Assassin's Sneeze (AC, M)

[Orb]

Been a while since I posted anything and I've gotten into Assassin's Creed. The Assassin in this story is not specified so you can have fun imagining which one you'd like in place , and it's told from a different point of view (That of a thief) and I'm kind of unsure if this idea's already been used, but oh well. I don't own Assassin's Creed or any of its characters- just using them because they are AWSOME.

*The sneezing is slow to begin-sorry!- for storyline purposes!*

Hope you enjoy

X||X

Just a little closer now.....

There!

He swiped the purse, already imagining his escape. Yes, guards were just around the corner, and yes, with the woman's rich social position he would likely be caught, but there was a jeweled axe he fancied and he wouldn't care to wait.

Just as his fingers closed around the soft velvet, the woman looked back- and her eyes widened.

"Thief!" She cried, making a grab for the purse. People turned and looked to see what the commotion was about- and he turned and raced away, shoving through the crowds. Shouts rang out and several footsteps followed him, through narrow streets and cluttered alleys. After a while, a little after sunset, he stopped to rest, listening intently.

No footsteps, no shouts and threats.

He was alone- or so he thought.

He ducked into an alley to count out the money, crouching to avoid the slowly falling rain. Just as he was opening it, a shadow above him caught his eye. He looked up.

A form in the shape of a man perched on the high roof above him. Balanced precariously on the edge, just watching him.

"H-hello?" He asked, stuffing the purse into his jacket. "What do you want?"

The man tilted his head and said nothing.

He could feel his eyes boring into him. So, like any genius, he threw a rock at him.

"Get out of here, then, off with you!"

The man moved to the side, then in one quick movement jumped down, suddenly right in front of him.

"The purse, sir. Now, if you would." A quiet whisper.

He scoffed.

"This is my wife's. She is terribly ill, and I-"

"What, then, are you doing crouched in an alley counting money?" The voice lowered treacherously. Whoever the black-clad man was, he was angry.

Instead of giving up the money, he suddenly turned and ran, sprinting anywhere away from the man. When he looked back, the figure was gone, but every Noe and then he caught a glimpse of silver, or black on the rooftops above.

After an hour or so of running and hiding and running again, he turned a corner and was about to leap into the water when a solid force hit him from behind, strong arms clamping his elbows to his stomach. He was on the ground, breathing heavily, kicking and cursing under his breath. Eventually he was on his back, looking into the shadow cast face of his tackler.

"Who are you?" He grunted, trying to wriggle free.

The man's lip lifted and curled. "None of you concern. Give me the p- heu'shoo!" The man's upper body twisted and he threw one shoulder up to meet his chin

He laughed. "What purse?"

Hands shoved his shoulders to the stones. "You know." The voice growled quietly. He leaned closer. "Don't make me search you- h... he'esh!" This time he simply guided his face away.

"Look, sir...." He paused as the man sneezed again. "I haven't the plainest idea of this damned purse. Now get off me!"

A hand patted the bulge in his jacket. "Really now? What's this?"

"My-my clothes... a simple wrinkle...." He tried. The man's upper lip lifted and curled again, and he suddenly rose to his feet, turning away abruptly and sneezing so loudly he stumbled forward.

He jumped up, felt for the purse in his jacket, and began running, making a mad dash for the docks. When he looked back, he saw the black cloaked man following him, but he heard, surprisingly, no sound. Ah, he thought. So this one is an Assassin.

He'd heard of them, and had even tried to steal from a female Assassin once.... he'd wound up injured, and unable to walk for weeks.

He looked back.

The Assassin was gone.

He sighed, thankful, and leaned by a nearby store lined with haystacks, determined to count his wares. A light sounding sneeze sounded from the one next to him. He looked up, fearful, then suddenly a hand was clapped on his mouth and a strong arm hauled him into the haystack.

"Let me go, you errant fool!" He hissed, struggling. The Assassin said nothing, his hands gripping his jacket and pulling his off, so the handmade pouch he'd designed for stealing was exposed on his bare stomach. "Hey!"

The Assassin pulled it off, his upper lip twisting. By now he knew what that meant- he was going to sneeze.

"Bless you, mate."

The man murmered something unintelligable, burying his face in his wrist, and jerked forward in three silent sneezes. This time he stole his change, swpiping the pouch and jumping up, so he was gasping for air and covered in hay. The Assassin let out a sound of frustration and leapt from the cart, chasing after him as he ran jacketless down the cold, rainy street.

"You won't last long!" The Assassin called behind him. "It's cold and wet and you've got no jacket!"

He chanced a look back- a dark clothed man shoved people aside, knocking a man over in his haste to catch him.

"Crikey!" He grunted to himself, scurrying up to a rooftop. A hand grabbed his shoulder and he whipped around, almost skidding off the roof. A fist zoomed up to his face, and pain exploded in his head before he blacked out.

*

"I brought the little bastard here." He was being carried, by someone obviously strong, as he weighed almost the same amount as a 325 pound keg of gunpowder, into a bright light. "Tried to steal a mistress's purse." A low whistle. "He's a daring one."

A woman's voice. "Why did you bring him here? A hospital is no place for a thief."

"Relax. He's out." The Assassin.

He'd been taken out by a damned Assassin.

"What're you doing!" He demanded groggily.

A shriek of surprise and suddenly he was on the wood floor, by someone's black boots.

"How manly." The woman said, chuckling.

"He surprised me." The Assassin growled. He looked down at him. "Get up. There are guards waiting to take you outside for some jail time when you're done being checked up on." He sniffed once, then turned away to unless he two sneezes in rapid succession into his arm. "He'ueshoo! H'ush!"

The woman laughed, helping him up. "I thought Assassin's were trained not to sneeze."

The man looked at and a smirk broke out on his half-shaded face. "We're trained to 'stifle and run'."

"Ah." She winked. "Still sneezing."

He sneezed again, and held the purse up where he could see. "Look here, thieving bastard. This ended tonight."

He tossed the bag of coins to a guard leaning against the doorway and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

X||X

Would anyone like another storyline with a specific Assassin?

[Arty]

*Looks at profile picture* Connor Kenway....sick on a mission? Comes home and gets cared for by an un named female love interest. Love the fic. Not many assassin creed fics.

[Orb]

*Epic profile picture*

*Looks at profile picture* Connor Kenway....sick on a mission? Comes home and gets cared for by an un named female love interest. Love the fic. Not many assassin creed fics.

Story request?

[Arty]

Yes. *Looks dreamily at profile pucture* its a request. Thanks.

[Orb]

No problem!

From Assassin POV, enjoy!

X||X

The snow wouldn't stop.

It beat paths and homes and trees brutally, bearing down with such force Connor thought he would never find his target, an cruel old man who had cheated another Assassin out of his money during a bet. Connor had been asked to retrieve the money, leaving the man dead or alive.

He moved through the snow, flicking his gaze between the forest around him and the road. Soon the man would be coming, according to his schedule.

Connor caught a glimpse of his target's horse, struggling through the knee high snow. It whinnined and reared and kicked, but the man continuously pounded it on.

"Come on, you old mare! Go, damnit!"

Connor drew in an ice-cold breath, ducking behind a tree. He studied his ax- attached to his belt- and then looked back at the horse and its merciless rider. Only about 20 yards away. He could throw that far. He clutched its handle and slid it out, careful not to make a sound. He drew in a final breath, to help him focus-

"Hu'pshoo!"

The Axe fell from his hand and he stumbled against the tree, blinking to clear his eyes. The sneeze had caught him off guard- usually it was when he was sick or cold, which actually happened less often to him than when he was younger. His target looked up, and terror filled his eyes.

"Assassin!" He cried, leaping from the horse. He raced through the snow, falling and swearing, but making surprisingly good progress. Connor watched him go, sighing. He'd have to come back in a few days, then.

He picked up his Axe and began trudging back through the snow.

While he walked, he began noticing odd things. A growl would catch his attention, but when he turned there was nothing there. Flashes of black darted around his periphery, not to be seen by his full gaze.

After a while, snow began to fall, and he looked up. Night was falling.

He found a cave and situated himself at the back of it, knowing full well not to make a fire, as it would attract unnesassary attention.

He ignored the light headache nipping at his temples, and the itch at his throat and in his nose, falling asleep with his hood pulled up as far as it would go.

*

"Hu.... Hu'pshoo!" He woke up, sneezing harshly into his forearm. He groaned, standing up. The snow had stopped falling and it was early morning, but he was still tired. His muscles ached slightly and his throat was scratchy. He could barely breath through his own nose.

He rubbed his eyes and stepped out into the blue light, ready to get back home. A snarl beside him caught his attention, and he looked to the right.

Nine massive wolves, ranging from white to brown to black with gray patches stared at him, hackles raised and tails up. The biggest one barked loudly and Connor felt fear clutch his heart.

There would be no fighting these animals. If he even wounded one, the rest would set upon him like a rabbit.

He backed away,'waiting until he was a good distance.

Then he turned and ran, pumping his aching, sluggish arms and legs as fast as he could through the thick, knee-deep snow. He stumbled and fell several times, and then only to realize they were getting closer and closer.

He eventually made out the formation of a town, a small one, but a town nonetheless. He looked back.

The wolves lingered by the treeline, snarling and barking. So they were afraid to follow him.

Despite his itching nose, sore throat, aches and pains, and failure to complete his mission, he smirked at them, then staggered to the first house he saw.

He was just about to set knock on the door when the snow covered ground rushed up at him, and he passed out staring at the sky and thinking to himself how it was great the wolves weren't there.

*

"Can I ask your name?" A woman questioned him. His breath, had he been able to breath through his nose, would have caught. She, he decided, was the most buetiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon. And he was lying on her floor, soaking the wood.

He sat up, sniffling and coughing into his arm.

"I-I must be going-"

"Nonsense." She put a hand on his forehead, and her touch sent shockwaves through him. "You're ill."

He woozily tried to stand, leaning on the wall. "I'm fine, but.... h'psh!" He rammed the back of his fist against his nose, doubling over. He staggered forward, and she grabbed his shoulder with firm hands, hoisting him up and looking him in the eye.

"Don't give me that bull. Sit down, and let me help you."

He weakly complied, unsure whether to apologize for his hasty behavior or just revel in the fact that she was caring for him.

"H'psh!" He rubbed his nose with his knuckles and she tossed him a blanket.

"That hood and jacket are soaking wet...."

When she saw how hesitant he was to remove the jacket, she sighed. "Well, at least get the hood off, then... You're an Assassin?"

"Y-yes. I'm Connor." He flipped his hood, nervously staring at his boots. She stared at him, eyes slightly wide. "What's wrong?"

"My parents were Templars, and I have never been able to come to terms with either of your kind...." something danced in here wonderful blue eyes. "But here I make the exception."

He suppressed a grin. "What's your name?"

"My name?" She whistled, then looked back at him, suddenly serious. "Will you...."

He followed her gaze to his axe and bow. "No! Never!" He sputtered. "I don't harm anyone outside of what I choose to do.... Even if you were a Templar...." He pressed one of her hands between both his and gave a weak smile. "I could never hurt you."

She grinned back and left the room.

He sniffed once, then tucked his mouth and nose against his wrist and sneezed three times, each time bending over with the force of it.

She returned with a steaming cup of something warm, and he looked at it cautiosly. "Stew?"

"You have quite the eye. Rabbit." She held it away from him and felt his forehead. ".... Maybe you should lay down after this. The fever hasn't gone away and if it doesn't break I'll bring some snow from outside."

"I would only pray it's not yellow." He said, taking the cup. He held it away from him, whipping and arm to his face.

"Hu'pshoo! H'ish!"

She gazed at him with something that was more than a liking. "Bless you... You were chased by wolves?"

He put it to his lips and swallowed the warm stew down, nodding. "How do you know?"

"I saw you smile at them.... that pack has been troubling us for years. They never come into town, but they eat all the game."

"They're large- bigger than I've ever seen."

"How many have you seen?"

He smiled. "Too many."

Connor set the cup down on a wood table beside him and pulled the blanket up around him, shivering slightly. An itch grew in his nose, but he refused to let it take him just yet.

"I'll be back." She said, taking the cup and leaving again.

He waited until she was gone and buried his head under the blanket, sneezing into his knee. "Huh.... huh'psh!"

"Connor?" The woman came back out, another blanket in hand. "That doesn't sound like an Assassin name."

He shrugged, then winced as the itch in his nose flared again. "Tell me about it."

"It's.... it's late..." she sat down next to him, unfolding her own blanket. Connor stole a glance out the window. It was late, the moon was up. He couldn't have been out that long..... could he? The woman rested her head on his shoulder and his heart thudded.

I wish I could know her name..... he thought achingly.

I wish he could know my name...... she thought achingly.

He father had been out riding his horse on his daily routine. He had not yet returned.

TBC!

X||X

Hope you've enjoyed it so far!

[Arty]

;_____;

I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!! This was so good. And her parents are templars!?!?

Ooooohhhhhh...

*Stares at profile pic*

And theres more?!?! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

[Orb]

I'm glad you've enjoyed it (I enjoyed writing it!) - I figured Templar parents would make it that 'forbidden love' type of thing. At some point, he'll learn her name... I'll update tonight or tomorrow, not sure- also, if this gets picked up, who should I do next?

[Arty]

Anything witg Connor Kenway....ill enjoy! Hmmm...i'd say ezio or edward. Im not to familar with Altair..tho we share a birthday. XP

[Orb]

Yeah, I can't wait.

X||X

"WHAT IS THIS!" A voice bellowed.

Connor's eyes snapped open and he realized with a start that the woman was not next to him. The blanket she was using had been folded under his head so cradled his cheek, and he was gazing out over the room..... at an angry man yelling and pointing at him....

Wait a minute.

That had been his target, an older man named Jack.

He almost sat up, then the throbbing at his temples reminded him he wasn't yet better and the man wouldn't take kindly to it.

"Father- Father, I can explain!" The woman grabbed Jack's arm.

"Nothing can explain this!" The man jerked away, throwing his hands up in Connor's direction. "Nothing!"

Connor closed his eyes, trying to inflict the image of sleep. His nose itched terribly, but he refused to rub it or allow himself to sneeze. His throat felt raw, despite the warm stew of the night before.

The woman bowed her head.

"Do you know why he was sent here? Do you know who he is?" Jack grabbed his daughter and shook her vigorously, fear and anger evident in his eyes. "To kill me!"

She looked at him. "Connor....."

He let out a mild cough and feebly opened his eyes, tightening his slightly sore muscles. Always ready for a fight. "Yes."

His voice rasped and he winced at the pain.

"Is this true."

He sat up slowly, glaring at Jack. "Yes."

Jack paled, grabbing his daughter's arm. "Come with me."

She shook her head. "Father, there's nothing he can do to you. He's sick as a dog, there's nothing he can do to you." She repeated, stepping away from him. Connor nodded, passing his knuckles under his nose.

"She disarmed me..... it was a contract I can work out of, anyway."

"You are an Assassin, 'Connor'." Jack spat. "I'm a Templar." He grabbed the rifle by the door and aimed it at him. "Avert your eyes." He growled to his daughter.

She shook her head, lunging forward just as he pulled the trigger. The gun misfired, shooting a hole through the roof. Jack stumbled back against the wall. The woman leapt into action, grabbing Connor's arms and hauling him up from the bed. She dragged him out the door, and into the woods, with her father calling out to her.

"Stop- I can't-I-" he staggered and fell into the snow, on his side. Instead of getting up, he curled into a ball, one fist pressed against his nose and the other pinned under his side, panting. She looked back.

"You're still sick, aren't you?"

"H... H'nsgt!" He sneezed into his fist, then shook his head slowly in the icy slush. "N-no. Go back to your father. He's right about me. I was sent to kill him." He growled.

"I don't care about that." She whispered, feeling his forehead. He wrenched away. "Look at you. You're still burning up."

Connor got shakily to his feet, leaning against a tree. "Just go back. If any Assassins come to your father tell them you know Connor Kenway. And I said to stay away." He looked up, sniffling slightly. "But don't tell them he is a Templar. They will kill him, and there will be nothing I can do, as so far he's kept it well hidden...." He stopped and put both fists against the tree, his head pressed against the bark. "Heh'pshoo!"

The woman put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure? Connor?"

"Yes."

"But the wolves-"

He coughed into his arm and shook his head. "They should be gone now. I have my ax. I'll be fine... He'psh!" He caught it in his wrist, lurching forward. She nodded, backing away slowly.

"Goodbye.... then...." And with that, she was gone.

With nothing left to do in the early morning light, Connor used his remaining strength to climb in the tree and watch blearily for wolves.

*

Night had fallen, and the snow hadn't melted at all. Instead, the weather was steadily worsening. Connor scanned the forest and jumped down, his knees almost giving out. He stumbled against a large boulder and cursed. He made his slow way back to the village, stoppingevery now and then to stifle a sneeze into his elbow or shoulder. The first house he saw, he climbed and jumped like a cat to the highest window, peering in. The woman was lying on a bed, gazing at a book in low light. His breath caught once at her image, and twice as he realized he had to sneeze, ducking his head between his arms too late.

"Huh... huh'ushoo!"

The woman looked up and a worried look creased her brow. She unlocked the window and gaped at him.

"Connor! You're covered in snow and... you're only going to make yourself worse! Get in here!" She gripped his right arm and pulled him into her room, so he lay on the floor, shivering and trying again not to sneeze. She fumbled for a blanket and slipped off his hood, puuting a hand on his forehead. "You're alright for now, the fever's lessened slightly, but-"

"Listen." He murmered quietly. "I need to ask you something." She leaned closer to him, and before he could stop himself Connor raised his head and allowed his lips to brush her cheek. "What's your name?"

She did the same to him, making his heart thud ten times faster. "Don't tell my father. I'm Anna."

"Anna..." he laughed lightly. "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman..... hu'ish!" He rolled over, abruptly slamming his knuckles under his nose. "Huh... huh'pshoo! Huh'nsgt!"

She smiled. "Come here, I need to get you into the closet so my father doesn't see."

Connor struggled to his feet, pulling the blanket around his shoulder. "We'll see about that. It's late, and if you hear me sneeze or cough just go back to sleep." He nodded weakly and froze to stifle a sneeze into his elbow.

"Huh'psh!"

She gave a light chuckle and he was just about to slip into the closet when her father barged through the door, fists up. Anna backed up, and Connor just stared in shock. A woman behind Jack, presumably Anna's mother, had her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with terror. Jack glared at Anna, stepping up so she was unable to get to the door.

"I told you once. What happens when I tell you twice?" His fist balled.

She said nothing, setting her jaw and looking her father in the eye. The fist raised.

"What did I tell you?!" He thundered. "He is an Assassin! He will kill me, he'll kill your mother, and he'll kill you! Is that what you want?!"

The fist flew back, then forward, and was about to connect with Anna's jaw when another fist met it, and a foot slammed into Jakc's stomach.

He gasped and crumpled, breathing heavily. Connor stood between Anna and her father, angry beyond meaning. He lowered his gaze and spoke in a quiet voice.

"The only reason, the only one, that I didn't kill you was because of Anna, and this is how you thank her?! If I ever see you touch her again, I swear you will not survive. Do you understand?"

Jack nodded, cursing under his breath.

"Do you understand!" Connor roared. His throat felt like rough stone, and ached from the outburst, but he ignored the pain in his fury.

"Yes." Jack muttered. "I understand."

Connor sniffled, and nodded slowly. "Good."

Anna grabbed his shoulder and he turned, only to be set upon by what he would only remember as her lips against his.

He felt his eyes widen and he relaxed, easing into the kiss even though the woman's mom was right next to them.

"Wait-" he said, pulling away. He looked back as the father exited the room, swearing and cursing Connor. Her mother nodded and grinned, backing out to the room.

Connor looked back, about to hug Anna, when a wave of dizziness crashed his brain and he was out before he hit the floor.

*

He awoke to darkness and a fierce itch in his nose.

He was aware of lying in a bed, with the blanket pulled up to his chin, and the free feeling of his boots somewhere but his feet.

He scrubbed his nose with his index and middle fingers, trying to get it to go away.

It didn't and eventually he balled his right fist, pressed it against his nose, and tried to stifle it as best as he could.

"Huh'Ngsh!" His knees bounced of his chest and his shoulders folded forward. "Damn." He murmered. He knew his grandfather had sailed the West Indies, and wished he could be there now. Although by any means all there would be to eat was fish, and the constant churning of waves.

He drew in a shaky breath and threw back the covers, rubbing his nose. He sat on the edge of the bed, during to see in the pitch blackness. He looked down and saw his own feet through the dark.

His own feet.

The concept was almost forge in, it'd been so long since he'd last taken off his boots. They were, naturally, a lighter tan than the rest of him, and he was about to stand up when the itch in his nose flared again.

"Huh'ersh!" He sneezed into his elbow, blinking blearily. Someone entered the room he was in and pulled back the curtains, letting in a flood of light.

"Still sneezing, I see," Anna said, smirking. Connor squinted in the sunlight.

"It would appear so." He grunted.

She was staring at him. "What?"

"Care for a... a shirt?" She asked, almost bashfully. He looked down, surprised by his own bare chest.

"Where's-"

"My mother washed them- she said they were filthy and had probably been what made you sick."

He nodded, mystified by how Mich better he felt as opposed to the last three days. Although the itch in his nose had been more irritating than ever.

"Are they dry?" He asked.

Anna nodded, "Of course..... How are you feeling."

He sneezed into his arm and coughing lightly. "I could be better, but this is better compared to these past days."

She nodded. "My father.... I should tell you.... he's gone." She bit her lip.

"Gone?" Connor asked. One part of him thought, good riddance, and another ached for the money prize on his head, and still another wanted to beat him up.

"Gone. He left my mother after last night. He says we might as well be Assassins."

A slow grin spread across Connor's face. "Maybe..."

Hundreds of years later, people would forever speculate the legend of Silver Wolf, an Assassin only known to finish off what another member of the order (Particularly Connor) could not. A shadow, if you will.

And now you know why.

X||X

You know on those missions, where if you get to certain point the extra enemies may dissapear? Made an explanation for that, I think.

Hope you enjoyed!

[Arty]

;______;

This was amazing!!!!!!!!!

[Orb]

Glad you liked it! Next is Ezio *heart melt*

[Arty]

So the siliver wolf was anna right? XD

[Orb]

That's right!

As promised.....

X||X

He perched in the tree, gazing out over the small, out of touch village. The contract had read that his target was right here. So where was he?

He sighed in frustration and jumped down, immediately making for the weapons shop around the corner, where the target supposedly worked. As soon as he entered, the man's eyes widened. With a small squeak he shoved last several people to the door, in which case he silently followed, feeling his wrist to make sure his blades were in place. The target had preceded through the small village to the woods around it, and was ducking in places that almost fooled the young Assassin. Finally he came to stop on a cliff overlooking the small village and its enclosed valley.

He leaned behind a tree, watching his target and feeling apprehensive. The man was openly a Templar but he seemed young, too young.

Come on, he thought, irritated, just... get it over with. He needed to move closer.

He crouched in a bush, taking in a deep breath to steel himself. Something itched at the back of his nose and he almost gasped in surprise. Regaining his senses, he pinched his nose, thinking about what to do next. The itch intensified, and he closed his eyes.

A sneeze.

He could not remember the last time he had to sneeze.

The target looked around, his eyes still wide.

"If you're out there!" He called. "Just don't hurt my family. I beg of you."

He, Ezio Auditore, didn't sneeze.

He almost stood up and ran, but held his breath, urging the itch to go away.

It didn't.

An involuntary little gasp escaped his mouth and he pinched his nose harder, screwing his eyes shut. The target glanced around.

"Who are you?"

"Heh....." He clamped his mouth shut and backed away, so he was farther from the target. This would not go the way he planned.

"Are you an Assassin? My family and I aren't Templars, you know."

That was a lie. Ezio was about to object and confront the target, when the itch intensified suddenly and he couldn't stop it.

"Heh.... Heh'nsgt!" He rocked forward, his hold on his nose slipping.

"What!" The Templar saw him and dove forward, tackling Ezio so they were both on the edge of the cliff, the target pinning the Assassin down.

"Alright.... you win...." Ezio grunted, sniffling. "Do you mind?"

The target cursed and back away, frantically looking for a weapon. He found a large, heavy stick and held it out to Ezio, who was trying to get up. The Assassin saw it and rolled his eyes.

"What makes you think I'll kill you?" He asked, rubbing his nose and getting to his feet.

The target backed away, still brandishing the stick. "You stay away! You're an Assassin!" He barked.

Ezio shrugged. "Fair enough." Then he walked forward, swatting the stick with ease. It fell to the ground, and his target threw himself at his feet.

"Please, sir, please...." He groaned, hands up.

Ezio grabbed his shoulders and hauled him up, so he was face to face. "Listen to me. I'm not going to hurt you. I already gave myself away, however how unwittingly. You're not going to d- heh... heh...." He twisted away, still holding the man. "Heh'esh!"

The target seemed to calm down. "Sure?"

Ezio released his grip and backed up, nodding. "Yes. I don't kill meaninglessly." He flipped his hood and smirked at the target. "You aren't worth it."

The target nodded and soundlessly fled back into the woods, to try and get down the forested cliffs and walls back to the village, and leaving Ezio to wonder if he did the right thing.

X||X

Not as long, but long enough to say Ezio's got a heart. Next is Edward, because I wonder how pirates react to their captain when he's sick.

[Arty]

Yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Orb]

I'm a bit pressed for time as it's Sunday night and school's back on tomorrow. And I've been playing Black Flag a lot lately

Sneezing's slow to begin for storyline purposes.

X||X

He stared at the shoreline.

"The men are complaining there's no rum." Adewale said, coming up beside him.

"I can make it." Edward replied curtly, looking from the shores of Nassau to the swirling, dark clouds gathering at the horizon. "I just need time."

"Alone? Against the sea? She's angry today, it's not a matter of strength, Captain. The storm will beat you before you get halfway."

Edward scowled. "Please. How far can it be? A few hundred meters- at most."

Adewale clapped him on the shoulder, clicking his tongue. "You'd be better off to wait till morning. The crew can wait that long."

The seaman scoffed. "It isn't even that matter. I've got something I want to sell and I won't wait for it."

Adewale rolled his eyes. "You're a madman. Do what you wish, but we'll wait here for you. The ship is wanted by all- better to be caught as a one than as a whole."

Edward looked at his friend. "Make sure they don't do anything stupid. I'll be back before nightfall."

He pulled his hood up and jumped over the edge, diving into the water.

"Cap'n overboard!" Someone shouted behind him as he began swimming feverishly for shore.

*

"Nothing, dammit!" He muttered to himself. There were no merchants or shops open. The wind was picking up and he was in no mood to stay. Someone tapped his shoulder, and he turned around, only to be boxed in the face. He staggered and almost fell, then felt a fist ram him stomach, and another drove into his chest. "What the hell!" He tripped and fell, so he was looking into the faces of his attackers. Seven burly men grinned down at him.

"Well look here, it's Edward Kenway." One grunted.

"I don't like it; take his money!" Another replied.

Edward threw his fists up and struggled to his feet. Three men made for the raggedy pouch at his waist and the rest grabbed his arms and held them apart. Edward kicked and swore and spat, but they refused to let go, even when the rain began pouring. They stole his swords and one man took off with his gun.

They all released him at once and fled, and Edward followed, angry at the loss of his precious money. They board a small boat by the shore and left, taunting Edward, who was pacing by the water, hesitant to jump in. As soon as they were out of sight, the seaman walked along the edge of the shore, arms wrapped around his chest and shivering violently, scanning as best he could for Adewale. He spotted the Jackdaw by an island, right where he'd left it.

Throwing caution to the howling winds, he jumped into the water.

*

"Captain! You're a mess! Did you...." Adewale trailed off as he saw Edward climb up the back of the Jackdaw. "What happened? Where are your weapons? And your money?"

"Don't speak to loud." Edward growled through the clacking of his teeth. Adewale nodded and leaned in. "A band of men attacked me... Addey, I was robbed."

The Quartermaster sighed. "All those ships, all those lives.... all of it?"

"No. But the lot is gone.... keep the crew busy- don't tell them what happened. I'm going to the quarters." He muttered, going down the steps to the captain's quarters. Adewale watched him go.

*

He rolled over in the hammock, rubbing his temples. His throat ached and his nose was utterly blocked, and no matter how he tried to get it to go away, a headache attacked his skull. Edward groaned and sat up. He put his feet down on the wood and grabbed the hammock to steady himself. An itch flared in his nose and he pressed his wrist into it, sneezing sharply.

"Hah.... ha'ush!"

Edward sighed, staring at his feet. Adewale was, as he always seemed to be, right. The storm had beat him. Now he would have to pay the price. He could conceal it from the crew but not James Kidd and Adewale. They could see right through him.

As soon as he opened the door, a voice piped up.

"How are we feeling?"

"James!" He turned around, surprised to see the young man* leaning by the door. "What are you doing here?"

He rolled his eyes. "Hunting whales. Addey told me what happened. You're an idiot to be swimming around these seas after being beaten and drenched by the rain."

He sniffled. "So I've figured." He stepped closer. "You can't tell anyone."

His eyes brightened and a mischievous look spread across his face. "About that.... they know."

Edward groaned. "Come on, James. Why did you tell them."

"I'm sorry. They asked what was wrong. It's noon, Edward. You're usually the first one awake..... and," he gestured to the door. "You're a loud sneezer."

"Very funny." Edward said dryly, walking up the steps. Adewale was at his side instantly.

"Where to today, Captain? The waters are better after the storm."

Edward turned his back and held up a hand, one to cover his nose and the other to signal for Adewale to wait. "Hr'msh!"

When he looked back, the Quartermaster clicked his tongue. "We can wait, you know. It shouldn't take long for that to clear up."

Edward shook his head. "No. I'm not sick, that was one sneeze."

Adewale looked at him with a grin. "One sneeze- I've never seen you sneeze before- your voice sounds deeper, more manly-"

"My voice is manly!" Edward cut in, offended. The Quartermaster's smile widened.

"Sure it is. When you're sick."

Edward rolled his eyes and looked out over the ship, at the men working. "That's what I like to see."

James came up beside him. "The Jackdaw's becoming a feared force. Maybe not Kenway, but the ship is."

Edward cocked his head, glaring at him. "Come on. That's the first time."

"But is it the last?" Adewale said. Both him and James snickered.

Edward stalked to the back end of the ship, staring at the gunboats and schoonoers of the Spanish and British. He was trying to act indifferent, but that was difficult, as his nose had begun to itch again. He cupped both hands around his mouth and nose and sneezed harshly, his throat aching in protest.

"Ha'ish!"

James raised his arm. "Bless you, Cap'n Kenway!"

He turned and glared at him. Half the ship looked at Edward, and a few chuckled.

"Yea, with James." One said loudly.

Adewale walked over. "Don't worry about it. They'll stop soon enough."

"Go ahead and laugh. It doesn't bother me." Edward snapped. He buried his nose in hpthe back of his wrist and sneezed twice more.

"We still have to get more rum."

"We can plunder it. I'm not spending a single Realle on the stuff. Not with what we've got left."

James followed Adewale. "They'll manage without it, Addey. It's myself I'm worried about. You...." he glanced at Edward. "You're lucky Vein hasn't come up from his quarters yet."

"True." Edward grunted. "Bet he's drinking whatever rum the men have hidden for themselves."

Adewale chuckled. "Probably."

Edward sneezed again, into his elbow. "Huh'ishoo!"

James thumped his back, "I'm giving you a day to recover."

"Just that? I lost half my money, Kidd!" He protested. James crossed his arms.

"You must be so terribly sad."

He clutched his heart in mock grief. "Oh, I'm heartbroken."

X||X

I'm thinking about making some art but I have qualms about my siblings finding it if I do :/ I'll figure it out.

Hope you enjoyed!

[Arty]

Ahhhhhh!!!!! I love!!

[Orb]

The next one would have to be Arno. My brothers and I cracked up when we saw 'Arno's Fearless Outfit'. Not sure when I'll have him up, though.

[Arty]

Im actually in the process of playing unity. I like arno. He's cool.

[Orb]

It's fun and I didn't know the French had it in them to be so.... bloody. To me they have always been philosophers and explorers. More on the intelligent side of things. Unity actually made me more interested in the French Revolution.

James Kidd is not a man. I'm unsure as to why yet, but it's actually a woman named Mary I believe.

If I did that right you'll see why James Kidd's name is starred. Sorry it's not!

[Arty]

Oh know that. And hell yeah the french rev. Was bloody as hell. It would be cool if they did an assassin during the civil war. Which was also bloody.

[Orb]

Been a while in the making- sorry about that. Arno's up now!

Enjoy!

X||X

The streets of Paris.

A destraught place to be, when hundred of people were storming a building after a politician who had been extremely vocal about his dislike of the French patriots.

Arno perched atop a brick building, scanning the crowds of people. A light smirk crossed his face as he decided how to make his entrance. Quietly or as obvious as possible?

Little known to the public, the man was also a Templar.

The crowd grew louder, and angrier. Whatever he was going to do, it had to be quick.

Arno moved from building to building, balancing on the ropes placed between them almost birdlike. Then he spotted an opening.

There was a courtyard the crowd hadn't yet discovered, with nothing but a weak iron gate guarding it. That was perfect for what he wanted to do. Arno found a haystack by the entrance, with several guards protecting the area around it.

"Perfect..." he muttered to himself, moving to the rooftop. He took one last look and jumped, arms out. In midair he flipped onto his back, landing in the haystack withoit a sound.

He instantly curled into a ball, keeping his head buried between his arms. If a person wanted to jump into a haybale without getting hay in their face, they'd have to use their arms to this advantage. The guards outside seemed to be losing their courage, arguing in loud French with each other. One wanted to run inside and barricade the walls; the other wanted to attack the crowd.

Arno's heart fluttered in fear and irritation as an itch made itself obvious in the back of his nose. He grunted quietly and placed a gloved hand on the lower part of his face, squeezing his eyes shut and hating the situation.

"Let's go!" A man snapped in English. "I'm done waiting!"

Arno's interest peaked, and he twisted to better hear the conversation. Then his nose erupted into fire, and he pulled his shoulders in, sneezing into his palm.

"H'rsh!"

The guards stopped arguing, and Arno pinched his nose, more adamant than ever that he'd just made a mistake.

"What's that?" Someone asked in French. They immediately went back to business, and Arno could hear them turning barrels over and sifting through bushes.

The Assassin's shoulders jumped slightly, and his head bobbed as he suppressed another sneeze.

"There!" Someone shouted, and he threw himself out, assassintating one before they mobbed him. Eventually one was straddling him, knife to his throat. Four others held his arms and legs.

The one with the knife asked who he was, and Arno ground his teeth, answering with a sudden sneeze.

"Hah'rushoo!"

The man jumped back, enough time for Arno to pull free from one man's grip and kick him in the face. The others let go and drew their swords, and Arno drew his, one hand to pinch his nose. He heard a chuckle behind him.

"He can't stop sneezing!" One man kept laughing, and a few others thought it was funny, too.

They never saw it coming.

Then there were only two, and they held their swords like they were holy grails.

Arno's back arched and he sneezed sharply in his hand, slashing blindly with his sword for protection as one lunged for him. He scored a big without knowing it, and then there was just one. The guard jeered at him, holding his nose in a mocking way.

"You're going to wish you didn't do that!" Arno snapped, stepping forward and attacking. The guard prenced away, enough time for Arno to turn slightly and sneeze openly into the air.

"Hah'ashoo!"

The man's lip curled and he dove for an attack.

Arno parried, and the fight ended quickly.

He cut the alarm, and raced through the buildings, back to the crowd.

"Follow me! There's an entrance!" He called.

It would remain the first, and only, time Arno ever sneezed during a mission.

Kind of short, but I'm pressed for time. Hope you enjoyed!

[Arty]

Awww poor wittle arno! XD these are great!!!

Um....can i trouble you with another Connor one? With Achilles caring for him? Maybe during his teen years?

[Orb]

No problem, I enjoy the Connor ones, too. I'll see about tomorrow for one then.

[Arty]

I knew i liked ya!

[Orb]

School tried to chase me into the weekend- sorry about the wait. Also, not a 100% on III. I'm more of a Black Flag and Unity kind of person, but I hope I don't make too many mistakes.

Enjoy!

X||X

"You've done it now." Achilles groaned, pushing through the snow. Connor lagged behind, the howling wind almost pushing him back.

"I'm sorry. They spotted me at the wrong moment."

"Damned Templars." A mission to help Connor learn more about vanishing into a crowd had gone wrong, when the Templar he had used as a target spotted the teen among the group of people he was with. The man had found several of his own without even Achilles noticing, and now the two were leading them on a wild goose chase through the woods, and the howling wind and snow.

Bitter cold tore through their clothes, and their boots were soaked.

Still the men whooped and fired off their guns, and he even thought he heard a dog bark once.

"Into the trees!" He hissed at Connor. He nodded, scurrying into the nearest on and helping Achilles up.

One Templar passed under, then the target one, and still a few others trickled behind. One had a dog tied to a rope, and the animal sat on his haunches directly underneath them and howled.

"Up there!"

"Come on." He grabbed the teen's arm, and Connor nodded. He raced smoothly across the branches, with him closely behind. A shot whizzed past his ear, tearing a hole in his hood. He heard a crack, and Connor yowled.

He looked back, eyes widening as he realized the branch had snapped.

He was already on another branch, but Connor was dangling precariously over the men, and they were taunting him. One was reloading.

"Take my hand!" He crept as far as he could, whipping out his arm. Connor was about to, when the dog jumped and caught his boot, pulling him down.

The teen's hand grazed his fingers.

Anger seared through Achilles and he threw himself down, embedding a knife into the dig's neck. It growled once, teeth still in Connor's foot, then relaxed its grip.

The Templars stared nervously at the Assassin, and the one reloading froze as Connor drew himself up. Achilles, grabbed him and tugged Connor through the snow, away from the men. They would follow when they regained their senses.

After nightfall, the snow was still moderate, and they came across a large bare spot, however rocky.

"Damn it, Connor." He growled, pressing a handful of snow against his foot.

"I'm-" Connor's face twisted and he buried his nose and mouth into the crook of his elbow, eyes squeezing shut.

"Hu'rgsh!"

Achilles glanced up, then returned to his foot. The ice would numb it for a while, until they could shake off the Templars. "I'm not starting a fire tonight. They'll find us."

"Without their dog they are nothing." Connor murmered, holding his leg. Achilles shook his head.

"You think they don't train to follow footprints? The snow is deep; they could find us if the moon comes out."

The teen had nothing to say that.

There was a boulder facing an iced over creek, and Achilles sat with his back to it, gesturing for Connor to sit with him.

The teen curled up, drawing his knees to his chest and turning so his body fit into the bed formed by his side.

With Connor's back pressed to his hip, Achilles refused to go to sleep until his breaths evened out.

*

"Huh... Huh'rgst!"

Connor's back moved forward, then gently leaned back into his hip. Achilles opened one eye, first out of irritation, then out of concern as the teen sneezed again.

"Connor?"

"Yes."

"Are you alright?" He patted his shoulder, and Connor sniffles once, nodding.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Maybe he didn't want attention called to the fact that he was probably ill. "Does your foot hurt?"

"No."

Achilles noted the roughness of his voice, then glanced around, inspecting the early morning snow. Everything was swathed in blue light, and the snow seemed to be a little slick.

"We weren't chased by the Templars. They're probably still searching for us; we should leave here."

Connor shook his head. "Here.... Here...."

"What?"

The teen's breath hitched again and he sat up, a loud sneeze breaking from his mouth. "Heh.... he'reshoo!"

Achilles frowned. "Are you ill?"

Connor rubbed his nose and shook his head, sniffling. "No. I'm fine."

He didn't sound fine. Achilles pressed his knuckles to Connor's forehead, still frowning. "You seem warm."

"Because it's cold." Connor pulled away slightly, standing up. He winced when he out weight on his foot.

"I'll keep watch. Only until evening; after that we move slowly back to the Homestead."

Connor nodded, one wrist pressed against his nose like he expected another sneeze.

"Sleep as much as you can, and keep a bit of snow on your foot so it's numb." He turned to climb a tree and keep watch.

"What about you?" Connor asked.

Achilles sighed, unwilling to give the real reason he'd let the teen sleep. "I'm not tired."

After about five minutes, Achilles' head snapped up and he scanned the trees, trying to locate the sound he's just heard.

"Hah'rsh!"

Achilles jumped down, looking at Connor.

The teen was leaning against the boulder, one fist to his nose and the other wrapped around his chest. One leg was flat on the ground, his injured on, and the other pulled up, so his forehead almost touched it.

His eyes were closed and he seemed to be concentrating.

"Connor."

He didn't reply.

"Connor."

The teen looked up, his eyes fluttering closed and his mouth flopping open. He brought up an arm to cover his mouth.

"Huh'rsgh!"

"That can't be healthy." Achilles observed. "Are you ill?"

Connor looked annoyed, "I'm fine."

"Then why are you sneezing so much?"

"I'm fine!" Connor snapped, pulling his hood up. He resumed his position, as though Achilles wasn't there.

"We have to leave." He said, eyes darting up as several birds flew overhead, in response to a gunshot. "The Templars are back."

Connor nodded and unfurled his good leg, wincing when he looked at the injured one.

Achilles helped him up and they began through the snow, with Templars hit on their heels.

*

An hour later they seemed to have lost the Templars again.

That wasn't an ordinary Templar." Achilles said, pacing the cave mouth. Connor sat propped against the wall, listening to his rant. "It had to be a hunter."

"But they're usually afraid of us." Connor observed.

"Yes.... but hunters are people hired by Templars to hunt known Assassins down. As far as I know, they are rarely trusted with the truth, and large sums of money- and skill- are required for it. He posed as a Templar, and I fell for it!"

"I fell for it." Connor muttered quietly. "He noticed me, not you."

Achilles looked at Connor, and his eyes softened. The teen was ill and injured; he didn't need this.

"I'm going to start a fire. Stay here while I get some dry wood."

Connor nodded, eyes boring into Achilles' back as he walked away.

--- POV Swap---

Achilles thought he was ill.

Connor sniffed and rubbed his nose, unsure himself.

As per usual, Achilles was right.

But he had been the one the hunter saw. Achilles had no part of it. He had to understand that.

It's my fault. He thought grimly, pressing his wrist into his nose and holding his breath. I got us seen, then my foot, and now I'm sick.

Now he'd gone to get some wood. Achilles had said earlier a fire would make them more noticeable; why start one now?

"Hu'rgsh!"

He'd have to ask about it.

---POV Swap---

Achilles hurried back, the world clutched in his arms. It was vital if he wanted Connor to get well. The poor child didn't seem like he could take any more.

No.

He shook his head.

Connor was stronger than he looked. He would last. He always would.

He arrived back at the cave to see Connor slumped at the back, not breathing.

"Connor!" He dropped the wood and scrambled to his side.

He was curled into a ball, fist pressed against his mouth. Achilles yanked his hand away and the boy coighed and gasped.

"What are you doing?" He demanded. Connor seemed embarrassed.

"I...."

"Well?"

"I was.... I'm...." Connor's face contorted and he pressed his index finger to his nose, as if he were focusing hard on something. "Just.... Trying not to..... Hah'harush! Hah'ishoo!" He back arched and he sneezed violently into his fist.

Achilles chuckled and patted the teen's back.

Connor relaxed and sat up, blinking. Achilles- still chuckling- picked up the wood he'd dropped and placed it in the middle, ready to make a fire.

"What are you laughing at?" He asked.

Achilles looked at him and the smile on his face broadened more.

"What?" The teen demanded irritably.

"You. I used to do the exact same thing. I used to act like two things couldn't happen to me at once."

"What are those two things?" Connor asked.

"Illness," the flame sparked, and a warm glow filled the cavern. "And injury...." he trailed off as a shadow passed over the flame, over everything in the cave.

The Templars had found them.

TBC

X||X

I'm not denying it; I had fun while I wrote that.