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Assassin's Creed: Odyssey Bleeding Hearts and Stolen Money

Assassin's Creed: Odyssey Trouble in Paradise

Kassandra

Assassin's Creed Odyssey

Codextober '23, Day 6: Attack

Kassandra & Kyra ⚔️

09.24.2023 | Korinthia

Chapters: 45/? Fandom: Assassin’s Creed - All Media Types, Assassin’s Creed Odyssey Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Kassandra/Kyra (Assassin’s Creed) Characters: Kassandra (Assassin’s Creed), Barnabas (Assassin’s Creed), Kyra (Assassin’s Creed), OC Nike, Myrrine (Assassin’s Creed), Phoibe, Chrysis (Assassin’s Creed), Deimos (Assassin’s Creed) Additional Tags: Cult of Kosmos (Assassin’s Creed), Canon Divergence, Phoibe is alive, angst with an eventual happy ending, Tags May Change, Angst, Action, NSFW, greece is gay, Sexual Themes, Violence, Child Cruelty Summary:

With the Cult all but wiped out Kassandra should be happy surely? But she finds herself haunted by ghosts from her past and the memories of bad decisions. And now someone decidedly unghost-like is on her tail.

A chapter in which Kassandra's past comes to light.

❧

On the morning of the longest day of summer, I take the tally stick I use to track the moon and the passing time, unwrap its thread, and wind it around the next notch in line. "It's the day of longest light," I say.

At the table, you put down the chunk of bread you've been holding more than eating, and gaze up at me warily. "So it is."

"There'll be a festival in Kazania, and I've never been. We should go."

"Absolutely not."

"Why?" The tally stick goes back on the shelf, and I go to sit beside you.

The look you give me says I should know the answer, but I'm enjoying the thought of you squirming within a crowd too much to let you off so easily. "The children will be there," I say, reaching for the bread left in the basket.

Pink blooms across your cheeks. "I've no interest in visiting with children," you say stiffly.

"Then how about playing with them?"

"No."

"Why not? You've enjoyed that when we've gone to market." I dip a morsel of bread into the dish of olive oil, thinking while I chew. You're still not eating much. The bread I make, the oil I buy—our meals are plain and simple fare, spiced with hard work. Nothing we eat here compares to the delicacies that graced your table in Athens.