A/N: Hi. Yeah, I know, it's been a long ass time. Sorry about that but I've been busy with work and stuff. I barely even started on a new Final Fantasy VII story, you know? Anyway, I have a favor to ask for any people very good and nitpicky with historical accuracies during which took place in the Crusades era, would you guys give a girl some help? I know some things but not a lot, and I want to add some history just now and then so nothing seems out of place. Also, culture shock for Gabe to go through. While I know for sure that people like ISIS and Al-Qaeda have nothing to do with the religion of the people from the Middle-East, I still hear about the rights (or lack thereof) of women. As much as I would like to make Gabe a cool girl who feels above that, she's just a girl from a different century and this was just back then when women were treated like property and nothing but objects for men. Anyway, I hope you will like this chapter, however short it is, and will leave advice to help make it semi historically accurate. Thank you and enjoy!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Ubisoft's Assassin's Creed franchise; Gabrielle and several original characters belong to me.

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Falling in the Plains of Time

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"This solution leads nowhere."

"This solution might lead to better advantage."

"By a few percentages. Few of which would be wasted should this continue."

"... There is little left we can do at this point."

"And? You think this option the best over what we—"

"It's called... having faith."

…

"Faith?"

"We are much more than that, yes, but there is something, you must admit, that happens when we least expect it. A miscalculation that always leaps beyond our expectations."

"... You suggest I put this so-called faith into work against the odds overwhelming us? To have faith that this little plan will become a huge benefactor for us all?"

"... Yes. Because I have faith in this to work."

The ocean, I could smell it.

I even remembered the sounds, like when the waves would climb up and down the shores, smaller waves crashing down on the surface with splashes as they reached for the beach. The seagulls, the white birds that constantly cried out as they flew overhead to picked at whatever unlucky person that brought food for them to pluck away from.

Yet, I wondered, whatever was I doing near the ocean? As far as I was concerned, I can't remember when mom took me and the boys to drive to the nearest coast to us so we could enjoy ourselves swimming under the sun—

I felt my skin jump when something wrapped themselves around my biceps and forced me on my feet. My body followed after the tug, my feet dragging along but not reacting accordingly since it left me to be dragged around like some ragged doll. Did I fall asleep in the backseat, too busy dreaming about the ocean outside that mom finally got tired of waiting for me to get up and decided to throw me in to finally wake me up?

I could imagine Cole and Drake snickering in the background.

I felt myself smiling, not minding at all that I would be thrown into the ocean by my own mother who was normally more mature than that.

I felt hands that had held me up push me roughly forward, and I waited to feel impact against water—

THUD!

"Oof!" I gasped as I landed harshly against a hard floor.

And all at once, I heard people break out into laughter. It wasn't good-natured or anything of the like, it was harsh, cruel, and it felt like they were sneering down at me. Opening my eyes, I was met with a wooden floorboard, and I slowly lifted my eyes to find many people surrounding me. They all... they all looked odd. They dressed themselves in clothes I've only seen in historical documents, movies, and text books: their tunics, armor, and dirty appearance made me think of one thing.

"Am I dreaming?" I whispered to myself.

I let out a yelp when something grabbed a tight hold of my one shoulder, their fingers digging into my muscles that it left me in pain from the vulnerable muscles being squeezed. I strangled out chocked noises of pain as I turned my head slightly (which was painful) to see the cause. A tall man with bright blond hair and blue eyes stared down at me with a cold, cruel smile on his bristled lips.

"Ah, so the little Fräulein is awake, finally!"

His English was very good despite his German accent, and I could only stare at him in confusion rather than reply to his strange words. When ever have I left with this man and his merry band of assholes? I was shaken out of my thoughts, wincing when his gloved fingers dug themselves more into my poor shoulder.

"Stop, please stop," I whimpered out, my teeth clenched tight at the pain. My hands shot up to grab the man by his wrist to rip away his claw-like grip, but it was fruitless. My weak hands couldn't even make his own budge.

It made him only laugh which made everyone else laugh. I hissed when I was forced up on my feet by the grip, my legs trembled at the threat of falling but I held on as much as I could while I was forced to walk with the German leading me somewhere.

A city in shambles, the waves crashing against the stone walls, and the ships seemingly tangled together when pressed against boardwalks. I could even see the seagulls screeching in the air as they circled the city from above. The world looked dull, gray, and lifeless as the people that I could see in the harbors.

"Welcome to your new home, Gabriel," the German said as he meanly ruffled the top of my head which made me wince and hiss in pain.

"Gabriel?" I echoed. "I'm not Gabriel!"

At least, that's not how my name was pronounced. Gabrielle sounded like Gah-Bree-El, Gabriel was Gay-Bree-El. This issue had always followed me since the beginning, and it was a tick that developed over the years from being tired of correcting people the pronunciations of my name. I scowled when the German laughed at me.

"Ah, trying to pull one over us? While amusing, I'm afraid you're a bit late on the lies seeing as we're already outside of English territory, Fräulein. Besides, if you think anyone would come and save you, Mikael is long dead. Or have you forgotten?"

All I could do was stare up at the blond man in more confusion. What in the world was he talking about?

"Who the hell is Mikael?" I couldn't stop myself from snapping at the bigger man. "I don't know who you are, but you can't do this! And stop playing around, this isn't funny!"

My head was pounding in the back and I didn't even know why. When the German had ruffled my head earlier, it hurt. Just when I was about to feel for it in the back, I gasped when I felt the German shake me roughly by gripping at the collar my shirt—a dirty white shirt I don't even remember putting on, in fact.

"Do not take us for fools, little one," the German snarled at me. "My men and I have come a very long way, and while we couldn't find the rest of your family, you will suffice! So do not try and play coy with me, understand?"

While he had been shaking me, he snaked a hand against the top of my head and pulled warningly against hair.

"Stop, stop it! Don't do that, my head hurts!" I hissed in pain as I pushed his gloves away. "I'm not playing anything!"

The German thankfully pulled away his hand, only to pause when something left a dark stain against his leather gloves. With surprising care, the German forced me to turn my head so he could comb my hair away for him to inspect the back of my throbbing head. I flinched when I heard him suddenly hiss out in foreign words, and I whirled around to see him with an ugly look on his face.

He turned away from me, shouting loudly which made people pause from what they were doing. Not long after, a big man appeared and my eyes widened in recognition. That was the man I though had appeared from an awful nightmare, some crazy guy that chained me to his wooden basement floor to torture and assault me. Now, I was on what was an old ship and his boss and cohorts dressed in medieval get-ups. He looked much more meaner in the light, with his bald head full of scars, his dire need to shave the awful shadow on in his jaw, and the scowl that seemed to be a constant scar on his thick lips.

I watched warily as the man eyed me but snapped to attention when the German smacked his chest to get him to focus back to his commanding superior. The German was speaking rapidly in his language, giving little time for the bigger, bald man to reply. They kept throwing looks in my direction, and I knew, from the way the other men were backing away, that things were pretty much downhill for the unfortunate big brute..

I jumped when the German whipped his framed to face where I stood, taking a menacing step towards me with a flushed and intense look on his once composed features.

"You! How old are you?!" he demanded.

"I... I..." I tried to say, but nothing was coming out. It was like something was holding my vocal chords hostage and I was reduced to stuttering.

"What did you say to me when we first met?!" he continued on, ignoring my tied-up tongue.

"I, I don't know..." I shook my head, backing away.

He continued on. "What was your mother's name?! What city were you born?! How many people have you helped kill—"

"I never killed anyone!" I shouted at him, horrified that he would make such accusations.

"What was the last thing your father said to you before Robert de Sablé killed him?"

'What?'

My father never died in such a way. I never heard of this Robert person, but there was no way this guy killed my dad. I know. I had seen what had really happened to my dear old dad...

Without a word, the German drew a sword from somewhere on his side, and I stepped away from him fearfully when his eyes focused solely on me. He raised the sharp weapon and I screamed when he brought it down.

There was blood everywhere, and I felt it splash across my face.

The blond German stared down at the body that was sprawled on the deck of the vessel, watched the blood quickly spreading over the wooden deck and giving an irritated glower from the mess it would be to clean up. He gave the body an uncaring kick to the ribs before returning his broadsword back to its sheath.

"Dump this useless sow off my ship." he ordered quietly, breaking the still air.

Slowly, a few men approached and lifted the corpse to carry to the side of the ship, and without much care, threw the limp body into the sea and watched it plunge deep into its depths. Back on the main deck, the German walked to the other side of the rail and let out a breath as he stared at the city made of stone before him.

"You best pray that you start remembering real soon, Fräulein. My superiors have no patience, and they want their answers."

The German walked away as I was left alone, standing near the rails where I felt the warm flecks of the blood that splattered on me turn cool against my clothes and face. I continued to stare at the bloody puddle in the middle of the ship's floorboards while the ship began to dock.