asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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Heeeh, happy you like it!

Well, that's the skills he got in his job! Plus, he's too nice a guy. xD

I hoped someone would ~~be as obsessed as me~~ pick up on this. And Daniel's dead girlfriend was such a terrible backstory detail that I just had to fit it in here.

OP totally agree with not OP, this was perfect and made me grin until the end. Desmond is absolutely evil, making fun of those poor novices.
"Desmond rolled his eyes. He could feel Malik screaming obscenities in his head."
Oh, this was my favorite part. Don't be sorry anon, I enjoyed this so very much. Thank you.

Not really satisfied with this chapter, but running low on time today.

Timeskip coming soon.

Master of the House

Chapter 23 - Charles

Charles returned to a manor full of anxious motion. Mary ran about, directing her maids to fetch her warm compresses and smelling salts. Ronald and his man-servants were busy throwing open all the windows and fanning in the fresh air from outside.

The entire place seemed a foreign mess, and Charles stood staring as servant after servant ran past him, carrying wet towels and arms full of little glass bottles.

He was completely unnoticed by his own household.

What in blazes was going on?

He grabbed one of the maids running past him with yet another wet towel. The girl blinked owlishly up at him.

“What has happened? What is the meaning of this?”

She stared at him, incomprehension swiftly changing to horrified recognition.

“M-master Lee! It’s-it’s Mister Lee, he’s—“

Connor.

The child.

His legs began moving before he could even understand that he was moving, running, fear choking through him as he remembered five months ago. Of what had happened last time.

Not again. He was not ready to lose another child. Or his wife.

He sprinted off in the direction of his wife’s quarters, cutting the servant girl off in mid-sentence.

He darted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Not his child. Not Connor. Not so soon. Not when his wife had been fine right before Charles had left for the coronation ceremony!

His heart pounded in his chest, unused to such exertion. He remembered the blood that had soaked his wife’s trousers five months ago, and his heart raced quicker, faster. He remembered the way Connor had slumped there, unmoving, eyes staring blankly up at him before...

He tore up the stairs and ran down the hall, towards Connor’s quarters.

The breath had left his body. Matthew had shouted frantically at him to move and pushed him aside to thrust down on his wife’s chest as he placed his own mouth on his and heaved.

His lungs burned, his breath came quickly. If he had time to calm down and think, he would have been surprised at his actions, he thought. If he had the ability to think of anything but of...

Matthew had pealed back the trousers, and his wife’s thighs were stained rusty red and...

He burst through the door, pushed past the servants, sprinted to the bedroom—

He stopped.

He stared.

James’s Omega sat by Connor’s side, holding a smelling salt under his nose. A servant girl kept a warm compress on his head and another chafed and rubbed at his hand.

The window was open. Birds sang in the distance.

Charles stared.

There was no blood, no sobbing, no screaming.

...where were the blood, sobbing and screaming?

He was confused.

“Master Lee!” Mary came up behind him.

He turned towards her in bewilderment.

“Master Lee, it’s a miracle!”

He blinked at her stupidly.

“Mister Lee moved yesterday. Of his own power. Mister Collins was there to see it, and when he told us, we tried everything we could think to...”

The words fell away from him as if he were far away.

For a moment, he couldn’t comprehend it. He didn’t understand...moved?

His breath froze in his chest, and he looked from Mary to Connor, back to Mary.

Then...

Hope slowly blossomed in his chest, and his knees felt weak. Could it-could it be true? After five months...

Mary smiled, tears in her eyes.

“He’s improving, sir. He’s really improving.”

Improving.

Connor was still gone from them, then.

He felt the tentative hope turn to lead in his chest. He swallowed, thickly.

“But sir,” Mary continued, noticing the growing frown on his face. “If he’s moving again, it means it won’t be long now. He’ll return to you soon.”

Charles thought back to Connor, as he’d known him, both as his wife and as his enemy. He thought of that independent, rebellious Omega and the way he’d slowly withered once Charles had caught him. He thought back to Master Kenway and James and James’s Omega and that doctor who insisted he stay away from his own wife.

Return to him? Charles wasn’t sure about that.

Swiftly, he crossed the room to his wife’s bed and stood looking down at him as James’s Omega and the servant girls continued to fuss over him.

He picked up one still-too-thin hand and held it up to his cheek, ignoring the startled shock from Clipper and the servants girls.

Connor lay there, in his bed still, pale and thin and vulnerable, eyes still staring blankly out the window.

He had been like this for five long months. He didn’t look any different to Charles; he didn’t feel any different to Charles.

Was he really improving?

Gently, Charles ran one finger along those elegant cheekbones that his wife had inherited from his father. He trailed that finger down to those soft, sensual lips. Master Kenway’s lips.

And even if he were improving, was he ever truly Charles’s?

He stayed like that, staring at his wife, staring at the man he had captured and caged and wanted to make his own.

He wondered if Master Kenway weren’t the only one who failed.

The moment passed. He left his hand drop from Connor’s still face.

Charles turned to face James’s Omega. “You may inform Doctor White that he is to be my wife’s primary attending physician. I will expect him every Thursday, and...“

He was tired.

He wanted Connor to wake. He wanted a son to teach and follow in his footsteps. He wanted Master Kenway to visit him again.

He didn’t want to think about the mess his life had become.

“...and I will abide by his recommendations.”

Before the Omega had a chance to say a word, before Mary had time to gasp in shock, Charles stood and left the room.

He was tired.

A different anon here, because the bunny bit deep in me too! I can't wait for other anon's work, though. :)

(I may have borrowed Mrs Langley the housekeeper from a different anon…)

And, this kind of grew? I'm sorry, I hope it's still all right!

Ratonhnhaké:ton sobbed as he clung to Haytham's leg. He'd not seen the little boy cry so much since Ziio's death, since William had awkwardly dragged the little boy toward him after a long discussion with the village elders.

"Raton," Haytham said, trying to pry the child off his knee. "Raton, I have to go."

Ratonhnhaké:ton simply cried harder, begging in Kanien'kehá:ka. Haytham sighed.

"Daddy can't speak Mohawk," he said, ruffling his son's hair in a way he hoped was reassuring. "Please speak English."

Ratonhnhaké:ton sniffed. His grip didn't lessen, though the boy did squint up, past Haytham's hip, to meet his father's worried gaze.

"Stay," he begged. "Please do not go! I will be good!"

"I'll only be gone a few days," Haytham said. "Then I'll be right back here again, and we can play hunters."

Ratonhnhaké:ton let out another wail, and Haytham could feel fresh tears soaking into his thigh. How could the boy be so clingy? He was almost six, for God's sake! He was fine when Haytham went out without him for a few hours.

"I will give you more hugs," Ratonhnhaké:ton promised. "I will put my toys away when I am finished right away! I will not complain about these silly clothes, please, Daddy!"

"Look, I don't know why you're being so clingy all of a sudden. I'm not going to Boston to punish you, I'm going because I have to. Let me go, child."

"Mother left!" Ratonhnhaké:ton choked. "Now you are too!"

"That isn't what's happening," Haytham sighed. "I'm going with Charles and the others for a few days to take care of important business. I can't not go, and it's not the sort of business a young like yourself ought to be involved in. Please just stay here until I get back and behave for Mrs Langley."

"She is not you," Ratonhnhaké:ton mumbled, sullenly, breath still hitching. "Please stay."

"I can't. It's just a few days, you'll be fine. Please let go of my leg."

"No!" Ratonhnhaké:ton cried, clutching even tighter than before. "You will leave!"

"I just want to give you a hug goodbye," Haytham said, before realising what an idiotic thing to say that was. Ratonhnhaké:ton's wait rose to a full-out scream, and the boy's fingers felt as though they were actually piercing his skin. Dear God that hurt.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Ratonhnhaké:ton shrieked, still sobbing. "No goodbye!"

"I have to leave!" Haytham found himself shouting, despite his best efforts. "Let go!"

"No!"

Haytham looked around wildly for some kind of help- a crowbar or Mrs Langley herself, the housekeeper was always very good with the boy. Sadly, nothing was readily available. He sighed. There was only one thing he could really do.

"All right!" he bellowed. "All right!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton choked and shuddered, and slowly quietened until he was crying at a more normal volume.

"You can come with me to Boston," Haytham ceded, tiredly. "But you're to behave perfectly, all right? No tantrums like just now. Be polite, even to Charles--" the boy let out a groan at that "-- and you're to do exactly as I say. Understood?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton sniffled and wiped his eyes on Haytham's cloak before nodding.

"Yes, daddy."

"Good. Now, go and wash your face, and I'll tell Mrs Langley we're both going."

Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled, and scampered away. Haytham wondered if this was bad parenting. He sighed, and went to find the housekeeper.

...

"You brought your son along?" Charles radiated distaste and annoyance.

"Raton wouldn't let me leave until I promised to take him to Boston with me. He's not coming anywhere near Davenport, I assure you."

"Where is Davenport?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked, tugging at his father's cloak.

"Never you mind," Haytham said, then turned back to Charles. "He's staying here in the inn until we return, and I'll take him round the markets the next afternoon. It'll be fine."

"Who's going to watch over him while we're away?" Charles snapped.

"One of the lower-ranking lackeys. I'm sure there's somebody we can spare- someone with a twisted ankle or a broken wrist, perhaps?"

"I'll ask around. I'm not happy about this, Haytham. Not only did you arrive nearly two hours late, you've endangered the entire plan. It isn't fitting conduct for the Grand Master."

'Sod off," Haytham thought. 'You're never happy.'

"I'm sorry," Haytham said. "It won't happen again."

Ratonhnhaké:ton was not happy at being left out of 'daddy's secret meeting', as he called it, but he was cheered up immensely by a few wholesome-seeming lesser members of the Order, who offered to look after him for a few hours. By which they apparently meant 'spoil the little lad rotten'.

"He's got a tiny tricorn! How sweet!"

"What's your name, young sir?"

"How would you like some chocolate to drink?"

"Er… could you repeat your name for me, please?"

Satisfied that his son would be distracted from his absence for a few hours, Haytham braced himself for the full force of Charles' most angry glare. The man had never liked Ziio, and he shared the same distaste for the boy as the boy had for Charles.

...

Ratonhnhaké:ton, for the second time that day, clung to his father's leg.

"You cannot go! You promised I could come with you!"

"To Boston," Haytham snapped. "Not to Davenport."

"But--"

"But nothing. I shouldn't've even brought you here, Raton. I'll help you comb your hair and read you a story, like always. And then I'll give you a hug and a kiss goodnight, and then I'm going to leave, and one of the lovely ladies from earlier will watch over you. I'll be back before dawn, and it'll be like I wasn't gone at all."

"But--"

"I will come back, Raton," Haytham said again, more softly this time. "I will always come back. Always and forever."

Ratonhnhaké:ton still didn't look happy, but he nodded anyway, and let go of his father's leg.

…

Haytham sighed heavily as they re-entered the Green Dragon at the breaking of dawn. It was a shame so many had to die, but they did not listen to reason. Seeing Achilles Davenport kneel so lifelessly over the bodies of his wife and child had been heartbreaking, but there had been no other way. The Brotherhood had been to dangerous. They would not be reasoned with. They had to die.

The child had been so different from Ratonhnhaké:ton, perhaps ten years older, skin jet black and hair wiry. Connor Davenport unsettled him, made him think about his own little boy, tucked up in bed with the Order's injured to take care of him.

"Time to drink to our victory, boys," Hickey grinned.

"I need to sleep, I'm afraid," Haytham held up a hand placatingly. "But I hope you'll all celebrate in my stead."

"Are you all right?" Pitcairn asked.

"Just tired," Haytham replied, with an exhausted smile. The sun was already blossoming across the horizon, and he needed to keep his promise, as much as he wanted a few drops of spirits to dull the memory of the violence he had just partaken in.

He gave his brothers a tired wave, and crept up the stairs as quietly as he could. It would not do to wake the poor lad.

Haytham finally reached the door of his room, and took off his boots and hat and cloak as silently as possible, disarming himself with only a few quiet thumps and a few quiet clinks. The grey light filtered through the shutters, and Haytham removed his dirty jacket and his stockings before climbing into the bed, and untying his hair.

"Daddy," Ratonhnhaké:ton murmured, still half-asleep.

Haytham half-wished he'd asked for another bed to be brought in, but knowing the boy, he would have slipped into Haytham's bed the first chance he got, anyway. In any case, it was too late now, and to have those tiny arms wrap around his shoulders, and to curl himself around the boy protectively… it made him feel human, as though he wasn't doing too badly at this 'fatherhood' thing, reminded him of the way he had crawled into his parent's bed when he had been so very very small and so very very scared all those decades ago.

"It's just before dawn," Haytham replied, stroking his son's hair comfortingly. "Always and forever, lad. Always and forever."

Ratonhnhaké:ton made a relieved noise, and burrowed under the blankets, giving his daddy the best approximation of a cuddle a five-year-old could do at the crack of dawn.

"We'll go to the market in the afternoon," Haytham let his eyes drift closed, feeling his mind slowly detach from the realm of wakefulness. "And you can play with Uncle Johnson and Uncle Hickey. And… Charles might let you help groom his dogs, if you're especially nice…"

Wow, just WOW - Charles is finally changing for the better! Which means he's just going to have to give himself his own nightly visits via hand-job (and fantasize about having Connor while he's awake and possibly willing). Also wondering about Matthew, think he - being a doctor - would have known that brother wasn't going to help Connor or the baby, and purposely let Connor wither away in order to keep the cash flow running.

I meant broth not brother

:) Charles is tired. He wants things to be right again, and he just came back from coronation, being reminded of his loss via Haytham, and confrontation with Haytham. So he's tired and sick of fighting and feeling guilty and everything else. So yep, he's going to be giving himself some hand-jobs from now on. :D It's really the least he could do given that he caused the situation in the first place.

Matthew doesn't care so much about Connor, but he did have incentive for the baby to be healthy (babies always need checkups and stuff). So did he fight for Connor as hard as he could have? Not a chance. But it also wasn't intentional sabotage, more ignoring things he didn't think important and worth his time.

The medical community had some...interesting beliefs...during that time period.

O lol, I did wonder. :)

Broth wasn't bad, just could be better. Lyle White actually has more experience with pregnancy (experience) and is a more involved doctor so he came across more info. Matthew is actually better at other ailments and doesn't tend to get involved with his patients as much. He actually knows less about healthy pregnancies.

No problem, OP is very excited

please anyone write ALPHA Malik and OMEGA Altair I would love you forever

Master of the House

Interlude II

The air turned cold. The leaves bloomed brilliant reds and oranges and golds and then blanketed the world in a bright multi-hued carpet. Three beautiful new puppies joined Charles’s pack, and he rewarded their exhausted mother with the finest treats he could buy.

One little puppy he weaned and gifted to James. The others he kept, rejoicing in the softness of their puppy-fur and in their trust as they leaned into his careful hands.

At night, Charles would steal away to his wife’s chambers. He neither laid with his wife nor shared his bed. Instead, he would sit by the bedside and gently rub his wife’s softly swelling belly, feeling his child growing within.

Connor did not wake.

Soon, the world found itself a white blanket of snow. Branches stood silent and forlorn as trees mourned the loss of their leaves and all the life they held fled for warmer climates.

James wrote back that the girl-Pomeranian was doing well and was an active, inquisitive pup. He brought the little pup, swaddled in warm blankets, with him when he called upon Charles. Clipper was delighted and heartened by his visits, and Charles looked on as the couple played with the puppy.

At night, he had begun to speak to his wife, as if the Omega were awake. He would speak of how Master Kenway still would not call and of the Pomeranian pup that James and Clipper seemed taken with. He would speak of his duties as King and of the impending debts that needed to be discharged to the former Continental Army and of how Matthew was upset at him for removing him from his wife’s care.

After he finished speaking, he would lay his head upon his wife’s swollen belly and feel his child kick. He would remark on how strong and beautiful their child would be.

Connor did not wake.

Soon, the snow began to melt, and although the world stayed cold, life slowly began to return. Charles’s two new pups were energetic little pups, and they much enjoyed their visit from their sister when James would drop by with the pup in tow.

Charles consulted with Doctor White and through the doctor’s recommendation, invited Lance to build a crib and playroom for his child. He placed the clothes from Ellen into a tiny trunk he had Lance make and laid a small wooden sword he had kept from his own days as a boy on top of it. He would give the toy to his child when it was time.

He sat holding his wife’s hand each night by his bedside, speaking of days gone past and plans for the future. He spoke of regrets and triumphs and opportunities wasted.

And he would leave with a chaste kiss on his wife’s brow.

He kept his word. He did not force his wife.

Connor woke.

Charles was really sweet in this interlude and the end O_O Connor woke? Connor woke??? Don't leave me hanging like that anon! My heart can't take it!

:D there's more coming, no worries. But timeline wise, I do admit it's almost time to finish with this story. Just one more major hurdle, and then it'll be time for Haytham Lee's story.

Wow, I cannot believe how quickly you've written this story - I'm still writing they're honeymoon (I blame George and Yusuf and all they're angsty/crack-filled distractions). I wonder what Connor thinks about Charles finally being a supportive husband, and how they're going to live together as parents as well as a married couple.

But my biggest concern is... will there be consensual sex?

/MIND = GUTTER/

will there be consensual sex?

Lol! my mind=gutter too! :) Well, it depends on how you define consensual...

CHARLES: I missed you /LUSTS/
CONNOR: ... I guess I missed... your cock, but I don't care for the rest of you
CHARLES: Works for me /LUSTS HARDER/

Well for Charles and Connor, it'd probably be dub-con but that's fine with me ^_^V

they're = their

lol! :D

Master of the House

Chapter 24 - Awakening

Five months after the coronation, Charles heard the click-clack of horse hooves outside his door. He froze at the brief look out his window, even as the servants began whispering to themselves excitedly.

He watched as the familiar carriage came to a stop before his home. With a preternatural calm, he laid down his book, made his way down the stairs to the parlor and stepped out of his manor.

He stood still and watched as the driver opened the door and the elegantly dressed man inside climbed out, familiar tricorn hat in his hand and clothed in his usual navy cloak and a heavy coat.

Haytham Kenway had finally called upon him.

“Master Kenway.”

“Charles.”

Former mentor and student stood looking at each other, faces unreadable. Neither spoke, both content to take the measure of the other in silence.

Then, “it is good to see you again, Charles.”

And Charles smiled and waved him in.

-----

“How goes Connor’s pregnancy?”

It was a question Charles had been expecting.

“Doctor White assures me that Connor is doing well.”

But that did not mean he was not still worried, especially as his wife still lay in his state.

Master Kenway nodded, relieved and unsurprised. Charles briefly wondered if the man’s spies had already uncovered this information.

“And Connor himself?

Charles frowned.

“Still asleep.”

Master Kenway stopped, looking regretful. “It has been near a year since he has been lost, hasn’t it?”

Charles nodded.

“11 months now. The child is nearly born, but he does not yet wake. I begin to wonder if he ever will.”

Haytham looked somber at this, as well as he might.

Would Connor remain like Talia in Basile’s tale? Removed from the world until his child was born and the poisoned flax removed from his finger?

But then hadn’t Charles removed himself from his body?

“And you, my friend. How are you doing?”

Whereas once, Charles would have raged and begged to know how Master Kenway would stay away, he simply smiled at this.

He had learned a measure of patience from his days of keeping himself from his wife. From watching him sleep and feeling the child, but never touching him as he yearned to, never embracing him as a husband does a wife.

“I am King. The Order is strong. If fates are willing, I will have an heir. What else do I need?”

Master Kenway looked up the stairs, to a room where a man just beginning to become dear to Charles’s heart lay.

“What indeed.”

They climbed the staircase in silence.

-----

Master Kenway looked curiously at the painting in Charles’s office, paying special attention to where a small blot of ink had stained into the canvas.

“I don’t recall this being in this particular shape, Charles.”

Charles colored upon seeing the stain, remembering a rage-filled morning where he lamented his mentor’s seeming desertion.

“An accident, I believe.”

The man raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Is that so?”

But he spoke no more about it.

“Charles, I am stepping down.”

It took Charles a moment to comprehend what he had heard, though his reaction upon doing so was not what the other man had been expecting.

“I do not think that is a good idea just yet, sir.”

The man started, clearly surprised by the reply.

“I am likely to be a new father soon, sir. Although I will perform my duties, both to the Order and to the nation, to the best of my abilities, I will not shirk my responsibilities as a father. I will not abandon my child for my duties.”

As someone else once did, went unsaid.

Master Kenway shifted.

“Do you mean to give the position to another? You know the rest of the Inner Circle is too new and untried for such an important standing.”

Oh yes, he knew. Even James, who he admired for the temperance of his temper and his natural charisma was relatively untried in Templar affairs, having only obtained his high seat a little over a year and a half ago.

“I mean, Master Kenway, that you should hold the position for another couple of years.”

The man shook his head solemnly.

“I am getting old, Charles. It is time to hand the title and responsibilities over to my successor.”

“You have years in you yet, sir. And you have given so much to the Order, sacrificed everything for it.” Including his son. “You should lead us to the end.”

Master Kenway did not look as if he agreed, but before he could try different arguments, Mary broke into the room.

“M-master Lee,” she panted. “Mister K-kenway. Forgive me for interrupting, but,” she heaved a few times, desperately trying to catch her breath. “Mister Lee is back!”

-----

The two men raced to Connor’s room, heart pounding, thoughts whirling.

How? Why? Is he well? Now?

They passed a startled Ronald on their way and burst through the door to Connor’s chambers to find...

Connor.

With a soft smile on his lips and hugging Clipper. Soothing the other Omega who was sobbing at his chest.

Connor.

Who was pale and wan and thin still, but up and about and awake for far, far too long.

Connor.

Whose smile faded upon catching sight of Charles and of his father and whispered something to Clipper that encouraged the other Omega to leave.

Although it seemed to take a few tries as his friend obviously did not want to leave him, newly awakened and weakened as he undoubtedly was.

Connor.

Who sat on the bed still, one hand gently cradling the child growing within his body. Who watched them both with eagle eyes and neither smiled nor frowned nor attacked them. Who seemed utterly unlike the rash and naïve boy he had been before he had been captured and fettered.

Connor.

Whose first words in over a year was, “hello husband, father. I believe we have a few things to discuss.”

Sorry Haytham it looks like you don't get to retire from your Grandmaster / Grandfather duties :p But OMG Connor is awake... (I feel like I said that already), and the ending where he's ready to get down to business after being imprisoned in his mind for 11 months (how he kept his sanity, I have no idea, but I like to think its because of his Mother, Achilles, George, Duncan, Jamie, and Jacob all looking out for him) was amazing! And wow 3 chapters in one day??? I feel spoiled.

/Mashes F5 Key for updates/

Don't know if you've seen it yet, but there's also this picture I found:
http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/013/3/3/a_quest_for_revenge_begins_by_meltedcoffeecup-d5rek9e.png

Precisely twelve days after Juno's initial re-release into the world and nine days after Desmond's arrival at the Assassin's HQ, the theory of Desmond having multiple personalities was finally dragged into the light. What was truly ironic, William later mused, was that it had been Juno who had triggered the event.

It was after hours at the HQ, and everyone was sound asleep; the security system was doing its patrols, sweeping the halls with the familiar red laser lights and reporting everything it encountered back to the main computer hub. The security was such that anything physical that came into contact with the lasers would be analyzed, put into one of two categories (threat or ally) and then processed from there. Normally, such a security system would be regarded as the best around, but Juno was hardly impressed. Then again, she wasn't physical, so she didn't have anything to worry about.

She was searching for Number 17, that meddlesome boy that had eluded her trap and somehow survived his electrocution. It was annoying; the knowledge that he still lived eating away at her until she was certain she would either go mad or kill something. Fortunately, she was able to do the second with ease, especially now that he was asleep. But why simply kill him? No, the boy had a habit of picking up interesting tidbits of information - she could sneak into his mind, broken as it was, and snatch those bits for herself. And who knew - if she was feeling especially generous, she might allow him to wake up again.

Of course, she would be in control the entire time, crushing his will beneath her own, but that hardly mattered. What mattered was that she had all the pieces to begin her glorious reign over mankind, as it was always meant to be, and tonight she could finally put the pieces together. All thanks the boy sleeping right across from her - Desmond Miles.

"You know, I really must thank you for all you've done," she purred as her fingertips brushed his temples. She pushed against the weak barriers of his mind, positively giddy when she met no resistance and instead sank inside like she belonged there. "Thanks to all your hard work, my reign will be unopposed. For that, I shall make your death a quick one."

A bright flash of light accompanied the statement as Desmond's mind took her to the central hub of his core, what the humans called a "happy place". It was the stability of their being, much like the roots of a tree. If she destroyed this place, then the rest would crumble with ease. But she wasn't here to destroy - not yet at least. She expected to see a childhood memory, or maybe even a day spent with that traitorous girl Lucy. Instead, she saw Arabian carpets draped across a dirt floor, extravagant bedding with silken sheets, and a well-furnished room with the windows open to allow the birds in.

Desmond Miles laid on the bed, sound asleep, his head in the lap of a white-cloaked man who sang in a beautiful tenor voice while his fingers ran themselves through the boy's hair, the words in an entirely different language. Beside him, a man sprawled against the wall, a hookah in his sole hand while he read from a book in his lap. Next to the bed in a chair sat yet another white-cloaked man, this one with his hood down, revealing a well-groomed beard and a long course brown horsetail. He was busy sharpening his hidden blades, humming along to whatever song the first man was singing.

A third man stood beside the window, his hood up as well. His hands were full of birdseed and raw meat, numerous predatory birds sitting alongside swallows, sparrows and finches, each feeding peacefully. Juno found her eyes straying to each man, fists clenched at her sides as she recalled their names. Altair Ibn La Ahad, Malik Al-Sayf, Ezio Auditore Da Firenze and Ratonhnhake:ton, otherwise known as Connor Kenway. His ancestors, his blood. All of them inside his mind, guarding him, watching over him. The thought that they had been here since the beginning brought a veil of rage over her eyes.

As if they sensed the tension, their heads suddenly snapped towards her, the song cutting off and the scraping of the blade ceasing. She found herself under their intense stares, eyes golden with shock and rage. Altair shifted his body over Desmond's in a purely protective move, teeth baring themselves in a way that reminded her of a wolf defending its kill. Ezio stood, the blades sheathing themselves into his wrist guards again; Connor moved his arms and the birds took flight out the window, the last of the seed and meat disappearing with them.

Juno straightened herself, appearing regal and haughty before their eyes. "Move aside, phantoms. I've business with your master."

Malik Al-Sayf, who should not have been there at all (why was he there, how did he attach to Desmond?) snorted, a puff of smoke escaping his mouth. "Stupid woman, you must have the mind of a novice to believe you could terrorize the boy and go unnoticed. We are hardly phantoms."

She sniffed, as if the comment offended her. "Nonsense. You should not even be here, child. And as for them," she waved a hand dismissively at the three other Assassins, who were standing before the bed now, cowls drawn up on their heads and weapons ready, "they cannot oppose me. I am a god in here."

A whimpered moan suddenly cut through the tension; Desmond curled up in a ball, hands going up towards his head. A green glow encircled Juno, and she suddenly found her strength sapped, her powers all but gone. Malik gathered the boy into his chest while she screamed with rage, singing under his breath to lure the boy back into the deeper stages of sleep. Desmond's furrowed brow relaxed again, his body following suit until he was nestled up against the elder's chest without complaint. The glow died then, leaving Juno aware that somehow, the boy had detected her and negated her threat.

She was now completely disarmed. She was also standing in a room with three very pissed off ancestors, who were stepping towards her with a predator's grace, forcing her away from the boy's core and upwards, into distant memories. Altair bared his teeth again in a savage grin, and Juno felt something like a flutter of alarm travel up her spine. She had to escape. She had to get out before--

Ezio suddenly lunged, forcing her to sidestep and pushing her back into the early memories of one Altair Ibn La' Ahad.

Aww...you flatter me. :) May or may not get another chapter out tonight (been a long day so brain is starting to go), but on the last leg of this fic so it's a race to the finish line. :D

...mostly 'cause I won't have a lot of time soon. Haytham Lee fic will be on a different update schedule.

But yes, he may have been imprisoned within his mind, but he had the memories of everyone he's ever loved with him, remembered slowly through Clipper and Doctor White untiring work to bring him back. //hugs Clipper and Doctor White//

No problem. A part of me is depressed that Charles' story is coming to an end but eager to read Haytham Lee's since he ends up shifting the balance of power from the Templars back to the Assassins. Also, wondering will Clipper and James have children?

Haven't quite decided on whether Clipper or James will have children. :)

A part of me wants them to have at least one kid (who can be Haytham Lee's friend and first recruit), but another part of me thinks that Clipper and James would be cute just growing older together, without any children.

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