Once again I have to wrap up another story, my longest yet! For all that stuck with it I hope you liked it and I appreciate any and all feedback :) I'm gonna take a break from here for a while but a 'sequel' on Mary and her family is in the works however long it may take. So that's all from me, bye for now!

Lexington, Massachusetts, September 1783

The bowing trees acted as pillars, the filtered light pouring down between the leaves were as stained glass. Nathan stood amid it all, eyes unblinking down the hand crafted aisle. Wooden logs placed one behind the other were the pews of this outdoor chapel, now filled by the guests. Whether the seats were uncomfortable or not, it did not register on their faces, but like Nathan, kept glancing eagerly down the aisle.

"You're sweating," Connor whispered as he stood beside the groom.

"Am I? Oh no," he hastily wiped his brow on his sleeve.

"Relax," Connor couldn't help but smile.

Nathan thought back to only last week when a messenger ran into town, shouting from the top of his lungs that Britain had signed a treaty, completely ending the war and the struggle from freedom. America was independent. He had rushed to the church to announce his wish to marry, which the minister agreed to right away. But he couldn't bring Lisa back to the place where it had all ended. With much deliberation, he had finally convinced the minister to marry them outside in the forest. Is not God's creation just as suitable to form a lifelong union as a stuffy church?

Then, as the musicians changed their song, Connor nudged Nathan in the ribs, encouraging him back to the present.

"Here she comes," he breathed as the figure came into sight.

A flurry of hushed voices, mostly masked by the music, rushed through the guests before it suddenly died down again. Lisa, dressed in the most beautiful white gown, seemed to glide across the rich, grassy ground. Behind her was Peggy, the closest of the Schuyler sisters, chosen as her maid of honour. Eliza and Angelica sat among the guests, their children by the sides. Alexander and Mulligan joined them, just as excited to see the two wed as the women. Antinanco walked at her side, her arm linked in his. Lisa had always imagined this moment with her own father but once that dream could no longer happen, she approached her to-be-father-in-law. He didn't quite understand their customs but was honoured to be a part of the union and gratefully accepted. In preparation for the ceremony, he carved a pendant, similar to the one he had carved for Anne, now in possession of their son. On either side, instead of an eagle and a songbird, it was a flower and one singular feather. He called her the beauty of the earth and Nathan, the son of the sky.

As she raised her eyes, Lisa squeezed the pendant hanging from her neck before

Nathan's heart nearly burst at the sight of her, radiant, stunning, like an ethereal goddess. In her other hand were bunches of white lilies, roses and other flowers Nathan didn't recognise, but he was hardly focused on her bouquet.

As she joined him before the minister, they gazed into each other's eyes, repeating the words that were fed to them.

"Do you, Lisa Julia Geoffries, take Nathan Edward Young to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do." Her voice was slow and breathless, absorbing the moment to remember forever. When Nathan spoke his vows, his voice was a hurried blur of words, racing to the end of the ceremony before any twist of fate could stop them from being together.

Before they knew it, the formality was over and the band began a wistful tune, reminiscent of that winter's ball, to which the bride and groom took their first dance. Then the song changed to something more merry and they were joined by their guests, kicking off their shoes to dance on the soft grassy earth. The forest became alive in sound and colours, the mid afternoon light fading to late afternoon and with it casting long shadows of dancing figures. Lisa and Nathan separated to mingle with their guests and talk to those that had long been absent. Iain and Victoria were there, still tall and strong yet distinctly weathered. For people like them, age seemed to only affect them like a ship that creaked after being battered by a storm. With them was their daughter Elea, dark and stormy like her mother and originally attended the ceremony in a disguise that made her resemble a young man. It made Nathan think of the stories his aunt had told him of his great grandmother, the pirate Jemima who had disguised herself as a man. He could bet Elea was just as ruthless on a ship as she was. He asked after their other son, Jonathan. When Nathan had briefly met him, he was a curious boy, wise beyond his years but cursed with the Eagle Sight that he can never revert back to normal vision. He was living a sheltered lifestyle, 'a hermit' as his sister called it and preferred to remain so instead of travelling so far for a man he barely knew. Nathan couldn't blame him, he'd probably do the same.

After they had spoken, Nathan caught sight of Mary as she spoke to some of the other guests, possibly those that had known her when she was young. Nathan has only briefly spoken to his aunt before the wedding and now they had a chance to speak, Mary rushed over to him and threw her arms around him.

"I still can't believe how big you are now!" She cried, the force of her embrace nearly knocking him over. She was now shorter than him but it was clear her Assassin training has continued and her long lilac dress only just covered the muscles she had acquired.

As she continued to chatter excitedly at her nephew about how much he had grown, how strong and handsome he looked, how he still had his mother's eyes, three people approached them. One was a tall, muscled man, who like Mary, only just managed to conceal their strength. By his side were two children, a boy and girl, both resembling the adults.

"Oh, oh!" Mary cut off her own rambling when the man coughed behind her. "I haven't introduced you!" She waved a hand, moving from the man, to the girl, to the boy. "This is my husband, Michael, and my children, Charlotte and Albert."

"My goodness," Nathan was taken aback. For some reason, he had never assumed his aunt would get married and start a family.

"I'm sorry, I tried to write, just as soon as we got your letter we jumped on the next ship."

"No matter," he smiled. "You're here now. So, what name do you take these days?"

"Mrs Mary Scott," she beamed.

Scott. There was something about that name...

The memory found him and threw him back into that cold, biting wind, a dying man at his feet.

"Is your... Was your father called James? A British soldier?"

Michael's smile dropped.

"How can you possibly know that?" He asked, with just a hint of aggression. His eyes darted around, fully aware of the feelings towards the British in an area that had suffered at their hand.

"I met him, he was... He was dying after a battle. We talked and he knew I was an Assassin. He gave me this." He reached into his jacket and took out the coin that still hung around his neck. "He believed we would meet one day and reunite it with you."

"Oh, my God," Michael looked almost scared as he recognised the pendant. "I thought they lost it. I thought the men that buried him took it."

"Your father told me he loved you very much. He wished he could have seen you grow up."

Nathan passed it to its intended owner and Michael could only whisper a thank you.

"Daddy, why are you crying?" Charlotte asked, tugging on her father's sleeve.

Indeed, there were tears building up in Michael's eyes, edging down his cheeks one by one.

"It's because I'm happy, my darling," he told her as he took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "This belonged to my father, your grandfather. It's a lucky coin."

Charlotte reached for the coin, her delicate fingers running over the indentations curiously.

"It's lucky you got it back," she remarked which made her father laugh.

Married life suited Nathan. He loved Lisa dearly and every day with her warmed his heart. But it was still cold. That figure, hazy red and whispering cruel things, still remained at his side.

Sometimes he would sit at the fire, staring unblinking into the flames and picturing the destruction of his past. The death of his mother, the war, Gerard, Astra, the attack on Concord... It was like his personal Apple of Eden, remembering the chaos of the past and picturing the havoc of what could be. He recalled that night, watching those strange events from the Apple. His sword seemed to pull itself towards it. What moved it? The air did not rush around him so what was this mysterious force?

Nathan stood from the chair and stepped forwards where his grandfather's sword was ceremoniously placed above the mantelpiece. He picked it up and ran his finger along the blade. It glimmered in the reflection of the fire and in a moment, Nathan swore he saw a face in the metal.

What did Connor do when ridding himself of the Apple? He said he took it out to sea, weighing it down and tossing it overboard, just as Washington said. Maybe the depths of the ocean were the farthest and therefore safest place for them.

It gave Nathan an idea. That glowing of the hilt, the connection it had with the Apple, there was something mysterious about his sword- no, his grandfather's sword. Maybe that was it, what Connor had told him about the precursor artifacts, holding magic and memories, perhaps this was one of them.

Nathan extended his arm and the blade with it and there was a sudden flash, as if the sword had torn the air and split light from another realm into their own. It was like the visions of the Apple all over again. He saw his grandfather, panicked and pained as a man, Haytham, plunged a blade into his chest. He fell, this light seeping from his wound creeping into the blade that was sinking in the snow.

"I live on," came the low, dark voice of the spectre behind him.

Nathan spun, swinging the blade but no one was there. The visions were gone too, all remained was Lisa at the doorway who had noticed his alarmed face.

"What is it, Nathan?" Watching him slowly lower the sword, still cautious.

"I... I need to go somewhere."

The Arctic Circle, May 1784

The arctic breeze felt like it was biting his bare face, gnawing at the exposed skin. With a harsh shiver, Nathan pulled up his collar and buried his lower face in the protective fabric. For the first time in years, he wore his grandfather's uniform, turning away from the dark figure that still haunted him and looking instead to the image he had made in his mind. The real Edward, he pictured, had no malicious features except when someone dared threaten his family. He had kind eyes, the same eyes he had passed down to his daughters and in turn his grandson. A warm smile and a comforting voice completed the picture, bordered by a strong posture of authority that told anyone who looked at him he was a leader.

"I'm still a killer, you know," said the scratchy voice, caught in the icy winds.

Nathan ignored it and instead stared out to the vacant sea, watching and waiting for land to appear. They were lucky, most of the storms of the season had passed and there were white skies, like a blank canvas above them, blanking the frozen sea that reflected the colour in a murky grey.

"Land ho!" Cried a sailor from the crow's nest.

The white shore of the Arctic coastline then came into view, barely distinguishable against the waters that bordered it.

The ship grew closer and closer and with every inch they drew nearer, Nathan felt the presence behind him grow, frozen breath down the back of his neck. When they pulled ashore, he immediately disembarked, jumping into the compact snow with the tails of the uniform brushing along the surface. He held out his grandfather's sword, the hilt now glowing and pulsating in his grip, guiding him where to go.

There was no sound but the faint throbbing of the Piece of Eden inside the hilt and the rush of northern air over the cliffs down onto the shore. He walked on in apparent silence, listening for anything.

In the snow swept wind, he caught glimpses of a man leaving no footprints, walking ahead of him. He wore white, constantly blending into the surroundings and Nathan often lost sight of him. He continued trudging through the snow, his uniform whipping this way or that in correspondence to the changing winds.

He came to the bottom of a tall cliff face, frozen snow and exposed ice decorating the wall. It looked as if it had collapsed in on itself, some aftermath of a war on nature. The hazy figure, their back still to Nathan, stood looking over a mound of snow. The wind rushed over it and the layer of white powder was pulled away, revealing a misshapen form, the image diffracted by the ice. It was a body, identical to the ghost that stood behind him.

The figure, hardly solid enough to be called so, faded into a softer, gold shade.

"Here, I died," he said mournfully.

Then, abrubtly and aggressively, the colour darkened to red again.

"Here, I was killed," he snarled.

"My brother," said the gold form.

"My enemy," said the red.

Nathan saw images in the snow and the wind, what he believed to be a reflection of light at first, but through images of a fight, blurred and indistinct, he could make out his grandfather fall at the hands of Haytham Kenway.

"Achilles- the old man- buried me here," the two voices said together, their names overlapping.

Holding out the sword, Nathan pressed it into the mound, not deep enough to pierce the body beneath but enough to keep it upright, standing like the Arthurian legend. Images and visions began to spill from the hilt, projections flying across the icy cliff faces. A golden songbird, it's voice not lost in the gale, fluttered out too and as it ascended, it transformed in a flash into a woman, standing in front of Nathan.

Instantly, he recognised her.

"Mother," he breathed, as if the air was snatched from his lips.

"My son," she replied with a weary smile.

She appeared as she was before the fire, and indeed before her forced marriage; youthful and pretty. A memory that had been preserved.

"I am so proud of you, all you have accomplished," she continued, the harsh wind fading away to make way for her gentle voice. "I wish I could have been alive to stand by your side."

"I wish the same." Nathan replied. "I wished you could have seen my wedding."

"I did."

Then, a sea eagle, its ruffled feathers curved to the flow of the wind, burst from the same source. It joined Anne mid-air and transformed into its human form. The face of his grandfather was revealed, but not the aggressive, dark figure he was used to.

"I know my image has caused you misery these past years," came the voice, softer, calmer than the one he had expected. "But it's a damaged memory, a painful time of loss and sacrifice. It isn't me."

"I was told you were kind. Loving." Nathan told the spirit. "You were respected and admired. I think I always knew the ghost wasn't truly you."

"I am glad that was how I am remembered." He smiled. "Know we are at peace now, even my brother, Haytham, is among us. Our memory is at rest."

Anne turned her golden head towards the sea.

"It is time for you to return, my son." She sighed. "You are being missed."

He followed her gaze. His mother then found a small smile.

"Ah, I can feel a quickening," she turned back to her son. "Hurry home, Nathan, before your son is born."

Taken aback, Nathan's jaw dropped, more surprised at the proposition of being a father than talking to his own dead relatives.

"Give my love to your father." She said as the two of them transformed back into birds in a flash, fluttering and twisting in the air before diving back into the hilt of the sword, the light gradually dimming to nothing.

Nathan took a few shaky steps back. Leaving the sword behind, buried in the snowy grave as a makeshift headstone, he returned to the ship to think over what he had seen and heard. In anticipation, he often perched at the helm, searching for the shoreline. When it finally came to view, he waved to the captain and dived into the waters, barely patient enough to pull into harbour. He swam to shore and then ran to Lexington, thoughts of Lisa fuelling his body. The door opened and he threw his arms around her, kissing her face as she laughed and kissed him back.

"Nathan," she breathed, "I have news."

"You're with child!" He exclaimed, his hands to her belly.

"How did you know?" She gasped.

He gave her a warm smile and linked her arm with his, guiding her back into their home.

"A little bird told me, my love."

Lexington, Massachusetts, June 1793

Antinanco took a deep breath, inhaling the early summer air, all his senses absorbing his surroundings. He listened to the quiet brushing of tree leaves, the flurry of birdsong and then - as the sound broke the quiet of the forest - the laughter of children.

"Gran'papa!" The excited shriek came from the smallest child as she threw herself into the arms of her grandfather.

"Ah, I have missed you, my little Sarah," he hugged her tight before the larger forms of her two brothers joined the embrace.

"Boys!" Lisa snapped, worried the force of her children would knock over the poor man.

But Antinanco still had the strength of his youth and it would take more than three children to topple him.

"How was your journey?" Nathan asked, embracing his father once his children had withdrawn their grip.

"Long," he sighed. "But I am glad to be home."

"So you've decided this is your home?" His son raised an eyebrow. "With all your searching I figured you'd have found a place much nicer than an old hunting village."

"It may be an 'old hunting village'," he smirked, "but it houses my family."

"And the memory of mother?"

"It pains me, but you have proved we can rebuild memories and cast off the hurt of the past," he put a hand on Nathan's shoulder, giving him a wise smile similar to that ghost of the Arctic shore.

"Then welcome home, Father."

After Lisa hugged her father-in-law, she took her eldest son by the hand and led him to where their archery equipment was set up. With a hidden smile, Antinanco noticed that both his son and Lisa still wore their wooden pendants.

As the boy raised his bow, his brother took his father's hand and began to run along the fallen trees, laughing as he jumped.

"Hold it straight, John," Lisa said, her arms guiding him. "Just follow the target- keep both eyes open- that's it, love!"

As the arrow hit the target successfully he turned to his mother and received a grin and ruffle of hair as approval. The shrieking of his brother, Daniel, nearly filled the forest as Nathan lifted him up and swung the boy around, causing a rush of birds to fly from the trees above. Meanwhile, little Sarah wandered around the meadow, plucking the brightest flowers she could find. On collecting a yellow flower, the stem longer than her little arm and the head larger than her fist, she held it up triumphantly to her family.

Giggling, she rushed over to her grandfather and with both hands gifted him the flower.

"For you," she smiled, showing the gaps in her teeth.

Antinanco sat on the grass to be at her height and graciously accepted the gift.

"Why, it is almost as pretty as you," he kissed the top of her head as she curled up in his lap.

Stroking the petals, Sarah looked up at her grandfather with her blue eyes, the eyes of her great-grandfather, her grandmother and her father.

"Do you miss Grandma Anne?" She asked quietly. "Papa tell us stories of her."

"Sometimes, dear one, I do." He sighed as a songbird from the trees above fluttered around them until resting on Antinanco's shoulder.

Sarah delightedly watched the bird sing into her grandfather's ear.

"But other times, I do not," he gently patted the bird with a finger, eternal love in his eyes. "Because, my dear, when you love someone, they never truly leave you, but will be with you, in spirit, forever."

And to confirm his words, the songbird gave a cheery tune before extending her wings and fluttering away.