I decided that I'd get a hair cut soon. 'Maybe I'll ask Myriam.' I thought as suddenly a tomahawk is shoved right into my arms.
"Oof!" I exclaim, looking down at the dangerous sharp weapon in my hand. I try not to just drop it and run, well try is relative. Instead I take a deep breath and adjust my grip on it to where my hand is holding the handle, far far away from the blade.
"Here." Connor then points to the middle of the tree. It's not a very round tree, quite thin actually. But the tree was tall and still had a good bit of wood to it. Connor obviously wanted me to cut there, strike the tree with the tomahawk. "Show me." Was all he said as he stepped back and gave me room to swing.
I've never used anything like a tomahawk before so it's easy for me to admit I sucked at using it. Connor watched as I clumsily tried to cut down the tree. When I was at the end of my rope, breathing quickly, Connor took my hands and tried to show me how to use the weapon. He guided my shoulder and arms, showed me how to hold the tomahawk, and then he let me swing. He watched and pointed certain things out to me and when I finally got a good swing going the tree fell.
I thought then that I was done, but no I had to cut down three more trees, each one thicker then the next. By the time I was done I'd swung that tomahawk about two hundred times, I was all out exhausted, and in exchange all I got was a nod from Connor and the thanks of Mister O'Donnell.
Achilles also laughed at me again, as I basically passed out as soon as we were in the manor. Connor chuckled and helped me to sit down, then he went on to explain what we had been doing that day. Achilles listened intently, and then the two began to whisper. I was sitting in the kitchen; Connor and Achilles were talking out in the hallway. I tried to listen in on their whispered conversation but I couldn't hear them, and frankly I was too tired to care.
I blinked and Achilles was in front of me, I guessed I was starting to nod off, my head on the table. I sat up again and waited for him to talk. He just analyzed me for a moment before speaking.
"If I were to offer you the answers to your questions, what would you do with those answers?" He asked me very seriously, standing as straight as he could in front of me.
I took a subtle breath through my nose and thought for a second. That was a very interesting question, what would I do? I'd act upon it yeah, to get answers to questions and do nothing. That would be pure ignorance. No, I'd have to use those answers to help benefit those who needed help, who deserved help.
When I had my answers I stood up, completely serious, hands at my side, I gazed right back into Achilles' eyes. Because this was serious, this was most certainly a test I would pass. "I'd use those answers to help those who need help, to help people-innocents-that deserve help. I'd use those answers to do what is just, and to do what I could." I answered honestly, and for a while there was a silent pregnant pause. I thought maybe I'd said something wrong, but then a smile came across Achilles' face.
"Sit then, I have much to tell you."
Davenport Homestead, March 27, 1775.
Achilles was right, he had had a lot to tell me. I already knew everything he had to say but I listened intently anyway. Then at the end of his speech he asked me if I wanted to devote myself to the Assassin Order, if I wanted to devote myself to the never-ending fight against the Templars. I said yes.
For whatever reason Connor and Achilles had thought me worthy to be an Assassin, so I wasn't about to let them down now!
And that's when Achilles really started telling me secrets. Once again I already knew everything that he was telling me, but I listened. He showed me the secret basement full of Assassin gear. He explained about the paintings, and Connor even told me about his father.
In the end Achilles and Connor spoke about my training and how rigorous it would be. I told them I'd do whatever it took to be a full-fledged Assassin. This made Achilles smile. The Old Man admitted he would need help training me, as one pupil was really enough for him. So Connor decided he would take up my physical training and Achilles would take my mental training. It made sense to me.
But I told them there was just one thing I needed to do first. Which is how I found myself cringing in a chair outside Myriam's shack. The female hunter had a just sharpened knife in her hand. I closed my eyes as she gripped my long hair tightly.
"This won't hurt…. well maybe just a little." Myriam said sarcastically with a light feminine chuckle as she proceeded to just whack all of my hair off in one go. "Perfect!" She stated brightly. "Now all you need is a wash, there's a waterfall just down the way." Myriam instructed and I thanked her before leaving to follow her advice.
Showering in a waterfall is definitely different. Washing my hair under clean clear rushing water that is actually quite warm is very…. awesome! It was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. Being clean and changing into another set of Connor's old clothes, that are also clean by the way, made me feel like a new person.
So when I walked back into the manor, short curly auburn hair freshly cleaned and cut, I could very much say that my name is Kyle and I've just become an Assassin!
End Notes: I had so much fun writing this! I hope you had fun reading it too! I just finished AC 3 a few days ago. And I really fell in love with the chemistry between Connor and Haytham! So be prepared to see more of that in here than you did the game!
I'll be working to get out chapter 2 but I can't tell you when it'll be done. I also want to point out that Kyle is eighteen and Connor is nineteen. That's their ages if I never get around to mentioning that.
Another FYI: I did in fact know about Patrick Henry giving his speech inside the capital building in Richmond. However I had an idea already in my mind and if he hadn't been speaking outside it wouldn't have worked.