I have just finished playing Assassin's Creed III and fallen deeply in love with Haytham. He's just so wonderful with his sarcasm, swag and bad-assery that I can't get enough of him. So I couldn't stop myself from starting this story which just appeared on a page without me knowing what the hell was going on. Let me know what you thing (if anyone bothers to read this), hope you like it.
Oh, and by the way, a few changes might happen now and then because I'm busy reading Forsaken and if anything jumps out at me shouting "WHAT YOU WROTE IS WRONG!" then I'll come back and change it. But if that happens I'll let you know. Oh, and I've rated this as T. I'm rubbish at rating so if you think it should be something else, please let me know.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, blocking out the sounds of the men shouting and laughing, the sound of feet stomping, fists thumping, drink falling to the floor and the rats scuttling. I focused on my target, his breathing pattern, the noise his feet made when they touched the ground, quickening, getting nearer to me. He chuckled under his breath, expecting this to be an easy win, and he thumped his fists together. When I opened my eyes, I saw him smirking at me with his chapped lips, staring at me through his chocolate brown eyes. Drops of sweat trickled down his bald head and landed on his naked shoulders, covered in sand and dirt from the floor of the small, circular arena we were facing each other in. It was dark and the light of the dozens of candles danced on his face making him seem wicked and crazed as I scanned his body for weaknesses.

The scar than ran down his left side had fully healed, but he had a bruised abdomen. His naked feet were sore from the rough floor and his right fist had taken a battering from the previous fights. His groin was left unprotected, leaving open the easiest door for injury. It had taken me all of two seconds for my diagnosis and just as I finished, his right foot stepped in front of his left, and I knew the fight had started. He aimed for my face with his right fist and I immediately lifted my left arm to block his attack, striking his hard stomach with my right fist. It hurt, of course it did. I lifted my gaze and noticed how much taller he was, as my eyes were level with his neck.

And then we danced to the sound of the crowd cheering and jeering, hungry for violence and thirsty for blood as we punched, tackled and hit each other. He threw me onto the ground and attempted to jump onto me, but I rolled over and onto his back, attempting to strangle him but he was too strong and sent me flying into the wooden panels marking the edge of the arena. He came at me again and I ducked, lifting my feet into the air and as he ran at me, and my feet collided with his groin as he let out a groan of pain, falling to his knees. I smirked at him as I stood, kicking him in his bruised abdomen, earning another puff of pain from the sweaty man.

I circled him, smiling widely as I watched him curse at me, spit flying out of his mouth and landing on the sand. I looked around to see men exchange money, men shouting at me that I finish him, other shouting that my opponent get up and teach me a lesson. And there, at the back, was a greyish, navy-blue tricorne hat. It looked expensive, with golden-brown stitching and edges, with a sun-shaped button on the side. The man himself was hidden behind the large crowd in front of him, and as I moved to get a better view, my opponent used the opportunity to tackle me to the ground and hold me down. « Now you're going to pay. » He menaced as he head butted me painfully. I struggled to push him off but it was no use, he weighed about twice as much as I did and it was all muscle. My nose started bleeding with the next punch and I groaned in pain when he hit me in the stomach. Thinking he had won, he eased off and lifted his arms in victory.

Seizing the moment I pushed myself off the ground, punched him as hard as I possibly could and felt the bone in his nose break. He cried out in pain and grabbed his bleeding nose as I wiped the blood off of my lips. I kicked him in the groin for the second time and swiftly ducked behind him to avoid his aim, grabbed his arms and pulled them behind him back so that he could no longer move. I kneed him in the back and he cried out again and I let go of my hold on him, and he fell in a heap on the ground. He could no longer fight and the crowd cheered as I raised my arms in victory, a grin appearing on my face. I exited the ring and grabbed the large sack of gold that was my payment, already thinking of the clean clothes and warm food that I'd finally be able to buy.

The next match had already started and I was forgotten as I made my way through the crowd to the back, where I had left my weathered brown coat and sword. As I grabbed my belongings, I caught sight of the expensive hat again as it's owner exited the building alongside the manager of the establishment. Curiosity got the best of me and I followed them outside onto the busy streets of Boston. The man was indeed rich by the look of him: he was dressed in white trousers, black leather boots and an expensive knee-length coat matching his hat, with red cuffs. His cape also screamed money as it flapped around his body in the wind, revealing the gold-plated sword and lavishly decorated gun held around his waist. I walked past him, pretending to pay no attention to him as I made my way back home. But in actual fact my ears were focusing on his voice, trying to get as much information as I could. He had just arrived in America if his untouched English accent was anything to go by. His clothes and accent indicated money, importance, and the way he stood meant he was proud and probably arrogant. « …could bring it to Charles as soon as you could, maybe I will think about letting you… » was all I managed to hear in the brief time I passed him. He was telling John, the manager, to bring something to someone called Charles, but what, and why? What would that enable him to do? He was important then, if he was giving orders to people and deciding what they could and couldn't do.

I pondered on the man as I made my way through the streets. I eventually turned a corner and climbed up the side of an abandoned building and onto it's roof. Checking that no one had seen my, I dropped inside the hole in the roof and landed with a quiet thud. I dusted myself off and went into the next room, dropping the sack of money onto the bed and taking my coat off. I looked in the mirror to inspect my bloodied face, but it wasn't too bad. I poured some of the water I had stacked in the corner of the room into a metal basin on the table I had pushed against the wall in front of the mirror, grabbed the cloth I used to clean myself with and washed the blood off my face. Satisfied with the result, I cleaned the cloth out and emptied the basin out of the window. I then stripped myself of clothes until I was left in nothing but a large white undershirt I had stolen from the captain of a merchant ship a few weeks before, and got into bed.

I was up and out by dawn the next day, and rode on the back my friend Edmund's cart all the way to Homestead. He was an Irish farmer, a stocky brown haired, brown eyed jovial man who had been my friend for the last four years. I jumped off the cart when we reached the manor house and waved goodbye to my friend. I spotted seven-year old Connor playing in the garden and he waved at me as I made my way up to the front door. « Daddy's in the stables! » He shouted, and I thanked him and changed my course to the stables. Achilles was brushing his white horse down when I joined him. He had dark skin because his mother came from the Caribbean by what I understood, but he was a free man and happily married to a beautiful blonde Welsh woman called Abigail. Achilles had kindly taken me in when I had arrived in New America and had given me everything I had ever needed despite my horrible rebel attitude I had adopted since I had lost my family.

« Good morning! » I sung as I patted his horse happily, flashing a bright smile.

« Good morning Eleanor. » He smiled back, continuing with his grooming. « It's good that you're here, I have some more information for you. » He commented as I sat on one of the carts of hay that were lying around in the stables.

« Oh? » I asked, not paying much attention. « I might have some information of use to you as well. » I said disinterestedly, pulling bits of hay out of the cart I was sitting on the pass the time. « I saw someone odd last night. British he was, and rich. He was giving orders to John, sounded like he was threatening him actually. »

« Then we might be talking about the same man. » Achilles said gravely, catching my attention. « Haytham Kenway is his name, and he's the one who formed the American Templar order last year. Come, we'll talk about it somewhere more private. »

I followed Achilles into his house, up the stairs and down into the secret basement where I had spent years training. I had arrived in New America when I was only twelve, alone and homeless. Achilles had taken me in, gave me a roof over my head and food on my plate. I picked fights with a lot of the young boys around and when I was seventeen, he told me about his position in what was called the Assassin Order and what they were fighting for and I couldn't not join. That was ten years ago and now I was living in an abandoned house, earning money from bare-knuckle boxing, or what we called 'prize fighting'. There were no rules other than the victor wins if the opponent cannot fight for thirty seconds. There were no other rules, no weight limits, and no referee, and people sometimes died. When I wasn't fighting in the ring, I was out on missions for Achilles, who was now the Assassin Mentor. I had never really given much thought to my life. I did what I did because I enjoyed it and because it seemed the right thing to do at the time, but I rarely looked back upon anything. I was head first, loud mouthed and sarcastic, and I didn't care about anything or anyone.

Achilles pulled a chair out and sat down at the table, inviting me to join him. « So this man you saw, describe him to me. »

« Tall, dark haired and of posh English background. He had a tricorne hat and a matching long jacket, military style. » I pictured him standing in the darkened corner of the door out in the streets of Boston with only the moonlight shining on him, making his face impossible for me to make out.

« Seems like this is the one we want. » Achilles cleared his throat. « As I said, his name is Haytham Kenway. He was sent here by Reginald Birch, the grand master himself, to organize an official Templar organisation in the New World. If we take him down, then it will make the job of taking the others down much easier. » He explained as I listened carefully, taking everything in.

« Where does he live? I'll get on it straight away. » I asked, straightening myself, but Achilles laughed.

« You don't honestly think you can just go for him and kill him do you? He's intelligent and well guarded, and an excellent fighter. » He warned me.

« I can fight. » I retorted. I hated being told I wasn't good enough, I thought I was the best at everything I attempted. Call me arrogant, I didn't care.

« No Eleanor. Be wary of him, and stay away. The same goes for his second in command, an army lieutenant named Charles Lee. But in the mean time, your target is Silas Thatcher. He's a vile man who deals with slavery and torture. You'll find him at the Southgate Fort in Boston. » Achilles informed me, and I nodded.

I took my leave shortly afterwards, and went back to Boston where I met up with Mary, my friend Edmund's wife. She was a couple of years younger than me but she acted like my older sister, trying to make me wear dresses and act like a woman. But we got along well and we enjoyed teasing Edmund when he wasn't working. She was short, and had flowing golden hair and bright blue eyes that were the same colour as the ocean. That day, Mary proposed I accompany her on her daily rounds, which I gladly accepted as I was desperate to spend some of the money I had won last night.

« Oh good, you'll finally be able to afford a pretty dress! » She smiled, eyeing the huge sack of gold I took out of my pocket. « You could actually look rather beautiful if you did something with your hair instead of tying it up like that. » She fussed, making me groan in frustration.

« I don't want to look beautiful Mary, it's not practical. » I huffed. « But I do need to buy some clean clothes, these ones are rather tacky and disgusting now. » I said, waving at myself. Sure enough, my brown trousers were torn and tainted with blood, my shirt was pink where the blood had stained it in the wash and my coat was muddy and torn with age. I was well aware that I looked a mess but I didn't have the money to do much about it. I used to rent a room at one of the inn's which took almost all of my money, which is why I had since moved out into the abandoned house. And this was the first income I received since then, so I was full of joy at the prospect of finally being able to clean myself up a bit, because I did care about what I looked like. Just not in the way Mary thought I should.

« Did Edmund tell you this morning? » She asked whilst we bought fish at one of the markets in the harbour.

« Tell me what? » I sniffed at the fruit on the table and decided against it, preferring to pick up some meat at one of the other market stalls later.

« I'm expecting. » She beamed at me.

« Expecting what? » I shrugged, looking at some of the other food that was displayed for us.

« A baby of course! » She laughed, taking me off guard.

« What? » I grinned. « You and Edmund? A baby? Oh that's fantastic! » We giggled and hugged in the street, causing a few people around us to either laugh or swear at us. I grabbed her hands and waved them in the air like a child as I sung « Mary's having a baby, Mary's having a baby! »

We quickly finished with the market and carried our shopping back to her house, and then headed to the local clothing store. I skipped past the woman's clothing and inspected the men's, settling on an expensive outfit that I simply couldn't refuse myself. A sparkling white shirt with lace around the collar and sleeves that I wore over skin tight light brown trousers. I had chosen not to buy the vest, but I did buy the long grey coat with gold buttons and green trimmings around the collar and sleeves. I had also bought a new leather belt to hold my sword and knives and, after taking a bath and dressing in my new clothes, I looked at myself in the mirror and grinned.

I had left my hair down, so that the long fiery red waves hung around my face down past my shoulders, matching the gold on my coat and the brown trousers perfectly, making my eyes look as green as grass. My skin was once again clean and pale apart from the few brown freckles on my nose and cheeks, making me look younger than twenty-six years old. I was happy with what I looked like for the first time in a long time, and beamed in pride as I joined Mary for tea in her living room.

« You look like one of them British captains. » She nagged me, knowing I didn't like them. « Or a pirate. » She laughed as she sipped her drink.

« I'd much rather look like a pirate. At least they are fun. » I winked. « I'd probably make a good one actually, if I wasn't sick at sea. » I laughed, sending Mary into hysterical laughing. It never took much for her to laugh that much, and I enjoyed it. Her laugh was beautiful.

After lunch, I said my goodbyes and started making my way to the Southgate Fort, mentally readying myself for the assassination. The sky had changed for the worse and it was looking like it was going to rain, unfortunately, and I shivered a little as the cold wind blew my coat open. For once, I decided on a more subtle approach instead of the full on attack that I usually preferred. So, I had to find a way in. I frowned as I walked through the streets deep in thought. How would I get into the fort without being detected? There were guards everywhere, I knew it because I went past it every time I went to see Achilles. So how? Unless you were one of them there was no way in, and I was a woman so pretending to be one of them was out of the question. Damn it, this was difficult.

« Come on, hurry up, hurry up! These slaves need to be taken to Southgate, quickly now! » A man was shouting orders from around the corner. My ears pricked up at the sound of it and I made my way towards it. Peeking around the corner, I spotted a convoy getting ready, a native American woman chained to the front next to the driver, and several European prisoners were being loaded into the back. I stifled a laugh at how perfect the opportunity was and quickly formed a plan. There was no way I would pass as a prisoner dressed in my new clothes and I sighed. My old ones would have been perfect. Looking around, I cursed and decided to duck behind a few barrels and change back into my old dirty trousers and pink-because-of-the-blood shirt. I stuffed my new clothes in a bag and climbed onto the roof of a building. Pulling off a few roof tiles, I hid the bag in the roof and replaced the tiles, hoping that no one would find it whilst I was on my mission. I jumped down and, while no one was watching, jumped into the cart with the other prisoners.

There were five men in there, all dressed in dirty clothes just like me and when I sat in the corner, hiding my face from the guards, they all looked at me curiously, wondering why I would choose to put myself in such a position. « Don't talk. I need to get into the fort and this is a disguise. Don't say a word. » I breathed quietly, looking at them all in turn to make sure they understood. They all nodded, a puzzled look in their eyes but they kept their silence nonetheless, of which I was glad.

The rain started just as the convoy started moving and it seemed to take forever as we passed through the streets of Boston which I had come to know so well. I sighed with boredom, drumming my fingers on the side of the wagon as I looked out to where we were headed. I knew that once inside the fort, I'd have to find a way to get out as soon as possible. There were a lot of bushes inside which I could use as cover, and then all I'd need to do is find Silas and kill him. I nodded to myself as I decided it was the best, or rather only plan with any sense and, just as I looked up, an attack was launched on the convoy.

I stood up and looked out through the bars and immediately recognised the man from the boxing arena, the man Achilles called Haytham Kenway. He and half a dozen other people massacred everyone from the convoy in only a few minutes. They then stripped the men of their uniforms and put them on. I was completely confused, why would the Templars want to infiltrate the fort? What could they possibly want from it? By what Achilles had told me about their beliefs, I would have thought that they would agree with Silas and his slavery, so, as Haytham took the driver's place next to the native American, I listened to their conversation, curiosity taking over.

« We're here to help you, along with those held inside Southgate fort. » He said in his posh English voice. It was a deep voice, one that could easily be used as an advantage for him to get what he wanted. But why did he want to help prisoners? What was in it for him? « I'll see you safe. You have my word. » He then said after a quick chatter with the woman. I bit my lip in frustration, not understanding what was going on. As we set off, the danger of my situation suddenly hit me. I wasn't just up against the Fort's guards anymore, I was up against the grand master of the Templar order and his cronies. Maybe it would be a better idea to forget the assassination and leave it for another day…

Kenway continued to speak to the woman, asking her for information on the Fort, trying to get an idea of what to expect. My initial deduction about him being new to America was correct then, he hadn't been here long otherwise he would have known about the Fort. We nearly got caught at one point, but the guards were assassinated at Kenway's command and the convoy continued it's passage. I had to admit, his tactics were good but he struck me as lazy when all he did was sit there and give out commands. Couldn't he just do it himself? I suppose that's why he was a Templar, he liked the power and the prospect of getting others to do your dirty work.

The rain stopped as we arrived at the Fort and another half dozen of guards were taken down at Kenway's orders. I grew nervous as I wondered how I would get myself out of this situation once we had passed through the gates. Curse Kenway and his interruption, my assassination would have gone perfectly smoothly if he hadn't intervened! I sighed angrily, attracting the attention to the other prisoners, but before they could question me the cart stopped as we entered the Fort. « See? I'm freeing you just as I said I would. » I heard Kenway say. « Now, if you'll allow me to explain… » He started, but I saw the woman run off into the fields. I smirked. She was good.

The Templars decided what to do about her, and Kenway told them to leave her, which surprised me yet again. He seemed far more human than I'd imagined him to be. Somehow I had pictured him as a bloodthirsty tyrant who kills everyone and anyone. When asked what the plan was, he said « Free the captives and avoid detection. » He announced happily.

« What of Silas? » One of his men asked him.

« He dies. » Kenway replied and my mouth fell open. So many questions flooded into my mind, from why he wanted him dead to why wouldn't he want him dead. The door to the cart opened and the men made their way to freedom just as the native woman had, but I hesitated. I looked round to see the six Templars march into the camp, completely carefree. I took a step towards freedom, telling myself that I was in too much danger, that it wasn't worth risking my life and that Kenway was going to kill Silas anyway. So yes, I could go. But for some reason my feet didn't listen to me and I found myself ducking into the long grass and following them. Maybe I could wait until Kenway killed Silas, and then kill Kenway. After all, he was the grand master and as Achilles said, if he dies, then the rest of the Templars would fall apart and we'd be able to pick them off one by one. It was a perfect opportunity, and he didn't even know I was there. Only a sane person would refuse such an opportunity, and I certainly wasn't sane.

There was a small bay of water on the left leading towards the ship, so I headed for there and stayed hidden in the long grass behind a tent as I watched Kenway walked through the camp as if he owned it. I lost view of him for a minute and then he reappeared, heading for another part rather close to me. He ducked into the grass just as I had, and closed in on a guard before slitting his throat. My eyes widened when he then got up, freed the six prisoners and walked back into the camp as if nothing had happened. Jealousy grew inside of me as I wished I could do what he did, but I knew I never could because I was a woman. Curse being a woman! Men had it easy.

Kenway walked over to the ship, killed off another guard and climbed onto the ship. I stayed hidden behind a nearby wall, looking over my shoulder every few seconds out of paranoia. I couldn't see what was going on up there and it drove me crazy. Was Silas on that ship, or was Kenway just freeing some more prisoners? But before I could do anything else, guards were flooding the area and attacking the Templars. Kenway ran up and joined his brothers and started fighting his way up towards the entrance of the Fort where the barracks were. I noticed a small black figure pointing and ordering people from up above and knew that it was Silas. So, the only way to get to him was to fight, and if Kenway was up for it, then so was I. I had to keep an eye on him if I was going to kill him once Silas was dead. So I swallowed, took out the long knives I had hidden in my boots and joined in the fighting, jumping onto the back of one of Silas's guard and slicing his neck open.

« Who the hell are you? » Barked one of the Templars.

« Does it matter? I'm help. » I shouted at him, lunging at another guard, disarming him and plunging the bayonet through his heart. Three of the redcoats aimed at me with their guns and I grabbed the nearest man to me and held him in front of me to protect myself from the fire. In the corner of my eye I saw Kenway make his escape and run towards the Fort's walls, so I let the dead soldier fall from my hold and ran after him. He shot me a harsh look as I climbed the wall next to him, but we were confronted with more guards when we got to the top, so we fought with our backs to each other in silence. Suddenly, Kenway lunged for a man dressed in a similar outfit to the other men but in brown and head butted him. As I ended the life of the last guard, I turned to watch the scene between Kenway and Silas as the slave master was on his knees.

« Name's Haytham Kenway. You don't know me but I believe the two of you are well acquainted. » He said gravely, as one of Kenway's men joined us with a very angry look on his face.

« I made a promise to you Silas, one I intend to keep. » He loaded his gun and shot Silas dead. I took a deep breath and held my knives tighter in my hand. I had to strike fast if I was to end Kenway's life. But the appearance of this other man made me hesitate. Would I be able to take them both on?

« And who might you be? » Kenway asked as he took a step towards me. « With fighting skills like that, you can't just be any prisoner. »

« I'm not a prisoner. » I retorted without thinking, immediately regretting it. I had no cover anymore.

« Then who are you? » He asked again, staring down at me. He certainly was tall.

« Eleanor. » I said simply. « I wanted that man dead. Didn't know anyone else did. » I stared defiantly into his greyish green eyes.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked slightly, turning to his friend. « Benjamin, free the prisoners. We are done here. » He ordered, walking over to the wall to look out onto the camp.

« What about her? » He asked, waving at me as I stood there, still clutching my knives.

« Let the Assassin go. » Kenway sighed, not even glancing our way.

« Assassin? » The man called Benjamin asked. « You mean she's - »

« Our enemy, yes. » Kenway sounded annoyed at the man's questions and turned to stare at me once again. « Now let her go. »

« But sir, shouldn't we - » Benjamin continued and I noticed Kenway's features harden.

« She's young and ignorant. And she helped us. We shall kill her another day. » Kenway said forcefully, staring harshly at his friend, who only nodded and waved towards the exit for me to leave.

I silently walked over to the stairs to leave, my heart pounding heavily in my chest. How did he know who I was? And why was he letting me go? « I'm not that young, Kenway. » I spat angrily, unable to contain myself as I turned around to face the grand master. « Nor am I ignorant. »

I turned and stalked off to safety, not having missed the small smirk that grew on his lips as I answered him. The man was truly a mystery to me and I didn't like it. Not only did I not know what his motivations were, but he seemed to know a lot about me, which compromised my position as an unknown assassin. I'd have to report back to Achilles straight away, maybe he'd be able to give me some advice. Either way, I realised that if Kenway had wanted me dead, would already be dead.