Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed.

Claimer: I own the plot for this story, and whoever you do not recognise.

Kept In The Dark

Prologue

As the courtesan gave one final push - bringing a newborn baby into the world, Madam Gwen wrapped the child in cloth before handing her back to the pale, first-time mother.

"It's a girl." The Madam smiled down at the twenty year old woman on the bed.

"A girl..." The new-mother was weak, so weak she could hardly hold the small bundle of joy in her thin arms. "What shall I name her?" The brunette looked up at Madam Gwen for some advice.

The old courtesan shook her head, smiling. "It's up to you, Rachel...she has beautiful green eyes and tufts of raven hair…I think anything would be lovely."

"What about Franchesca? Franchesca Chapman." The new mother closed her eyes, her breathing shortened. "Please, Guinevere...look after her for me?"

"Of course I will, my dear." Madam Gwen smiled sadly down at the dying woman. She took the baby out from Rachel's arms and kissed the dying woman's forehead. "I promise - no harm will come to her."

"Her father...Demetri-" As the brunette let out a final breath, she closed her eyes for the last time.

Gwen looked at the courtesan sorrowfully. "Rest in soft peace."

Chapter 1

Franchesca Chapman was now approaching twenty years old, the same age her mother was when she'd died giving birth to her. Although she lived at the brothel with the owner as her guardian - Madam Gwen - she was not a courtesan. She possessed the beauty of one; long raven hair curled at her waist, her skin was a pale pallor and her eyes were a beautiful emerald green.

Some of the men who came to the whore house often asked if they could lay her - but the Madam refused. "I apologise." She'd say. "But she is not a courtesan."

Chesca was a very adventurous nineteen-year old, and would often sneak out at night. Sometimes she'd sit by the docks, or find a field where she could watch the stars. And that's where she was on that night. She pulled her slim legs towards her chest and leant back on her hands to look up at the stars, her hair falling behind her; trailing on the grass. She sighed. "I wish I could've met you, mother."

As the sun began to rise, she heard a rustling noise in the bushes to the left of where she sat. Instinctively, she turned to the noise and got too her feet. She pulled her grey breaches higher up in case she needed to run, and drew up her hood in case someone mistook her for a courtesan and raped her. She turned away from the rustling and made her way back home, taking the long route so that she could lose any potential followers.

A group of male drunkards stood between her and the front entrance to the brothel, so Chesca turned back the way she came. Maybe the back door would be better to use? As she turned the corner into the alley someone grabbed her roughly from behind, and began pulling her towards his body. She span around to face her attacker, and slammed her fist on top of the guard's head. In reflex, he released his hold on her, and she ran. Franchesca tore down the alley and dodged a Scholar in her bid to escape.

"Infidel!" The guard yelled, unsheathing his sword.

Franchesca reached the end of the alleyway and paused to look behind her, the man who'd tried to seize her was beginning to run again – she quickly resumed her journey towards her home.

Chesca reached the back wall, and she turned around to look behind her again before scaling the bricked divider surrounding the garden of the brothel. It was a quick climb - done many times before. She swiftly turned around on top of the wall and jumped down on the other side before scurrying indoors - making sure Madam Gwen never knew she'd been out.

She quickly changed out of her trousers and blouse and pulled on her nightdress. Upon hearing Gwen coming up the stairs, she hung her navy hooded cloak on the back of the door and quickly tidied her things away. As The Madam reached the landing, Chesca picked up a book and sat on a chair in the corner of the room, turning to a random page in the novel.

"Franchesca? Is everything alright?" Her guardian asked.

The raven haired girl nodded. "Trying to read, why?"

"A gentleman downstairs said he thought he saw a hooded figure climb over the wall...I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Chesca nodded. "I'm fine - he's probably been drinking too much..." She sighed. Madam Gwen raised her eyebrows in worry.

"What's the matter, my dear?" The old courtesan seated herself in the chair next to the young woman.

"Nothing really." Chesca replied, closing the book and placing it on the table beside her, only then realising that the book had been upside-down. "I have nothing to do. I want to- I don't know...go out and explore the world?" She asked hopefully.

"Do you think your mother would've let you?" Gwen asked in a serious tone, rising to her feet.

Franchesca shrugged in an unladylike fashion. "I didn't know my mother, and have yet to know who my father is."

Madam Gwen sighed. "Your mother asked me to look after you, Chesca. I can't do that if you're not here, and I won't break my promise to her. As for your father, all we know, is the name Demetri."

"But Aunt Gwen-" But she cut herself off, the old courtesan had left the room already. Chesca sighed before climbing into bed, she fell asleep instantly, she was exhausted after all the climbing and running; her adrenaline diminishing from her body.

The next morning, Altair woke up in a tree. There had been a pretty courtesan sitting in a field watching the stars just the night before, she had good hearing as well as - when he heard something in the bushes to the left, she stood up and turned to the noise as well - pulling her hood over her head before she turned and left. 'Smart girl.' Altair thought.

One Templar and one Saracen guard had appeared from the bushes just as she disappeared, and he knew one of them to be the man he was to assassinate. He pulled a throwing knife out from the pouch on his shoulder in one swift movement, but stopped when he heard them begin to speak.

"Where did she go?" The guard asked.

"Probably home." The Templar target replied.

"To the whore house? Don't courtesans have to work to get their pay to live there? What's she doing all the way out here? Looking for trouble, I guess." The guard chuckled at his own statement.

The target sighed. "I don't know what she's doing out here, but she isn't a courtesan."

"How do you know that? What're we going to do with her?"

Altair leant further forward on the branch, 'She wasn't a courtesan?' Silently, he jumped down from the tree and - keeping himself hidden - made his way closer to the guard and his target with silent footsteps.

"All I know is that she's lived with Madam Gwen since birth...the Duke want's her."

"Why?" The guard asked.

"As a hostage. The Madam owes him a lot of money, the girl is simply to be used for influence. Now, follow her."

"Alright, what're we going to do if I can't get her?"

"Then I will send another man." The target said it simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And we'll force entry into the brothel to get her, and kill anyone who stands in our way." The guard nodded before running off after the girl. "I'll wait for you both here!" He called.

"No, you won't." A silver dagger pierced through the man's neck and he fell dead to the ground. Altair wiped his blade and sheathed it. The other man was going to attempt to kidnap the girl, therefore Altair had no other choice but to assassinate him as well.

Hopping across the rooftops, Altair ran ahead of the guard to see if he could find the raven haired girl first. Madam Gwen was a good ally of the Creed, so he'd better make sure the brothel had no troubles. Altair waited patiently as the Saracen jogged past him; unaware of the Assassin's presence as he pretended to be a Scholar.

The guard hid in a gap in the wall as the girl began jogging back into the alley. The drunkards outside the front of the whore house obviously frightened her.

The guard seized her from behind and - just as Altair drew a throwing knife; the girl had already saved herself by thumping her captor on the head, then bringing her elbow downwards to strike him in the gut. She left the man quickly as she ran down the alley and Altair continued onwards as the girl past by him. 'She's heading for the back door.' Altair thought as the guard yelled after her. He caught him as he was running passed and slammed his back against the wall.

"Assassin!" The man chocked out.

Drawing his hidden blade, Altair ended the Saracen's life. Then he took off in the direction which the girl had disappeared. 'If my suspicions are accurate.' He thought. 'Then unfortunately I'll be seeing her more often.'

Like always, he used open spaces to hide and, when he found the girl she was looking around, almost as though she'd heard something - or someone. 'There's someone else...' He watched in slight astonishment as she scaled the wall surrounding the garden of the brothel. 'She goes out a lot...' He thought with a sigh.

As the female disappeared over the other side of the wall, two more Saracens' appeared. Altair drew two throwing knives and launched them at the guards standing under the wall, and once they were dead, he walked towards the bodies to retrieve his knives. He took one last look up at the brothel before heading into the woods; far enough away so no one would suspect anything, but close enough to keep an eye out.

Oh yes, Altair remembered that night vividly. It was still fresh in his memory.

His mind wandered back to the girl. She hadn't been looking for trouble at all - she was just looking at the stars...it seemed as though she had no freedom, and as she had made her way sneakily back into the brothel, his accusation was proven correct.

Altair was expected back in Masyaf within the next two days. How was he going to keep watch on the girl while he was there? He sighed, 'Maybe a visit to Guinevere?' He thought. If Altair told her he had some business to attend too, then perhaps she could allow him to borrow one of her messenger pigeons to send Al Mualim a report.

He jumped off the branch and made his way into the whore house, to be greeted by a corn-blonde courtesan.

"Can I help you, Sir?" She asked seductively.

"I'm here to see Madam Gwen."

The girl pouted, she couldn't have been any older than seventeen. "Right this way, Sir." She turned around, leading him up the stairs. As they ascended, Gwen's voice became audible. "Franchesca, you can't possibly go looking for him. It's outrageous!"

"But, Aunt Gwen...I want to know who he is." The other voice was soft, but demanding.

"I can understand that, my dear...but there are many men with that name, you don't know what could happen! You are not leaving. That's final!" The door to the bedroom closed as Gwen left, and the old whore sighed in frustration as she met Altair and the blonde girl on the stairs. "That girl is impossible." She said to the courtesan.

"You know what it's like to long for your parents, Ma'am." The girl replied sadly before gesturing towards Altair. "This gentleman says he's here to see you." Then the blonde left, leaving Altair and Guinevere alone.

"Come." She gestured for him to follow her up the stairs. Down the next corridor, there was a wooden door to the left, Gwen pushed it open as she and Altair entered. It was a meeting room of some sort, various chairs and sofas furnished the room, and the walls were bare except for one sporting a large bookcase, and another with a large open window.

Altair took a seat, as did Madam Gwen. "How can I help, Altair?" She asked.

"Business has arisen." He crossed his arms behind his head, and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

"And you want to borrow a messenger." She stated.

"If you would be so kind." Altair replied.

"Alright, but I hope this 'business' isn't whoring? Because if it is, then I'm afraid you'll have to find another brothel."

"It's not."

"Good." Gwen replied. "Why not use the bureau?"

"I fear my business is not to be left unguarded any longer than necessary." Altair got up. He nodded a silent goodbye to Guinevere before leaving the room. He reached the top of the stairs when a raven haired girl ran into him.

"I'm sorry." She said quickly. "I wasn't looking where I was going." Altair simply nodded towards her before swiftly descending the stairs.

That evening, from his perch on the branch, Altair spotted the raven haired girl climbing over the wall. The wall was quite slippery from the rain Damascus had had that afternoon, so the girl almost slipped and fell to the ground.

Franchesca grabbed her cloak from the top of the wall, and pulled it on. As she walked towards the town, unaware of the Assassin's presence, she drew up her hood.

Altair kept a short and reasonable distance from the girl, and as they turned into an alleyway, she began to climb.

Once he pulled himself onto the roof, Altair ducked into a roof garden.

As soon as the girl pulled herself up, she sat down cross-legged, leant back on her hands and looked up at the stars.

Altair had looked at the stars most nights himself, but he never really appreciated them. He looked back at the girl when she began to stand, and walk across the roof.

He was put on alert once he heard someone climbing. When a Saracen appeared, Altair unsheathed a throwing knife.

"You're not supposed to be up here." The guard stated, notching an arrow into his bow. "Leave now."

The girl slowly turned to face the archer, and then looked left towards where another had appeared.

"What is your name?" The second demanded.

"Franchesca." She replied.

"She's the one." The first archer stated. "Don't move." He demanded as he began walking towards her, putting the arrow back into the quiver on his back. "You're under arrest." The girl stood where she was, but when the archer was close enough to touch her, he touched her.

"What are you doing?" She exclaimed, pushing him away.

Altair prepared himself to make his appearance, as the archer seized her by the arm. But as soon as his fellow guard joined him in touching the female's waist and hair, the girl grabbed the hilt of the sword attached to the first Saracens' belt.

The weapon less guard backed away, whereas the other cried out: "Infidel!" And drew his own weapon.

Franchesca didn't know how to wield a sword, but she had seen many fights in the streets, and knew little upon spectating. The blade was a lot heavier than she had previously thought, and barely managed to block the attack the guard had thrust upon her. As their blade parted, the guard went for a jab, to which Franchesca jumped backwards to dodge.

Altair held his breath when the raven haired girl found herself teetering on the very edge of the building. He quickly left the roof garden, drawing his hidden blade in seconds and running it through the archer's neck before he could notch an arrow.

Chesca's eyes widened a fraction upon spotting the long drop below her, and upon turning her head back to face the armed guard, she brought the blade up to block another of his attacks. She dropped the sword under his strength, and rolled underneath him to get away from the edge of the roof.

The Saracen raised his sword into the air and brought it down on her, and Franchesca suddenly saw a blur of white and a flash of silver. She closed her eyes when crimson blood splashed against the cream concrete and winced when a strong hand grasped her upper arm, and dragged her onto her feet.

Once she had opened her eyes, a tall, broad shoulder assassin stood before her. Slowly, she stepped away from him.

"Don't alert the guards." He stated, sheathing the blade on his bracer. "Otherwise you'll be next." Chesca nodded obediently, her innocent eyes were wide. "Go home before you get into any more trouble."

She nodded obediently, and watched as he turned sharply on his heel and began to climb down the side of the building.

Altair waited for her in the alley, and it wasn't long until her feet touched the ground. The raven haired girl drew up her hood again and began to walk briskly down the alley back towards her home.

"She's right." He heard her mumble, referring to Madam Gwen. "I shouldn't go out."

Franchesca groaned as the front door was once again blocked by drunkards and she turned back down the alleyway, jogging around the corner of the building and over towards the back wall. She remembered the sight of the dark red blood staining the pale building, and her head began to spin.

Quickly, she reached up with one hand to grasp at the ledge of the wall. The sudden movement caused her to become incredibly dizzy, and she could not get the image of the blood out of her head!

She dropped back to the ground again, and leant against the wall, allowing the cool stone to soothe her head of her cold sweat. Black dots clouded her vision and, shamefully, Franchesca passed out.

A/N: This is my second Assassin's Creed fanfiction :) Not your typical 3rd chapter romance because, let's face it, Altair isn't really a man who so easily falls in love.

Please let me know what you think by dropping a short review and the second chapter will be up by next week xx