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xreader-obsessions · 2 months

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Summary: The story of how you find out your best friend is an assassin. Jacob Frye x Reader Part 1 Part 2

Finding out that Jacob was involved in a fighting ring just made you more curious about your friend and who he was. Based on his skill in fighting and the money he made off of it, you wondered if it was his full time job.

Come to think of it, you met his twin sister before, who you got alone wonderfully with, but no one else from his family. And evertime you offered to visit, he always canceled so you never got to know where he lived. You never pushed too hard for answers to respect his boundaries, but your curiosity was starting to drive you mad.

Your determination and confusion was only fuled when you found a mysterious letter on your doorstep one morning.

"You've never seen the real Jacob Frye. If you truly wish to know who he is, you must see him in the town. Go to the alley between the housing and factory on Jackson street at 8:00 pm if you want to see his true colors."

A carriage waited for you on the main street outside of your house hidden away from curious eyes. Then when you felt it was time, you made your way behind the industrial building. It was the loud shady area of town that you last visited with Jacob. This place was dirty, loud and frightening. Dark shadows fell on every corner and the deafening clanking sounds from the working factory kept you on edge. Maybe that was why you paid no attention to the first figure that scrambled and stumbled into the alley ahead of you.

He was afraid and held his hands up in defense and fear. You paid him little attention until someone you knew stepped into the flickering light of the gas lamps. Jacob.

Jacob gripped the pleading man by the front of his shirt and light reflected off the brass knuckles Jacob wore as he raised his fist to him. Logically you knew you did not have the full picture, that there must have been something else going on to justify what you were witnessing, but your heart said otherwise.

"Jacob?" You called out to him in a weak, questioning voice and hoped he did not react. You wanted it to be a case of mistaken identity, but it was not.

"(y/n)!" Jacob looked up at you in shock, his mouth was hung open and his eyes were wide. The expression immediately vanished when the man he attacked bolted down the alley. Jacob froze, unable to decide whether he should stay and face you or catch his target.

"Who sent you here?" He demanded then immediately changed the subject, "You can get in a lot of trouble for being seen here with me. Please, just leave." Worry seeped into his voice when he asked you to leave, but before you could make your decision, he himself ran off into the maze of alleyways.

Jacob avoided you for days after the incident. You patiently waited on him to feel ready to confront the topic, but your patience wore thin. This went on for three days until you became determined to see the man who wrote you the letter. His name was Maxwell Roth,the owner of one of the nearby factory districts. You recalled hearing Jacob talk about him before to Evie and from what you over heard, he was Jacob's business partner.

Maxwell Roth's office sat on the top floor of his manufacturing factory. Since you were never invited to the factory, you worried over how your unwelcomed arrival would stand with the man of questionable character. So you stood outside the carriage that was parked in the docking area of the factory. It seemed appropriate since all the carriages carrying shipments to and from this building stayed there. You took a deep breath, asked the driver to wait on you for a half hour at most and proceed towards the front door.

It was actually a sliding bay door that was as large as a wall and, thanks to the wheels that were attached to it, slid open when you pushed it. Beyond the wall was a mess of fire, smoke and sweat.

The ringing and clanging sound of iron striking iron was so loud workers had to shout to each other just to be heard. Strong men covered in sweat labored over shaping metal with heavy hammers and sparks flew at them with every hit.

Small children with soot covered faces ran around the factory floor to complete their assigned tasks. Others shoveled piles of dark coal into furnaces that belched out dark pillars of smoke. Metal rafters criss-crossed high above your head and added to the massive size of the building. The ceiling and rafters were so high above your head, you had to look up to even notice them.

You wandered up a set of narrow, but massively tall stairs that ran along the front of the left wall. They lead up to a small looking office that had windows covering the upper half of every wall so the manager could always keep an eye on his workers. Even though it seemed impossible for anyone to notice you among the chaos of the floor, you quickly ascended the stairs and was spotted.

The boss resided in the office, sitting behind a large desk with a smug smile as he waited on you to enter the room. He obviously knew you were coming after all.

"Mr. Roth" you politely greeted from the doorway before stepping in, "I came here regarding the letter you sent me a few days ago. I did not expect you to manage your workers so poorly."

He stood and chuckled at your naive expectations and your guts for having your opening statement be so rude and rejecting. His lack of communication angered you and you chose to speak for him in an attempt to get him to talk.

"Jacob. He works against you doesn't he?" You questioned bluntly after piecing everything together. Maybe Jacob worked with this man at one point in time, but there was no way he would tolerate this type of business.

"Yes he does. He attacks my industry, kills my best men. All to sabotage our work. "

"Based off what I've seen here. It seems he's doing the right thing. You make children slaves, create deadly work spaces for your people and ignore their needs and further the poverty in this town. You need to be stopped."

"I work against Starrick just like him. We should be partners!" He objected, "but simple people like you and that rat don't seem to understand that. Besides, if Jacob was doing such good work, why would he hide it? We all know he doesn't want you or anyone to know about his work. I must say he's done quite well at keeping the two separate. You're the only person he knows that I've been able to track down after all. Besides his sister."

"That's why you sent me the letter? To expose him and have me betray him? To make me believe he is as evil as you?"

"Oh, I had more in mind than just that." He said with a smile as he drummed his fingers along the desk. "It lured you out of his safety, which is more than I could have asked for." Alarm bells went off in your head as you realized this whole conversation was made to stall and distract you. By the time you turned around there was already a large figure blocking the doorway.

He reached for your arm, but you quickly moved it away and punched the hulking man right in the throat. Out of breath and confused by the sudden turn of events, he became an easy guard to slip past.

Your dress was restrictive enough to slow you down as you raced to the carriage, but not enough to let you get caught. Due to the extra fabric that fell in front of your feet, it was also very easy to trip on if you miss stepped as you weaved your way through the active working floor.

Thankfully, your driver was alert and sped off the moment you were in the carriage. The momentum caused you to fall in your seat and everything jostled from side to side. You were successfully out pacing the goons when your driver was attacked. He fell off the stand and tumbled down the road as the horses charged on from fear. The carriage was now out of control.

Immediately you leaned out of the carriage and gripped the ledge that was above the door way and found footholds along the bottom of it. While gripping onto the jerking vehicle with every ounce of strength you had, you shimmied along the carriage till you were up front. You refused to look down while moving, for the blurring ground was only a reminder of how fast you were moving and even though it was not at the speed of a train, it was terrifying.

You placed yourself behind the reigns and pulled on them while talking softly to the animals. They slowed but were still panicked and uncontrollable as they whined and pulled from the direction you guided them in. Soon, they calmed down with the help of your soft voice, and once you regained control, you pulled the whole carriage around towards the fight.

You placed the carriage protectively in front of your driver and jumped down from the bench. His leg was wounded, and his body was bruised from the fall. Scratches lined the sides of his arms, and blood ran down them as he used them to protect himself. Slinging his arm around your neck, you helped him into the carriage as your enemies surged forward.

You jumped back into your carriage before the enemy could grab you and sped down the road once again. It still felt impossible for you to have full control over the carriage's movements and you had to remind yourself that you were controlling animals, not a machine. It was overwhelming with the wind in your face and sounds you could not tune out.

You swerved as a carriage collided with the back side of your own. You struggled to keep straight and avoid hitting pedestrians while you were pushed further and further towards the building walls along the right edge of the road. At this point, it was almost too late to fight back since there was no wiggle room, but you tried.

You pulled your reigns harshly to the left, the horses whined in surprise and your carriage jerked left with enough force to move your opponent. Then you repeated your actions without giving them time to recover, causing a wheel to break under the stress and immobilizing the enemy vehicle. The victory was short lived as two other carriages replaced the decommissioned one.

Since they could easily wedge you between each other and make sandwich you, you decided to run. The horses darted forward at your command and kept a fast pace. You locked your eyes on the road ahead and refused to look back as the thugs gloating and yells plagued you. They were closing in, and it was a reality you did not want to witness until you heard a figure fall onto your carriage's roof.

You did your best to steady your breath and remain calm as the hijacker only came closer to you. The fear only increased as he sat next to you and revealed himself to be your missing friend. You were not ready to face him after everything you just learned, and the anger etched in his handsome features was not helping ease your worry.

He seemed to take his anger out on his environment. He took the reigns from you and slammed the side of your carriage into one of the enemy's until they were driven off the road. Then, you heard the sound of gunshots and instinctively bowed your head. Jacob did not though. He went rigid then looked over his shoulder to see where they were coming from.

He studied the figures behind him, then spotted a passenger on the last carriage that was running them down. He threw the reigns back into your hands, giving you control over the carriage once again, and order you to steady it along the other.

Without question you did as he asked as he returned to the roof. With a running leap, he landed on the other cart, pulled one man from his seat to throw him to the road and stabbed the driver so he too fell. The carriage began to swerve now under the frightened horses' control. Instead of taking it over, he returned to the carriage you steadied, took the reigns, and sat in silence as he drove.

You had never been so afraid of the man's calm and calculated rage. He never gave you a reason to fear him before. But now that you did, tension and fright weighed down on you as you sat next to him in silence the whole ride home. You did not dare say a word as he was left quiet and stewing in his own anger. Thinking over everything he was going to say to you the whole ride. He felt his anger and frustration keep building onto itself until you arrived at the train hideout where he would let loose.

"I told you!" Jacob cut himself off feeling overcome with anger, "I told you to leave this alone."

"Don't you dare blame this on me," you shot back with just as much venom in your voice, "The only reason I was even there tonight was because you just left and it worried me," your words quieted Jacob's anger as he absorbed the meaning of your words. "I was looking for some type of rational explanation for what I saw you do in that alley. So sorry if my actions seemed a little rash, but at least he was offering to help."

"Help? You didn't even know who he really was!" You fell silent, feeling hurt by him calling you ignorant. "You just looked for your answers, not caring who you were trusting to get them."

"What's going on over here?" Evie questioned as she entered the train car. You took her distracting entrance as an opportunity to wipe tears from your eyes and calm your beating heart.

"She knows." Jacob replied simply with annoyance lining his voice.

"About what?"

"About us...Evie. This whole thing. Roth told her everything."

"Technically, I don't know everything. Just that you've been killing blighters and other men." You stated then whisper to the side, "which I am not entirely against since they're mad men."

Evie just shook her head in sane disappointment and gestured for you to sit down by pointing to a booth seat. You listened, arms still crossed and your body still tense. You glared at Jacob like a pouty child. Maybe you would feel ashamed if he was not doing the same thing to you.

"Both of you need to stop your bickering first off and figure out what really happened." Jacob attempted to cut off his sister but was quickly shut down, "Why don't you start (y/n). Seeing Jacob here cannot hold his tongue."

"Well, Evie. I started getting mysterious letters that I now know were from Maxwell Roth. I knew I should have ignored them, but they promised me answers to things about you and Jacob I had to know....then one came with an address on it."

"So you just start trusting to meet any stranger on the street?"

"Jacob!" Evie barked at him sharply, causing the young man to pull back. Evie then changed her tone to address you, "Roth manipulated you then. Used your curiosity against you?"

"Yes," you admitted in shame, "I came across Jacob fighting men in an alley. I left before I saw too much and didn't want to believe what I saw. I knew there was more to the situation, but Jacob disappeared on me. And Roth promised to tell me what happened that night, and I was desperate to clear his name." Jacob's eyes shot up towards you in surprise, and his guard lowered. Not many people gave a ruff looking man like him a second chance.

"He wanted to meet me at his factory today. So I went. He told me Jacob was killing his 'innocent' workers and tried to turn me on him. When I wouldn't, he sent men to kidnap me or worse. I ran, then Jacob appeared and....saved me."

"And Jacob, what did you see?" Evie asked.

"I saw her at the factory grounds. Getting into a fight she didn't belong in just because she was curious and too trusting." Anger still resonated in his voice and his arms tensed as he clenched his fists. "I saw her commandeer a run away carriage with men chasing after her."

"So you're upset at him for ignoring you and you're upset at her for being in danger. But it seems to me if you were honest to her, she wouldn't be in danger." An odd sense of pride washed over you as she supported your side of the story, "but (y/n) you shouldn't have been so foolish to fall for this trap."

"It's not like I knew I was getting into something this risky." You fought back. Jacob stood to his feet and paced as he mumbled curses, annoyed by your insolence.

"I'll tell you everything. Jacob and even I are a part of a clandestine organization. We're assassins. Our purpose is to restore peace, order, and freedom to this city's people. We are working with the Rooks and other officials and our work has changed this place more than you know."

"So you kill bad people in order to help change the oppressive hold or influence corrupt people might have on the city?"

"Yes. And the man you met tonight, Maxwell is an ex-Templar and one of our main enemies."

"He mentioned someone named Starrick. Said you both worked against him. Is he a Templar as well?"

"Yes. We can go over more in the morning if you want to stay the night."

"I'll make sure the Rooks know she's on our side," Jacob stated before quickly leaving the train car and entering the next one.

Evie was much more caring about being a good host to you. She grabbed extra blankets and a pillow from compartments that were hidden through the train and made a temporary bed for you on one of the plush train seats. She also gave you a tour and showed you where to grab some food if you got hungry. She also advised you on which cars to avoid, as they were used as bedrooms for herself and one for her brother.

The train felt endless as you walked from car to car, making you realize the scale at which the two assassins are working at to own so much. To put it simply, they were rich and earned that money through their grim deeds.

You decided to turn in early for the night, your mind swimming in new information that maybe you would be better prepared to understand in the morning.

#jacob frye x reader #x reader #fanfic #assassins creed fanfic

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rogue-centric · 4 months

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I'm trying to get back into a fanfic that I've been majorly stumped on, and brother it has not been going so well. I want to use my emergency call-a-friend line to ask y'all what you think

vote on your phones now! (and pls feel free to message about it )

#haytham kenway #connor kenway #ratonhnhake:ton #shay cormac #assassins creed 3 #assassins creed rogue #ac3 #acr #fanfic #assassins creed fanfic

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daughterofthequeen · 1 year

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Silent Love

Pairing: Ratonhnhaké:ton x reader; Connor Kenway x reader

Request: Hello, could I please request a Ratonhnhake:ton x reader? I’ll take anything but I do love the friends to lovers cliche 💜 I myself am a very musical/Disney princess-like singer type person so maybe you could incorporate that as well? If not no prob 🙏 hope you are having a good day!

Warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, light flirting between both parties, kissing

Summary: You and Connor relax after your weekly test, and the truth comes out

A/N: I set this up about a year before Kanen'tó:kon comes by and tells Connor about the British trying to purchase their village (the beginning of Connors journey) so he’s 16 and the reader is about 15 or 16 your choice☺️😊. I'm really nervous I hope you like it.

Song used

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You and Connor are sparring against each other while being watched and studied by Achilles. This was the last part of your weekly test, Achilles teaches something new every one to two weeks, depending on how fast the two of you learn and understand it. Once you and Connor finished sparing, with you as the victor by the way (something you will most definitely be teasing Connor about later). After the two of you were finished sparring, and the victor was established, Achilles let the both of you go for the rest of the day. The both of you agreed to wash up first before going on your daily walk. Ever the gentleman, Connor let you use the bathroom first. After you left out with Connor going in, you went ahead and got a head start on the walk, knowing Connor would find you quickly. While walking and humming through the woods at a slow pace, observing all of the life around you. Something you love about staying at the homestead, the nature and all of the animals, you admired it all. And unbeknown to you it is one of the things Connor loves about you. The way you respect the plants, insects and the animals, something a lot of people forget to do now days. There was even a time where you almost knocked Connor over because he almost stepped on an anthill that was still being built, and it was no bigger than a quarter.

You made it to a small clearing of the forest that is not far from the homestead (a landmark that is used often by you and Connor) and sat in the middle of it. While sitting and listening to nature, you spot a certain bunny coming out of its warren when it does it almost automatically spots you, then it hops over after checking its surroundings. This specific bunny-rabbit has taken a liking to you after about a year of putting in the work. You would leave food out for it then eventually you had gained enough of the bunny's trust for it not to be afraid of you, enough to where it is basically a pet. The bunny hops in your lap and you reach into your little pouch that you keep attached to your hip of your belt that is filled with animal feed for any animal willing to take it. You laid some of the food on the side of you for the rabbit and then laid down on your back to stare at the sky. After the rabbit finishes, he starts sniffing and nuzzling your hair that had spread out above you like a halo after laying down on the soft grass, and that is when you noticed all of the sounds of nature more distinctly. The birds, squirrels, the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves of the tress. All of it turning into music to you, then you allow yourself to close your eyes and start singing, making up lyrics as you go.

"Turn your face Towards the sun Let the shadows fall behind you Tell a pray Just carry on And the shadows Will never find you"

After hearing a snap of a twig, you open your eyes towards the sound. Subconsciously, knowing it was only Connor, but still your brain wanted to make sure the poachers weren't getting bold and stupid enough to come and hunt this close. You watched Connor walk closer until he finally stopped and laid down next to you.

“What took you so long?”

“I was getting all of the dirt and mud out of my hair from you fighting dirty during our test”, he said in a fake agitated tone.

“Just because I beat you does not mean I played dirty; it simply means I’m better than you. Don’t be a sore loser", you said as you rolled your eyes in a playful way.

“Whatever.” He scoffed in an amused tone as he turned his head back to the sky from looking at you, with a small smile on his face.

Words escaped you when you looked over at him. He is the definition of beauty, something you state to yourself too often, but can never seem to find the courage to tell him out loud. His strong jaw all the way up to his beautiful growing hair, that you loved. He decided he wanted to let it grow out a little longer. So, after me offering and him allowing me to clip the ends of his hair to even them out it has grown to the point where he can tie the top of his hair in a ponytail and letting the other half flow under it. A hairstyle that came about from you playing in his hair while you guys relaxed near the stream one day almost a year ago. Apparently, he liked it because every day after that, that was how he kept his hair styled, keeping his signature braid in the front that he has had since before the two of you first met.

"What was the song you were singing?", Connor asked in his usual calm tone, as he turned his head back to me catching me already looking at him, but if he knew I was staring at him the entire time is yet to be known.

"Um I don't know I just sort of made it up."

"You made it up? Wow, it sounded good."

"You say that like it's such an unbelievable thing", you chuckled.

"I didn't mean it like that, it just sounds like it was written by a professional."

"Woooow, thanks", you said in a bored like tone, then the both of you started laughing.

After a good bit of laughing, it started to slow and the both of you went quiet. Even the animals seemed to go silent like nothing was there at all except for him. And you didn't know if it was you or him, but he was getting closer, very very close. Close enough where you felt your breath mix with his. Close enough where your noses are nudging together. Close enough where his pillow soft lips are brushing against yours. Then there was no space left at all, those lips, those beautiful lips you would catch yourself staring at were finally on yours like you always wanted. And they were just as you imagined them to be, as well as the kiss. It was like everything went fuzzy, everything disappeared, nothing existed anymore, nothing but you and him, and you loved it. Then the time came when the both of you separated, neither one of you knew what happened or why the two of you did what you did, and neither one of you cared. The only thing that mattered and were certain of were the feelings the both of you had for each other. And all the doubts the both of you had were gone, the two of you knew you both felt the same way towards one another. And in a heartbeat, the two of you kissed again, not concerned about the repercussions of your actions for the future, not caring, all the two of you knew was as long as you both had each other, you would both be okay.

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A/N: Lyrics used in this fic are not mine it is Towards the Sun by Rihanna, and neither is the video. I hope you like this; I wasn't sure where I was going to go with this, but I do like how it turned out. And if you did not like it or you had something different in mind, just send me another request with more details of what you wanted, and I will try and fix it. But I really do hope you enjoyed this, thank you for requesting as well, toodles.

#connor kenway x reader #assassins creed x reader #ratonhnhaketon x reader #ratonhnhaké:ton #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader #assassins creed fanfic #assassins creed 3 x reader #connor kenway fanfic #ratonhnhakéton fanfic

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demigoddessqueens · 1 year

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fate-touched

Summary: Bayek always recognized this mark, and it led him to you.

A/N: not so much a love letter, but something I wanted to write for another fave AC character

He was born with his mark, as everyone else was, and it always fascinated Bayek

There were times it would feel warm to the touch, or a shock of nerves. Bayek always used to think it meant you were close by

Until he met Aya, and he sees that she matches his own. But hers also seems to be missing it’s half as well

Though they go on to find and establish Order, both reuniting and separating for responsibilities, Bayek can still feel your presence through the mark

It all changes one day when you join the Order, and he sees the symbol and can feel it a mile away. It matches his, and Aya’s too

You see the same mark on him, still awaiting to meet Aya, but you know this familiarity like no other.

“I found you”

#my writing #assassin's creed #bayek #assassins creed fanfic #assassin’s creed x reader #fanfic #writeblr #bayek of siwa #bayek of siwa x reader #valentine’s day #headcanons #soulmate au #gotta give the Finder his love!!

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jofie-does-things · 1 year

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L’Assassino Immortale

Summary: As a seasoned art curator, you’re no stranger to mishaps in art auctions on the small and large-scale. On this trip to Italy, you thought you’d seen it all. Accidentally stumbling into cult stuff is a new one for you.

Pairing: (Technically) Modern!Ezio x Art Curator!Reader

Word Count: 5.9K

Genre: Angst (ig?), Fluff, Suspense

Warnings: Implications of death, Blood, Attempted human trafficking, Canon-typical violence

Author’s Note: I know that I said that the next fic I posted, it’d be a Connor one, but I wanted to write something for Halloween. And also it was supposed to be 1K words MAX, but, alas, I simply do not control the plot.

I’m still working on a few different fics and the requests that are in my inbox so don’t worry! I’m hoping to have a little more free time soon to finish those.

Feel free to drop a request into my inbox and enjoy!!

“You look wonderful, mia cara.” A small shiver runs down your spine at the pet name, but you mentally chastise yourself for lingering on it. It’s not his fault that he’s been familiar right off the bat, but what you can control is how you interpret his friendliness. And it’s not a good idea to make advances on your temporary escort to a very important art auction.

“Grazie Ezio.” The roll of the ‘r’ is awkward and stilted off of your tongue and the man helping you tug the zipper of your dress up has the opportunity to tease you for your rusty Italian, but he doesn’t take it. The heat in your cheeks must rival a space heater at this point. “I really appreciate you helping me out with this. I don’t know why my dress chose now of all times to revolt against me.”

It was your attempt at shifting the embarrassment off of your shoulders because you’d rather have him think of you as witty and charming than awkward and dumb. A small brush of warmth flows across the tops of your shoulders as he huffs out a laugh and you have to fight back another shiver.

Then his warmth is gone, leaving you cold and properly cinched into your dress for the night. His brown, almost golden, gaze inspects you with a scrutiny that has you puffing up like the world’s most self-absorbed peacock.

You really couldn’t thank him enough for his help and guidance over the week that you’ve been in Italy. You’d mentioned through the haze of jetlag that this was your first time in the country. He’d asked you what your plans were sightseeing-wise and when you had no answer for him (mostly because you didn’t want to seem as hopelessly lost as you felt) he’d promised to be your personal escort around Tuscany.

He rang true in that promise and dragged you all over the region until you were too tired to go anywhere anymore and collapsed onto the couch in the lobby. Only to wake up in your bed in your hotel room hours later to a hot tray of food on your bedside table and note to take it easy until the auction.

You were in love with him by the end of the week.

Now you’re standing in front of him, dressed to the nines and hoping he can’t see how you wobble ever so slightly in the heels you’ve adorned tonight. Though you can’t tell if that’s due to the height of them or how handsome he looks in the three-piece suit and gold embroidered blazer.

He’s guided you to his car, hand held firmly in his as you struggle down the stairs, feeling like a princess and you can’t see how this night could get any better.

Briefly, you wondered if you’d have to fake a medical emergency to get out of this. Then, a caterer walked by with a tray of the Caprese skewers and you realized you didn’t have to fake a medical emergency if you just got your hands on one of those toothpicks. Alas, you’d been stuck in conversation with a businessman, with a name you can’t remember for the life of you. Was it John, James, Tom…? Which meant no toothpick for you.

In any case, he’d mistaken your polite smile and small-talk for a gateway into discussing his “prominent” art career that boiled down to “my daddy has a lot of money for me to get high and fingerpaint and because I’ve never been told no in my life, I want you to buy a few of my works”. You decided that he was only known to you now as ‘trust-fund’.

Out of boredom, your glassy gaze takes in his well-tailored suit, the pin on his tie sporting a cross, his receding hairline, and the hands that look like they’ve never done a hard day’s work in their life. Thankfully this mental probing goes unnoticed by him, as he’s launched into his next retelling of how he painted the eiffel tower blindfolded. You really can’t take any more stories that end with his parents’ friends telling him he’s the ‘Modern Day DaVinci’.

Truly an affront to Messer Leonardo.

However, you hold your tongue because if Samuel found out you’d sent another trust fund kid into a public tantrum, he’d have Rick from Archives take your place in securing collections. And that’s something you’d never live down. You need these quarterly travel opportunities; for your sanity. But you also didn’t work as hard as you have only to be put in curator time-out until Samuel saw fit to let you return to your duties.

If you didn’t stop your thoughts from being spoken aloud, you’d have to kiss the very nice villa situated in the Tuscan countryside good-bye. And its very handsome caretaker.

Speaking of which, he’d promised to accompany you and yet, from a quick glance around the room, he’s nowhere to be found.

Ezio had ducked away almost 30 minutes ago, with a comforting brush to your lower back and a promise of returning soon with drinks on his lips. An action you were only slightly (read: very) disappointed by because you were in the middle of eagerly discussing the different types of art on display and poking fun at the misnumbered lots.

A piece seemed to be missing, with only the lot number in its display case, and your money was on an art thief stealing a painting while he was insisting that it was probably a statue that simply didn’t wish to be there and walked away on its own. The joke had you choking on your flute of champagne, only barely managing to swallow it down. Ezio offered to grab you a new one from one of the caterers and was off before you could say a word, leaving you to watch the red ribbon wrapped in his hair disappear in the crowd.

So, now you’re stuck with the world’s most boring man, wondering when you’d be able to free yourself from the bonds of this conversation.

The chime over the loudspeaker rings through the building, signifying that the guests were to move into the auction room now that the collections were ready to be sold. One last, desperate sweep over the room told you that your escort had, indeed, vanished. It left you a little miffed, but you came here for more important things than ogling over the man. With the artwork signed over to you earlier this evening, you have no other need to be here. Time to make a hasty retreat to an uber that will take you to the nearest gelato shop.

That is, until an elbow is extended in your field of vision. You glance up to the man attached to the arm and your heart deflates at the sight of trust-fund gesturing to the double doors of the auction room with his head. Waiting to see if he asks you to accompany him, you stare down at the offering. He clears his throat and wags the extended arm again, as if you couldn’t see it 6 inches from your nose.

You think of Samuel’s potential lecture and gulp before wrapping your arm through his and he tugs you through the double doors into the darkness.

~~~

Upon entering, you’re quickly ushered into a row of chairs, sandwiched between your temporary escort and a woman who you believe is working as a model. Her unblemished skin is stretched across her perfectly sculpted skull structure that makes her look particularly ghoulish, but that’s probably due to the white glow of the spotlight up front. She still makes the ghostly look work for her.

You’ve noticed that your chatty partner is uncharacteristically silent as you survey the room, but the silence is a welcome relief to you. In the absence of his prattle, you noted that the woman has a ring on her finger with the same red cross symbol that trust-fund has on his tie pin. You look between the two, noting that they haven’t acknowledged each other in the slightest.

They don’t seem to know each other. The auctioneer has been rambling for minutes now, and all attention has been on the lots. Taking advantage of everyone’s attention being elsewhere, you slowly lean forward to glance at the man escorting the model. He, too, has a cross symbol, but on a pendant around his neck. Even the security personnel posted throughout the room have the symbols on their badge.

You’re starting to feel out of place. Maybe if you can escape to the bathroom you’ll take a few “wrong” turns to the exit.

Before you know it, you’re up and out of your chair, moving to slide out of the row and towards the back of the room when a steel, bruising grip circles your wrist. A hiss of pain escapes you that you fail to smother. Turning toward trust-fund, you level him with a look that you hope conveys every emotion you’ve felt about him since politely smiling to him. Samuel’s lectures be damned.

“What the hell is your problem?” you spit, your statement packed with as much venom as you can muster in a whisper-yell.

He says nothing, only looking at you like you couldn’t be worth any of the effort he’s putting in to keeping you here. The idiotically blank look on his face is starting to piss you off. So, you do what any woman would do: stomp on his foot as hard as you can with your shiny maroon heels. As he releases you and grips his foot with a loud, pained gasp, you hope that it bruises in your march to the back doors.

Sweet blissful freedom, and delicious Italian gelato, is within your grasp as you’re in arm’s reach of the door handles. Or they would be, if the doors actually budged when you went to open them. A few curious looks were thrown your way as you tried to subtly-but-not-so-subtly lean your weight onto the wood grain.

The familiarly painful grip of trust-fund wraps around your upper-arm and wrenches you away from the doors. A distant, swirling thought comes to you of how hands that were so soft could hurt so badly. His palm is raised and ready and you duck, waiting for the blow to come.

It never does.

You peek out from under your other arm to see that his attention is fully enraptured by the lot that the auctioneer is announcing. And, now that you notice, you remember the missing lot number. The one that was just presented.

Like a magnet to metal, your gaze snaps to the stage, curious as to what’s happening.

There’s the sound of a few men grunting, the signs of a team struggling to lift something heavy. A small group of three security guards are making their way to the spotlight, lifting a chair that a man is sitting on. As the men set the chair down, the man’s torso lolls forward, but stops abruptly, as if being held back by something.

Goosebumps trail up your skin and a shiver runs down your spine.

“....is a fine specimen indeed–”

You shouldn’t be here.

“Messer Ezio Auditore. One of the only subjects to have survived the good doctor Malfatto’s experiments in the year 1494…”

They’ve changed his clothes. Thrown him into something oh so cliché and fitting of a vampire from a cheesy horror movie. And if he’d donned it himself in the comfort of his home, you probably would’ve laughed. But now there’s a bitter taste in your mouth as one of the men yanks his head back by his loose ponytail. The ropes holding his frame in place creaking with the rough action.

“...one that was promised eternal life, when imbued with the energy of the First Civilization.”

It’s a heavy confusion that has you tuning back in to the auctioneer.

“As we all know, this man, thi-this thing has been a thorn in our Order’s side for too long,” A murmur of agreement passes through the audience, nodding along with the statement. “Today is truly a special one; where we are finally rewarded with the capture of il Vampiro.”

This…can’t be real. The nodding and cheering of the crowd in the darkness of the auction room has your heart dropping to your stomach.

What the hell kind of cult have you stumbled into?

You want no part in this charade. It stopped being funny a long time ago. So, you’re back to the attempted wriggling out of trust-fund’s grasp. Although his attention has completely turned back to the stage, his grip on your arm is no less unyielding. Your struggle has him pulling you into his side, seizing your jaw and guiding your focus back to the events at the front.

Your writhing is put to a stop with his fingernails digging into your cheeks and a harsh whisper of “Stop it!” spat directly into your ear.

You’re forced to watch as a security guard hands the auctioneer a vial of red liquid and your heart stutters. You hope that’s not what you think it is, but with how this night has been going, you have a sinking feeling that you’re right.

The vial is held under Ezio’s nose for only a moment, but that’s all it takes for him to lurch forwards against his bindings. Reanimated as if he wasn’t as limp as a dead fish just moments ago. The ropes are creaking and he’s letting out a hiss, fangs glinting even from all the way across the room.

The auctioneer jolts back in alarm as the snap of Ezio’s jaws comes a little too close for comfort. His grasp on the vial is lost as the blood spills over the rim, onto Ezio, and the glass shatters on the stage.

It completes the look of a monster having just taken a bite of its prey and you hate yourself for thinking that because you shouldn’t be making that comparison.

He’s just Ezio. The kind, warm owner of the quaint villa situated in the rolling hills of Tuscany. The man who carried all your bags up the stairs to your room. The man who took you to see all the sights. The man who carried you to your room and made you dinner. The man who offered to escort you to this damned event.

But Ezio is still there, on that stage, eyes wild, covered in blood, and looking every bit like Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’.

“...here today for the purpose of continuing Doctor Malfatto’s work in experimenting for eternal life. We’ll start the bidding at 50 million for whoever would like to have a ‘crack’ at cracking the poor bloke open,” the auctioneer lets out a breathy laugh at his own joke and the polite chuckling of the audience makes your stomach turn. “Oh! And–”

Now he’s gesturing to the back.

And you're moving, pushed forward and tripping over the wine-colored hem of your evening gown. And oh, how ironic is it that you’re wearing such a fitting hue for this. The universe probably has something against you.

You’re still fumbling all the way up the stairs, escorted by trust-fund and his iron grip on your waist and upper arm.

“He has, very kindly, brought us a special guest that we’ll include in the lot, free of charge! She’ll do wonderfully as a food source! To ensure he stays healthy enough to endure anything!” The auctioneer is terribly excited to offer you up as a human sacrifice. Your breathing has quickened to the point that there’s black spots dancing in your vision. If it wasn’t for trust-fund’s relentless grasp, you probably would’ve met the floor by now.

Distantly, you hear bids already being made, but your gaze has slid to Ezio, now that you’re closer.

The golden-brown color of his eyes have been stained a dark, crimson red, almost as if they’d been injected with blood themselves, and his hair is falling loose from the ribbon he’d tied it in at the beginning of the evening. He’s jerking in the chair, ropes very frayed, but of no concern to the people around you. And those fangs are even more lethal looking up close than they were from afar.

“Aaand sold! For nine-hundred and fifty million euros to Mr. Laurent! Let’s have us a little demonstration before we’re finished with these two, shall we?”

It only takes a moment for trust-fund to drag you closer to Ezio. But all the convincing you gave yourself on how harmless he is seems to have vacated your brain and left nothing behind because now you’re pushing back against trust-fund to get away from the wild man in front of you. The fighting is no use and, in the blink of an eye, your face is shoved forward to meet the crimson gaze. His jerking movements have stopped at the source of food being shoved so abruptly in his face. And he’s leaning in.

Oh god he’s leaning in towards your neck.

You’re going to die here in this snooty manor in the-middle-of-nowhere Italy and it’ll be because you accidentally got caught up in some freaky cult stuff when you should’ve been in an Uber back to the villa.

“When I tell you to drop, I need you to dead weight as hard as you can. Nod if you understand.” A voice whispers into your neck, small enough that it almost goes unnoticed by you. You nod minutely. “Good. I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, mia cara.”

A stabbing pain shoots through you, from your neck to your toes as Ezio latches his mouth onto your throat. Blood rushes from the broken skin, some sliding from the side of his mouth, onto your collarbone and the bodice of your dress.

There’s the sound of someone screaming; the scratch in your throat tells you that it’s coming from you. You can’t focus on anything except the feeling of suction at your neck and, when that’s gone, when he pulls away, you’re left feeling like you ran a marathon four times over. Your muscles ache and a coldness washes over your limbs and you’re gasping for air like it’s your only purpose.

“Now!”

The lack of stability sends you careening to the floor of the stage anyways, effectively throwing trust-fund off-kilter and into Ezio’s path just as he rips himself free of the ropes. You decide to not acknowledge the feeling of more warm liquid splattering over your form. Nor do you want to make the connection of that with the sound of trust-fund’s body hitting the stage next to you with a sickening thump!

From what you can see in your hazy vision, there’s mass chaos as half of the people in the audience scurry to any exit they can find and the other half are fighting their way up to the stage to restrain the storm of vampiric fury that they’ve unleashed.

The river of warmth trailing down your neck reminds you that you’re still alive. You won’t be for long if you don’t staunch the flow of it soon. Your hands fumble with the hem of your dress, tearing two strips from it and clumsily fastening a wad of the fabric to your neck in a slightly unhinged choker. You’re definitely not getting your deposit back on this.

Sounds of fighting stop momentarily, left with only indignant yells of “Get him!” or “Quick!” from those ambushing the stage. With a grunt, the floor disappears from under you as you’re hauled up into the embrace of Ezio, carrying you bridal style as he zips with inhuman speed to an exit off to the side of the stage.

His hair is still wild as it whips around your arms that are wrapped around his neck, but his eyes are back to their usual golden-brown. And the lack of fangs poking out of his lips serves to highlight the presence of the scar across his lip. Despite his previous vampiric features, he feels warm to the touch.

It’s probably not the appropriate time to be noticing these details about him, but it’s all you can focus on in your state.

He’s running through the halls, searching for a way to the exit and jostling you every step of the way. You come to what seems to be the dead end of a hallway, backed into the corner by the rapidly approaching crowd that managed to gather their wits enough to chase after you both.

A loud crash explodes in your ears and there’s chunks of marble flying through the air and dust gathering in your lungs. Glancing quickly to your right, the marble bust next to your head seems to have spontaneously shattered. The sound of another gunshot sends the glass window behind you bursting into fractals of crystal.

Ezio turns his back to the crowd, bringing a solid hand up to shield your head and cradle it into his chest before he’s leaping through the remnants of the exploded panes of the window.

The air is crisp and freezing as it billows past you, stinging your face and arms. The blood pounding in your skull is overwhelming and you think, maybe if you tell yourself to stay awake, you won’t black out from the speed at which Ezio is moving.

You’re wrong.

~~~

There’s hands on you, gently nudging you awake after what feels like minutes. The rays of sun streaming into your face tells you otherwise.

You crack your eyelids open slowly, head throbbing at the light flooding your senses. You turn towards the movement beside you and only manage a glimpse of Ezio before a wet cloth is placed on your forehead, effectively clouding your gaze. An indignant noise bursts from your throat and you jerk upwards in the bed, the cloth landing with a wet plop into your lap.

Not a good idea. The vertigo has you gasping and the feeling of throwing up has hooked into your stomach, giving an unpleasant tug as you dry heave into the basin that’s placed in your lap. A crinkling noise vaguely registers in your brain while the muscles in your neck flex with the effort of emptying your stomach contents. Ezio must’ve bandaged the bite mark up while you were out.

Memories of the night before, or what you can assume is the night before, rush back with the dull throbbing of your wound.

You take the opportunity to try and lift your head as the towel is brought to your forehead, dabbing at the sweat there. Once Ezio is satisfied with your lack of gagging, he gently takes your hand and places it over where he’s holding the towel. Then he’s retreating with the bowl, to go wash it out, you assume.

With the absence of him in the room, you take a moment to observe your surroundings.

You’re not in your regular lodgings. By the way the room is lavishly decorated and homely, you assume that this must be where Ezio stays. There are art pieces from all over the globe from different time periods. Had last night not occurred you would’ve assumed he was just an avid collector of timeless pieces, but you know better now.

There’s a portrait situated above the fireplace, depicting a man and a woman sitting in two chairs beside each other, holding hands over the end of the chair arms. A line of three young adults are positioned behind them, all donning content smiles as they pose for the portrait. Two men and one woman. They have their arms thrown around each other, looking every bit of the ride-or-die siblings they seem to be. There’s a little boy there too, situated in the middle and sitting on the ground, playing with a feather in his hands as he smiles at the artist. The time-period is easy enough to guess with them all dressed in Renaissance fashions.

Each person pictured has an air about them that makes them unique and brings a sort of life to the painting as a whole. And in the little details, the personalities of them all shone through. It’s almost as if, behind the scenes, just beyond the frame, there’s a warm, loving family that would do anything for each other. That, maybe if you reached your hand past the frame, you’d somehow join them back in the 15th century.

The golden mantle under it has an engraving: “La famiglia Auditore”.

“That was painted by Leonardo Da Vinci.” Ezio’s suddenly by your side even though you could’ve sworn you hadn’t heard him approach and it unnerved you just a little.

You let out a breath of a laugh, expecting it to be a joke.

A small smile has graced his features, one that doesn’t necessarily reach his eyes. The pallor of his skin and dark circles around his eyes age him, but that’s not even physically possible for him. At least, you don’t think so. How accurate is vampire mythology when it comes to a 35 year old from the Italian Renaissance?

Not sure if that was a question you’d like answered in this very second, you deflect your thoughts.

“So, you and your family knew him then?” A small nod is the answer to your question and he allows for the silence he’s left to be filled with your questions.

“Are they also…” A dark look crosses his face at the lingering implication and you’re kicking yourself for asking such a dumb question. You‘ve only known this man for a week for crying out loud! “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I did not mean to ask you that. That was so rude of me to-”

“It’s okay, mia cara. I’ve had five hundred years to get over it,” he’s trying to crack a little joke to lighten the mood and you appreciate the effort. “But no, they are not, uh, vampires like me. I am the product of many experiments gone wrong. Or, right as Malfatto would say.” He spat the name out like it burned his tongue to even speak it.

You recognized the name from the auctioneer’s spiel. Something about Ezio being one of the only surviving subjects and eternal life and an apple? There was a string of questions you were dying to know the answers to, but you didn’t know which to ask first.

And your brain helpfully supplied: “I’ve heard ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’, but why is this the one case where it’s done the absolute opposite?”

Stunned into silence, you want nothing more than to bury yourself beneath the covers and never come out. Ezio is staring at you, trying to properly process what you just said.

Then he’s laughing. More than laughing. Full-on guffawing and wiping tears from his eyes as he slumps down onto his knees as his torso relaxes into the mattress. Your face is burning as you clutch the covers over your face to hide from him and you wish you would wither away on the spot.

Through his fits of giggles, he waves away your defensive position.

“Please don’t be embarrassed. It’s just that I’ve never had such a positive response before.” You deflate only slightly in relief. “To answer your question, the dottore had an obsession with a device that has since been lost to this world called ‘The Apple of Eden’. It gave one many abilities that would’ve been the death of society as we know it if it fell into the wrong hands. And it’s something the Templars want to use for their ambitions. Doctor Malfatto-”

Ezio must’ve noticed the lost expression on your face because he sighed, readjusted himself into a more comfortable position on the edge of the bed, and took a gentle hold of your hands in his.

“After everything you’ve been through because of me, I will tell you everything, but only if you think you’re ready to hear it.”

The sentiment was touching, and very much appreciated. But you’ve come so far in the past evening that you’d be damned if you didn’t take the opportunity to get answers when they’re freely offered. So, you nod your head and tighten your fingers around his.

It took hours, and many breaks for food, for Ezio to explain it all to you, but you were enraptured by every second of it.

He’d started with his condition. Turns out that Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’ definitely held up in one aspect. Ezio did need to drink blood, human blood specifically, to gain superhuman strength. Otherwise, he’d been subsisting on animal blood, saying something about how the different cells in human and animal blood are the deciding factor on how nourishing they could be for him.

You were a little lost with the scientific explanation. But the alternative-diet explanation definitely helped sway a few worries.

He told you about the Assassins, the Templars, and the Old Civilization. He told you about the tragedy of his father and brothers. He told you about how, on what was supposed to be a simple mission to Rome, he’d been snatched off the street and had woken up, strapped to a table in the lair of Doctor Malfatto: a man notorious for killing and maiming courtesans for his own sick pleasure.

He’d told you of the horrific torture he’d been subject to (though you’re pretty sure he kept it a little more PG due to the fact that you looked like you were going to be sick all over again), things that the doctor performed on him more for fun than for experimentation. And how, after what seemed like months of torment, he’d finally achieved the unthinkable.

Until his prized possession was snatched away in a rescue led by Ezio’s uncle.

He talked about how, for years, no one noticed the changes that had subtly taken place. They chalked up his never-changing features to a form of eternal babyface. That is, until everyone got old and he hadn’t aged a day.

No one noticed his more bloodthirsty pursuit of his enemies, choosing to believe his newfound dedication had something to do with guilt over being missing for so long. Until his Uncle Mario found him on a dark, secluded rooftop, curled over a Venetian guard, blood soaking his robes and pooling around him as Ezio drank the poor man dry.

That night, years of pent up guilt, grief, and anger broke through the dam and his uncle held him as he sobbed through the night, feeling like a child again.

Mario promised that the new-found discovery would never reach his sister or his mother; or anyone else for that matter.

Then his uncle was killed and Ezio swore to avenge him and all of his family by dismantling the Templars one by one and wouldn’t stop until he’d gone through every last one of them.

Over the years, his fire for revenge had faded and morphed into caring for, and cultivating, the most beautiful pieces of history and art. Things that needed protection from the horrible things that this war in the shadows would inflict. It was a subject you found yourself resonating a lot with, and one of the things that led to you becoming a curator: to preserve the beauty in this world.

“I’m sorry for everything. You wouldn’t have been roped into this mess if I hadn’t showed up with you. Believe me that I would’ve never let you go if I knew what they were planning.” He takes your hand in his and you know that you don’t blame him for any of it. Something in you told you that you still wouldn’t have made it out of there even if you hadn’t shown up with him. With everything he’s told you about the Templars, you’re just relieved that he was there.

“I’m also sorry about this.” His other hand brushing against the bandages on your neck. “It was all I could think of to get us both out. And without it, I wouldn’t have been able to break out of those chains.”

The apology leaves your face heating up and his tracing of the gauze doesn’t lessen it. And the guilt that’s clear on his face makes your heart clench.

“...and after last night, it’s not safe for you here anymore.” That has you balking, staring in disbelief at the man before you. He’s since moved from the end of the bed to settle beside you at the head, moving to take your empty bowl of soup out of your lap.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I be joking about something this serious?”

“I can’t just leave this– everything that’s happened– and everything you’ve told me– behind like I didn’t just experience something life-changing.” You adjust your positioning to face him properly and your knees knock against his, “So what, I’m supposed to go back to my job in America and pretend like this never happened?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He’s right. What else can you do? You’re expected to be on a flight back in less than 24 hours, to a job you’ve always dreamed of having. But this? This is a once in a lifetime chance encounter. You can’t leave it behind like you hadn’t just bonded with the man, who’s running a soothing thumb over your knuckles, in a life or death situation.

“I’ll have to leave the country as well.” He continues, glancing around the space, already mentally saying goodbyes to the belongings in the room. “I won’t be away for long, but now that they know I’m in the country, it’s not safe for me here either. And I’ll…” He’s gazing wistfully off into space, but you don’t have to hear the rest of his sentence to know that he’ll be alone again.

And in that split-second, you decide.

“I’m staying.”

His eyes snap to yours. He’s about to argue with you, but you hold your palm up to silence him before he can start.

“I won’t be talked out of this. I’m going to go back to America, pack up my old life, and I’m coming back to join you, wherever you end up.” A genuine smile cracks at his lips, stretching the scar there and drawing your eyes toward it. “And besides, I’ll still be doing what I love; just with a super awesome 500-year old vampire assassin as my eternal escort.”

While it came out as a joke, the statement whispered in the stillness between you is meant more as a promise. His small breathy laugh, ghosts over you as he inspects the intention in your face.

Then there’s a hand smoothing over your cheek and cupping the back of your head before he’s pulling you into a gentle kiss that’s tinged with the promise of underlying passion. He pulls away with a content sigh, resting his forehead against yours and basking in your declaration. Your lips are tingling from the chill that’s left behind and you’re thinking the dangerous thought of I could definitely get used to that.

“I hope you’re aware of what you’re getting yourself into, mia cara.” The silky drop of his tone sends a thrill up your spine as he moves closer into your space.

“For you, mio caro, I’d get myself into much more.”

And he’s tugging you towards him again, not for the last time that night.

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void-of-unparalled-chaos · 10 months

Text

Colors (chapter 1/3)

In the wake of the DDOS attack on AO3 I decided to upload what I have posted from “Of Blades and Parchment” to here since the site is unavailable. The writing is a couple years old at this point and the series is unfinished (not abandoned!) but I figured that it might bring some joy to some random person waiting for the site to be back.

Summary: Who was he to affect him in this way, to somehow get such a reaction out of him that drawn swords didn't? To make him long for contact he hadn't needed nor wanted in years?

The last two stories but it's Altaïr's perspective and he has no clue how to deal with new things or emotions.

1103 words, Part 3 of “Of Blades and Parchment” series

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31118099/chapters/76887980

Beginning of series ---- Previous ---- Next

The first time Altaïr sees him, it's at the marketplace.

He is crouched on one of his favorite perches in the city, a tall tower with intricate tiles. It’s located in a rare blindspot, where the roof patrols don’t pass. The tower is taller than most of his other perches, but not so tall that his stomach fills with dread at the effort it would take to climb it.

He is able to see a good distance from here, and in the afternoon sun, Altaïr switches his Eagle Vision on. The world fades to monochrome, and the sounds become muted to his ears. The assassin takes a moment to breathe in the untouched air, and then turns his attention to the streets below him.

The people beneath his feet look like ants. He can see the red of the guards walking the streets. There is an informant a couple buildings over, and it looks as if there is a meeting of some kind between two merchants in the opposite direction, both glowing white with the promise of intel.

He is about to switch back to his regular vision when he sees it. A few streets over, is an ever so faint blue shape. Altaïr stares at it in confusion as it moves. This was not the first time he had seen blue of course. After all, his brothers were blue. Except for Abbas. Altaïr had never liked him, not just because of his insufferable personality or his grating voice, but because he was red. Red meant danger. It meant that Abbas was not to be trusted.

Nevermind all of that now, why was there a blue shape in the middle of Jerusaelm?

Altaïr would know if a brother was in the city as well, and to his knowledge, he was the only man sent for this target. He also knew he should ignore it. He had orders to follow, a man’s death to see to, but he was curious damn it!

He glared at the shape as if that would solve the mystery, and that's when he finally realized something was...off. That glow wasn’t nearly as bright as it should be, not nearly as vibrant. He blinked, returning his sight to normal. His brows furrowed in confusion.

While the edges of his Eagle Vision’s reach did in fact tend to become blurred and duller, the figure was close enough that it shouldn’t happen.

He switched back to make sure he had seen it right. It was definitely duller than it should be. He needed to figure out who this was.

He jumped from his perch, his vision flickering back to color as he carved his way through the air and landed in the hay cart. When he was younger and unpracticed, the thought of doing such a thing would have made him nauseous, but he wasn’t a novice anymore.

Altaïr emerged from the cart, brushed the hay off of his shoulders, and as if he hadn’t done something death defying, walked away at a leisurely pace. He wasn’t worried about losing his new objective. The faint blue color had not been moving quickly, and it was only a few streets away. Even if this unknown person moved locations, he would still be able to track them in no time.

As it turned out, it was not needed. He could see the man haggling for some bread. Altaïr sat on a nearby bench and turned his vision back on. The man was blue, but it was faint, just as it had been from the tower. The color was faint enough that it was more grey in nature, and he could still clearly make out the man’s features through it.

His hair was short and darkly colored. It looked as if it was black, but it was hard to tell with the world bleached into grey around him. His jaw was sharp and lined with stubble that looked as if it needed to be shaved soon. Most notably he was missing his left arm. The fabric of his sleeve was pinned up to his shoulder, probably so it wouldn’t be caught on anything.

He didn’t wear an assassin’s robes, yet he still glistened that pale blue. Perhaps he was undercover? But it wouldn’t make much sense to be arguing over the price of bread while doing so. Besides, the missing limb would have made him recognizable, and Altaïr didn’t recognize this stranger.

The man, seemingly fed up with his debate, left in a huff. He walked right by Altaïr’s bench, so close that he could touch him. Altaïr, surprised at himself, caught his hand and lowered it before he could reach the color.

The assassin sat in befuddlement as the man rounded the corner. Never before had he been so drawn to one’s colors. Never before had he tried to physically touch them.

It was the last one that shocked him the most. Altaïr didn’t particularly like contact. Yet here he was, reaching towards someone he didn’t even know the name of without a conscious thought.

This was a bad idea. He had things to attend to.

Altaïr stood from the bench and followed the man around the corner like a fish hooked on a line.

He tailed the stranger for at least thirty minutes, staying out of sight, scaling buildings and blending within the crowds. He didn't know exactly why he followed the man, nor did he know what caused him to sneak around in such a way.

What he did know was that the man carried himself with his head held high. He disliked the crowds, and began to grow more agitated as time went by. He seemed to have some kind of preference in paper if the ten minutes he spent judging it was anything to go by.

Altaïr also knew that at one point he could have sworn that the man saw him, and his heart started to beat fast in his chest. Fast in the way that it beat during a fight. His breath caught in the back of his throat, and he only released it after the man looked away from his direction.

Who was he to affect him in this way, to somehow get such a reaction out of him that drawn swords didn't? To make him long for contact he hadn't needed nor wanted in years?

He didn't like the way this was going. Didn't like that this man made him so nervous while simultaneously urging him closer. Didn't like that he couldn't figure out his colors.

Altaïr buried his curiosity under his aggravation and left.

#of blades and parchment #altmal #altmal fanfic #altmal au #altair ibn la'ahad x malik al sayf #Assassin's Creed #assassins creed fanfic #my writing

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serotonincemetery · 1 year

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Arno Dorian x Reader

You loved Arno with all of your heart, you did everything he needed, was being everything he needed, comfort, a shoulder, a protector, listener, a lover. You knew about his past with Elise and how she cast him away because of the letter that never made it to her father. But you were there to help him, you were an assassin and the moment he had joined. You swore to protect him and be everything he needed.

But in all the time you've been there for him, he considered you a friend and/or lover, depending on the situation. But he never kept the same title for long. He kept going back and forth and playing with your heartstrings. And it broke you inside, but you had promised to be anything and everything for him.

All the times he cried about Elise, you listened and reassured him that you wouldn't cast him away or leave. You had made sure he didn't go get drunk, but he stayed sober and did everything for him.

When he was at his lowest and needed some intimacy. You were there. Through everything.

When he was fighting until he couldn't anymore. You jumped into action and saved his sorry arse. But you still loved and cared for him all the way through it.

But he also pushed your loyalty limits. He called on you when you were tired, drunk, or hurt. You came and helped him every time. No matter how tired, drunk, or hurt you were. You were always there. But whenever you needed help with a few simple tasks, like locating a target, or trying to find your way around, He was always busy and never bat an eye towards you.

It also didn't help, when you went to see him in the darkest hour of the night for advice or just to talk. He wasn't there. That was only as of late. It bothered you, but you trusted him.

Now here you are. Standing in front of Arno, about to confront him about everything. "Arno, I need to talk to you" You said confidently.

Arno turned to you and spoke up. "Can it wait? I need to figure out where one of our recruits are." An excuse. You knew none of the recruits had gone missing. You made sure of it.

"Please Arno. It's important." You said firmly. He looked towards you and sighed and fully turned around to face you.

"Im listening" He said calmly.

"Arno? Are you seeing someone else? Or are you just not interested in me anymore? Because you seem to neglect me, and always seem busy when I try and talk to you." You explain. "And I do a lot for you. I be anything you need. But when I need you for the simplest tasks. You barely acknowledge me." You vented. It felt good to get this off your shoulders.

Arno seemed to be at a loss for words. He was speechless. You had picked up on everything. When he left, when he tried to ignore you. When he even talked to someone else. You noticed everything. But he couldn't notice a simple thing you did. Because he simply lost interest because of a certain someone.

"Yes." Was a simple and short reply from him.

"What?" You seemed in shock but were nevertheless confused. "Yes on what?"

"Yes, I am seeing someone else, and I have lost interest. I was hoping by ignoring you, you would get the hint. But that didn't seem to happen. I have been ignoring you and not acknowledging you in hopes you would leave me alone." Was his reply.

"You have been seeing someone else?" You said quietly. "Who is she?" You asked before your heart clenched at a simple five letter name.

"Elise" He said shamefully. "And I apologize for not telling you sooner. But I thought-" You had cut him off.

"You could've just straight up told me instead of leading me on. If I would've known, I would've stopped following you around or treating you like a god. I would've left you alone" Your quiet whispers got a bit louder and sad. Your eyes were quickly filling up with salty tears as you looked to him. Your heart was broken.

"I am sorry, can you forgive me somehow? Anything. Anything at all?" He begged. When you two got together, he hated to see you cry. It was rare. But even now. He still hates to see your tears streaming down your face.

You have a saddened smile. "There is one thing."

"Anything." He said quickly.

"Go." You said simply. He seemed extremely confused. "Go and see Elise. Go give her love and affection and love her and to never break her heart."

"What? I am confused." His head was spinning. You were telling him to go to Elise? You weren't angry? You weren't going to hurt him? Or Elise for this matter?

"Go to her."

"Im sorry (Y/N)" He said sorrowfully.

"Its okay Arno." You said, cupping his cheek. "I understand." You pull your hand away from his stubbled face. "I forgive you." You turn to leave his room into the hallway.

"But (Y/N)-" All he wanted to do was hug you and never let you go.

"You can leave. I still love you. But your happiness matters more. Leave to her. Make her feel happy and loved. Do not treat her like you did me." You said, more tears streaming down your face. "Leave." You said gently as you closed the door behind you.

You didn't make it 5 feet away from the door and you collapsed against the wall. "You left me. Just like everyone else. I thought you were different Arno." You whispered to yourself as you curled up into a ball.

"You didn't even fight for me to stay."

#serotonin.writes #assassins creed fanfic #assassins creed #fanfiction #assassins creed arno #arno dorian #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed fanfiction

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idonotbitemythumbatyou · 1 year

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@prettyaveragewhiteshark wrote an incredible dénûment to the relationship between Eivor and Randvi. It really captures the passion and emotion present in the final chapter we just got.

I was so inspired I made this cover art for the fic.

They really really understand these characters and matched the intensity of emotion found in the final chapter. I highly recommend checking it out here.

#randivor #assassins creed fanfic #assassins creed #ac: valhalla

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filthyivarrtrash · 2 years

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Assassins Creed Valhalla

Ivarr the Boneless/Oc

His hand drifted slowly down between your legs, skilled fingers found your sensitive bud and rubbed slow circles,your breaths coming faster as the pleasure grew to a beautiful ache,your breaths turned to gasps as you approached the edge,your body tensed before the fall “Fuck,fuck,fuck” you cried out as you hit your peak,you felt the relief wash over you as you moaned through your climax your eyes closed and head thrown back onto his shoulder,you hummed in satisfaction as Ivarr stilled beneath you. His arms snaked around your waist and held you tightly as he peppered your shoulder and neck in nips and kisses rocking you back and forth in his arms.

Suddenly you were pitched forward onto your belly almost winded with surprise you felt Ivarrs hand on the back of your neck pressing you into the furs ,you felt his body leaning toward the side of the bed then a cool wet liquid poured between your ass cheeks realising all too late you tried to resist, a soundless cry left your mouth as his slickened cock entered your asshole up to the balls, you gasped and clutched at the furs desperately as your hole was stretched painfully ,tears streamed down your face as you tried to resist “Shh..relax” he hissed as you fought for control, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them both beside your head,you let out a sob as you stilled “Good girl “ he praised.

Giving you a short moment to adjust before he began,he moved slowly at first but built speed quickly, slamming into you hard and fast,the discomfort joined with a deep pleasure made your eyes roll and your mouth gape,it felt like your very soul was being fucked. His thrusts forcing inhuman noises from the depths of your being. The sensations were unbearable but but at the same time you wanted so much more,you needed him even deeper,trying to push your self back to meet him unsuccessfully. You felt him swell inside you as he approached his finish with a roar worthy of battle.

Ivarr moaned long and loud as he reached his climax grinding his cock inside your tightest hole he shuddered as his balls were emptied by his throbbing manhood his eyes squeezed tightly shut against the pleasure. He slumped forward onto your prostrate form and loosened his grip on your wrists,sighing heavily.

You both lay still for a while breathless and spent then remembering himself Ivarr rolled off of your trembling body his still hard cock slid out of your punished ass, a trickle of cum followed dripping down your equally used slit tickling you uncomfortably,he sighed contentedly as he stared up into the rafters stretching like a cat.

He turned to look at you brushing the tangle of hair from your eyes stroking your cheek tenderly as his hand left you “I hate you “ you mumbled without the energy for conviction Ivarr chuckled lowly “No you don't..” he rolled towards you and kissed your shoulder his finger tips gently ghosting up and down your back down over your buttocks and gave your ass a playful slap “Lets get you cleaned up” he said with a smirk.

#ivarr the boneless #ivarr ragnarsson #ac valhalla #fanfic #ao3 smut #assassins creed fanfic #fanfiction

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kiatheinsomniac · 4 months

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──── 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a commission from @tired-lime who's always a darling to work with 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor Kenway x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, enemies to lovers, porn with plot, fingering, handjobs, creampies, unprotected sex

You walk as calmly as you can through the narrow alley, not daring to lift your eyes from where they look straight ahead of you and glance towards the rooftops that cast darkness over you, the silvery moonlight gleaming just ahead as the streight leads to the main road. This place is out of sight of the sparse public that might wander past at this time of night, your vision is limited in the darkness it provides and there’s ample opportunity for an overhead ambush.

All of this puts you at every disadvantage, perhaps, but that’s exactly what you want the man tailing you to think. You keep your eyes straight because Assassins like rooftops. They provide coverage and blindspots, hidden in plain sight as most people simply don’t find themselves looking up with their eyes to the sky as they go about their day and all the tasks that come with it. It’s precisely why you’ll always find an Assassin stalking you from above and never from upon your own level.

In short, you’re baiting the Assassin above you who has gone to so much care to silence his footsteps and conceal his shadow from your sight. But you’re a Templar. You’re trained to know your enemy. You spotted him not long ago, lingering around a crowd outside an inn, trying to blend in. But your purpose for going out at all today has been to bait him, those are your orders.

Your ears are kept vigilant for the sound of something small flying through the air and in a moment's notice, you lunge forward to dodge the rope dart that had been aimed at you. There’s a hissed curse and you draw your sword as the Assassin makes his leap down to you, using a ledge of a windowsill garden to lessen his fall. He stands tall in front of you now, white beaked hood up and hiding his face. His hidden blade shoots out as he parries your offensive blow with his gauntlet.

You’re still not entirely sure what material it is that Assassins make their gauntlets from. Your mentor Haytham has one and he claims that it’s an alloy from a precursor civilization but when your higher-ups start talking like that, you sometimes begin to wonder if you’ve really overstepped your depth as an ex-mercenary and have accidentally joined a cult.

Regardless, the Assassin stands tall before you now. He is Achilles’ new novice, so you’ve been told. The only member of his ranks as your mentor has told you of how a companion of his wiped out the last generation of Assassins here in the colonies, thus giving your Order ample room to plant its roots. Though you have no name nor face to put to this companion of Haytham’s as he is always very quick to change the subject or to remind you to not speak out of line whenever your curiosity gets the better of you and you start to press for details of this mysterious person’s identity if only to create an image in your mind for all of this information that you are given.

His free hand takes out a tomahawk and you’re put on defence. You take a step back but make sure to stay in the alley and out of the public space. The last thing you want is nearby law enforcement or civilians to get involved. But the clashing of metal upon metal rings out in the otherwise quiet night.

He fights cleanly using his sheer strength and towering figure which puts you at a disadvantage. His technique is curated to be quick and efficient but your style often depends on your agility, stamina and tiring out your enemy. You’ve already laid such a foundation by baiting him to follow you from the rooftops – a much more strenuous journey than the one you had taken upon the ground. But there was something to how he was swinging at you with his tomahawk, movements tight to not allow you to get too far, a passion to his every strike and parry.

You know when you’re outmatched and so you’re now put on defence and wondering what could have happened between intel and being given your orders that could have possibly allowed you to go about this mission alone instead of preparing a sort of ambush in order to put an end to this lone Assassin that has been terrorising the Order once and for all.

Had you let the higher-ups flatter you over your skills into thinking you were truly capable of this task they had set upon you? Regardless, you’re in this now and your only priority has suddenly become making it out of here alive. You take a risk and do a rescan of your surroundings, looking for anything that might be of aid to you in order to give you just a slither of an opportunity of getting away. But you remain aware of your enemy’s every move, knowing that even a momentary slip up can be the cause of your untimely demise.

But the Assassin trying to cut you down is just as trained as you are – if not more so – and this subtle scrambling of yours does not go unnoticed by his keen, dark eyes.

“Out of your depth, Templar?” He asks in his smooth and rich tone.

“You wish I were.” You bite back and manage to take swift steps backwards, enough for you to assess that the risk of lowering your sword in exchange for the gun at your hip is worth it in order to try and create a window for escape. You take aim but don’t fire. You should be firing. You should be killing this man.

Why did they send you on this mission alone?

It’s all you can think to yourself as your finger hovers over the trigger. The Assassin knows he’s done for if your finger so much as twitches now and yet he freezes, seeing your hesitation. The two of you are brought to a standstill with you aiming your gun at the Assassin’s head and yet your finger hovers over the trigger, refusing to squeeze. He has no opportunity to strike you down at this moment as in a fraction of a second, hesitation can become a killing blow.

Your eyes narrow slightly as you repeat that question to yourself: why did they send you on this mission alone? This Assassin is clearly far more skilled than you are and even baiting him here after a journey that should have tired you out has not made a dent in his stamina. He’s been cutting down British soldiers and Templars alike, chipping away at the order for reasons not yet known to you other than the simple explanation of ‘we are Templars, he an Assassin’. Why did you believe your higher-ups when they told you that you could handle this solo mission? Have they sent you here as an execution and if so: why?

“Why do they want you to kill me?” You murmur. The question is asked aloud and yet you’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. This seems to make even the Assassin pause in puzzlement. If they want you dead then what are they doing now? Are you merely a distraction?

“That’s a good question indeed.” The toweringly tall Assassin raises his hands in a gesture of surrender and you slowly lower your gun but keep a good amount of distance between the two of you, each standing at either side of the narrow alley you had originally lured him into. You tap your toes against the ground as you ponder over questions again: is this a distraction or an execution? Either way you’re clearly expendable and it comes as a surprise to you because you were so sure you were in the Grandmaster’s good books.

So what has changed to make Haytham use you as a sacrificial pawn in whatever game he’s playing here in the colonies? Neither of you are sure what to do now, having both arrived here late at night with intentions to kill the other. But now you see that the true plan behind all of this was for you to die all along. It’s enough to make Ratonhnhaké:ton stand down and wish to spare you. Someone is pulling the strings here and part of their plan includes your death. So what’s to happen when this plan is interrupted.

“I won’t kill you today.” He speaks up after finally making up his mind following a few minutes of thick silence wherein you were both deep in thought, trying with your minds to uncover the obscurity of whatever the bigger picture is here. The best course of action is to disrupt the plans of whoever it is that’s painting it. “But when you fall it will be by my hand, Templar.” You shoot the man a glare where his eyes would be, concealed behind the shadow that the beak of his hood casts over his face in order to hide his identity.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Assassin.” You quip back but you hear him scoff as he puts his tomahawk away when you set your gun back into its holster.

“You’re right. Your masters seem to be set on beating me to that.” You open your mouth to protest but he’s already making his way up the wall of one of the buildings you’re between and returning to the rooftops. You’re quick to exit the alley and get into the middle of the main street so that he doesn’t have an opportunity to assassinate you from above should he be bluffing or perhaps change his mind and deal with you now before you become a loose thread. But he doesn’t and you’re left standing in the middle of an empty street at night.

Could you even go back to your quarters now? Perhaps they’ll use the failed mission as justification to finish you off themselves. You need somewhere to stay until you’ve figured out what’s going on and whether or not you’ve been betrayed by the Order that you had sworn your own loyalty to. But where to go?

Your eyes rise up to the rooftops that the Assassin had disappeared over. You’ve been set up by the people who this man is set on killing.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend…” You murmur to yourself as you spot a nearby ladder and use it to make your way up onto the same rooftop. It’s a risk you’re taking but it seems that every path available to you now has some degree of risk to it and so you’re left with no choice but to weigh your options and gamble.

Your foot taps anxiously against the cobble beneath you as you consider your plan. If your Order seeks to erase you, it won’t even be safe to go back to your rented room and pack a bag of your belongings. It’s the first place they’ll go to look for you and with the network of spies Haytham has been building across the city, it won’t take long for word to get back to him that you’ve failed your mission. You won’t get far hiding either. All of your tricks, you’ve learned from your mentor and to try and hide would be to put yourself at a disadvantage by playing the game of the man who had so clearly intended to use you as a pawn in whatever grand scheme he’s hatching; not so long ago, you had thought you knew his plans but tonight has changed your course of events entirely.

Into the belly of the best it is.

You decide. Now up on the roof, you look with your second sight. It’s your upper hand and even Haytham has admitted that it was one of his greatest factors in considering you as an advantageous candidate for a Templar. The route he’s taken lights up gold and you begin to follow all the twists and turns he took that would have thrown off anyone else who might have been tiling him. Not you though.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ ☾　 °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

You find yourself outside a manor upon a homestead. It wasn’t an easy journey by any means and you hadn’t expected him to have covered so much ground either. In the forest, you found yourself wishing you had stopped to hire a horse – you still had some money on you after all. You took a break twice, made a camp once after scouting out the area but you admittedly slept very lightly. You weren’t a wilderness girl and the anxiety of being found by a wolf or bear had kept you from falling into a truly restful sleep.

And so you found yourself feeling both tired from a long way’s travel and a poor night’s rest during the small hours of the morning, all while heading right into the den of your enemy who, currently and ironically enough, seems to be your only possible ally.

The manor standing tall in the clearing above you is built in typical colonial fashion with red bricks and white embellishments. Its large size makes use of the spacious land it is upon and your mind wanders back to the stories Haytham once shared with you about the Brotherhood that once lived and trained here. Looking at the size of the place, it’s easy to imagine so many people living here once upon a time and difficult to imagine that today it only houses the old Mentor and the one and only Assassin who still lives by their Creed here in the colonies.

Though that’s only as much as your Order is aware of. You keep your wits about you, more than aware that you don’t know what you’re walking to, nor do you know how many potential foes reside within those four walls. You may very well be running from one death straight into another.

But your options are slim and you’ve wagered that your odds are better here. Back with the Order, you’re a pawn that should have submissively been sacrificed. Here, you’re either a target to be taken out immediately or a valuable source of information. After all, you’ve been betrayed and they may consider that you have every reason to surrender all of the Order’s secrets that you possess.

These are all just possibilities though and death remains a very likely outcome.

You stand from an awkward distance on the treeline for a while. Surely you can’t just knock on the front door being who you are? Then again, if you take any other route, they might see it as an ambush and you’ll be in combat or even dead before you can open your mouth to explain your intentions. Despite every other instinct within you telling you to turn tail and run to the nearest harbour, to leave the region altogether on whatever boat you can get yourself aboard, you approach the front door.

A shadow falls over you when you raise your fist to knock upon the door. He’s good at what he does, you’ll give him that. Immediately, you feel the warm, sharp edge of a blade resting against your throat. Warm and so it’s the hidden blade that the likes of him keep tucked up their sleeves, a blade like the one your mentor possessed. You’d always found it rather ironic that Haytham always stands so tall beside his principles and yet he fights with the enemy’s weapon.

“Did you come here thinking you could finish the job and go crawling back to your master?” His voice speaks up from behind you. You raise both of your hands in the air in a sign of surrender, keeping them far away from your hips where your weapons are kept around your belt. He doesn’t hesitate in unbuckling it and removing it from your body and moments later, you hear it hit the floor some distance away where he’s thrown it. You’re not unarmed in enemy territory and you begin wondering if this really was the best plan of action after all.

“I actually came with a proposal…” You begin slowly. You’re not entirely sure how to present yourself, your tone. Even you’re unsure if your own plan will work but you need to sound certain or else he may well believe you’re just here to trick him in which case he’ll kill you.

You don’t need to turn around to know that he’s looming over you. You wonder sometimes how a man of his stature can blend into crowds and hide in plain sight the way Assassins are taught to. And yet he does and it’s truly a testament to his skill.

“And what might this proposal be?” You swallow thickly. Your life depends on being able to convince him that you’re being honest, which he has every inclination to doubt considering your current standing as enemies.

“It’s been made clear that I’m seen as expendable, so I’d much rather prove just how essential I was. I have information: contacts, travel routes, locations of higher-ranking Templars. Whatever mission you’re on, I’ll speed it up by months, maybe even years.” You tilt your head back a little more, trying to ease the pressure when the blade presses more insistently at your skin.

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because I came here. Because I’ve got nowhere else to go at the moment and I’m risking you slashing my throat just for a chance to try and get out of this ordeal alive after what happened last night.” The blade leaves your neck but the threat is not removed as you then feel it poke at your back, spurring you forwards at a slow pace, hands still raised.

“Step inside.”

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ ☾　 °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Months later, you find yourself setting up camp in a familiar cave. These meetings have become familiar to you and nowadays this little cave feels like the safest place in the world. You’ve been working as a double agent for the past few months and being in the Order feels like having death loom over your shoulder all the time now. Being a Templar had once given you such a feeling of purpose and belonging, that you had a key, unshakable place in the world, that you were guiding it in a better direction.

But the more you’ve been reporting back to Connor and the chats you have in between, the more you have to take a step back and ask yourself if you were being told a one-sided story the entire time. You haven’t set foot on Connor’s homestead since you first arrived and he had to send you back with a split lip, gashed jaw and sprained wrist to make it seem like you really had fought him and not conspired with him. That gash now remains as a scar across the lower part of your face. Each time you look in the mirror, it reminds you of your new mission as the Assassin’s spy.

And each time, you pray that you’re doing the right thing.

Your attention is grabbed by the sound of feet on dirt and you look towards the mouth of the cave where he stands tall now, moving to sit on the opposite side of your little fire so that he’s facing you. His gloves come off and he rubs his hands together near the open flames. His hood comes down to reveal a face strikingly like your mentor’s and you can’t believe that this man is now your only ally in the world and you can’t even be entirely sure of his loyalty. All you know is that you need to keep yourself indispensable in order to keep breath in your lungs and a heartbeat in your chest.

He reaches into his bag and takes out a small, wrapped package. Scaled fish. They’re skewered and set over the fire to cook.

“Thank you.” You say stiffly. Interactions like this are still so unusual to you. He nods his head in a silent ‘you’re welcome’.

“What’s new?”

“Lee’s on the move.” His dark eyes quickly flick up to meet yours and you can see the deep interest in them. You haven’t asked why he’s after Lee specifically though it confuses you as you would have been sure he would go after Haytham; to cut the head of the snake, so to speak. But you’ve never asked because this vendetta seems deeply personal and you’re next to certain that he won’t open up to you about it. “They’re making preparations to receive him in Boston so whatever he’s come back with must be important… or they know that you’re after him. I’ve yet to find out which it is because I don’t have direct access to such information and I can’t put myself at risk if this is a red herring and they suspect something. But the moment I find out more I’ll tell you – but take everything with a pinch of salt.”

He nods, deep in thought and you wonder what’s going through his head. You always worry that doubt will creep into his mind and will ultimately drive him to kill you. You can only hope that he’s instead thinking about exacting whatever revenge he has planned for Charles Lee. His thirst for revenge currently is what’s keeping you afloat. Without his vendetta, you’re worthless to him.

“How have you been?” You’re not sure if you’re asking out of politeness or loneliness. Are you trying to keep in his good graces or are you seeking out the warmth of a friend, even if what’s between you isn’t really friendship?

“Busy…” He sighs. “Your Order’s been on the move.”

“I’ve heard about your meetings with Washington.” You bite your lip as you ponder your next question. It’s personal but a chance not taken is an opportunity missed. “You… You’re meeting with all these generals, men of influence and yet you work in the shadows. Do you truly have no wish for the world to remember your name? You really want to just vanish?” You had been drawn to the Templars partially by glory, by the chance of making a place in the world, a change where you and your fellow members of the Order would be revered for centuries to come.

“I do not want to be remembered, no. Our creed states that we work in the dark to serve the light. This war will be lost to memory and I will do my part to make sure that it is the Assassins who bury any record of it.” Your first reaction is to think of him as ridiculous: he’s thrown any chance at a normal life away for a battle he will never be credited for. But it’s selfless. He has nothing to gain but what he believes in: no fame, no power, no glory.

Maybe you really have been misled.

The Templars had always preached peace but with that peace came the Order having ultimate power over humanity, domination over free will. You had once focused so heavily on how that absolute control would stop war, would stop suffering. But at what cost? It must be a great one for this man in front of you to be throwing any semblance of a normal life away for it.

“Tell me more about your Creed.” He turns over the fish and glances up at you once again, meeting your curious eyes. You’re sitting down with your legs curled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them with your hin propped on your knees. This isn’t smalltalk or you digging for information, it’s genuine interest. He hadn’t missed your pondering look before, that glint of unsurety in your eyes.

“Alright…”

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ ☾　 °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Weeks later and you meet again, having shared many more meetings in the meantime. You understand Ratonhnhaké:ton better now, you understand his creed. He seems different from his mentor that Haytham had told you about, so very different. He doesn’t meddle in the first civilisation that your mentor speaks of so frequently and you wonder if it’s for the best after the stories you had heard of while in the Order. Haytham speaks of them vaguely but you still have a comprehensive enough understanding.

The more he speaks, the more you doubt your own order who wish to use these artefacts for their plans to shepard humanity towards its best self, the more you wonder if your superiors in the Order are just set on a path to repeat history. You’ve shared with him all the information you have now. You now feel like less of a double agent and more of a spy – having to give away anything about the Assassin you’ve come to secretly think of as a friend feels like a betrayal, even if it’s only for the sake of protecting your ulterior motives for having returned to the Order at all after that night you first encountered Rathonhnhaké:ton for yourself.

He’s been more open with you too. Haytham is his father – something which both made sense, looking at his face, and shocked you, considering he is an Assassin and his father a Templar. Charles Lee, at Haytham’s command, had burned his village to the ground as a child, killing his mother. You empathise with that deeply. You had joined the Order knowing that you had no family of your own to lose should things get messy. It seems that the two of you are in the same boat for that one.

Now, he’s picking out the bones from your fish while you prepare some water to boil over the fire. But time has moved on and winter draws near, bringing a chill into this little cave that feels like it’s become your one and only sanctuary in the world. You hold your open palms near the fire and try to chase away the chill but it does you very little good.

Connor watches you for a moment before he removes his gloves and hands them to you. As he holds them out silently, those well-worn gloves appear like an olive branch to you. This really is for the best, you think. More and more, you’ve come to realise that you were misled by your Order. You were promised to be a harbinger, to be one of the names that would live on forever as a part of the order who had saved humanity. But you were a pawn all along. Even despite your special abilities, Haytham had been more than willing to sacrifice you for whatever gain. You might have a little more value in his eyes now that you’ve ‘proven’ you can take on the Assassin and get away with your life but you’ve seen your old mentor, you’ve heard how he talks of the first civilisation. He’ll stop at nothing and you’re more than sure that should he see another opportunity where your sacrifice and earn great gain for him and his plans, he’ll send you walking straight into the arms of death all over again.

You take the gloves and slide them on over your hands.

“Thank you.” You offer a smile but you hold back just how happy this small gesture makes you. They’re far too big but they’re soft and warm. They’re clearly broken in, the fingertips especially worn down from what you can only assume is all the climbing he does in stalking around with the stealth of his kind. But it’s the fact he’s given them to you at all that touches your heart.

The two of you eat, drink, you share intel and it becomes late enough that you wrap yourself tightly in a thick blanket and curl up on your bedroll beside the campfire. The cave provides enough shelter to keep out the bitter wind but the temperature has still dropped drastically with the change of seasons. You sit up to wrap your blanket around your feet better and you find yourself wishing you had brought another pair of socks or, better yet, a warmer pair. You then lay back down, curled in on yourself to try and gather as much insulation as possible, and close your eyes to try and sleep. But the cold instead bites at your ears and so you pull your blanket up over the back of your head like a hood and shuffle a little closer to the fire so that your nose is warmed by the flame.

You hear shuffling around you and crack an eye open to see that Rathonhnaké:ton has moved. He’s no longer laid on his bedroll on the opposite side of the fire but has instead moved it right next to yours behind where you’re curled up on your side.

“I thought you’d be used to camping by now.” He murmurs and you can hear him lay down beside you, so close that you can feel the heat from his body.

“Not during the winter, I’m not.” You mumble into your blanket which you’ve pulled up by your mouth so that your breath can warm your face. You feel the weight of his arm lay over your waist and he then presses his chest to your back. You can feel the warmth of his breath over your neck, heating the blanket that’s tucked over the back of your head. You stiffen for a moment, surprised by his willingness to be close to you.

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and you lean into his warmth. How long has it been since anyone held you like this? It’s wonderful and overwhelming and suddenly there’s no more winter, nothing outside of this little cave where you’ve been setting up camp to meet for almost a year now.

“Thank you…” You say quietly. Whether for the warmth, or the touch, or for the new path he’s opened to you that you’ve set your life upon now, you’re unsure.

“There’s no need to thank me.” He replies just as quietly. The two of you lay there for a long time and your heart doesn’t slow, beating like a rabbit’s. He’s so close and you hadn’t expected such a thing to be so exhilarating. Rathonhnaké:ton is a toweringly tall man and you’ve always viewed it as an advantage for when he needs to intimidate. But now, you feel safer than you’ve known since that night of your first encounter when your illusion about the Knights Templar was shattered.

After a while, you can’t take it anymore and you turn around just enough to be able to look at him over your shoulder. Your faces are very close and you can feel his breath fan across your lips. When you look to meet his eyes, he does the same as he had previously been looking at your mouth.

“Feeling warmer?” He asks, his voice a rumbling murmur. You give the slightest little nod and your eyes very obviously glance at his pillowy lips again. You don’t try to hide it and nor does he miss it. You’re unsure which of you leans in first – perhaps it had been the both of you, little by little, while you were both preoccupied in imagining how it might be to press your lips to the other’s – but he’s warm and the touch of his lips against yours fills you with a bubbling heat. You turn your body to face him and he pulls you closer by your waist, thumb pressing into you through your clothes and stroking over your body while your lips press and meet again and again. One of your hands goes up to cup his face, feeling his chiselled jaw and cheekbones, then your fingers slide into his silken hair and tangle gently into it when your tongue slides against his.

You pull away for air for a moment but it’s short lived as his teeth pull gently at your bottom lip and his mouth then grazes against your chin and traces the curve of your jaw in kisses. The cold that had previously bothered you is completely forgotten about and he tugs the collar of your layers of clothing aside so that he can kiss against the pulse of your throat. Your hands find his chest and press to try and feel the contours of his body through his clothing but all the buttons and straps get in your way. Your fingers start working to undo buttons before you realise how caught up you’ve got and you pull away for a moment.

“Is this ok?” He gives a small nod and leans in to kiss you again as you remove his clothes. You leave his shirt and jackets open, revealing scarred, bronze skin to you. His body is shaped like an ancient statue of legendary heroes. You can’t help but take the opportunity to rove your palms over each contour and feel him in his beauty.

His large hands slide down to your hips and pull you a little closer. To accommodate him, you move to straddle one of his muscular thighs. He lifts it just enough to press against you and feels a deep stirring below his belt when your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan.

You had never imagined you would find yourself in this position with Rathonhnaké:ton and yet now that you’re here together, it feels so right. It feels like you really have grown close enough to be like this, like stars in their orbit being pulled to one another. His mouth is on yours again in an instant while he presses his thigh between your legs and he starts to pull at your belt to remove the clothing on your lower half. You help him by tugging off your boots between messy kisses. Once your pants are off and your lower half is bare, you shiver as the chill begins to creep over your bare skin. Connor simply pulls you closer and wraps the blanket firmly around your body while you straddle his lap, taking care to tuck it under your legs in an attempt to keep in as much warmth as possible.

His fingers dance their way down to your mound where he can already feel the intense heat radiating from you.

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks as his mouth moves to press wet kisses beneath your ear, breathing over the sensitive spot and making you shiver as a result. You nod your head and unintentionally let a needy sound slip past your lips.

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s fingers glide through your slick folds and he lets out a little breath of wonder at the feeling of touching you in such an intimate place. Experimentally, he pushes one finger inside of you and watches how your spine arches and your body then bows to lean against him. He pushes it as far as he can go and begins moving it in and out. Letting your bodies take over, allowing words to become of little importance, you begin to grind your hips against his hand so that the heel of his palm catches your clit in a sensation that feels like a delicious burn. He adds another finger and you tug at his pants until his length, thick and heavy in your hand, is freed. You gently squeeze and hear how he sucks in a hiss through his teeth. You then begin to massage up and down, matching the pace of your hips moving to meet his fingers as they draw out soft, wet squelches from your pussy. You swipe over the slit at his tip with your thumb and hear how it makes him groan lowly. You glance down to see a little pool of your arousal gathering in the dip of his palm and decide that enough is enough.

You raise your hips up until his fingers slip out of you entirely. You then remove your hands from him and loop your arms loosely around his neck instead. He understands your intentions clearly and strokes himself a few times, covering his length in the slick from your pussy. You bring your hips back down and he guides himself into you. You’re quick to press your mouth to his in another messy kiss in order to muffle the moan you let out upon feeling the stretch of him pushing into you. You pause shakily along the way, deciding you can take all of him once you’re a little more adjusted, and start to ride.

Connor’s large hands slide beneath your ass to grab at the soft flesh that spills between his fingers and he uses his hold to support you in moving up and down, holding a lot of your weight with his strength. As you continue to move your hips rhythmically, one of his hands leaves your rear in favour of pulling at the buttons and ties that keep your chest hidden. Once it’s revealed, he lets out an appreciative groan of approval and his mouth latches onto one of your breasts as he pulls you closer and you ride him. Your head tips back to the ceiling of the cave and you pant as the wind whistles outside, joining with the crackling of the fire, the shift of the fabric of your clothing and blanket and the slick sounds of his cock filling you up over and over.

Ratonhnhaké:ton is big and consequently manages to hit all the right spots at once as he fills you again and again, your hips angled just right for him to brush against the places that have you curling your cold toes. His mouth slathers your breasts in kisses, pausing to nip or suck at your plush flesh and he works your blood into a feverish heat. The two of you pant for breath, moans and groans echoing off the stone walls.

After a while, his arms wrap around your waist as he lays back, bringing him with you. He kisses you firmly as he brings his knees up and you almost feel the breath get knocked from your lungs when he begins thrusting up into you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he pounds up into your sensitive pussy and your sensitive, teased nipples brush against his chest as your body shakes and wavers with his movements.

A pressure builds in your abdomen, growing tighter and more intense until your whole body is flooded in pleasure, walls squeezing tightly around his cock as though begging him to come with you. And you’re successful in sending him over the edge, hearing him moan, the whimper in his tone as he releases into you and holds you close as the two of you catch your breaths.

But then the cold starts to kick in again. He carefully lifts you so that his softening cock slips out of your messy pussy. You watch as he searches his pockets and takes out a handkerchief which he begins to clean your inner thighs with. He looks to you as if asking if you’re comfortable with him looking after you like this but he finds your head tilted back, eyes closed as your legs twitch at having him touch your sensitive folds to clean you up. He helps you redress and dresses himself before helping you into his coat and throwing some more wood onto the fire, wrapping the blanket around the both of you again.

Once more, you snuggle into his chest for warmth and neither of you are quite sure what to say, hoping the words will just come to you in the morning.

Ratonhnhaké:ton presses a kiss to your forehead and holds you a little tighter as he closes his eyes, listening to his own pounding heart, the crackle of the fire and the whining wind outside.

He decides to make sure that the Templars won’t ever have an opportunity to sacrifice your life again.

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navstuffs · 1 year

Text

Hope

Pairing: Brotherhood!Ezio x GN!Reader

Summary: Ezio knows he shouldn't have hope - but he still hopes that you might be found alive.

Warnings: ANGST, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, reader is tortured, torture!!! , cursing, violence, ezio going through loss again, alternate good ending at the bottom.

Author's Note: hii! this came to me at 1:30 am and i wrote until 3 am. this fanfic has two endings! the true one, bad, sad and painful. and the good one, which is found at the end. so in a certain sense, you can pick the one you think is best! (no one asked but my fav is the bad one) if you want, you can listen to the song that helped me write this fanfic i found by amber run. hope you enjoy!

I'll use you as a warning sign (...)

And I'll use you as a focal point

So I don't lose sight of what I want(...)

And I've moved further than I thought I could

But I missed you more than I thought I would (...)

And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be

Right in front of me

Talk some sense to me

(Amber Run - I found)

It could have been three days or thirty days. You don't know anymore. You try to keep yourself awake, but the pain, thirst, and exhaustion are too much.

It is hard to move. Your legs and arms have been bound with heavy chains since you arrived, and the last piece of food you had was what a soldier threw on the floor four, three nights ago? It had a weird taste, but you were so hungry you ate in one piece.

It had been an ambush. As the mission leader, it was your responsibility to realize that. But you didn't. Giving time for the others to escape, you stayed. You killed as many as you could. You got captured and taken straight to Cesare.

Cesar first bargained, saying all you had to do was share Ezio's locations and plans. He was going to reward you. He would make you part of the nobility. You spit on his face, getting your first broken rib that night.

They stripped you of your Assassin robe. You knew it was a tactic to shame you, but you didn't care. After being beaten up countless times, your honor no longer matters.

They have tried everything. To droll you in a bucket of water. Burn you with the heated point of a sword. Plucked one or two fingernails until you passed out with the pain. Not counting all bruises on your face and all over your body.

Cesare enjoys seeing you like this. He occasionally stops in front of your cell, tempting you: all you had to do was tell where your other fellow Assassins were. Where Ezio Auditore hid.

You said nothing. You never opened your mouth.

You heard from a few soldiers or thought you so, the leader of the Brotherhood was looking for you. Hunting. He had become even more ruthless, killing more and more guards. They had problems recruiting guards now. No one knew when they would get back home after work.

You didn't know if you wanted Ezio to find you, to see you like this. He wouldn't even recognize you.

You could only hope death took you before.

-x-

Ezio hasn't been thinking straight for ten days, four hours, and twelve minutes since the other Assassins returned without you. When he asked for an explanation, his heart already knew the answer. They explained there were too many. You had stayed.

"Dead?" Il Mentore asked, and they could feel the pain in his voice. They don't know.

Ezio didn't freak out. The anger from when he was an inexperienced and immature Assassin came back in full force. He was primarily angry at himself: he shouldn't have let you in. He shouldn't have allowed you to get so close. Why you had to be so stubborn? Why he accepted your help?

That same night, Ezio went out. Alone. Hunting for something to take his anger. Ezio didn't know when he stopped, but when he came to Tiber Island, his vests were full of blood.

Ezio fell into a chair, the hideout too quiet without your presence. Being the strategic leader at his side. Ezio wanted to feel your warmth. Your company. Your love. He can feel the tears dropping from his eyes, and he doesn't try to control them. He lets them run free.

When he went to bed, he had nightmares. Ezio saw his dad and his siblings hanged, screaming for help, and he can't do anything about it. Cristina dying in his arms, declaring her love, and he can't do anything about it. He saw you lying in a fetal position, your body pierced by arrows, blood dripping until his feet. Ezio tried to move but can't, desperately watching you die.

Ezio couldn't save any of them.

-x-

When Machiavelli brings news that the templars are keeping an Assassin in a secret location, Ezio tries not to be hopeful. Deep inside, he wishes it isn't you. He has no idea what they can be doing with you.

"Where?"

"Just outside Rome. I don't know the exact location, but I will try to get it. Ezio, it could be-"

"Let me know what you can find," Ezio murmurs before leaving.

He visits his mom and Claudia. His mom is sad and apprehensive. Claudia, on the other hand, tries not to mention your name.

"How are you doing?" Claudia wonders, her tone full of pain. His sister must be feeling terrible: you were Claudia's best friend.

"I want the body. I want to be able to bury it."

Claudia gulps, looking straight. They had dealt with death before, and deep inside, Claudia and Ezio expected it to become easier with time. Without controlling herself, she hugs her older brother, sobbing.

"Oh, Ezio, I am so so sorry."

"Me too," Ezio whispers back, his heart breaking into a million pieces.

-x-

You don't know why you are still alive. After another beat-up session, the guards seem to have given up on you. Even Cesare doesn't appear anymore.

Your clothes are dirty and ripped, and you can barely keep your eyes open. Your fingers are broken. They stopped giving you water. You know something is bleeding inside you; it is just a matter of time now.

You wish you could have seen Claudia. Maria. Leonardo. All your other Assassins. You wish you could thank them for all the lessons you got. You are happy they didn't come to save you.

You wish you could have seen Ezio one last time. Tell him it wasn't his fault.

-x-

When Machiavelli reveals the location, Ezio doesn't hesitate to go—joined by the same group you saved. The Brotherhood wants to give you proper rest. They know you wouldn't like that, risking the Brotherhood for a single Assassin, but it is you.

You are imprisoned in some fort just outside Rome, Machiavelli explained. For some reason, he didn't know the status of your life, but from what his informants saw, they were keeping you in a cell.

"Dead?" Ezio asks. There is no hope in his voice.

"They don't know. Ezio, do you think that is a good idea?"

Ezio doesn't know. He gets on his horse and is followed by the others. A small part inside of him is burning, inside his heart. It grows like a small flame that gets bigger on a cold and dark day.

It is hope.

-x-

You wake up with the sound of a distant explosion. Screams came followed, and the smell of fire. You try to lift your head, your survival instincts kicking in, but your body hurts too much. You wonder if you have arrived in Hell. You concentrate on the front door, your vision too foggy to see anything. You can hear the noises of a fight though you can't quite place what is happening yet.

You think you hear death calling your name.

-x-

Ezio is frozen in front of your cell. For a few seconds, he can't move or breathe.

It is you.

It is really you.

It barely looks like you, though. In a fetal position, legs and arms are tied with heavy chains. Ezio holds the bars with an intensity that might break them. What the fuck have they done to you? He needs to get you out there. Now.

He calls your name.

You don't seem to listen. Ezio tries again, this time more urgent.

You open your eyes, confused. You thought you heard Ezio calling. Trying to crawl across the floor, you focus your eyes on death.

It is Ezio. Hood down. You can barely see his face, but you know he looks as beautiful as ever.

"E...zi...o," You whisper.

Ezio gets the keys from the guard impaled against the wall. He ignores his shaking hands and opens the door, rushing toward you. When he touches your face, your skin is so cold. He calls your name again, waking you up.

"Io sono qui, amore mio, sono qui."

You barely seem to register what he says. Ezio glances at your body. It doesn't look good, but he is determined to get you off there. He lifts your body, and you groan in pain.

"I am going to take you out of here," It is a promise.

Ezio takes you across the corridors, walking as carefully as he can. He didn't want you to feel more pain. He is thankful he brought a doctor. He has to hope you can make it.

The place around him is destroyed, being burned to the ground. Ezio had told the other Assassins to look for other innocents inside the prison.

"I always have been hopeful. Always hoping you were alive," Ezio confesses, his voice trembling as if you could listen.

You are passing moments of consciousness and unconsciousness. You know you were in Ezio's arms (he knew you hated to be carried like that). You try to say you loved him, that it's too late, but no words come out of you.

Ezio finally gets to the entrance. His fellow Assassins were in the front with a small group of people. All looked malnourished but not as bad as you. The doctor, who was checking them, runs to you as Ezio places you on the floor as carefully as he can.

He can't leave your side. Ezio touches your face. He touches your cheeks. Your forehead. Your ears. Trying to memorize your features.

Your eyes open, and you do your best to keep them open. You know it is the last time. You can notice the doctor assessing you. He seems to say something to Ezio, and he looks defeated. The doctor gives you space. Nobody else dares to get closer.

"You were brave. Very brave this whole time. I am sorry I didn't find you earlier, amore mio."

Ezio holds your hand into his face, his heart heavy. He breathes deeply. He wants to scream at the world, not again! He wants to shout, he wants the doctor to find a way to cure you. He wants you to live. You deserve to live.

You have to live.

Breathing deeply one more time, his voice shaking and the tears falling down his eyes, he finally says.

"Go in peace."

You give him a half-smile, ignoring the pain on your broken fingers as you rub your face a little. You were happy. You saw him one last time. Ezio knew you loved him.

Numerous memories flashed behind your eyes. Your family. Your family being killed. Meeting Ezio. Falling in love with him. Claudia teasing you but happy her brother found love again. Maria thanking you for giving him hope. Your experiments with Leonardo. Mario's death. The beginning of the Brotherhood. Your first night with Ezio.

Ezio.

You want to apologize. It is not his fault. You want to say you love him and wish him a happy life. He will find someone. He will be happy. You close your eyes, never to open them again.

ALTERNATE ENDING (GOOD ENDING):

"We can try to move them, but it might be risky," The doctor warns as he returns, but Ezio ignores that. Leaving the rest of the Assassins to help the rest of the people, he places your body in the carriage with the doctor, focusing on taking you to the closest Inn, making sure to go slow.

He tries not to give himself hope, but you seem to be fighting.

The doctor says you aren't dead yet.

Ezio enters the Inn with you unconscious in his arms, the doctor at his side. The owners, an elderly older couple named Bianco and Pia, rush him to a room, where he places you gently into a bed.

The doctor asks Ezio to rip your clothes. He does so. Pia brings a bowl with water to clean your body. She doesn't say anything, but her eyes don't have much hope.

The doctor gives you a medicine that burns down your throat. He bandages pretty much your whole body and tells Ezio he has done everything he could. The following twenty-four hours are crucial.

Ezio doesn't sleep that night or most of the next day. He has seen a lot of things he would never forget, but your body would hunt him to his death. The elderly couple brings him bread and water, but he doesn't touch his food or water. Ezio is too focused on you to care about himself now.

When the doctor returns, he says your fever has spiked down. Your health is still critical, but your chances to live are higher.

Ezio holds into that.

He continues at your bed day and night. He hasn't taken his bloody clothes yet, and quite frankly, he is starting to smell. The old couple again suggests that he takes a shower. They have some clothes from their late son. When Ezio asks what happened to him, they simply answer that Bórgia men killed him.

Thirty-nine hours after rescuing you, Ezio falls asleep. Bianco finds him in a chair, keeping a vigil over your body.

Later that day, the doctor states you are out of danger. He doesn't know when you will wake up and if you ever will. For Ezio, that is enough. He knows you are a fighter, and you won't give up.

It is too dangerous to move you still. Ezio can't leave you. He starts helping around the Inn. He gets some thieves to run away, helps the couple get their money from a man who owes them and maintains the Inn as best as possible.

Ezio talks to you. He shares how life is going. Holds your hand. He shares that he misses you. That he loves you.

He can see your face slowly healing, but no sign of you waking up. He has sent some pigeons informing Claudia, his mom, and the rest of the Brotherhood of your well-being.

On the morning of the seventh day of your rescue, Ezio is helping Bianco in the garden when he hears Pia's scream.

"Ezio, Ezio!"

Running to the house, Ezio enters the room. Pia is near the bed, giving you water and gently holding your head. You are awake.

Ezio stops by the other side of the bed, unable to speak. Pia smiles at him, leaving them. You try to talk, but no voice comes out.

"I thought, I thought I lost you," Ezio confesses, slowly kneeling at your side. "I thought I was going insane. I thought I was getting punished again."

He kisses your bandaged hand so gently that you don't even wince in pain. You want to ask him many questions about how he found you and how you are still alive. Ezio seems to understand your concerns, rubbing your cheek.

"I will explain with time. Just rest now. Rest, amore mio. I will be here when you wake up."

You look at Ezio, really looks at him. Wondering if he can feel the love in your eyes. Ezio seems to understand because he smiles for the first time since he had you back.

"Ti amo anch'io."

MASTERLIST | EZIO'S MASTERLIST

#ezio x you #ezio x reader #ezio auditore x reader #ezio auditore x you #ezio auditore fanfic #ezio auditore fanfics #ezio auditore #ezio auditore imagine #ezio assassins creed #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed fanfic #assassins creed fanfics #ezio auditore da firenze x reader #ezio auditore da firenze x you #DO I LIKE PAIN? MAYBE A LITTLE #SOMETIMES #sorry ezio #you have been too happy with me #time to be MISERABLE

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