#templarxreader

A/N: Ahh!! I’m so sorry I have become so slow! I hope it came out to your liking.

Shay had been the high seas lately. Far too much for my liking, but it was his lifestyle and I tolerated it. Besides, we are only friends afterall. He was due to return soon and I could not be more excited. Most of the time when he returned, Shay would describe sights he saw in vivid detail as I scratched on paper what I saw. It was our way of ‘documenting’ his travels.

I stood at the docks, scanning the horizon for the Morrigan, eager to hear of Shay’s adventures. I stood out amongst the crowd, with my satchel and hands full of paper, drawing utensils and a smudge on my right hand from rubbing against the paper. Being an artist was not something many around here considered a viable way of life, but that didn’t bother me; my small art shop did me well enough for me to survive.

The sun rose higher and hotter, forcing me to take refuge under the porch of the local business. My excitement soon turned to boredom as I had spent more than half my day at the docks, still with no sign of Shay or his crew.

Rising from my chair, as the sun sat on the horizon, I called it a day for myself and headed back home. Climbing the small staircase to the apartment above my shop, I placed my loose papers on the writing desk and lit a number of candles. I placed two next to me on the desk and a few by my bedside, lighting the area well enough. I grabbed a fresh sheet of paper from my wooden chest and sat down. Without Shay arriving to tell me of his sights, I was at a loss.

I began sketching, almost mechanically. As the picture began to take form, sleep began to take me. Opting for a small break, I set my charcoal aside and rested my head on my arms. It was not long before I blacked out.

A gentle tap on my shoulder roused me quickly; almost falling out of my chair in shock, I rubbed sleep from my eyes. Peering up, I made out the distinctive red and black leather of a familiar Captain.

“Looks like you had a long night.” Shay teased, his accent was like sugar to my ears. Thankfully, his quick reflexes caught me and sat me back in the chair.

I yawned and stretched the stiffness from my joints, “Try long day. That’s more like it.”

Chuckling softly, he rubbed his forearm, “Sorry about that. Got a bit tied up and the sail back took a bit longer.”

I rose from the chair slowly, “Pirates?” I tilted my head, smiling slightly at the thought of etching a battle.

Shay scoffed and crushed my thoughts, “No, no. Plus pirates are easy to take down.” He motioned for me to follow him downstairs. “But I did see a group of the most peculiar animals.” He took a normal seat next to the register as I unlocked the door, open the curtains and flipped the small sign around.

“Please. If you make me draw another crab or lobster I will smack you.” Sighing, I recalled the last three times he saw a ‘peculiar’ animal.

Bellowing a hearty laugh, Shay waved a hand at me as I sat next to him with a fresh sheet of paper, “I promise this is an interesting one.” He began to describe the round creature, whose neck was nonexistent and body seamlessly connected to the blubbery head; the fat, flippered ball of blubber seemed to smile as the crew sailed by. The spots on their fur making them look similar to harmless house pets.

An hour or so passed, with few interruptions of customers and after a few alterations to match exactly what Shay saw, I realized what he had me drawing. “A harbor seal? You could have just told me you saw a seal!”

A bright smile crossed his face as a chuckle escaped him, “Well what I saw was a large rock full of about forty or so. There were even a few pups along with the mothers. I know you would have loved it.”

Placing my pencil down, I put the half finished seal sketch into the pile of sketches I kept under the counter. Noticing the large stack Shay spoke, “Aren’t you afraid of losing those? Or damage to them?”

“Everyday, I mean these are basically the logs of your travels. But a proper sketchbook is far beyond my budget. I can barely afford to get the canvasses for the art I sell.” Lowering my head, I tried to push away the ever present fact that my little art shop was the only thing I had, but even that could be snatched away at any moment.

The sun began its slow retreat behind the hills, my sign to close up shop. Shay quickly offered up the idea of us going out to a tavern tonight, thankfully he was kind enough to offer to pay as well.

Fortunately, for me, the night passed quickly. And the world was spinning after two or three hours. Able to hold his liquor much better than I, Shay led us back to my shop, basically carrying me up the stairs once there.

Barely remembering what had taken place, or how I even slept so soundly hanging halfway off my bed, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and walked downstairs. Shay was seated at the small table next to the kitchen, sipping what I assume was coffee.

“Finally awake I see,” He teased before taking another sip.

I sat across from him, and mocked a laugh, “Very funny. Sorry I’m not a sailor like you.” As he chuckled, I caught a slight sound of nervousness in his tone. “Are you alright this morning?”

Shay jumped slightly as though he was caught off guard by the question, “Yeah, perfectly fine.” He rubbed the back of his neck and his eyes looked as though they were about to glaze over. His skin looked a bit paler than normal, like the time Gist referred to me as Shay’s lover, only he was quick to cover the paled skin with a hard blush.

“I’ve just been thinking is all.” Standing swiftly, he placed his mug on the counter and walked to the stairs, “Well it’s getting late into the day best we open up shop.” Shay hurried away as though he avoided giving me a chance to ask on what he was thinking.

I lazily followed, catching him opening the large curtains, that shielded my windows from viewing at night, and flipping the sign. A small box on the counter caught my eye. ‘What is that?’ I thought as I panicked ever so slightly. Lifting the box, I inspected for any sign of it being from a Courier. Seeing nothing of the sorts, I hesitantly lifted off the top; it felt like a brick as I lay the top off to the side, standing speechless at the sight of what was in front of me. Laying comfortably in the box, the hardcover of the book stared at me. The lack of title and the rings along the spine gave all the signs of a very pricey sketchbook. I wrapped my fingers around it delicately, lifting it out of its box. My mouth opened to speak but I was at a loss of words.

Shay placed himself across the counter from myself, “I take it you like it?”

“I,” I forced a deep breath to help myself get some kind of composure back, “I love it Shay. How did you manage to get this? It’s so well made and the paper is some of the best I’ve ever felt.”

“I know people. Besides, a few extra coins are nothing when it comes to seeing you happy.” He blushed as his hand grabbed my own, forcing the book down and my eyes to his.

“Shay,” I was quickly cut off by his lips meeting mine. Despite being caught off guard, I quickly kissed him back.

The moment was short lived as he pulled back, “Sorry, got ahead of myself.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve wanted that for much longer than you can imagine.”

Author:@raiment-auditore

            He was alone.

            He was alone and you knewit.

            He had always really been alone, and no matter how much he hated you, the last of your family living in Italy…

            …every time you saw him you got a little more attached.

            You don’t know why. Maybe it was the way he walked, the way he displayed himself. It could be how he wielded his sword so willingly in defense of his family. Or maybe… maybe it was just how utterly handsome he was.

            Your secret husband wouldn’t say the same. In fact, he despised Cesare Borgia. Who wouldn’t? The man’s father killed his family.

            If anyone found out about Ezio Auditore’s marriage, it would ruin him, after all.

            And Cesare was the only other person who knew about it.

            Yay tension.

            So right now, you were walking the frigid streets of Rome. People bustled by you, and some you pushed by. You’d been thinking that day, thinking perhaps too much about everything that was going on.

            Your family is gone; you’re alone in Italy while they enjoy the spoils of Spain.

            You and Ezio had a fight, a bigone.

            It was way too cold outside.

            And you saw Cesare in- of all places- a den for prostitutes.

            As if that was any surprise anyways.

            You walk down the chilly street; your legs are weary with thought. Stupid brain. Stop thinking. You don’t want to feel like this. You hate feeling like this. It hurts too much, all these damn relationship problems, broken ties, and loose ends. No matter what you do, how you try to be positive, no matter how strong you try to be, it all doesn’t stop you from falling to your knees. As soon as you do, a commotion erupts from the street. You look up and see it. A swordfight, between…

            …you can’t tell. Flashes of red, white, a hidden blade stops a sword above the heads of everyone. Ezio. You get up and hastily push through the gathering crowd of coats and hot breath steaming up into the air. Neither of the men notice you. The other one is Cesare. Well perfect.

           Clash.

“You damned Borgias! You know nothing of family! Of chaste! You’ve ruined every path you’ve trodden on!”

           Clash.

“Our family has problems of our own!”

           Clash.

“At least your family hasn’t been killed on false charges!”

            “Stop!” You shout, running out and grabbing Ezio’s wrist. It is jerked away from you sharply. A cutting sensation, quick but enough to do damage, comes from your right arm as a small blade makes contact. You exclaim out in pain and fall, holding your shoulder. The two men gasp- along with the crowd- and look at you. You can feel blood coming from your wound, and fast.

            “Look what you’ve done now!” Cesare snarls at your husband.

            “No, I didn’t…”

            Your eyes close as you let the pain seep through your body. Rough hands sit you up. You hear the ripping of cloth and open your eyes to see Cesare tearing the hem of his cape off. He pulls it away with a bit of a snap and grabs your arm gently. You look around for Ezio, but don’t see his white outfit anywhere in the mob of people surrounding you. A sting rips through your body as Cesare ties your arm up tightly with the tourniquet. You flinch a little and look at him. His eyes, his face, are solemn.

            “Why are you helping me?” You finally ask. He shouldn’t be. He hated you.

            “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” He replies flatly, “unless I am mistaken.” He looks up at you, right into your eyes.

            “Then doesn’t that make Ezio your friend?”

            “No… no, it does not. Do you want me to help you or not?”

            You nod your head slowly, not wanting to take your eyes from his. His hand is still on your arm. He takes it away after a moment and starts to turn away. Your heart sinks, but then you realize that he didn’t repel himself from you. He stayed. First one that has… He can’t seem to look away either.

            His next words are murmured.

            “The forest’s edge, by the river, tomorrow, at dawn.” His clouded breath hits your face like a witch’s spell, trapping you and drawing your desire closer to him.

            You nod, understanding this as a rendezvous, almost unable to hear it by the murmuring of the crowd. He stands and walks away, the crowd parting to let him pass, leaving you to stare wistfully after him.

            You eventually make your way home and flop down into your bed. The warmth from the fireplace is enough to make you stop shaking with icicle cold. You sigh. Ezio will be back soon. Or maybe he won’t. You almost hope he doesn’t. He’s a good husband, he does what he needs to, but he’s so detached sometimes. You close your eyes. After a moment, the door opens, and your name is called by Ezio’s voice. You don’t move as his footsteps come to the doorframe of your shared bedroom. He says your name, his voice shaking a little. You roll on your good side away from him.

            “Please, my love. You must understand.”

            “Understand what?” Your tone is totally flat. You hold no compassion. “Your clumsiness? If you ask me, with the way you’ve been lately, I’d say you don’t love me at all.”

            “That’s simply not the truth!” He objects. You feel the bed dip down as he gets on it. “Come on, now. You know me better than that.” His hand grabs your shoulder to turn you toward him. You recoil as he touches the gash he created. He draws his hand back, and you turn yourself to look at him.

            Your eyes are hardened toward his loving and apologetic gaze. “You’re not Ezio Auditore… not the one I fell in love with.” You sigh. “That man was courageous and strong. He wouldn’t have run away. If I truly knew you when I married you, I wouldn’t have married at all.”

            His hand found itself on your cheek. It was warm. Rough, but warm. You knew the feel of it well, and wanted to be comforted by it, but it wasn’t working this time. He’d gone too far for too long, and you were fed up with it. It was one thing after another with him, and all he had was excuses and alibis. Infidelity was a big issue between you two as well; he claimed that he only did it to get information. You knew better, knew him better. You did now, anyways.

            “Darling.”

            “Don’t call me that.”

            Ezio’s eyes are pleading. It almost breaks your heart. Almost.  You cast your eyes away from him.

            “My love…”

            You push his hand away from your cheek and sit up in the bed. “Don’t call me that, either.”

            He puts his hand on your leg. “Please, don’t leave. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything, I just-”

            “Get busy. Yeah. I know.” You swing your legs off the side of the bed, jerking them from his hand, and touch your feet to the wood floor. “You’ve told me that before.”

            “Don’t leave me.”

            You force yourself to stand, the boards creaking under you as you do. “I’ll be back in the morning.” You put on a coat and shoes. You hear Ezio say your name again as you walk out of the house. As you step outside, you can see your breath again. You begin to move toward your rendezvous, your shoes making no impact on the cobblestone beneath you as you step on them like thousands of others had. Yours is just one in a million. That’s just like Ezio, isn’t it? I’m only one in a million to him, a drop of water in a sea of women and men. So why did he marry if he knew he had a problem- no, an addiction- to sex? Was he that stupid? Or was I that stupid? You sigh and pull your jacket more over your chest to escape how utterly gelid the night seems to be.

            Your feet carry you where Cesare told you to meet him. You nestle down by a tree, ignoring the frost bound to fall with the dawn that is coming soon, and close your eyes against the arctic wind, waiting for him.

            You wake up shivering. You didn’t mean to fall asleep. A warm body is next to you, holding you close. You open your eyes and move some of the figure’s black hair out of your face, thinking it to be Ezio’s. You look over, however, and see Cesare Borgia. Your face flushes. Another cold wind blows through, making you huddle closer to him.

            His eyes open and look at you.

            “Hello,” You stammer. He smiles.

            “Hello.”

            “How long have you been here?”

            “I was here at dawn.”

            You look up, feeling yourself shake and shudder. The sun is high in the sky. “Oh.” You don’t remember your promise to Ezio about your return, but instead curl into Cesare to escape another gale. His arms encase you and hold you close, warming you. Your eyes close again.

            Suddenly, a soft hand lifts up your chin. You ignore the fact at how much of Italy’s blood it’s stained by, and your mind bypasses it completely. He was a man of God, and a man no less.

            “What are you-”

            “You shouldn’t love an infidel. You deserve so much better, amore mio.”

            Before you have time to react, Cesare Borgia closes the distance between your heads in a sweet kiss.

            How unfortunate that you didn’t notice him draw his dagger.

            By the time he plunges it into your back, it’s too late.

Élise jumped at the sound of my boots hitting the wood of the balcony. Lowering her blade at the sight of me, she turned back to the window.

“Well it’s good to see you too, Élise.” My tone was harsh, something that was now normal between us. Though one would think with her being a Templar and I an Assassin, that would be normal regardless. But that was not the reason so.

She merely looked up at me, her eyes plagued by dark circles and red veins. She clearly hadn’t slept in days. Élise’s gaze drifted down to my hands.

I flicked my blades to show them absent of blood, my sign to show I was no threat to her. She walked over and placed her own sword on the table by the fireplace. As she took a seat on the couch, obviously exhausted, I held out a neatly folded piece of paper.

With a soft touch, she grabbed the paper, “What is this?”

“A list of names. Of assassin targets. One of which happens to be your father’s.” I knew this was against the Creed, to help a Templar, but Élise was not just an enemy, she was a friend. Perhaps if our paths hadn’t diverged when we were young we would have stayed close forever. But Bellec promised me too much.

“And what you plan to take him out?” Her gaze, though tired, weighed heavy on me.

I only shook my head, “Thankfully, no. Bellec and I have been doing some ‘side work’ if you will. And simply put, your Father will never meet his end at the end of our blades.” I took my place right next to her.

“You say that as if the other Assassins will agree with you on this.” She rested her head on my arm, passing the paper back.

Sighing, the weight of what I was doing began to set in, “No. They won’t but your father was far too kind to me. I would never betray his kindness that way.” I rested my own head on her’s, “Templar or not, he is a good man, that I can’t deny.”

Élise sat up, “I have to ask, why are you and this Bellec character so dead set on saving my father?”

I glanced over at her, regret apparent in my face, “I can’t say. It would put you at risk and I swore to your father that I would help keep you safe.” My hand rested on her knee, squeezing softly as we stared at each for a moment.

“And what? Helping Templars doesn’t have you in a more dangerous situation?”Rising from her seat, she looked down at me, disappointment evident in her face. “You are betraying everything in your life, you will lose everything if you are found out.” Shifting her expression, it was as if she was trying to scare me into spilling what I knew.

I scoffed and grinned back at her, “I’m not worried.” I reached up and grabbed her hand, intertwining our fingers, hoping to distract her and lighten both of our moods.

A once stern face turned into a soft playful one, Élise rested her hands on my knees, bending down to be face to face with me, forcing me to react by sinking back into the couch. “You should be worried. You are in a Templar controlled house. Who know what horrible things will happen.”

I smirked deviously, “Trust me De la Serre,” I quickly scooped up her wrists in my hand and flipped her using my other arm and left leg, “There’s not a damn thing you can do to scare me.” I released my grip and extended a hand to help her up, she grabbed my wrist and pulled herself upright.

She rose to her feet and prepared to speak, but a knock at her door caused us both to jump. “You need to go. Now.” She whispered harshly as she began to push me back out the balcony.

“Very well. We shall continue this another day.” I hopped up on the balcony railing, “Farewell, Miss De la Serre.”