Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft
The door opened; stone ground on stone as the ancient gears pulled it back revealing a chamber within. Élise swallowed, her heart pounding as they stared at the shadowy figure in center. "Germain," Élise hissed, drawing her sword and taking a step forward but Arno grabbed her.
"Élise," he said, "remember we do this together." She looked at him, frustrated that he wouldn't let her rush Germain why he was unsuspecting. "It's the only way we can defeat him, especially since he has that sword."
The Sword of Eden… "Right," Élise said.
"I promise, he won't escape," Arno said, and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. "This will be his tomb."
"Yes," Élise said, and returned Arno's squeeze. She faced Germain. "So, what's the plan, Assassin?" she quipped, a smirk twitching on her lips.
"Stick to the shadows, then he can't use the sword. Keep him talking and focused on you. I'll sneak around and strike him from the shadows. This will all be over soon, Élise."
"Yes, it will be." She felt anxious, charged, on edge. After five long years her revenge will be complete, she will — at last — strike down the man that killed her father. She glanced at Arno and on impulse, pulled him into a kiss. "I love you," she whispered, and slipped into the shadows, heading towards the usurper. "Germain!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the chamber. "Today is the day you die!"
"Really? You and what army Élise?" Germain counted, turning towards her, the Sword of Eden in hand. She watched the mystical blade pulse and shimmer with strange power.
"Did you not expect this day to come? Just because François de la Serre didn't have any sons didn't mean I was going to stand by at let you get away with what you have done!" Élise said. Her blood boiled in her veins, jaw clenched tight and her body tense, ready to spring at a moment's notice, her anger steadied her and allowed her to focus on her target. She peeked around the pillar she was hiding and saw Germain looking for her. Germain pointed the sword at her, a bolt of lightning erupting from the blade; her eyes widen and she tossed herself to the safety of another pillar as the crackling electrical energy collided with the pillar she was hiding behind moments before. "What in God's name…" she breathed, staring at the damage for a moment before scrambling to her feet and pressing herself up behind the safety of the new pillar.
"Don't think the shadows can hide you and your pet assassin forever!" Germain shouted. Élise ground her teeth. "And I did only what I felt was right! I had to do it! The old Rite was failing! Your father was a cancer upon it! Peace with the Assassins? Ha! We were becoming too blind to our failings, grabbing for positions of power!"
"So, you felt my father had to die?" Nails dug into stone, chest heaving with great angry breaths, it took all her will power to remain calm, to stay hidden. She needed to do this, to give Arno the chance to get into position so he can deliver — as much as it galled her — the killing blow.
"Sometimes the old needs to be the mortar for the new," Germain said. Élise peeked around the pillar, him shift firing into the shadows opposite her. She swallowed hoping Arno was alright.
"I won't let you get away with this, Germain!" Élise shouted. "You will die."
"You are as narrow-minded as your father, girl. Don't you see what I'm trying to do? I'm trying to restore the Order to its proper place in the world! Once the Revolution is done, we will arise as the true masters of France, hidden in the shadows where we belong, in every level of society."
"You orchestrated the revolution for your own gains! The people of France die because of your own ambitions!" Élise shouted.
"I'm starting to wonder if your dalliances with Charles' son have turned you away from Understanding and Truth, Élise," Germain said. Élise snarled, gripping the stone of the pillar.
"What do you know about my father?" Arno shouted, from the darkness opposite her. Élise held her breath as Germain shifted his attention from her and fired a lightning bolt into the darkness.
"Arno has nothing to do with this, Germain!" she shouted, drawing the madman's attention back to her. "I care about the people of France! I do not want to see them under your yoke!"
"But your father's yoke is perfectly fine? Élise your naïveté is no longer amusing. These people you claim to care about are no smarter than sheep. They need a shepherd to guide them to a better life. We, the Templars, are that shepherd, and if bloodshed is need then so be it. The culling of the weak from the herd is a simple necessity at times. It is the bitter work of a shepherd to cull his flock of the weak and lame and sickly."
"My father was not one of the weaklings that needed culling!" Élise shouted, growing frustrated with standing still and having a battle of words with Germain. It would be more effective if she crossed swords with him, yet she held fast, trusting Arno. She hoped he was okay.
"No, I think he was," Germain said. Élise risked peeking out behind her pillar. She saw Arno, posed like an eagle of shadows atop the angel statue, hidden blade gleaming in the torchlight. She knew if she rushed Germain, he'd have to step back and he would be within perfecting striking range for Arno. She glanced up at him, but Arno didn't see her. Élise swallowed hoping that Arno would figure out her plan if he saw her move. "I grow bored of this conversation Élise. Either come and face me or tell your pet assassin to stop hiding. Though the latter may be difficult, considering he's most likely dead."
Something in her snapped, with a scream she drew her sword and rushed Germain, drawing her sword back. She saw the failing in her plan instantly as the man smirked, charging the Sword of Eden.
"Élise!" Arno screamed. Germain turned then, firing the bolt meant for her at the statue Arno was on, the force shattering it and sending him and the rubble flying. The blast sent her and Germain back as well. The impact with the ground forced the air from her lungs with a painful gasp; she watched as the rubble fell on Arno, her fear seizing her when she heard him yelp.
"No!" she scrambled to her feet, racing towards him despite the pounding in her head, the blood oozing from a cut near her hair line and by her right brow. "Arno!" she cried, stumbling into the mass of marble, and climbing over them to see him.
"I'm stuck," Arno muttered. "Help me get free." Élise swore and began to pull away the looser boulders. They worked frantically and she grunted as she pushed against a larger block. She glanced back, Germain had regained his feet, staggering about from the shock wave of the blast. "Élise," Arno called.
"I can take him," she said, a surge of confidence welling up in her breast.
Arno grabbed her hand. "We agreed to do this together. He won't escape, I promise!"
"But he's dazed now, I can rush him and—"
"With that weapon, he's too strong for you!" Arno protested. Élise ground her teeth together and glanced at Germain. The man was getting his bearings again and would take this chance to make his escape, yet she knew Arno had a point. She saw the power of the weapon, it's destructive force. "Élise," Arno said, his eyes growing wide. "You're pistol! Shoot him!"
Élise drew her pistol, aimed and fired. The crack of gunfire echoed in the vault as did Germain's scream. He fell to the ground, clutching his knee. She smirked at Arno. "He won't be leaving now," Élise snarled, before slipping her hands beneath the slab that had Arno pinned. "Push on three."
"Right," Arno agreed and waited for Élise to count. She lifted the stone and he pushed against it, and together they moved the stone enough for Arno to wriggle free. They walked up to Germain. The man clutched his knee, curled upon the ground, whimpering in pain. Yet, as they drew near Élise realized the man was laughing.
"Fools! Fools, both of you!" Germain laughed. "Progress will march on. Someone will take my place. You have only delayed the inevitable."
Arno and Élise glanced at each other. Germain groaned, and reached for the sword. Élise stepped on his hand, delighted when he squealed. "None of that now Germain," Élise hissed, her voice syrupy sweet though there was murder in her eyes. She slammed her sword into his chest, missing his heart. "That was for my father," she snarled. Germain groaned. Arno knelt and flicked his wrist, his hidden blade gleaming in the light. He pressed it into Germain's throat, blood bubbling out of his lips.
Élise watched him die. She felt cold and empty inside, her father was still dead and her angry was still very much a warm ember in her heart. Yet, now… now Élise felt that she could look towards the future. A future with Arno by her side, and the construction of a new Templar Order with a melding of Templar beliefs and Assassin ideology. She won't deny that Arno had influenced her somewhat, along with her mother and Haytham Kenway's letters.
She glanced at Arno, and gasped. Her love was frozen, a constant tremble shook his entire body, sweat beaded upon his brown. She dropped to her knees. "Arno?" she called, she reached for him but pulled back, afraid to touch him. "Arno, are you alright?" Élise asked.
He gasped suddenly, pulling his blade from Germain's neck. It snicked back into its sheath. "I… I'm fine," Arno said, slumping back onto heels. She caught him, allowing him to rest against her chest. They sat there, in the gloomy vault, torches flickering around them, Germain next to them, laying in a pool of his own blood. It was soothing to hold Arno in her arms, to feel the rise and fall of his chest against her chest and the comforting weight of his head against her shoulder. She hummed, smoothing his sweaty hair from his brow.
"What happened? You just… froze," Élise asked. Arno didn't say anything, he just stared off in the distance. "Does that always happen?"
"Yes," he whispered, "Bellec said it has something to do with my… Assassin senses."
"Oh." She pressed a kiss to his head. "You seem fine."
"I am, it's brief a few seconds maybe. I guess Germain was longer because he… was special, said he was Grand Master Jacques de Molay," Arno said, staring at the man's two different eyes. He shuddered, and she watched him reach out and close the dead Templar's eyes.
"Interesting, though I say good riddance," she said, looking down at him as he rested his head against her shoulder again. She smiled, her gaze softening, before leaning down and kissing him. She sighed into the kiss as she felt him tangle his hand in her hair, deepening it. Kissing him never felt so sweet.
They broke apart, much to her displeasure, and she looked at the Sword of Eden, Arno's gaze following hers. It rippled and shimmered with unearthly energy and golden light. Arno pushed away from her with a grunt and stood. She watched him pick up the sword, gave it a few experimental swings, before slipping it into his belt next to his other sword. She stood up as well. "Are we taking it back to the Assassins?" she asked.
"Honestly, I don't even want them to have this type of power. I don't want anyone else to use it."
"Neither do I, so what do we do with it? Toss it into the Seine?" she asked, looking at the sparkling blade at his hip.
"I'm going to keep it," he said, taking her hands, "and when I die I want to be buried with it. Promise me Élise, if I die before you… that you'll bury me with the Sword of Eden."
"Arno," she said, her voice shaky. She didn't want to think about losing him, as far off as that may be, it was too soon after the avenging of her father to think about such things. She wanted to enjoy life and him, not think about the end. "Please, let's not talk about this. Not now," she said.
"Promise me."
A rat squeaked in the darkness and the silence pressed in around them, she could hear her breathing and Arno's breathing. "I… I promise," she whispered, bowing her head, so he wouldn't see that her eyes began to well with tears.
"Thank you," he said. Élise didn't say anything, finding Germain's body morbidly interesting, and stared at it for several long moments. "Élise? Élise, it's over now, it's over," Arno said.
She let go of Arno's hands and stepped towards the body, her boots clopping against the stone floor. She stopped, staring down at the man that destroyed her family, her life, her Order. The ball of hate that had been in her gut since she learned his identity had ignited into an inferno. The serene look on his face in death enraged her, he didn't deserve to look peaceful, he deserved to suffer.
She spat on him. The glob of saliva shiny in the dim light. The hate flared into a fire and with an enraged shout she smashed her heel into Germain's face, smirking when she heard the satisfying crunch of his nose. Again and again and again, she stomped on his face until she was being dragged away from him. Élise gave a frustrated shout, throwing off whomever it was that pulled her away from Germain. She cast one hateful glare at the dead man before storming out of the Temple's inner sanctum.
"Élise! Élise! Élise!" A hand grabbed hers and dragged her to a sudden stop.
"What?" She snapped, fury in her eyes, her hand going to the sword at her hip. Élise closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She studied his startled face, before letting out a long sigh. "I'm sorry, Arno."
"Are you alright?" Arno asked, rubbing her arm. "Back there… what… what happened?" He looked at her. Élise looked away, unable to bare the scrutiny of his gaze.
"Nothing," she finally said. "I… I'm fine Arno." She forced a smile. She didn't want to talk about it, her hate and the intensity of it. Arno didn't need to know, Arno mustn't know. If he knew how deep it ran… she feared she'll lose him forever.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." She gave a nod, widening her smile, her eyes betraying her. "I'm fine. Don't worry."
"Be honest with me, Élise are you—"
"I said I was fine, Arno!" she snapped. "We'll talk about it later. We need to leave before Germain's lackeys find us."
Arno bowed his head, nodding a little. "Yes," he said, "you're right. We need to leave." He looked at her and Élise knew he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. She gave him another weak smile before continuing down the corridor, her footsteps echoed by his.
It was a silent walk from the Temple to Café Théâtre, neither Élise nor Arno said anything. In fact, Élise felt as if the entire journey didn't even happen, the surrealness of it was uncanny. They reached the café, and Arno told Valérie, that he and Élise would be taking dinner in his room. She nodded, and he lead Élise by the hand up to his room. The silence between them was pregnant and unbearable, yet neither dared to break it, for fear of them both shattering. Arno set the Sword of Eden down between his bed and dresser cabinet, then took one of his old shirts, and covered the weapon it, to hide its glow from curious eyes.
Valérie came in, bearing dinner on a tray and left them to their food. Dinner was a silent pensive affair, broken only by the sound of cutlery, the pouring of wine, and chewing.
Élise watched Arno take a sip of his wine, gaze staring out the window. The sun had set and men were out lighting the street lamps, while overhead the stars twinkled. She took a sip of her wine as well. "It's… sweet," she said. Arno looked at her, a brow arching. "The wine, I mean. It's a sweet wine."
"It's Bordeaux," he muttered, "my favorite."
Élise smiled, lowering her gaze. "Should've known, you always did have a sweet tooth." Arno gave an amused snort, though he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It's not a bad wine. I just don't care for such sweet wines."
"Of course you don't," Arno said, a smile tugging at his lips, "you enjoy the robust ones."
"You know me too well," Élise agreed.
"Élise about what happened—"
"What do I do now?" Élise asked, cutting Arno off and ignoring his frown. "Germain's dead."
"Yes," Arno agreed, "he is dead." He shifted in his seat with a sigh, leaning back in the chair. He picked up his glass, and took a sip, mulling over his thoughts as he stared out the window. He eventually swallowed before looking at her. She tapped her nails against her glass, then put it on the table. "And you…" he stopped, sighed and began, "what happened Élise? You just… snapped."
Élise looked away. "I don't want to talk about it, Arno. I told you, I'm fine. I need to decide on what I do now. I need to go forward." Élise sighed, resting her elbow on the table and rubbing her forehead. She felt lost, confused. She wanted guidance, someone to lean one and show her what move to make next.
"Élise, I don't think you realize it, but… you aren't fine. You mutilated his body and—"
"He didn't deserve to look so peaceful, Arno! Not after what he done to my family, done to me!" Élise snapped, glowering at him. "You don't seem to realize that he nearly destroyed my entire life… no he did! He probably had my mother killed when I was ten! He needed to suffer! You gave him a quick death!"
"I told you," Arno said, "it's not the Assassin way to—"
"Oh, a pox on the damn Assassins, Arno! You aren't even a member of the Brotherhood anymore!" Élise snapped, she watched as his face fell at the reminder. "Germain took everything from me."
"No," Arno said, his voice tender, "not everything."
"Yes," Élise hissed, "everything."
"Élise… I'm still here. I haven't betrayed you, I never betrayed you."
"You're an Assassin," Élise said, though a rueful frown tugged at her lips, "well… were an Assassin. At any rate, Germain forced you to become one, and I have thus lost you."
Arno sighed, looking away. He poured himself some more wine, even though his glass wasn't empty. He took several long swallows, before staring into the glass. "Do… Do you want me to become a Templar?" he asked after a moment.
Élise's eyes grew wide, and she stared at him. She was supposed to bring him over to the Order, indoctrinate him while they grew up. Now they were grown, and Arno possessed the skills of an Assassin. What would Father want me to do? Élise thought, looking away. She knew what her father would want her to do, tell Arno yes, and induct him into the Order. A Templar with the skills and knowledge of an Assassin, what a boon that would be. "No," she said after a while, "I don't want you to become a Templar and I don't want you to return to the Assassins."
Arno frowned. "Why?"
Élise looked away, obsidian-sharp memories cutting through her anger, of happier days when life was easier, when her parents were alive, Mr. Weatherall had his leg, and she had Arno. When she still had hope. "Because," she whispered, "I would have you."
The wine glass thunked softly as Arno set it down and the chair squeaked; she felt him take her hands. "Élise," he said, she refused to look at him. "Élise look at me," he repeated, with some more force. She looked at him, her eyes moist with unshed tears, noticing he was kneeling before her. She sniffed, pulling one hand free to rub her nose. "Élise you've always had me. From the day we met, you had me. You never once lost me. I was… no, I am forever yours."
"Arno…"
"Germain didn't take me, the Assassins didn't take me," he said, "I remain eternally yours, first and foremost."
"Arno, I…" Élise began but stopped. Everything felt too much. The weight on her chest was too much, a voice deep inside whispering to her, telling to let it go, to give in. Arno wouldn't judge her tears, Arno would hold her and battle her darkest fears. She sniffed, holding back the tears though it felt like a losing battle. She slid off the chair. Arno's arms wrapped around her. She clung to him, staring at nothing. She felt him stroke her hair. She nuzzled his chest, his musk and the scent of Paris clung to his clothes. "I miss him," Élise finally whispered.
"I know," Arno sighed, pressing a kiss into her hair. "I miss him too."
"It's not fair. It's not fair! Why did he have to die? What did I do to deserve it? I tried to be a good daughter, the daughter he deserved… the daughter he wanted but, I just…."
"You were… he loved you, Élise. He wouldn't have wanted you to be anything other than who you are. He'll be so proud of you."
"Would he? After the mess I made of the Templar Order? I failed to assert myself as Grand Master after his death, and allowed Germain to take over. If only I was stronger…"
"Élise, you… you're the strongest person I know," Arno said, "stronger than myself even. You're being too hard on yourself, dear heart."
"How can you love me… after everything I've done?"
Arno smiled. "Because I can see the Élise de la Serre beneath everything, and she is a beautiful, strong and fearless woman. I love whom I love," Arno said, "and I love you."
"Arno…"
"I mean," Arno said, "you have such a warm heart, you're strong in your convictions, your ambitious, and you're fencing is better than mine. I think I fell in love with you when you trounced my ass when we were eleven" —he pressed his forehead against hers— "or that day you told me to steal an apple from the king. Can't decide which."
Élise laughed through her tears. She didn't even realize she was crying. "I always was better at fencing than you. I still am."
"Care to prove it?"
"Hmm." She smiled. "Maybe tomorrow. Tonight… tonight I want to be with you."
Arno kissed her; she could taste the wine on his lips. He pulled away first. "You have me," he whispered, his lips brushing hers, "you will always have me."
She kissed him then, closing the gap between their lips. Élise wanted to feel alive and close to Arno. She pulled away first, gasping for breath. She stared into Arno's eyes, searching for something. A reason maybe, but a reason for what she didn't know. She bowed her head, sniffling again, shaking as he held her. "Arno," she whimpered, and he tightened his embrace.
"Come," he said, "we're both tired, let's get some sleep." She nodded and felt him scoop her up, cradling her against his chest as if she was a small child. She didn't care though, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. All she cared about was that she was here, that she was alive, and he was with her.
I made the right choice, she told herself as Arno undressed her, and helped her get into a clean shift she had left here a few nights ago. I made the right choice, listening to Arno and shooting Germain. I didn't lose myself… yet why? Why do I feel like I have? Élise shook her head, her mind too weary to ponder such a question. She crawled into bed, Arno following suit, and she allowed him to pull her close. She pillowed her head against his chest. His heartbeat, her lullaby, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
Élise woke with a start. She struggled for a moment, confused about her surroundings, the restrictive embrace tightening with each wriggle of her body. Panic swelled and it took a muttering of her name for her to realize what had transpired. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she relaxed upon realizing she was in Arno's room, in his bed and he was sleeping peacefully.
Silently, she freed herself from his embrace, and slipped out of bed. On cat-silent feet she walked over to the box where he kept her letters and opened it. The ink was still a bold black, only a day old, and his name written in her graceful hand. She took it, closing the box and flipping it around to check the wax seal. Her personal sigil, a lioness, was unbroken. Good, she thought and headed over to the fire, the embers still aglow. She tossed it onto the hot coals, watching as the wax melted and the ends curled and blackened. Arno will never know.
The letter flared brightly into life, like a dying star in its death throes, before dimming back down to glowing ash. A sound caught her attention, she spun around, noting a shadow on the balcony. Élise swallowed, detouring to the nightstand and picking up Arno's gauntlet. She slipped it on her arm, flexing her wrist, the blade popped out. Smirking, she retracted it and made her way to the windows. The shadow ducked out of sight as she opened the window. A hand reached for her and she side stepped, revealing Arno's hidden blade.
"Mademoiselle Élise," said the shadow, "it's just me."
Élise frowned, then wrinkled her nose as the pungent body odor hit her. "Ruddock," Élise hissed, keeping him at bay with Arno's hidden blade. "What do you want?"
"I'm here… for your end of the bargain. I gave you information," he licked his lips, "you said you'll convince the Brotherhood to take me back."
"How did you know I survived?"
"Don't be so naïve to think you are the only one with eyes and ears in unseen places," Ruddock murmured. He glanced about, gaze trying to peer into the room. Élise shifted to the side, blocking as much as she could with her body
"I will uphold my end," she said slowly, "but first… I still have something for you to do." She watched as Ruddock swore, glancing about with an anxious expression.
"Alright," he said, after a while and several glances at Arno's hidden blade on her wrist. "What do you need me to do?"
"As I assure you probably guess, my order is in disarray at the moment," Élise said, "I need you to see if anyone within France still plots against the de la Serre family, against me."
"And… how would you like me to relay that information to you, mademoiselle?" Ruddock asked.
"If you find anything, return here and give me the list of potential suspects," Élise said. She glanced at the room, watched Arno shift on the bed before turning her gaze back to Ruddock. "Now you must leave, before Arno wakes up."
"Arno? Who's Arn—"
"Go!" Élise hissed, pushing Ruddock away. She watched him leave, before slipping back into the room and closing the door. She retracted the hidden blade, taking the gauntlet off and rubbing her wrist. Placing it back on the nightstand, checking Arno to make sure he was still asleep, she went over to the writing desk. She lit a candle, pulled out some paper, ink and quill, before penning a letter to Mr. Weatherall, beseeching him to forgive her and hunt for anyone still alive that was loyal to the de la Serre name. She signed her name, impressing her personal sigil by it then the Templar crest below it. She'll send it to him in the morning. Task complete, she left the letter to dry and returned to bed. Arno made a soft sleepy sound as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss against the back of her neck. Élise smiled, going back to sleep.
The clamor of Paris drifted through the window along with rays of pure golden sunlight, striking Arno's face. He stirred, lips twitching in annoyance before his eyes open and slowly adjusted to the light. He rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand. Morning. He tried to recall what happened last night. Then it came back in a sudden rush: Germain, Élise, the Sword of Eden.
He glanced down, Élise's head resting on his chest, one hand resting on his stomach. He smiled a little, running his hand along her soft ruby curls. He still didn't feel like he slept enough, and rubbed the side of his nose. He had no true idea as to what came next. He supposed he could return to the Brotherhood, plead his case before them and hope they reinstate him. He glanced down at Élise. She was acting strange after they killed Germain yesterday, she had stomped on the corpse's face and spat on him as well. She cried in his arms that night, and he'll admit only to the silence that he had cried as well.
He worried about her; had been worrying about her for a while. We could always leave this life. The Templar Order is in disarray, I'm no longer an Assassin. Nobody would know… nobody would miss us. We have no family left, no friends to keep us tied down to Paris. We could go anywhere in the world, start a new life, away from all the pain, Arno thought. He had a sneaking suspicion that Élise wouldn't agree to leave Paris. Sighing he ran a hand down his face. "What am I going to do?" he mumbled.
He felt Élise shift beside him, and slowly she woke up. She smiled, upon seeing him and he couldn't help but mirror it. She pushed herself up, as his hand came forward, cradling her head and kissing her. It felt good to kiss her, felt good to wake up with her in his arms. They have the chance for a future together. "Good morning," he whispered.
Élise giggled and pressed a kiss to the corner of mouth before saying, "Good morning to you as well," and tapped his nose. Arno smiled at her, chuckling softly.
"You're feeling alright?" he asked, rubbing her back. Élise nodded. "I was… worried about you," he explained, "you… what you did—"
"Stress," Élise said, her tone dismissive. "I was under a lot of stress and I had a lot of hate and anger that I needed to get out. It's gone now" — she smiled — "for the most part." She stroked his forehead, running her fingers through his bangs. "You don't need to worry about me, love, I can take care of myself."
But I do! Élise please, I just want to help you. "I'm glad you're feeling better," Arno said, "if… if you… I'm here for you, Élise. Please, remember that."
She kissed his cheek then, smiling at him. "Thank you," she whispered. She placed her head on his chest running her hand up and down his stomach. He smiled, relaxing at her touch, his own fingers playing with her crimson curls.
"Germain's dead," he stated, glancing down at her. She nodded, a little hum of acknowledgement escaping her throat. "So… what do we do now?"
Élise sighed, pressing a kiss to his skin."Well, I don't know about you," Élise drawled, "but breakfast sounds nice. I am hungry."
Arno chuckled. "No, I meant about our future. What do we do now? Where do we go from here?"
Élise sighed, rubbing her nose against his chest. "I'm the Grand Master now…" she said. Arno nodded, drifting off, the sound of her voice soothing. He wasn't listening, too content to have her in his arms, his mind envisioning the future he saw for them. Married with children, a boy and a girl. Their daughter was Élise's spitting image and their son looked like him. They would never want for anything, never know the loss of a parent. Arno smiled, realizing that he wanted such a future, more than anything. "…I hope Mr. Weatherall will forgive me for being short with him before I left and then there's forging a truce with the Assassins. Oh, Arno! There is just so—"
"Marry me," Arno whispered, pulling her close and kissing her temple.
"What?" Élise exclaimed, pushing herself up into a sitting position, she stared down at him, complete shock on her face. Arno blinked, struggling to catch up with what happened. "Arno?" Élise asked, "Arno… what… what did you say?"
Arno's eyes narrowed, confused as to why she wasn't jubilant and agreeing to his proposal. He sighed, rolled his eyes, realizing his mistake. He sat up, took her hands in his and gave her his most charming smile, hoping she could see all the love he had for her in his heart. "Élise de la Serre, will you marry me… please?" he asked again. He sighed, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his cheek on them, watching her fumble around for the edge of a blanket, a shocked and flummoxed look on her face.
"I… I don't know what to say…" Élise whispered, refusing to meet his gaze. He rubbed his nose against his knees. This wasn't going the way he planned. Hell, he never had a plan in the first place. "I mean… Arno, this is… a bit sudden. What brought this on?"
"We defeated Germain, and you were wondering what we should do next and… well…" he gave a little shrug. "We did promise to get married." He frowned, frustrated when realization didn't dawn on her. "We were fourteen, your father's wine cellar."
"Oh." Her eyes grew wide. "Oh, right. I… I completely forgot about that," she said, giving a weak little laugh. "With everything that has happened… I tried not to think about happier things." Élise frowned, looking away from him. "They just remind me of everything that I've lost."
A rueful smile tugged at his lips; all his memories were just as bittersweet. "I want to spend my life with you Élise." He took her hand and kissed her fingertips. "I told you before, all I wanted was you." He watched her smile, pulling her hand free to cup his cheek. He leaned into her touch, a content sigh escaping his lips.
"You need to shave."
"Mmhmm." He could hear footsteps outside his door, a knock and one of the maids asking if he and mademoiselle de la Serre were awake. Élise lowered her hand as Arno tensed. He and Élise remained silent, the maid called out again but upon hearing no answer, she left. "You're avoiding my question, Élise."
Élise huffed, pulling away from him. "I think it's too soon, Arno," she finally said. "I think if we rush off to the alter now… we're going to be unhappy."
"Why? We've known each other all our lives and—"
"Arno, I have responsibilities. To my family's legacy, to the Templars. I'm the Grand Master! I just can't leave Paris and get married to you and have babies!" Élise said, throwing her hands up wildly. Arno rubbed his nose, glancing out the window. A pigeon landed on the balcony, preened a few feathers before flying off. His skin began to prickle with the rising heat of the morning. He turned his attention back to Élise.
"I never said we're going to flee Paris and have a cozy cabin in the Alps," he said and took her hand. "The goat farm was your idea, if I recall." He chuckled, Élise looked at him and he gave her an encouraging smile. "All I asked is would you marry me." He gave a little shrug. He watched as Élise nodded, her fingers fiddling with a loose piece of thread. "There's something else you aren't telling me. What is it?"
"Arno, do you have any idea what you're asking of me?" Élise said.
He frowned, wondering what any of this had to do with answering a mere question. "No." He felt discouraged and frustrated, wondering why Élise wouldn't give him an answer.
"You're asking me to give up my name, my independence. Not only that but what about your Brotherhood? What would they think if you married a Templar?"
"You spoke once of forging a peace between our two orders," Arno said, "what better way than to do it through marriage, like the kings of old?"
"Kings of old isn't a very pleasing idea at the moment Arno," Élise said. "You still need to get reinstated into the Brotherhood first."
"I know." Arno sighed, before flopping onto his back. "That night, as we snuggled in the basket of the hot air balloon, I thought about our future." He reached up and snagged one of her ruby curls with a finger, winding it around his finger, a lazy smile on his face. "We got married, lived here, and had some children." He pulled his hand from her hair, allowing her to snuggle against him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I thought we'd… do that after Germain's death."
"Arno," Élise said, "I'll have to think about it. Germain is dead, my order is in disarray, you need to make amends with your Brotherhood. Discussing marriage right now isn't a good idea."
"You're right," he said, "I'm being selfish and thinking above my station. Forgive me." He didn't mean to let his frustration get the best of him, but it did. It felt like Élise didn't want to be with him. He grunted when she elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Ow."
"I told you," she spat, "don't talk to me like that."
"I'm sorry." He looked away from her furious gaze.
"If you'd let me finish," she said, "I was going to say we'll get there." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I want a future with you, Arno. That little dream of a family, of us married, it's mine too."
"Élise—"
"All I'm asking is for some time. Let me think, let us fix what broke and rebuild what we can. Can you give me that please?" she asked.
He sighed, glancing to the foot of the bed. She wasn't refusing his proposal nor was she agreeing to it, she very diplomatically remained neutral. Regardless, it felt like a rejection. A frown tugged on his lips and he only looked at her when she gave his fingers an encouraging squeeze. He returned the gesture. "Of course. Of course, I can Élise," Arno said. He'd wait until hell froze over for her.
"Thank you." She ran her fingers through his hair. "There's just so much to do Arno, that your proposal caught me off guard."
"I know," he mumbled. She was right. They had to rebuild now, with Germain gone there was a vacuum of power among the Templars and if Élise didn't fill it and take control… Arno didn't want to think about the alternative. "Next time do you want me to get down on one knee with a ring and recite a Shakespearean love poem?"
Élise snorted out a giggle. "Oh Arno!" she said. "I think your first proposal was good enough. You don't have to ask again." She wrinkled her nose cutely. "But if you must recite poetry you don't need to recite any god-awful English poetry. French poetry will do nicely."
Arno laughed. It felt good to laugh. He snuggled against her, nuzzling her throat. "Fair. I'll recite Villon, though I doubt a poet-thief had any love poems to spare."
They giggled about the idea of him reciting poetry and her wooed by it. Their laughter morphed easily into a companionable silence. Arno felt his eyes getting heavy again. Élise hadn't stopped running her fingers through his hair. It was starting to get too warm beneath the covers but Arno didn't feel like moving.
"Thank you," Élise said, suddenly.
"For what?" Arno asked, glancing up at her.
"For… not giving up on me, for always being there, for being my rock. I love you Arno and thinking… just now I realized that… that you were right, that day when I found you in Versailles. I had let my… desires cloud my better judgement; allowed them to obscure and twist my love for you." Élise looked away, color coming to her cheeks. "That I was losing myself to my revenge," she admitted. "It took shooting Robespierre in the jaw for me to realize it… I only ever shot anyone in self-defense, I never… he was defenseless Arno! I shot a defenseless man!"
"Élise—" He pulled her close, remembering the look on her face, the ice in her eyes and the cruelty in her voice as she told Robespierre to write. It made him think about his own father, if he was willing to try and find whomever killed him, and more importantly if he would want to exact revenge upon his father's murderer.
Élise sat up suddenly. He watched the blanket pool around her waist, her breasts exposed. He eyed them before looking up to see the determined smile on her face. "Like I said, we have to put everything back together now. France still needs to heal. I… you… we still need to heal." She pulled him into a sitting position before hugging her. "Let's take things one step at a time. Let's pick up what can be salvage from Germain's reign and rebuild, then let's talk about marriage."
There was a fiery strength in her blue eyes, resolve to face the trails that lay ahead and it sucked him in, bolstering his own resolve and banishing any lingering doubts he had. He took a deep breath before exhaling in a rush. "Alright," Arno said, he pulled himself from Élise's embrace; a half smile appearing on his lips. Her words resonating deep within his heart. She was right, they did need to rebuild, and heal. His thoughts drifted back to Élise, her outburst of aggression towards Germain's corpse still fresh in his mind.
"Every time I imagined my future, Arno, you were always by my side," Élise said, taking his hand, "as my husband, my partner, my equal."
He gave her a wide smile, an encouraging nod and a peck on the forehead, before getting out of bed. Élise giggled, rolling into the warm spot he left, she gave him a tender smile. He pulled his pants up and looked over his shoulder at her, despite what happened he still couldn't help but admire her beauty. "Are you just going to stay in bed then?"
"No," Élise said, "I was serious about being hungry. Do you think the cooks can make some crêpes?" He chuckled as he put his clothes on. He ran his fingers through his hair, untangling the snags that he came across before pulling it back and tying it with a ribbon. Élise smirked and slid, cat like, out of the bed and took her time getting dress. He waited for her, admiring her as she carefully selected her garments and clothed her body. Once presentable for the day, she took Arno's hand, pecked his lips and he led them to the kitchen.
The Assassin Sanctuary was just as unfriendly and gloomy as she remembered it. The three remaining members of the council stared down at them.
"What is this meaning of this, Arno?" Sophie Trenet asked, glancing at Elsie and Arno. Élise frowned not liking the tone the woman used with Arno, regardless if she was Mentor of the French Brotherhood or not. "We banished you from the Brotherhood, and now you return with a Templar?"
"The Grand Master of the Templars," Élise interjected, smug. "I would appreciate it if you addressed me properly."
"Silence, Templar," Trenet hissed. Élise gaped at the woman, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "What do you have to say for yourself, Arno?"
"François-Thomas Germain is dead, by our hand," Arno said. "And for the betterment of France!"
"Germain is dead?" Beylier asked. Élise watched as Arno shifted beneath the man's gaze.
"Yes, he's dead." Arno said. "You can check the Temple if you don't believe me, his body is in the vault. I'd be more than willing to show you his corpse."
"We will send an agent to confirm your story," Trenet said.
"You want something, boy. Out with it," Quemar said, his voice icy. Élise felt Arno squeeze her hand before letting go of it and taking a few steps forward.
"I would like my position back. Germain is dead and—"
"You paved the way for Mademoiselle de la Serre to assume the position of Grand Master!" Quemar said. "You failed to crush the Templar Order."
"What?" Arno gasped, looking up at the three faces that loomed above him.
"The French Rite is still crippled," Élise said, coming to Arno's defense. "The Assassins still maintain dominance in France, thanks to Arno. It will take me years to rebuild it."
"Silence Templar," Quemar snapped.
"I will not be silenced!" Élise said. "Arno killed Germain! The man that was behind everything! The Revolution, my father's death, the shattering of the truce… all of it! Germain had a hand in it! And Arno killed him."
"Just because Mirabeau and your father were confidants doesn't mean that this council will entertain alliances with the Templars!" Quemar snarled.
"Then I think your heads need to be parted from your shoulders and new leadership appointed," Élise hissed, dropping her hand to her sword. The three councilmembers murmured amongst themselves. "I come here to inform you, along with Arno, of Germain's death and to renegotiate the truce between our two orders that my father had established."
"Truce? Why are you so adamant about a truce between our two orders, Mademoiselle de la Serre? What could the Templars or the Assassins possibly gain from such a thing?" Trenet asked.
"During my studies," Élise said, "I read a series of letters penned by a high ranking member of my order… his father and sister were both Assassins" — Élise smiled — "you may have heard of him, actually. His name was Haytham Kenway." A collective gasp sprung up and Élise couldn't help but smirk. "In his letters, he spoke of how fruitless this constant fighting between Templar and Assassin truly is, that ultimately we both desire peace and prosperity for the world. My mother, too, also advocated for a third way. Germain and Bellec," Élise paused, "they say that peace between Templar and Assassin can never happen, that it's a fool's errand" — Élise gabbed Arno's hand — "but Arno and I are living proof that Templar and Assassin can work together, transcend this vicious dogma and forge a peace."
"France still bleeds," Arno said, looking up at Trenet. "Our actions have consequences. Templars and Assassins have different views, but together… we can help heal France. We both want to make the world a better place, to help people. This excess of freedom has led to a state of near anarchy and there needs to be control in order—"
"Spoken like a Templar sympathizer," Quemar spat, "Sophie, enough of this nonsense. Let's thank them for their service and send them on their way."
"I retain my belief in what the Assassins fight for," Arno said, taking a step forward. "But I'm not naïve enough to blindly believe it. And Élise isn't naïve enough to believe the Templar philosophy is the only correct path. We've walked the streets of Paris, and we've seen the chaos, the disorder" — Arno looked at Trenet — "you once told me that if we merely danced atop a scale it would be easy to chart our course of action, but it's not. It's more complex than that. Please." He looked at them beseeching. "Mirabeau would've opted for negotiating with Élise. Honor his memory."
Élise watched as Trenet looked between them, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thought. "What are you terms then, Mademoiselle Grand Master?" Trenet asked, leaning on the railing, staring down at the two of them.
"France remains a non-combative zone in the war between Templar and Assassin. The alliances between Rite and Brotherhood outside of France will coincide with the allies of the French government. Neither side will aide a Rite or Brotherhood that is an enemy of France. Positions of leadership are elected not inherited—"
"They been that way for centuries among the Assassins, girl. It's you, Templars, that are so concern with inheritance!" Beylier shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Élise. She glanced at him, arching a brow in disbelief.
"If a member of either order is accused by the other of wrong doing, they are innocent until proven guilty. An assembly made up of the Grand Master and two Templars, the Mentor and two Assassins will be judge and jury of the accused. And, if I'm aware that any Templar has broken the truce in any way, I will get word to the Assassins so they can eliminate him or her," Élise said.
"Anything else?" Trenet asked.
"Oh, yes," Élise said, "you must reinstate Arno. Restore to him his rank and title he had previously."
"Élise," Arno hissed. She glanced at him, a question in her eyes. He glanced away, bowing his head.
"Are these terms acceptable?" Élise asked.
"These so-called terms are outrageous!" Quemar thundered, slamming his fist on the railing. "Sophie, you aren't really going to entertain this girl's… demands are you?"
"I agree with Hervé," Beylier said. Sophie Trenet stared down at the two of them, chewing her lip as she thought.
"We need some time to deliberate upon these terms before deciding," Trenet said.
"What about Arno," Élise said, "surely that is a simple matter to settle?"
"We will deliberate on Arno's current status within the Brotherhood," Trenet said.
"I killed Germain!" Arno shouted, furious that the council would chaff him in such a manner. "Does that not mean anything?"
"While we are extremely pleased that François-Thomas Germain has been eliminated, your previous actions and blatant disregard for our tenets and teachings call into question if we should restore your previous status among the Brotherhood," Trenet said.
"This is—"
"Acceptable," Élise interjected, placing a hand on Arno's arm. "We await to hear your answer," Élise inclined her head, "good day." She gave Arno's arm a tug and lead him out of the council chamber.
"How can they be like that!" Arno shouted, pacing his room. He tugged at his hair. "I killed Germain! What more do they want from me?"
"My head on a pike?" Élise offered, as she pushed her fork through a slice of cake. She tried not to grimace as she remembered the common folk carrying the severed heads of nobles skewered on pikes during the storming of the Bastille. Arno glowered at her. She met his gaze. "This is diplomacy Arno. I hate it just as much as you do, but if we want to be together… if we want things in France to eventually stabilize, we need to learn how to play the game of politics."
"I know," Arno huffed, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the ceiling. "It's just infuriating! And the way they talked to you!"
Élise shrugged. "They're Assassins. They are used to seeing Templars are evil and foul creatures that must be killed on sight" — she smiled at him — "not united and speaking of peace between the two orders."
"Why are you so… willing to play their game?" Arno asked, pulling a chair up next to her.
"Because Haytham Kenway was right. This fighting between our two orders has gone on for centuries. It needs to stop. The Assassins and Templars are like two ticks fighting for control of the same cat. It's pointless folly. We can be so much more if we work together," Élise sighed, "Though I fear it just maybe wishful thinking."
"I don't," Arno said, grabbing her hand. "I think we prove to the world that there can be peace between Templar and Assassin. And, we aren't the only ones that prove this, Altaïr ibn La'Ahad and his wife Maria Thorpe also prove this."
"Maria Thorpe eventually joined the Assassins," Élise said, "but I think she would have stayed with the Templars if… circumstances would have been different for her."
"Are you going to join the Assassins?" Arno asked. Élise laughed, tapping his nose.
"Are you going to join the Templars, Arno? We have several excellent positions open," Élise said. Arno laughed, pressing a kiss to her temple. A knock sounded on the door. Arno glared at it before getting up and answer it. Élise returned to her cake, savoring the strawberry jelly used to make it. She kept an eye on Arno as he accepted the message from the courier and gave the lad a coin for his trouble.
Arno read the note. "Damn him," Arno snarled.
"Who?" Élise looked up at Arno's outburst.
"Sade!" Arno growled.
"What did that lech do this time?" Élise asked, looking at Arno. He marched over to her and thrust the note beneath her nose.
"He wants me to go to Franciade to retrieve a manuscript for him," Arno growled. Élise set her plate down and took the note, reading it quickly.
"A mysterious manuscript located in one of the tombs of the kings, how odd," Élise said, and read the note again. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I don't want to go, I don't want to miss the Council's decision," Arno said.
"I think we should go see what he wants," Élise said, "the Assassin Council won't make any decisions in the next few days. I'm expecting to hear from then in a fortnight."
"Great," Arno said, rubbing his forehead.
"So, while we wait, let's go see what the Marquis de Sade wants," Élise said.
"Wait… we?" Arno asked, staring at her.
"Of course, I'm going with you Arno," Élise said. She stood up and handed the note back to Arno. "Do you really think I'd let you go gallivanting off after some manuscript without any help?"
"No, I just… what about rebuilding your order?" Arno asked.
"I have sent a letter to my only truly ally, but I don't know when he'll reply or if he can find anyone that's still loyal to the de la Serre name that's alive or anyone new and willing. I've done what I can for now without drawing attention to myself," Élise said, "and the last thing I need to do is draw attention to myself. I need allies first and foremost if I'm going to rebuild."
"And Germain's supporters will be wanting your head, so it's best if you maintained a low profile," Arno said.
"Exactly, but I can't just sit around here twiddling my thumbs waiting for news, so…" Élise smiled, "I'm going to go with you."
Arno gave a little amused chuckle. "Very well, tomorrow we leave," he said. Élise smiled, and wound her arms around Arno's neck.
"Now, I do believe we haven't properly celebrated Germain's defeat," she purred, trailing a finger down his lips before kissing him.
So… this is the squeal to Assassin's Creed Unity if Élise had survived. So, Franciade, here we come! It's mostly going to be told from Élise's POV because I love writing her. :3
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Nemo et Nihil
PS: Edited shit
PPS: Edited more shit
PPPS: Updated the chapter with a new opener and some shit.