HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY GUYS!

I WANNA SAY THANKS FOR PUSHING ON TO READ CATHERINE'S STORY. I WILL WRITE UP A SUMMARY OF WHAT HAPPEN IN THE LAST BOOK, BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS SECTION OF CATHERINE'S STORY.

I am excited about this because it will be dividing into the American Revolution, I have so much plan for this! Gah. ENJOY GUYS!

-Moon

Also, side note. I am sorry about the weird update! I uploaded the wrong doc!

Haytham Kenway knew not the struggles of being a parent. He'd watch Shay dote on his toddler. He could still remember meeting Mrs. Cormac in the parlor of the New York headquarters. The mother was in rough shape, her left eye was bruised with a split lip. She was sitting on a settee with her child in her lap, playing with a toy lamb in her arms.

There was a time where he had met this woman a few years back, it involved memories that he did not wish to revisit. He never received the woman's full name, but he assumed that her first name was Rose.

He never realized who this woman was until he saw the pooling brown eyes of the toddler. Recognizing the shape and color, Haytham knew he was standing before Shay's small family. When Shay had made his way back into the Templar headquarters, he embraced his wife. His daughter fell into his arms at the sight of him. They listen to Rose's story of how after Shay left.

Before Shay had dropped in a weekend visit with his wife. His brother-in-law showed up threatening his younger sister by taking away his niece. Rose hid the fact from her husband, hoping there wouldn't be eyes on her house.

The woman was wrong. In the midst of the night while Rose was asleep with her daughter in the same bed. She explained that she heard a crash, a few men in the cloak of darkness, roughed her up and tried to snatch her daughter. Using her skills as a trained Assassin, she fought them off to give herself time to escape.

Shay held his wife in his arms as she sobbed in his arms. They were sobs of relief from the stress she endured.

Haytham stepped up to promise that the woman would be safe with her child in the confines of the headquarters.

Haytham thought it was the last of it until a sickness had hit young Catherine. He had been the one to witnessed her collapse.

Haytham dreaded being alone with the young child. The Grandmaster stepped out of his study to take a breath of fresh air. He had a book tucked under his arm to read in the walled garden, hoping for a moment to himself. Until he discovered the child wandering the halls alone. Haytham glanced around for the child's mother, wondering where Rose was.

He didn't feel right about leaving the toddler unattended. The man stepped up behind the young child. He paused, unsure of how to address the child. She turned around to face the Grandmaster, she smiled holding up a cookie that she was eating.

"Cookie?" She offered him breaking it in half, offering the other side that didn't have a bite in it.

He waved his hand away, "No." Haytham spread a smile across his lips. "What's the name of your friend?" On the table was a tiny wooden horse, he had assumed that the toy belonged to her.

"Apple, because of horses like apples." She said in a matter of a fact tone. "Papa bought it for me

Haytham broke a chuckle. "Of course. You're a smart girl." He put the toy back into her hand. "Where is your mother, might I ask?" He had sent out Shay on a mission to take care of a gang stronghold earlier in the day.

"Sleeping. She's tired from our trip..the bad men hurt her badly, but she beat them up."

Haytham hesitated before touching her shoulder, "Let's go find someone to watch you for a while. Your mother is exhausted."

She nodded before taking a bite out of her cookie. "Can't I stay with you until papa comes back?"

Haytham groans a little as he scratched the back of his neck. He couldn't use work as an excuse since he just stepped out of his study. The Grandmaster sighed, it wouldn't hurt that she was in the same place as him. It would be until he could pass her onto her father when he returned.

Haytham stood watching the girl turned away and started to take off running. He groaned internally but smiled. She was a charming girl he admitted. Haytham went to follow Catherine until he noticed the child went to a dead stop, trying to catch her breath.

"Catherine?" He voiced concern as he hurried over to the toddler. She dropped to her knees trying to catch her breath.

The grand master patted her back hard trying to break up the coughs, thinking she was chocking onto her cookie. Haytham felt fluster as he tried to open her airway. The coughing turned into dry heaves, Catherine retched up food from her stomach. Foam came bubbling out of her mouth, Haytham held the small child in her arms.

He picked up her in one swoop, a sicking thought popped into his head. Someone had poisoned a child.

Haytham yelled for help, hoping someone could hear him. He cursed for sending away Benjamin Church yesterday.

The last moments were in a frenzy with a servant running forward, he yelled at the poor woman to go fetch a doctor. He told another to fetch her mother as he picked up the child.

What Haytham suspected came to pass, Catherine Cormac had indeed been poison. Shay Cormac was in shock to come home to find his wife sobbing over the bedside of their daughter. The Grandmaster of the Colonial rite approached him to try to find a solution.

Shay knew the culprit of such a tacit but was surprised that they stooped to poison a child. Shay gave a promising kiss to his wife that their only child would be well before she succumbed to her illness.

The two men storm Hope Jensen's manor in New York. The information they had gathered pointed the Templars to the direction of her. Haytham reassured that Shay would focus on finding the antidote to the poison. Shay went after Hope in agreement since it was believed that Hope was in possession of the artifact.

In the end, Haytham had found it in the west wing of the expensive mansion. It was in a smaller lab near Hope's private study. The small vile was amongst journals and herbs. A letter of evidence pointed out that Hope had been the one to hatch the plan of killing the toddler and mother.

The Grandmaster snatched the vile and raced out of the manor, hoping Shay would be along within the hour. Excitement had exploded in front of the manor between the British soldiers and Hope's gang members. Haytham guarded himself against any attack as he raced through the night back to Fort Arsenal.

To Haytham's relief, the little girl shed hallow breaths as her mother laid in bed next to her. Quiet prayers of hope escaped the mother's lips as she awaited the return of her husband and Haytham. She sat up to see the man standing the threshold of the room.

"Do you have it?" Rose gasped clutching the front of her shirt.

Haytham produced the vile in front of the mother. "I do." He whisked across the room to give it to the child. "Tilt her head back." He popped the cork as Rose held her child's head back, opening her lips a little. The Grandmaster pushed the vile to the child's pale lips, watching the liquid pour down her throat.

Rose pet her child's hair. "Who did this?"

"Hope Jensen."

Rose didn't look phased by this set of information, but outraged. "Why?"

Haytham reached into his pocket to pull out the evidence. "It seems your brother arranged it."

Rose took the letter away from him to read it with her own eyes.

She stood there frozen, nothing but tears filled her eyes. "My brother wants me dead along with my child. Just because I choose my husband over my loyalties. I understand my own death, but a child...his own blood." Rose glanced at the child, her breathing picked back to normal. "You saved my daughter's life. I never trusted the lot of you, I will probably never will, but thank you."

Haytham nodded, "your welcome." He understood her hesitation towards him and the other Templars. "I am surprised though that you have chosen your husband over your brother."

She was once an assassin, after all, he didn't trust her either, but she was Shay's wife. Rose knew very well what could have happened if she showed up in different circumstances. She risked her own life for the sake of her child.

"My brother isn't the person I knew growing up. I made a vow to my husband in front of God to stand by him. When I thought Shay had died, my world shattered. I watch them shoot him cold blood because he spoke out against Achilles. I watched him fall to the icy waters below, I was still pregnant with Catherine when I saw it." Rose looked upon her sleeping daughter whose skin was turning back to its normal shade. "They are both resilient."

The Grandmaster listens to the words that Mrs. Cormac spoke. The words ranged true for herself.

"Father like daughter." Haytham hummed looking at the child. He had to admit that she was a strong one. He was impressed that Catherine Cormac survived such a deadly poison. Deep down inside something nagged him that he would regret saving the girl's life.

Haytham twirled the small wooden horse in his hand. He snapped back from the small flashback of his past encounter with Catherine. The Grandmaster had been searching through his desk for a fresh quill when he found the small toy. The young child had left it behind as a gift for Haytham. He could remember how she smiled as she whispered thank you to the man and placed the toy into his hand.

It had been 3 and a half years since the death of Catherine Cormac. Even with the note from Catherine, he suspected that she was dead. No one could be sure who delivered the fake precursor box along with the note. Haytham had shared the note with Lee to make sense of it, nothing phased him when it was brought to his attention. Haytham decided to withhold the information form, Shay. He did not want to bring up the hopes up of the poor sailor. Lee promised to look in the possibility but there was no sign of her.

He kept the story that she was dead.

Haytham still couldn't understand how the deaths incurred. Catherine had killed Azura in cold blood but trapped herself in the warehouse.

It was a tragic loss of life, but he was thankful that he did not put a blade in her. Azura's blood was the ink that signed Catherine's execution warrant. It was still dreadful news, a voice of reason argued that Catherine was an asset, not a threat. She was a young intelligent woman that outsmarted him and the other Templars. She left a nasty mark on Lee even.

A knock on the door, Haytham called for them to come in. William Johnson entered with a calming but troubled look.

"I got your letter, William." Haytham cleared his voice, "The native's land is under threat to being sold without their consent? Where the precursor site is."

"Aye, sadly yes." Johnson took a seat across from him. "It's your son's land."

Haytham internally sighed thinking about his estranged son. He remembered how he felt when Haytham first learned about the boy. The only connection he had towards the lad was Catherine's friendship with the native boy. He wanted to use her to get close to his boy, but with her death, the connection was severed. The Grandmaster knew well enough to leave the boy alone. The one kind thing that he could do was to help buy the land, so no one else in the colonies would know. The land was going to be stolen and sold to the highest bidder.

The bigger issue that the land guarded an old ancient civilization site. The land should not fall into the wrong hands if someone were to buy it out from under the natives.

"What funds do we have to purchase this amount of land?" Haytham asked, tapping his finger on the desk.

"I already have a plan in motion that involves smuggled tea," Johnson explained.

Haytham starred down the older Templar. "Go on." He was ready to listen.

March 1770

The list of chores and punishments that Rose had laid out for her daughter kept adding up. Never had she ever dealt with such disrespect from her only daughter. The mother knew if she had ever wronged her parents the way that Catherine had done to her. She wouldn't be living right now.

Rose had awoken to start the day with breakfast when she went to awake her sleeping teenager. She discovered that Catherine had slipped out in the early hours of the morning. Rose allowed it to slide, thinking she'd be back later in the day. No sign of the teenager, there was no cause of worry though. Just frustration for disobeying her mother.

Rose took the streets, dressed to fight off the cold seeing the snow. Her vibrant red hair hung over her shoulder, it bounced with each step she took. The mother cut corners tightly to avoid the crowds, people were on edge. Something in her subconscious told her to find her child fast.

In her rush, she rushed around a corner, almost stumbling into a man's arms. He grabbed her by the shoulders to stop from crashing into his chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir." She cleared her throat until her eyes mirrored the man. "Charles Lee," She breathed.

The Templar had a genuine expression of surprise to see her. "Mrs. Cormac." He pushed back coat. "I did not realize you still resided in Boston."

"Aye, I and my daughter run a tavern near the harbor."

There was a reason why she stayed away from New York after the death of her brother. It felt uneasy to be around men who were once her enemy, they could still be. The only ones she trusted were her husband and Haytham Kenway.

Charles Lee always gave her a feeling of uneasiness. He had argued against her staying at the Templar headquarters. Even though her child was dying from poison. She could hear him through the walls trying to get the others to agree. She always held a bitterness towards the man for it.

He didn't seem at all pleased to see her, In fact, he looked rush. She glanced towards his shoulder to see a musket was strapped over his shoulder. She found it odd to see him to have the weapon in this setting of dismay and chaos. a Why was he armed with such weaponry? He couldn't have just gotten back from hunting.

"What are you doin' here? If you don't mind me asking." Rose crossed her arms over her chest.

Charles noticed her staring at the musket, he tried to shuffle it out of view. He cleared his throat ready to spin a tale until the paid mercenary came by. Charles Lee cleared his throat before handing the weapon over.

"The boss man said there be no witnesses, to deal with them right?"

Rose stiffen as she heard the two men speak in hush whispers, What were they planning. Charles turned to face her see her turning her back to walk away. Charles Lee quickly reached over to grab her wrist knowing she heard him.

"We weren't done catching up." He gripped her wrist harder almost twisting it.

Rose gritted her teeth as she tried to retract her arm from his grasp. "I need to find my daughter." One final tug, she ripped her arm away from him. "I don't care what you are up too, but if someone is hurt in this. I will make sure everyone knows."

Charles's mustache almost twitched at her comment. "You better find your sweet little girl then. I would hate to see anything to happen to you or her."

Rose gritted her teeth as she stared at the Templar. With the few words that were exchanged between the two. Rose could understand that the Templars were up to something. It couldn't be good especially the climate between the citizens and the soldiers.

"Tell Haytham I said hello." She growled as she turned her back. The mother gave a lasting glance at the man before she scuttled off to find her daughter.

The mercenary glanced at Lee, "Do you want me to handle it? It wouldn't take much to handle a nag like that."

"No, I'll handle her after. Hopefully, she will be in the line of fire." Lee smugged before he went down the alleyway to take his position.

March 1774

Dressed in thick clothes was the only hope for Catherine to fight the biting cold. Though, it wouldn't do her much good if she fell into the river. She faced her opponent who was a 16 years old named William de Saint-Prix. She danced with her sparring partner upon a high wall. One wrong slip, she'd be feeling the icy sting of the water below. Her sword teacher, Perrier Bellec, found a clever way to instruct balance. Humiliation.

Catherine gave a hard lunged towards the younger boy. In a rush to evade to her attack, William made a fatal error that caused him to lose his footing. He stopped abruptly, catching himself before he fell into the water.

The uptight Frenchman had a foul attitude towards his young apprentices and Catherine. The Master Assassin shouted at his trainees with curses, "Sloppy! Do you call yourselves Assassins? You both make me malade!"

Catherine grunted in disgust, striking her opponent's practice sword. Her strike caused the young man to stagger, giving her the advantage that she so craved.

Bellec spat on the ground in disgust. "Especially you Pisspot, you will let this planteuse de choux win!?"

Catherine furrowed at the insult he tossed at her, "Cabbage farmer? How original. Maybe I should start calling you a baguette!"

"You'd be wise to not talk back to me, girl unless you'd want me to send you back to Charles in a pine box." Bellec catted.

In a secured area away from the public eye. The only specters that two teenagers had were four other students. All of them were already claimed victim by the water. Their clothes stuck to them as they shivered in the cold spring air. Catherine had been the victor so far much to Bellec's dismay. Though beating initiates in fake battles, it didn't prove much of a point to Bellec.

It did give the younger teenagers a chance to improve on their skills. The Assassin council had appointed Catherine to work under Bellec. It was a lesson to help prepare her on training new initiates into the brotherhood when it came to rebuilding the Colonial Brotherhood.

The younger Cormac didn't understand the disdain Bellec held towards her. Dorian told her to be patient with him and the others. He told her she would have to be patient until they learned to accept her fully.

Taking one last step, she knocked the sword of the younger man's hand. His weapon fell into the river, he held up his hands into defeat.

Catherine smirked towards the Master Assassin and gave a small bow to the tutor. "How is that Monsieur Bellec?" She cocked her head.

"Fine, except you would have gotten slaughtered with that performance." The Frenchman spat at the ground.

Catherine grinned, "Then why don't you come up here and face me yourself, Bellec?"

A clap cut off the Master Assassin from retaliating against his student. Charles Dorian stood before Bellec and the other novices. She grinned at the sight of her mentor, "Charles, your back."

"As much as I would enjoy watching you place Miss. Cormac in her place. She has a meeting with Sophie Trenet."

Pierre Bellec shrugged his shoulders, "fine take her. She is done for the day."

Being Aboard in France had not been easy on her, her last name carried a heavyweight in the brotherhood. Perrier Bellec was part of the Colonial Brotherhood before its destruction. He had bared witness to what her father had accomplished for the Templars.

Though the one good thing is she had become close with some of the novices like William. When she lept from the wall, landing on the balls of her feet. Her comrades patted her on the back, mention drinks later on at the Café Théâtre.

Dorian gawked at her messy appearance. "Go change, you look like Bellec had dragged you through the mud."

"Yet it hasn't killed her pride, so that is worth something." Bellec waved his hand. "Try not to be late, Cormac. Trenet does not like tardiness."

Charles Dorian cleared his throat as he gripped her shoulder. "I will walk with her to make sure she isn't."

Charles escorted the young woman back to her small flat, it was a modest place, a step up from her childhood home. It sat near the Sainte-Chapelle, easy access to the headquarters of the Assassin.

Paris had become her second home, she absolutely loved it. On the days she was relieved of her duties, Catherine would explore the historic streets of Paris. It was twice as busy as Boston, but she didn't mind. The sights and sounds made her fall in love with the city even more. She even started attended mass in Notre-Dame Cathedral. Catherine wasn't even religious, but religion was important to her mother.

They never got a chance to attend a religious service due to the spite towards Catholics in the colonies. Catherine did it on a slim hope that her mother would appear. It had been a long tedious search, but there was no sign of her. Catherine could only hope that her mother hadn't suffered from the hands of the Templars.

After living with Dorian for a few months, he declared that she would start her official assassin training. He announced her role within the brotherhood would be an initiate. That was a little under 3 years ago.

Dorian secured a lovely middle-class townhouse for the young woman. The even had hired a maid to keep her place clean since Catherine had such a busy schedule. Dorian lived outside the city of Paris, she needed all her time invested with the Assassins. The most generous gift he gave her was finishing her education. She enjoyed it, especially subjects like math and languages. With her French faring well, her tutor moved her onto beginners Spanish.

She offered to pay him back, but he declined. Saying in return that she would make a monthly trip into the smaller city of Versailles for a weekend trip. Catherine agreed full heartily.

"If you keep that up Catherine, your going to find a sword in your back," Dorian referred to how she snapped at Bellec.

Catherine snorted, "I like to see the man try."

Dorian patted on her back trying to keep a straight face. When they reached the small townhouse, Dorian waited inside in her small sitting area.

Catherine rushed up the stairs to her room, she passed her elderly maid, Anora in the stairwell. "Please get Monsieur Dorian some tea while I dress and reply to a letter."

The maid nodded, "Of course miss. Cormac."

Catherine hurried to her room unbuttoning to undress her upper layer of clothes. The young woman took the washcloth from a bowl filled with lukewarm water and rubbed it with soap. Catherine hummed as she scrubbed her neck and arms of any dirt. Scrunching up her face tight, she scrubbed her face of dirt. She splashed water onto her face followed by the act of dabbing her face with a hand towel.

Catherine brushed her hair over her shoulder as she stepped to her wardrobe. Touching the dark oak, she swung open the doors. Catherine pulled out a cotton shirt that she pulled over her chemise. She fastens the brass buttons up her powder blue waistcoat. Catherine wrapped a cravat she wore around her neck. The fabric was woven from fine silk, she felt it smooth around her neck. She reached over and grabbed her assassin coat to pull on.

Catherine touched the collar of the coat fixing it as she stared at herself in the mirror. Years ago when she was trapped in the warehouse fire, she thought she lost her father's coat to the flames. After she recovered from the harsh beating, Catherine had dug through the remains of the fire. In a surprising turn of events, she found it. The edges had been burnt, the coat had no longer been wearable.

When she came into the city, Dorian had surprised her with a new coat for training as an assassin. He told her that she should no longer wear something of her father's past, but something towards her future.

Her new coat shared a similar look with her older coat, but the fabric was finer. The same style of a captain's coat, but with elegant embroidery around the collar and sleeves. The top part of the coat had flaps over her shoulder made out of leather that attached to her hood. The tail of the coat stopped below her knees. It was button down the middle almost like a habit. It was a way for her to fit in without being suspicious as well as functional. The young woman enjoyed her new coat.

Catherine whisked over to her desk to reply to one of the letters. She had only received the pile of letters a little over a week ago, the young woman didn't have a chance to read one.

They were from Connor, her dear friend from the colonies. To her much pleasure, they exchanged letters every chance they would get. Every day she would write a letter to him and would send a stack every week. The native would reply in the same manner for the last few years since she had arrived in Paris.

Though she missed him, she had expressed it deeply within her letters.

She picked up one letter scanning the letter quickly.

Dear Catherine,

As we both suspected there is no word from the Templars, it has been quiet since the mess that the Son of Liberties caused at Boston Harbor. Though, I can't imagine it being quiet for too long. I have taken your idea into consideration, but I don't believe my people will go for it. I trust you, but they are wary of the plot. I will talk it over with the clan mother. If our land is to be bought and protected, I would rather it be you.

Catherine had expressed the idea of purchasing the land when she heard it was up for sale. The news spread that William Johnson had come forward as a buyer. Connor worked against the clock to diminish the Templar's funds. She would have paid anything to see the expressions on the Templars face. The outraged look as they watch the boxes of tea sunk to the bottom of the harbor. It gave Catherine the chance to jump on the advantage.

She sprung into a hatching a plan, a plan to buy the rights of land that the natives owned. Catherine would just need funding. She would sign over any of the rights to Connor.

Achilles sends his best wishes towards you and to tell you to be patient with Bellec. Our small community has flourished in your absence, we gained some new members since we last talk. They wish to open a tavern on our land. I am sure you would enjoy that.

I wish you were here to see the progress of the homestead. I know that you don't feel ready to return yet, but I am confident you will be. The Templars are moving their pieces into play to grab a hold onto the colonies. They are silent for now.

Though, it could be more selfish reasons for you to return. I know we agreed to not speak of our intentions for each other, but my heart is full for you, Catherine.

Catherine's heart fluttered at his words. They had shared passionate words with each other in the past talking about the kiss.

"Catherine?" She heard Dorian's voice called for her.

The woman shoved the letter into her pocket as Charles stepped into the room. "Trenet is expecting us."

"I apologized, I just saw the over the stack of letters on my personal desk." Catherine tried to explain as she pushed her hair over her shoulder.

"Anyone interesting?"

The assassin shrugged. "Just Connor, some from James."

"Your pockets are flowing from suitors then." The master assassin grinned. "Well, shall we lass?"

Catherine gave a short hard nod. "Follow the way."