B"SD
Assassin's Creed does not belong to me.
This is a little one-shot I wrote for my friend, Iguanablogger, a while back. I think she and I were still working on Harry Potter and the Assassin's Creed at the time, and she gave me a drawing, requesting that I write something to go along with it. An hour later, this was the result. It's one of my few romantic scenes- I don't do them a lot. But I thought it was cute and figured I'd share it with you.
Some of this is AU, simply because I know little to nothing about the game itself. My friend assures me that most of the story is fine, but there's a bit of flashback narration that is inaccurate. I'm sorry. So we're calling it AU. That's what fanfictions are for.
And so without further rambling….
Sometimes the World Can Be Perfect
The city of Florence had cooled from the blazing heat of the afternoon, down to pleasant warmth that permeated the evening air. The pleasantly humid atmosphere had invited a brilliant display of lightening bugs out to swirl through the purple skies, winking golden light as they flew. In the soft glow of the dying sunlight two figures could be seen strolling serenely through the emptying city alleyways. The two paid no attention to the outside world, their arms wrapped around each others' waists.
For an outsider's point of view, the two could not be more different. She was dressed elegantly in a dress of rich fabrics, the voluminous skirts sweeping the cobbled roads with a quiet rustling. He was attired simply, in clothes more suited to running, climbing and fighting than the foppish adornments worn by the noblemen. Anyone who saw them would agree that the two were mismatched. She was the daughter of a noble, he the son of a banker. And yet the two seemed to inhabit their own world, free of such trivial distinctions. No one existed in their world but they two. Or so it seemed for just those moments.
Maria sighed, her Mediterranean features drawn into an expression of disappointment. "Come, we must return. It's getting late and if my father finds out that I've left without an escort…"
"Patience, my lady," Giovanni said ironically. "We're almost there." They came to the end of the street and turned down a narrow alley. What Maria could see of his face was excited, his dark eyes bright. "I want to show you something." The alley ended in a dead end, a stone wall rising ten feet into the air before them. Giovanni took her hands in both of his, leading her to the wall. From this close, Maria could easily see the protruding stones and holes which could serve as footholds and handgrips. A hundred memories of childhood summers and adventures of pretend spent with Giovanni crossed her mind. As children, the two of them had used the Florence rooftops, walls and trees as their playground- a backdrop to their tales of crusaders and dragons, of princesses and warriors beneath the bright Italian sunlight. Giovanni bowed low, a smirk creeping across his browned face. "My lady," he said, gesturing to the wall. A challenge.
With a smile just as mischievous, Maria swept her long skirts up, gathering them in the crook of her arm, and placed a heeled shoe into the first foothold. She scaled the wall with little difficulty, safe in the assurance that Giovanni was just below her, ready to catch her should she fall.
She clambered onto the building's rooftop, to a skyful of stars, the fireflies were swarming hither and thither even at this height. But it was the dazzling view of Florence that drew her eye. From here the torches and candlelight of the windows and alleys below glowed golden- pinpricks of light in the vast surrounding dark. It was as if she was surrounded on all sides by starlight. She stared around, awestruck by the view, as Giovanni wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder. She leaned back into him, soaking in the warmth of his body and the smell of fresh air and animal leather that was uniquely him.
"It's beautiful," he whispered, his voice just below her ears. She sighed happily in response. "But you know," he continued, his voice light, "I know something even more beautiful."
"Oh?" she turned in his arms, smiling, clasping her hands behind his neck.
"Si," he said, "want to know who it is?"
"Tell me."
Giovanni grinned. "My father's new horse, Paolo. A finer creature I have never seen in all my life."
Maria laughed, unraveling herself from his grasp. "And then, I suppose you would rather be up here with him." She gathered her skirts again. "Who am I to stand in the way of love's fancies?" She turned back to the roof edge, and was halfway there, when Giovanni grabbed her wrist, laughing.
"Oh," She said, affecting surprise. "The horse-lover is unfaithful." Chuckling, Giovanni pulled her close again, holding her so near that their foreheads rested against each other's. He stared into her dark eyes, his grin fading into an adoring look.
"Mi Amore," he whispered at last, the laughter in his voice now mingling with a breathy nervousness. "Will you marry me?" Happiness erupted in Maria's chest, setting her heart pounding in joy.
"Will Paolo mind?"
Giovanni beamed, and kissed her.
