Chapter Text
“And so now you see… That what was shall be again. So tell me, how is this better?”
The vision came to a stop, Desmond saw the future. A possible future if they all walked away. Like the ones who came before, he would inspire hope and rebuild, allowing for civilisation to return. But in time, be revered as a God just as before. All the history he's seen under the eyes of others; wars waged in the name of gods, corruption and intolerance. It would all happen again.
History would merely repeat in a cycle. Billions dead, like before. Civilisation knocked back into the stone age, like before. All the knowledge of the world reduced to zero to be relearned, like before. Would it also be inevitable that this millennia-long war with the Templars would also repeat?
It all just keeps happening again. Everything with the Assassins and Templars, fighting back and forth throughout the ages. For thousands of years, all the way back to the damn precursor times. And yet, nothing changed in all this time. History repeats. Despite their best efforts, it repeats a lot.
Juno continued, peering into the thoughts of Desmond. The walls that surrounded them were of design by those who came before. So the very temple itself had the unique dominion over humans just as any other piece of eden. She could influence, gaze, pick his mind. She played into his doubts. Encouraged him to act. For, what would all their effort have been for?
“She would sacrifice you, sacrifice the world, for no other reason than to deny me vindication.”
Juno looked with her cold pale stare. She had turned the solution for the world into a solution for her own. Minerva turned frantically to Desmond.
“They will enslave your kind, Desmond. Is this not why you fight? Is this not why you came here? To ensure more than just your race's future, but it's freedom?”
Juno sneered, turning to Minerva with her features scrunched. “What future? What freedom?! Billions dead and the whole cycle begun anew? This world has known nothing but heartache and horror since we left it!” Juno spoke simply of what Desmond's thoughts betrayed. She could see into his mind and so she used this to her advantage.
Minerva still remained composed, yet disgusted at her fellow precursor. Despite the hardships and flaws of their creations, they gifted life. Gifted knowledge. Gifted choice. Passed their DNA and potential to the following generations. “Our gift to them. And you'd see it all returned.” Desmond grew impatient, time was running out and here he was in the middle of a catfight between two members of the most powerful beings on the planet.
“Enough!”
Minerva pleaded with Desmond. For no matter the alternative, Juno would see an end for everything. It was difficult to explain the true ramifications, to explain the full weight of Juno's motives to a lifeform of lower comprehension.
“You must not do this.”
However, Desmond was out of patience. Whatever was coming, they had mere minutes to stop. The last seventy-five-thousand years culminated to this exact moment. Juno was a threat, this was clear. But leaving the world to burn, billions dead, all the knowledge in the world lost to future generations. All of history repeating. It was at too great a cost. Everything the Assassins have tried to do, even the Templars from a certain point of view, would all be made worthless.
Perhaps this choice was selfish. Perhaps his will shouldn't be the defining factor for the fate of every man, woman, and child. But he couldn't stand back and do nothing while the world burned.
Desmond had his answer. “Whatever Juno's planning, however horrible it might seem today, we'll find a way to stop it. But the alternative? What you want… there's no hope there!”
Minerva leapt forward, panicked with the possibility that Desmond would play into Juno's plot. Grasping any possible response to dissuade Desmond. An idea came to mind. The eye was modified by Juno, the power released would be too much for any living creature to handle. If he were to press it, his life would be extinguished. As Juno had no emotion for any mere human. Not even one who was destined to stop the destruction of the world.
“If you free her, you'll be destroyed!” Juno turned with a masked glee, her expression unchanged and ghostly. “It will happen in an instant. There will be no pain.” Desmond stared into Juno's soulless eyes. He was being played. But… there was no other way.
As those words left the precursors lips, Rebecca let out a muffled cry. Shaun froze, not knowing what to do next. Only being able to watch. Her words were processed by every being in the room. Desmond himself, had partly expected something like this. Something so grand wouldn't come without sacrifice.
William faltered at hearing the words exchanged between the two precursors. After all this time, after just getting his son back, not just in person but in spirit. Finally at peace with their past and agreed to build a better future for their family. He couldn't stand by and watch it all crash and burn without doing anything.
Desmond's time in the world was practically a blip in comparison to him and the various lineages they shared. The mere notion of his mother, Reika, not being able to give a last goodbye, nor see her son fully grown. This information could be lethal to her already damaged spirit.
Minerva responded, frightened and shaken at the possibility now turning slowly to reality. “You mustn't!” However, Desmond had already made his choice. One was clearly the better option. And Juno… the Assassins were here. Despite whatever state she was left in, Juno was still a living creature. Of flesh and blood. Of mind and soul. No matter the power or strength, nothing lasts. Everything dies, as that's life. The same applies to him too. His life for the world? Only a small sacrifice.
“It's done, Minerva. The decision's made.”
William immediately shoved himself ahead, grabbing onto Desmond's shoulder from behind with a heavy grip, he screamed out to his son in desperation. “No! Son, there has to be another way-”
Desmond turned back, interrupting his father as he knew better than all, they literally only had minutes, maybe just seconds to spare. “There isn't time! You know it's true. It's already started, I have to do this now!”
“No…” Desmond heard Shaun whisper in denial. “Just… mate, come with us. Maybe Minerva is right. Who are we to-” but Shaun was cut off by Desmond. His mind was made. “I do not care what some precursor believes outweighs the other. I'm not standing by as billions die and the world resets.”
William didn't relent. Holding onto his son with both arms now. William wanted to let go, as the logical part of his mind knew that they couldn't stand by and let the world just end. But the emotional part of him, that he'd always kept in check, could not let this happen. He can't lose him again.
Had William's logical thoughts won, they'd all walk out as Desmond took the sacrifice. However, just this once, he decided to take a leap of faith and let his emotional side take over. Now he wasn't seeing this from the view of William Miles, the mentor to the brotherhood. Instead, he was no William Miles, father of Desmond Miles. And he could not- would not let his son die.
“Desmond. Get out of here. I'll do it.” Desmond stepped back, caught off guard.
“W-What? No! Dad, this is my choice. I-” But William interjected. As his son said himself, they only had moments to spare. And if either one of them were to die, he would sacrifice himself without a doubt, a thousand times over. No matter their differences, no matter how opposite they both were to one another, he was still his son.
“I can't let you die, not now. Not after everything we've been through. I feel like I only just got you back.”
Shaun and Rebecca had been silent the whole time, watching the argument between precursors, and now father and son for the fate of the world. Shaun was torn. As was Rebecca. The entire brotherhood's future also rested in this moment, either one of their strongest Assassins; a friend. Or the leader; the mentor to the global Assassin brotherhood.
“Bill. What are you saying? You're our leader- our mentor! This brotherhood needs you!”
William, Still facing Desmond responded, “the Assassins have always dealt with changes in leadership. Whether planned or not.”
He was right, damn it all he was right. The death of Al Mualim, the retaliation against the Italian brotherhood in Monteriggioni, the Assassin purge of the American Colonies. He felt himself almost slip into the past yet again, very nearly succumbing to another hallucination from all the parallels.
William brought his hand up to his son, then gently pushed him aside. He stepped up to the pedestal, breath faltering, facing Minerva. She sneered, as all hope was lost.
“Then the consequences of this mistake are yours to live, and die with!”
Her apparition faded into darkness, her last words screaming of anger and lost hope. William quickly turned back at the Assassins. Barking out his final orders.
“You all need to get out of here, get as far away as you can, leave the country. Alert Gavin Banks when you can, he's next in line to be mentor. When you're safe, get him to bring in the ship.” But that was the least of his concerns at this very moment.
Desmond grabbed his father's arm. He can't just stand by and let another die in his stead. “Dad, please! Don't do this! I'm the one they want. I'm the reason we're all here! …I don't want anyone else to die for me.”
“Desmond, I've lived a long life. You've barely lived your own.” William recognised how little his son had actually been able to live for himself, always sitting in the animus, chasing some piece of eden. Even his life on the Farm mirrored this. To this day it remained one of his deepest regrets. For all their talk on protecting free will, he barely allowed his son to have any.
William gave a desperate hug. Desmond simply dropped to the floor, looking to the distance, through the caverns walls. Tears streaming down, teeth clenched.
“Desmond. I need to say this to you not as your mentor, not as an Assassin, but as your father. I'm proud of you… Now go son, be with your mother and live well.”
Go son. Go be with your family, and live well.
William stood up and walked to the pedestal. Desmond watched on as Shaun and Rebecca came to him, trying to comfort him. Yet another life would be claimed to prolong his. The Assassins from his failed rescue mission, Lucy, all the others who fought to keep him away from Abstergo's hands while under that coma, Clay. This feeling was never something he would get used to, even after watching it happen to his ancestors too. Even though he'd watched it happen time and time again.
It's hard enough taking a life, but having that life taken without choice? To prolong your own life? Especially when they were a brother, a sister, a friend, family. Nothing hurt more than that, especially when there was no choice in the matter.
Desmond stood, helped up by Shaun. Although he was in an emotional state, he knew better than to let his emotions out at this moment. Grieving would come later. Now, he had to move forward. Rebecca came forward, trying to offer some sympathy. She along with Shaun had watched Desmond go through hell these past months, and now he was about to watch his own father die.
“I'm sorry… Desmond-” interrupting Rebecca, he turned his back to the pedestal, beginning his way to the exit.
“You heard him. We need to get going.” Shaun and Rebecca hesitantly followed, worried as to his dismissal. His refusal to acknowledge what had transpired.
Their number one priority was packing up the essentials, and leaving quickly. This temple's activation was sure to be a loud alert for Abstergo.
Just then, the temple glowed brightly all around them, but most prominently from the pedestal directly behind all of them, where his father was. An electric hum began. Turning just in time, he caught a scream that used all of William's remaining breath. The scream began violently, loud, but was drowned out. What stuck with Desmond the most was the last seconds of it. It sounded like his vocal cords were blown, breath depleted but still shouting out from the sheer pain. Lungs scrunched up as a result.
Desmond couldn't bear this noise. And Juno? She lied. That piece of shit. He shouldn't be surprised, as Juno took Lucy away from him as Juno saw her as a distraction from the main goal of their mission. Painless? Quick? He just heard his father scream hard enough to implode his lungs, for seconds. Not one. Not two. But six. Desmond turned around just in time to see William's body fall. For a brief moment of vulnerability, Desmond lost focus and only saw red.
“No!” Desmond would try to run back, but he was held back by Shaun. “Desmond! I'm sorry, I really am. But we need to get out of here!” Rebecca chimed in, her voice shaky and limited in hope. “ The temple just let out a huge energy signature. Abstergo knows. We can't afford a confrontation.”
Desmond wouldn't turn yet, he still tried to lunge forward, the hold Shaun had wouldn't contain a man with the combined power of three master Assassins. But reason could. If only he could get through to him.
“I can't just… leave him here for those bastards to take!”
Shaun had a complete understanding from where their friend was coming from. The man had just watched his father die right in front of him for god sakes. And he knew just how much Desmond hated losing people just to keep himself alive. The man fell into a coma the last time it happened. “I'm sorry but, we don't have a choice.”
Desmond turned back to the body, using his eagle vision to see if his father would shine with blue, showing if he was still somehow alive. His sixth sense pulsed throughout the corridor, tagging all who surrounded him. The corridor became pale white, Shaun and Rebecca glowed blue. His father remained pale and white.
More tears trickled down from both eyes. But he pushed back against the sinking grief, the deep force in his heart created by a combination of varying emotions. He pushed these emotions down, blocking any thought of these events from fully processing in his mind. Closing his eyes, aggressively shrugging off the painful thoughts. Holding them in to let out another time. The struggle weakened, then stopped. Desmond's focus returned to the mission at hand. He turned, and the three left the corridor.
Anything that was important to the Assassins was secured. They could only afford a single trip. The animus, laptops, food, guns & weapons… the apple. Luckily, most of these things were already packed to make a speedy exit. However, they never anticipated such a large signal to be blown out.
Anything that was expendable was left behind. Lights, seats, heaters. They didn't want to risk staying too long. The group rushed out of the cave, using the ropes and gear provided to go through the steep pathway.
Through the exit corridor, they entered the final hallway. The group found their way to the van and threw the crates they gathered in. Desmond climbed to the back, Shaun and Rebecca to the front. Shaun turned the key, and the truck started.
Desmond stared to the other side of the van, then he suddenly leaned forward, his hand masking his eyes as they grew wet with tears. So many had died just to keep him alive. And now, his Father had joined them. All the emotion he dug in had just begun to seep out. He let out a shuddered breath.
Rebecca turned back to Desmond, trying to comfort him. “Desmond, I'm so sorry…” Shaun still had his eyes glued on the path ahead, driving the truck as far away as they could from the temple, but also chimed in. “Des… you couldn't have done anything-”
Desmond angrily cried out, “Couldn't have done anything? I could have activated it instead of… instead he would be alive.”
“But you would've died.” Desmond turned to Rebecca as she responded, she could see his bloodshot eyes, the tears, his arm soaked with them. He didn't say anything and leaned forward to rest his temple on his hands. Now that they were away, packed and fleeing, Desmond could finally let out his pent up emotion.
He cried out, there was no longer any chance to make up for lost time, to come back together as a family. He didn't even know him well up until the last weeks of this mission. Barely any time for a meaningful relationship. And yet, why was he grieving this much? Shouldn't he be used to this?
He felt Altair's, Ezio's, and Connor's emotions as their loved ones died, felt their scars that never faded and eventually passed to him. Restless nights thinking about traumas not his own. And yet, how was he not used to this already?
A news broadcast then came through the radio, interrupting Desmond's grieving, and bringing in everyone's attention.
“-It's some sort of global Aurora Borealis… Never seen anything like this before…”
Shaun and Rebecca looked up at the night sky, they were too busy evacuating, and with Desmond's cries to notice the Northern lights, brighter than ever observed. Usually they were barely visible by the naked eye. Lime green swirls on the cosmos, blocking out any light from the stars.
“...Eyewitnesses describe electrical storms and erratic displays of unusual weather… residents are being asked to remain inside and wait for-”
Desmond now turned to the front of the truck, noticing the bright Aurora. The sight brought back the memory he had received from Jupiter before waking up from his coma nearly two months before. The bright global Aurora signifying the planets geomagnetic field struggling against the sun's flare. The catastrophe. It's here.
“Geological surveys are now reporting seismic activity throughout the ring of fire… Northeastern Canada is said to be experiencing the largest… on record”
Shaun had stopped driving to fully listen. Desmond didn’t like how this was sounding Geological activity? That's the next sign. Worst case scenario, what came next were the global earthquakes, the ground cracking and departing to swallow people into its fiery depths, volcanic activity rising exponentially, continents smashing into each other as the tectonic plates crumble to pieces.
“... Satellites and transformers are failing as the flare increases in intensity… Worldwide reports of blackouts and…”
The radio is interrupted with even more static. It's clear the solar attack is interfering with the radio frequency. Every soul within the van was in a state of uncertainty and panic. Things are getting even worse. Desmond noticed Rebecca bring her arms up to her mouth, shaking. Shaun however was the exact opposite. Stuck in his place, not moving at all. Completely frozen. But he knew that cold exterior was completely different from the inside.
Every single one of them were panicking. Desmond himself tried to push aside the doubt, the fear, the uncertainty. All he had. All he needed, was just to have a little faith.
“... Seems to be receding, residual seismic and volcanic activity is being reported… but nothing approaching earlier levels.”
Suddenly, hope grew from the dark. And out it spread into their light.
“Obviously a while before experts are able to assess the full extent of the damage caused by today's event.”
“But it appears the worst is behind us.”
Shaun shut off the radio. It was done. All these years culminated to this exact point. So many lives lost and used just for this. They really don't know the half of it. If only that radio guy knew just how true he was…
“Oh… my god.” Shaun began to breathe out excessively, barely able to catch his breath.
Desmond had a slight smirk, the world was saved. The worst had passed. But his thoughts were still on the man left behind at the temple. Then, Desmond felt a familiar sensation. His surroundings pulsed white and pale, just as if he were using eagle vision. But this was a different, yet familiar feeling still.
Ghostly apparitions appeared around him. He began hearing voices. From his father? William? But Willitham. He was dead. He killed him. The Templars here pose little threat now that Haythliam is dead. But… what did it accomplish? Was there truly any chance of peace between them?
Can't breathe- I…
Desmer was grasping at his throat, he was being strangled. Connond had just been hit by debris; he wasn't in any condition to fight. Father. He was still alive. It had to remain this way. Peace between them, peace between the Assassins and Templars was still in reach! They shared the same goal. The same motives!
Surrender! And I will spare you!
Father…
Connor drew his blade. Haytham stood, stumbling back and grabbing at his throat.
As Connor watched his father stand away from him, he too stood. But then dropped not a moment later on the strange, unfamiliar metal floor.
Davenport Homestead - 1783
Connor tore off the paintings mounted from the wall detailing the Templar's conspiracies. He gathered and tucked them into a neat pile, walking out towards the upper stairs. They no longer served a use other than ghostly reminders. It was unwise to dwell on such things.
Before leaving, Connor turned back and gazed at where his robes once stood, where he looked before in awe and contempt as an initiate, not knowing what laid ahead. Further back in the basement, there was a journal.
My father left those for me.
Making the first few steps, he winced and knelt down. The pain from his encounter with Lee still remained.
Mother. Father. I am sorry. I have failed you both.
His wounds were bandaged and cleaned. They still required healing. His slow pace through the stairs, limp, and bouts of pain showed he still needed rest. But he wouldn't drop a second sooner before letting these pages remain.
Were we not meant to live in peace, then? Is that it?
Are we born to argue? To fight?!
Connor found his way up and towards the fireplace in the Homestead. Without as much as a pause, he tossed the paintings into the fire. Old ghosts must be put to rest, even his own father's. He sat back and watched the flames engulf the parchment.
So many voices, each demanding something else… It has been hard at times, but never harder than today to see all I worked for; perverted, discarded, forgotten!
The past decade had given Connor much to think about. His victory? Could it even be called one? The journal left by his father had brought much think on. Why his father did what he did, and that it wasn't ignorance, or overconfidence that stayed his blade that night in Fort George.
You would say I have described the whole of history, Father. Are you smiling, then? Hoping I might speak the words you long to hear? To validate you? To say that all along, you were right?
I will not.
Opening the front door, he gazed at the pilar supporting the canopy, where he made a pledge that had at last been fulfilled. A decade has passed since then. The day he swore to rid the Colonies of the Templars' control. And now, the threat is over.
Even now, faced as I am with the truth of your cold words, I refuse, because I believe things can still change. I may never succeed. The Assassin's may struggle another thousand years in vain, but we will not stop!
Connor's mind raced with renewed aim. He walked closer to the pillar, grabbing the hilt of the hatchet.
Compromise. That is what everyone has insisted upon, and so I have learned it.
His goal hadn't changed but his drive, motivations, and methods most likely have.
But differently than most. I think.
The American frontier grew pale. Connor's surroundings became foggy and blurred. The shapes turned to gridlines and flattened. The entire environment flattened.
Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. I was foolish to take these words as I did ten years ago. Now I know their meaning. My meaning.
To say that nothing is true is to realise there is no one who will share your goals to the same degree as you. There will always be differences. Always be compromise.
To say that everything is permitted is to realise how life will not bend to your wishes. Anything that can happen, will happen.
But this does not mean that life is meaningless. For, it is a call. A call to action. From everything I have learned, I know now what I will do. From all I have seen, I will go forward.
And just like that, Connor was gone. He felt himself as his ancestor, his thoughts, emotions, personality all fitted into him. But in just a split moment, there was no more Connor. Connor is dead, and has been for over a century.
The following night…
Opening his eyes, Desmond realised there was barely anything to see. There wasn't much light around him. What little there was likely came from the distant moon. Only allowing him to make out the outline of a window. Desmond let his eyes adjust to the darkness, noting a faint whistling and rocking.
He scanned the room with his sixth sense. Darkened crates were strewn across the room, little furniture in sight aside from a single table. The walls were of a thin wood structure. The frozen winds were thrusting against the cabin, causing the rustling. Not enough insulation. Luckily for him, his experience he gained from Connor permitted greater tolerance with extreme climates, especially during the winter.
The thought of insulation brought Desmond's attention to himself. He was on the floor, covered in a sleeping bag. Then he noticed the other bags. One, obviously belonging to Shaun. No one else snored like that. A second bag was close by and cloud make out Rebecca's headphones. Likely listening to white noise, isolating the sounds of wind brushing against the cabin, and Shaun's snoring. A third-
Wait. No that's not right. There should be another? Where's da-
The memories of the previous events came rushing back to Desmond.
With a choked, breathless exhale, Desmond instantly came back to the events of the previous day. The grand temple, the world being saved, his father's death. However, there was another detail Desmond was yet to remember.
He was reminded of the fact when Desmond's head began to ache, and his skin began to feel not his own. This feeling immediately triggered something in him, as he had already experienced this feeling once already. Under the Colosseum.
The faint influence of control washed over Desmond, a slim shimmer of the apple's light peered through the bag it was kept in. Desmond could feel himself beginning to think thoughts not his own once again, whispers that would touch his mind, their contents beyond what a regular mind could handle. Offering all the deepest temptations he ever wished in life. Then, the apple brought out an even brighter pulse. He could feel a presence.
It is done. The world is saved
You played your part well, Desmond. But now…
Now it's time that I played mine.