It's been a long time since I last wrote a story let alone one for people to read. I never submitted one to a website so please be gentle it's my first time.

I want to thank my sister Hotaru-Hime who helped rekindle the mournful Irish poet within me. I just need to grease up these rusty gears!

When I first saw the Assassin's Creed trailer I was watching I Love New York (Please don't hate me I just love New York she is just awesome bitch lol) I was in awe at the graphics and Altaïr reminded me of my boyfriend. Yes I am that lucky. I was enthralled to know more about the game so I googled it.

This story is also to contribute to the movie Two Mules for Sister Sarah and the Broadway musical Aida. I was blessed to see it in NYC with my high school chorus. I cried at the end! TT

To give forewarning this story isn't a Mary-Sue it is just something screaming within me to be written. In fact this story will be something you wont expect. I claim ownership of my characters but I don't own Assassin's Creed or anything Ubisoft created. I wish I did though! That would be awesome! lolz

Chapter 1 - Into the Fly Trap

'So dry...'

Even her inner thoughts had a harsh tone. Her knuckles turned white as she squeezed the reigns of her piebald. The leather bit her palms and she relaxed. The horse fidgeted beneath her and let out a whine. Its hoof clawed at the ground. She muttered as dust floated up, "My God. My husband there is beauty in all. Perhaps this is a test for me to see the beauty of water." Her tongue rolled over her chapped lips in a vain attempt to wet them. This place, this Holy Land. Is it Holy because it makes you humble? Her mind wander back to what brought her here. Her hand moved beneath her robes and held the small pendant. The designs etched in the gold where very similar to a King Solomon seal. She recalled the old man with shaky hands holding the small object with all of his might to keep it still as he inspected it. Had her Mother let alone any of her brothers and sisters in Christ had known the things she had done and the very thing she was doing she would be shunned and exiled from the Church in shame. "But they don't know. Isn't that right Caoimhe?" She patted her horse's neck. She hadn't gotten this far to give up.

"Lord provided to Mary Magdalene as she wander the forests naked, I suppose I can't complain." She dug her heels into the horse's flanks and it took off, obviously happy to move again. She had to catch herself from falling as it bounded down the grassy hill and back onto the dirt road. She trotted along singing a light song when not to far off the road she heard the laughter of men and the sound of English speakers. She pulled the horse off the road again and followed the voices behind rock and hills until she found the camp. It was three men. All dressed in European garb. Their swords and other weaponry strewn about the site. They failed to notice her as they laughed and drank from large jugs. One with the dark curly hair and thick stubble pushed the larger Saxon man on the shoulder and he fell to the ground with a laugh.

"Brothers, may you share a drink with a sister? Tis too dry and my water skin has emptied long ago," she said loudly atop her horse. All three snapped their heads in her direction and it became very quiet.

After what seemed like an eternity the dark one laughed slapping his chest with his free hand and took several steps towards her.

"Good sister." He had a very thick French accent. "We would be honored to serve a wife to Christ." He grinned widely and held a hand out to her. "You are a mother to us and thusly we will treat you like an honored mother! Isn't that right?" The other man stood and picked up an opened jug and joined the French man. He had very short ashy hair and gray eyes. They all looked very young. Not even twenty years of age. "Pray tell what is thy sister's name?"

"I am Sister Brigid." Brigid smiled warmly and dismounted. She folded her arms under her robes as she walked to them. "May I ask my brothers what your names are?"

The Frenchman tilted back his head and laughed. It was then she could smell the alcohol. It stank even ten feet away. He bowed to her and smiled. "I am Phillip, this is.." He waved his hand at the ashen haired man.

"Christopher, my sister"

The Saxon sat back down in the center of the campsite and leaned against his bags. "I am Erik." He took a long swig of his jug. He didn't look at her as he said this. At any other circumstance Brigid would consider this rude but right now they were obviously inebriated and she didn't want to make them mad and lose a chance to feel cool liquid quench her parched body.

Phillip took the jug from Christopher roughly. Some of it spilled out onto his hand. He didn't seem to even notice it. Brigid looked at his hands. They were dark and stained with dirt and something else. It was brown and his hands almost appeared to be calico. He slowly extended the jug to her. His face seemed serious. She reached out to take it by its clay handle but he jerked it away. His face twisted with a laugh.

"What is this game?" She asked. She took a step back. Her pale hands went immediately back to her robes.

"Oh sister." Phillip sighed. "Tis only a game. I am serious this time!" He nodded his head and held the jug back out to her.

Her eyes focused on his. They were a light honey brown. They seemed glassy like the cold creeks of Northern Europe. She watched him as she slowly reached out again. As her fingers touched the warm wet clay Phillip's other hand snatched her wrist. "You are a fool sister. Only in Europe, in your own property could any woman be safe to travel alone." He jerked her to him. The jug shattered on the large yellow rocks. He smiled again. He was strong. Stronger than she anticipated. He held her with one arm wrapped around her to him and his free hand pulled her simple white wimple from her head. A tumble of curly gold spilled out from her nape and she gasped.

"How dare! RELEASE ME!" She clawed at his face and he laughed. She hissed and flailed like a cat. Christopher took the reigns of her horse.

"Tis an Erie horse Erik." He said as he led it to theirs. Erik stood leaving his jug on the ground. He pulled the bags from the piebald and dumped the contents on the rocky ground. "This sister is an Erie woman. They aren't people as far as we are concerned. They are savages just like these animals in this blasted country!" Christopher became enraged. He picked up a small wooden trinket and threw it at Sister Brigid. She tried to shield herself with Phillip's body but the Frenchman threw her roughly to the ground. She bounced her hands tried to catch her fall but were chewed up by the rocks.

'Oh God this isn't really happening!' She thought. Her mind raced as she scrambled to her feet. Her hands screamed in pain as she gripped a jagged rock. She looked around frantically and backed away from Phillip. "Come any closer to me cladhaire and I will beat your skull in!" She screamed. She held the rock over her head in a threatening way. Phillip smiled and laughed again. He shadowed her steps like a dance.

"Dearest Sister, how would your husband feel about that? I thought you should turn the other cheek!"

She became angry. Angrier than she had ever felt. "D'fhág tú mé bhí!" She cried and hurled the jagged rock at Phillip's head. He ducked and laughed again.

Christopher joined Phillip's side and the men laughed at her. "Be careful comrade these Erie savages drink the blood from their son's castrated penises!"

"Is that true Sister?" Phillip asked is a husky tone. "Mayhap she is a witch in disguise of a nun! She came here to poison our drink and kill us in the night!" This assumption seemed to give him courage. He coiled back and dove into her chest with his shoulder. Brigid let out a yelp of shock and pain and tumbled to the ground. Phillip quickly made use of the advantage and thrust his hand onto her throat and began to shake her neck as if to snap it. "You stupid bitch! If you were nice we would have let you live!" He laughed almost manically. Christopher went to her feet to restrain them but her left leg lashed out and boot struck his nose. A loud crunch could be heard just before a painful scream. The young man fell onto his backside and cradled his face. His white tunic under his leather was stained with bright red blood. At that point Erik dropped what he was doing and ran to his small friend he tried to comfort him and held a towel to his face. He whispered to the ashen haired man who stood up and sat back in the camp weeping. Erik seemed to tower over the prone woman and almost as fast as lightening dug his large hand into her curly hair and yanked her to her feet. Brigid let out a scream as she struggled. She tried to claw at his forearm with her nails but he wore leather bracers. She kicked and cursed at them in her native tongue as Erik began pulling her white robes unceremoniously off of her until she stood in the glaring sun in her simple under tunic. Brigid grabbed the last remaining robe and held on with all her might.

"Leave me be!" She cried in English.

"You are too much trouble for your worth Erie." Erik released her and stalked away just as Phillip came to them. The French man grabbed the other end of the robe and began to tug on it in a teasing way. Brigid yanked the other end away from him and cursed "Imigh sa diabhal!"

Phillip laughed tilting his head back with his hands on his hips turning to his friends but it trailed off.

They were gone.