Chapter Text
Desmond watched as they left. Shaun and Rebecca turned around one last time and Desmond grinned at them.
If this would be the last time they would see one another, Desmond wanted their last memory of him to be a nice one.
Once he was sure they left the Temple, Desmond turned to face the device once more. He could see Juno and Minerva standing a few feet away from him, on either side of him like some sort of pretentious angel-devil duo sitting on his shoulders.
Not that either of them was an angel.
They were both devils, giving different bad advice.
And all Desmond was doing was picking the lesser evil of the two.
Desmond took a deep breath and slowly reached out his hand to the device.
He could feel the way his right hand trembled.
Yet…
He felt peace.
This was the end of his journey.
His final act as Desmond Miles.
This was to be the culmination of everything he had ever done.
Everything that…
Desmond paused and his vision start to blur.
It wasn’t just the culmination of everything that he had done.
Ratonhnhaké:ton…
Ezio…
They were both used by Juno and Minerva to push Desmond to this point.
All three of them dancing to the tune of these two women…
And Altaïr…
Altaïr didn’t even know about any of these.
It was almost like Altaïr’s part had been written before Juno and Minerva decided to play their music, only crossing with Ezio’s path thanks to the Codex and the memory seals.
Which meant…
Nothing.
It meant nothing.
In the grand scheme of things…
In what Minerva and Juno had planned…
None of them mattered.
All that mattered was that Desmond played his part.
And Desmond would.
He had no other choice.
Letting the world burn felt like a betrayal. Not to the world that he didn’t even know about nor even to the Brotherhood that he had been estranged from for far too long.
But to his ancestors.
To the three men whose lives he watched and whose memories and thoughts he wishes to honor.
And that was why Desmond was going to die.
Because it was the choice he knew his ancestors would make if they were in his place.
He rubbed his eyes with his left hand and took a deep breath. The Grand Temple rumbled all around him but he paid it no choice as he finally…
Just as his fingers were about to touch the device, he saw Minerva freeze from the corner of his eyes. Her eyes were trained behind Juno and her eyes widened before she shouted, “Desmond!”
That loud cry stopped Desmond from touching the device and Minerva briskly walked toward him. Juno followed suit and stood on Desmond’s other side as she stated, “He has made his choice, Minerva. You cannot stop this. Honor his decision.”
“Desmond, listen to me.” Minerva said as she ignored Juno, “Wait for just a minute. I’m connecting my Eye and the Eye in this temple to the device.”
There was another tremor, more severe than the last two as it almost made Desmond stumble.
“Will that keep me alive?” Desmond asked before glancing at Juno and turning to stare at Minerva, “Or keep Juno here at least?”
“Yes.” Minerve replied with a nod, “It will save you.”
“She lies!” Juno shouted and stepped closer to Desmond as she whispered, “Don’t you hear the desperation in her voice? She’s bidding her time. Making you stop until it’s too late. The Solar Flare is upon us. You must do this now or the world will burn.”
“I just need a few more seconds! It’s almost done!” Minerva shouted at Juno before turning towards Desmond, “Just a minute, Desmond. I swear that this will save you.”
“A minute is already too late!” Juno shouted back before whispering to Desmond, “You must do this now, Desmond. The Solar Flare is starting.”
“Just a few more seconds, Desmond. That’s all I ask.” Minerva pleaded and Desmond was unnerved by how Minerva was pleading to him.
The Grand Temple rumbled once more and Desmond saw a part of the ceiling collapse to their right.
Desmond shook his head.
“I can’t wait anymore, Minerva.” Desmond said, “I’m guessing that whatever is making those tremors is connected to the Solar Flare which means I have to do this now.”
Desmond gave her a weak smile as he said, “Thanks… for trying.”
Minerva’s eyes widened at those words but Desmond didn’t wait for her to say anything.
He touched the device.
And let out a blood-curdling scream as he felt the device start to burn him from the inside.
He screamed so loud that he didn’t understand whatever it was that Minerva was saying.
A moment passed.
And everything went dark.
In the darkness, there was nothing.
Desmond felt nothing.
He was numb all over.
He didn’t know how long he stayed in the darkness.
A minute?
Two days?
Five months?
Eight years?
Desmond wasn’t sure anymore.
There was nothing here.
And Desmond could slowly feel himself turn to nothingness as well.
That was when it appeared.
A golden tree sprouting from the depths of the nothingness, its golden branches stretching all over.
The darkness persisted but that only made the glow of the enormous tree brighter.
Desmond stared at the tree and saw the way the branches started to shake slightly.
Nothing else happened for a few…
Seconds?
Minutes?
Hours?
Days?
Desmond wasn’t sure.
But when the silence was finally shattered, it was the echo of his own scream that enveloped the nothingness.
The entire golden tree began to glow brighter before dimming slightly, its pure white body now appearing like kaleidoscopes showing different images.
Many of them showed Desmond as he placed his hand on the device.
One of them showed his team as they drove the truck out of they drive out of the Grand Temple.
“We have to go back!” Bill shouted and he tried to stand from the back of the truck but Rebecca grabbed his arm.
“No, Bill! It’s too late!”
The truck began to sway dangerously as Rebecca struggled to push Bill away from the back door.
“Stop it, Bill! Desmond has made his decision! You have to honor that!”
“He’s my son!”
“And he’s our friend!”
“Desmond!”
Desmond’s focus was taken by the urgency of Minerva’s voice.
One of them showed her face as she stood next to Desmond while he continued to scream, “Listen to me, Desmond. The connection is incomplete but it should be enough to save you. I can’t pinpoint the exact calculations but I’ve started it. No matter where you are, you must remember. The calculations must be-”
Minerva’s words cut off as the branch that was showing her image shuddered before it slowly became shorter and shorter.
All the other voices stopped as their own branches became shorter as well.
Desmond’s scream stopped as well.
A chorus of voices began to echo all over.
He could hear his last conversation with his teammates, about taking some time off after this was all over and relaxing somewhere for a bit.
He could hear Warren Vidic’s final words, telling him to wait as he ordered the Apple to make the armed men next to Vidic shoot him.
The gunshot rang at the same time as his hidden blade struck Daniel Cross on the nape of one of the other kaleidoscopes.
The tree continued to play his memories as it continued to shrink.
Lucy’s death.
The Sanctuary underneath Villa Auditore.
The Rome hideout.
Vidic and Abstergo’s Rome facility.
New York…
The Farm…
Desmond watched in silence as more and more of the branches began to grow smaller.
At the same time…
He watched memories of himself.
“What should we name our son?”
“Desmond…”
Desmond watched the branch with his parent’s smiling faces as it shuddered and slowly became shorter.
“You have the blood of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad in you. This is your legacy.”
Desmond watched as a young woman…
No.
His mom.
“Do not bring failure to our family. To our bloodline, hija .”
Was that his grandfather?
At the same time…
“William Miles. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard great things about you.”
The branches were now showing memories… of his parents.
It continued, showing snippets of memories that would stop the moment the ever-shortening branches reaches them.
More people…
His grandparents…
The more the branches shorten, the more sets of memories appeared before him.
It was like he was simply watching a badly edited long video. At some point, he could barely understand any of them, there were just too many memories being played simultaneously.
Too many ancestors…
That was when he heard her.
“ Rake’ni , we’re all here. It’s okay now. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
He was older now but Desmond recognized him immediately. It was Ratonhnhaké:ton, lying on the same bed that once belonged to Achilles.
Holding the hand of a young woman smiling at him with teary eyes.
No.
His daughter.
Desmond watched as Ratonhnhaké:ton closed his eyes, his wrinkled face etched with a peaceful smile as he whispered, “Everyone… thank you.”
Ratonhnhaké:ton took a deep breath.
And his grasp on his daughter’s hand grew limp.
Her daughter began to cry.
And soon, all of the people surrounding his bed…
Everyone who came to see him one last time…
They cried.
As Ratonhnhaké:ton continued to smile peacefully even after his death.
Desmond couldn’t help but focus on that specific branch.
Of Ratonhnhaké:ton rebuilding the Brotherhood in America while building a peaceful happy community.
A peaceful life with his family.
It stopped at an image of Ratonhnhaké:ton holding a baby with a gentle smile as the branch shorten and fused with the larger branch it had been on.
“I should have killed you long ago.”
Desmond’s heart ached as the next memories of Ratonhnhaké:ton showed his struggle to protect his village, being caught in the middle of a faction that wished for independence and an empire that wished to maintain order.
Caught in the middle of two sides with differing desires but with the same history of brutality against the people of the land they waged their war on.
Caught between two fathers.
Haytham Kenway who talked to him like an ignorant child.
Achilles Davenport who talked to him like a naive child.
And, in the end, Ratonhnhaké:ton made his choice.
Believing it would be the choice that would protect his people.
But it was not.
The memory ended just as Ratonhnhaké:ton went out of his village to play with his friends.
That fateful day…
When…
“You have shown me great kindness, Ziio.”
The next branch to shorten showed a kaleidoscope of memories from both of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s parents.
A woman who tried to protect her tribe even after being told by her own mother that she would be disobeying their desire to remain neutral.
A man shaped by the whispers of a traitor who had ordered the death of his father and the destruction of his family.
That branch shortened to another larger branch and there were too many memories now that the canopy of voices was becoming harder to focus on.
Still, he tried to keep his attention on Ratonhnhaké:ton’s kaleidoscope.
To the Kenway bloodline’s memories.
“This little rascal, however, is a Kenway. What’s wrong, Haytham?”
Desmond watched as Haytham’s kaleidoscope ended and a new set of kaleidoscope began deeper onto the golden tree.
The memories of Haytham’s father.
A privateer.
A pirate.
An Assassin.
After Desmond watched as Edward Kenway leave his wife in search of gold and glory, he couldn’t focus anymore as more and more voices joined in.
Until…
“Get some rest.”
The voice was unfamiliar.
But the language.
It was Italian.
It was the Italian that he knew.
Ezio’s Italian.
Desmond couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.
Even when there were other memories to look at.
To focus on.
All he could do was watch Ezio take his last breath as he smiled at his wife and daughter.
To watch as they rush towards him.
Ezio’s content smile was etched in his mind.
No matter how many of Ezio’s other memories were played by the many kaleidoscopes, now left with no more branches, only the main trunk was left.
Half of them were showing Ezio’s memories while Sofia’s memories were in one set of kaleidoscopes that was connected to Ezio’s memories of Constantinople.
He focused on Ezio’s memories even though the content smile on his face as he breathed his last did not leave Desmond’s mind.
The kaleidoscope stopped at Ezio’s birth as the trunk began to shrink and Desmond focused on the next set of kaleidoscopes.
Of the memories of Ezio’s father, Giovanni Auditore.
Of House Auditore.
Of Ezio’s grandfather.
His great grandfather.
More and more ancestors begin to speak until Desmond couldn’t focus anymore.
There were too many…
Simply too many for him to understand them…
It was just too-
“No, Darim! Stop!”
Laughter.
A familiar name.
There…
On the other side of the trunk, away from the Auditore bloodline…
A familiar face…
Darim.
“Come now, brother. I believe you deserve this cold water considering you got your wife pregnant. Again!”
Another man yelped as he was drenched.
Sef.
Altaïr’s sons.
He was close.
Altaïr’s memories were close.
Desmond focused on Sef’s memories, his heart aching as he saw the responsible Assassin that he was…
The mischievous boy that he had been before.
Sef’s memories stopped as a child running away from his brother and hiding behind Malik’s legs.
But his child-like laughter echoed all around the nothingness.
Then…
Desmond paid no attention to any of the other voices as he heard Altaïr…
Take his final breath.
An old man, sitting in a dark tomb of his own creation…
There was no smile.
Just a tired sigh.
Even in his final moments, his brows remained furrowed.
And Desmond felt sorrow envelop him.
He couldn’t even focus anymore.
Not even when he could still hear Altaïr’s tired sigh as his memories continue to play through the kaleidoscope.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
Knowing that Altaïr died tired, filled with remorse and guilt.
He didn’t want to hear anything anymore.
He just…
“Tell the truth! Tell them you lie about my father! Tell them you lied about my father killing himself!”
Abbas’ words cut through the haze in Desmond’s mind.
And he stared in horror as Altaïr was pinned to the ground, a blade right by his throat, as the deep cut on the right side of his lips was bleeding ferociously.
Just as Altaïr opened his lips…
The kaleidoscope cracked.
No.
The entire stump cracked.
A large crack from one end, bisecting the entire stump.
From that stump, smaller and smaller cracks began to spread out.
Almost like a mockery of the branches this stump once had.
Just as the stump looked like it was about to burst into thousands of shards…
A golden vine emerged from the kaleidoscope of Altaïr’s memory that Desmond had been focused on.
For the first time since he was in this nothingness…
Desmond felt his right hand…
As it was viciously yanked towards the stump.
Desmond let out a surprised shout as he was pulled quickly and his body crashed into the stump, finally shattering the entire thing.
The golden vine shattered as well but the force it had used to pull Desmond toward the stump meant that Desmond was still moving.
A moment later…
He hit his face with something hard and solid.
And fell back as he lost consciousness.
“Boy. Are you alright? Boy!”
Desmond gasped awake and he immediately rolled away from the voice, crouching as he used his arms to defend his face.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to harm you.”
Desmond blinked, recognizing the voice as speaking Arabic.
Altaïr’s antiquated Arabic, to be more precise.
He glanced around.
He was in some kind of narrow…
Was it an alley?
Probably.
But the buildings surrounding him…
The clothes of the woman in front of him…
Shitshitshitshit.
The woman must have mistaken his growing panic and she knelt in front of him, placing her basket filled with a few pieces of flowers on the ground to her right, “Can you not understand me? Are you a Christian?”
She spoke in some kind of mangled French that Desmond barely understood thanks to Ezio’s and Altaïr’s memories.
“Not… hurt you.”
He shook his head and took a deep breath.
He needed to focus.
He needed to be sure.
He needed…
“… why am I naked?” Desmond realized with a high squeaking voice that cracked in the middle.
“What?” The woman’s brows furrowed as she mumbled in Arabic, “Another language? I don’t know that one…”
Desmond realized that he just spoke in his version of English and shook his head.
“I can speak…” Desmond paused, hearing his high-pitched voice crack once more.
His voice was cracking.
Desmond looked at his hands.
His hands were smaller than he remembered.
He looked between his legs.
Smooth.
No hair at all.
Oh, fucking hell.
“Oh, you speak our language! That’s good!” The woman sighed in relief before getting one of her flowers. She took off the leaf from the flower and handed it to her, “Here. For the pain.”
“The pain?” Desmond asked with a frown.
She used the hand that wasn’t holding the leaf to point at her forehead as she said, “Your head. It’s red. That’s how they took your clothes, right? They pushed you to the wall and you hit your head?”
They?
Oh.
She must think he was attacked and his clothes were taken from him.
Could that be it?
No.
Desmond wasn’t sure but something inside him knew that he had been naked when he…
Time traveled…
Fucking hell. Just thinking about it was fucking insane and Desmond was so not ready for this kind of mind fuck.
But he needed to focus.
He needed to keep his attention on his current situation.
He would freak out after he was sure he was in a safe place.
A dingy alley, naked with a woman who looked like she was maybe old enough to be around William Miles' age, was definitely not the place to freak the fuck out.
“Ye-yes.” Desmond took the leaf from her and looked at it.
Was he… supposed to rub it on his forehead?
“Eat it.” The woman said gently, making Desmond look at her with an expression of both confusion and just a bit of disgust. The woman simply chuckled and urged kindly, “It won’t taste good but it will lessen your pain. I promise.”
Desmond stared at the leaf once more.
The truth was he didn’t feel any pain but it would probably look weirder if he didn’t eat it now.
Either she would think he was trying to hide his pain or she’d believe him and she’d be worried as to why he didn't feel any pain because the red mark on his forehead meant he had been hit on the head at the very least.
He was pretty sure that was the wall that he hit when he got pulled into the stump anyway.
Desmond began to chew the leaf, face scrunching when he tasted the bitter leafy taste.
The woman chuckled as she gently said, “Yes, I know, but it’ll help.”
The woman took off her cloak and offered it to him, “Here.”
Desmond took it and wrapped it around himself, giving the woman a glimpse of his body. The woman frowned as she noted, “Those wounds… you have both old and new wounds.”
Desmond froze.
He hurriedly closed the cloak but the damage had already been done.
“Did you… did you run away?”
At those words, Desmond’s eyes widened.
A young body with no hair yet.
A voice cracking at inappropriate times.
The last memory he saw of Altaïr had been during training when he was…
Holy shit.
Desmond was pretty sure he was 16 years old again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Uh…” Desmond paused for a moment before deciding that a bit of truth was necessary, “Yes. My… my father…”
He couldn’t say it.
He couldn’t say that he had been beaten up.
Not when he knew that these bruises and marks on his body had been because of the intense training he had as a child.
He looked away as he said, “It’s… uh… he says it’s for my own good.”
From the look of horror and pity on her face, Desmond was sure he only made her believe she was right.
But he didn’t confirm nor deny that he was beaten up.
That was the important part.
As far as Desmond was concerned, he didn’t lie.
“Oh, you poor boy.” The woman stood slowly and she let out a small groan as she placed a hand on her back.
Desmond stood and was immediately by her side, placing a hand on her back as he helped her stand.
“Oh, thank you.” The woman said and, before she could bend down to grab her basket, Desmond had already grabbed it for her and handed it to her, “Such a kind boy you are.”
The woman smiled at him and asked gently, “Do you have anywhere to go to, dear?”
Desmond paused for a moment.
Should he go to Masyaf?
But that would mean Al Mualim would be there.
But…
Altaïr was there as well.
The silence made her face soften and she patted Desmond’s hand as she suggested, “How about you escort me back to my home? It’s getting late and the guards here can be vicious to people loitering after dark. I have an extra cot you can use for the night.”
“I… can’t…” Desmond said but even he heard the hesitance in his own voice, knowing he would be a fool to reject her offer considering he did need a place safe enough to think his next move (and, more importantly, freak the fuck out).
“You would be doing this lonely woman a kindness, joining her for dinner.” The woman said with a smile, “I still have my son’s old clothes. I’m sure they will fit you.”
Desmond could hear the sadness in her voice when she spoke of her son and Desmond couldn’t say no.
Not when it was clear that this woman’s son must have passed away or left her all alone.
Desmond nodded and said, “Thank you. Um…”
“Would you be so kind as to indulge me and call me setti , dear?” The woman asked and Desmond didn’t have the heart to say no.
He nodded and said, “Of course, setti .”
“And what’s your name?” The woman asked as they slowly made their way out of the alley.
“Desmond…” Desmond paused for a moment. He took a deep breath as he said, “Desmond Ibn-La'Ahad.”
The kind woman’s understanding expression soothed him just a bit.
It was true.
In this place…
Here in the past…
He knew he couldn’t say he was Desmond Miles. Not when that name had too much connection to the future.
But the idea of calling himself Desmond Ibn-William sounded wrong (very, very wrong, for a long list of reasons).
And he didn’t want to use his mother’s last name.
A part of him wanted to use Auditore or even Kenway but…
Those names would mean something in the future.
And he couldn’t risk changing that.
So, in the end…
In this place, he found himself in…
He was Desmond, son of no one.