Hey guys, I am back for round two…ish.
As of right now, this is just a story idea that will be continued depending on how much you guys, the awesome readers that you are, like it. After beating Unity and still struggling with the feels, I really wanted to make a story that was actually happy…ish. There will still be some sadness to this tale to push it along, but not too bad like the heartbreak I am still feeling from Unity(I swear that game broke me).
Anyway, sorry if this chapter is short, but I need your input because I am struggling if I want to continue this bad boy or not. This is basically a what-if Charles Dorian survived story that is going to be purely ArnoXÉlise with a hint of chaotic mess thanks to the French Revolution.
Enjoy.
Prologue
Tick-tock.
Tiny gears, too small for the naked eye to see in great detail, push the hands of time forward in my father's pocket watch as I await for his return. As an eight year old boy, I hate waiting. Especially when I'm forced to sit in a chair in an empty corridor. These parties are dull and uneventful, but my father says he has to attend for work. I think he said something about a meeting with a client.
Either way, I don't want to be here.
A giggle erupts from down the hall causing my attention to snap to the fiery, red-haired girl hiding behind a statue not too far away. She smiles widely upon our eyes making contact, and immediately retreats until she is peaking through the threshold to a study. My eyes travel from her to the room on the opposite side of the corridor where my father's meeting was taking place. His words linger in my head as I turn to face the girl once more who is now ushering for me to follow. I sigh as the urge to stand up and pursue her becomes overwhelming, but I restrain the desire behind my father's command before it is able to take over.
Glancing back the girl's direction, I shake my head to notify her of my decision and sulk back into the uncomfortable cushioning of the chair. She seems upset about my choice, and like a ghost, she is instantly gone. Perhaps she went to find someone else to play with…If only I could join her…
Time bleeds on as more guests fill the halls with their powdered faces and lacey dresses. The hands on the watch seem to move slower now as the corridor grows heavy with noise and the pungent scent of perfume assaults my nostrils. Why did he have to have the meeting here of all places?
"See, Arno," my father's voice calls out and I turn to face him and his associate. "I told you it would not be all that long."
With excitement, I jump from the chair and hand the watch over to my father. "Can we go see the fireworks now?" I ask.
"Of course," my father responds as he sends a smile my way before turning back to his companion. "Safety and peace."
"To you as well," the man replies and excuses himself from our presence.
"I hope I did not miss too much excitement," my father says as he takes my hand and leads me through the building's maze-like structure.
"Not really," I retort. "No one here likes to play. They just like to talk."
He smiles at that comment. "Did you go exploring like I asked you not to?"
"No, father."
"Arno…"
"I swear I didn't."
I know he is toying with me the moment he gives that grin that says he doesn't believe the truth. He laughs lightly as he nudges me with his hand and I nudge back playfully. As soon as we are outside of the palais, the two of us combine with the crowd as the show is just about to start.
"How will I be able to see the fireworks?" I ask as I stand on my toes to try and look over the taller heads.
"Come here," my father says before picking me up and holding me in his arms. "Can you see them now?"
"Yes, but will your arms tire?" I ask as I gaze from the dusk glazed sky to him.
"If they do, we can retire for the night and maybe pay a visit to Belrose's bakery."
A smile breaks out on my face as I nod. My father returns the grin before we both look upwards to watch the explosion of colors across the darkening heavens. The light show keeps everyone's attention on the sky to the point that the world around them becomes nonexistent. The same also became of me until I heard multiple voices being exchanged several feet behind us. Curious to the noise, I turn away from the fireworks and scan the crowd for the source of my distraction.
At first, the many faces seem to blur together in the darkness, but just as another explosion brightens the jardin, I see my intended target. He moves through the people effortlessly and with very little shoving on his part in order to bypass the many barriers between him and his location. Unintentionally, we both lock eyes and he instantly freezes like a deer who has been seen. It was then that I noticed the prominent scar along his right eye like that of a warrior.
"Father, do you know him?" I ask.
"Know who?" he inquires as he turns to gaze across the crowd. As soon as my father's eyes fall on the man in question, his features sink into a serious stare before placing me back on the ground. "It seems we must leave now."
Without another word, my father grabs me tightly by the hand and drags me through the mass of people. Confused, I gaze from the hand that is pulling me to the man following quickly behind us as he tries not lose sight of our location. As we disappear back into the palais, I question my father about the figure chasing after us, but he merely silences me, and asks me to stay quiet until we are back in the carriage. I reply with a nod and we continue through the estate until we reach the front of the building where four uniformed men stand guard while several of the valet await their orders.
As we wait for our ride, my father seems to shift uncomfortably while his eyes dart in every direction as though searching for something. I've never seen him like this before. I did not even know he had a nervous habit until I noticed his hands clench at his sides. Was that man dangerous?
As we see our carriage arriving at the gates, a flick of metal alerts my father and I, and we both turn in time to see two of the guards be downed before the mysterious figure takes out the remaining ones in one swift motion. My mouth parts in a silent scream before my father pushes me out of the way just as the assailant moves in to attack him.
As the man tries to sink the blade attached to his wrist into my father's chest, he easily out powers him and unsheathes the dagger hidden in his coat. Everything I thought I knew about him is erased as I watch him fight off the criminal. The man is quick, but my father keeps up the defense while the assailant tires himself out. Fear has me planted in place, and no matter how much I want to, I can't move.
I feel my voice return as my father is knocked to the ground while a new tear opens on the chest of his coat. A light layer of blood dabs onto the dark fabric, but it isn't enough to kill, only weaken. I call out to my father with tears in my eyes; which stops the attacker, but after a few seconds, he continues forward while extending the blade on his wrist once again.
"No!" I holler as I rush forward. My father cries out my name to stop me, but I dart between them and become a weak barrier.
"Stupid child," the man mutters and easily knocks me to the cobblestone ground.
I knew there wasn't much I could do, but I did what I could, and that was delay the man until the rest of the guards began rushing from the palais and towards us. The assailant glances over his shoulder at the oncoming brigade and curses beneath his breath. He gives my father a nasty glare before dashing off to the right and up the side of the building almost like how a squirrel would climb a tree. Two of the guards help my father to his feet and he instantly rushes to my side to check on me.
"Arno, are you alright?" he asks, his tone worrisome.
I nod, but I'm sure my wide eyes and shaky form gave away my true nature. "Yes, father," I reply.
He hugs me for a moment with a tight grasp as though it was the last few moments left on earth. My father was not one to easily show his emotions, especially in a public area, but something about that man had spooked him.
We are forced to wait while the guards scan the area before giving us the clear to leave. The moment we are in the carriage, my father orders for a trip to Paris, something he has never done before at such a late hour. It is unexpected, but I figure it has to do with the attack; otherwise, my father would not allow for such a timely ride. I ask him why we are not returning home, but he merely pats me on the shoulder.
"Arno…I've been keeping something from you…something most boys your age already know about," my father explains while the lights of Versailles slowly disappear beyond the hill.
"Does this have to do with that man?" I ask and he nods.
"Yes…you see…I think it is time for you to start your training."
I arc a brow as the carriage passes on bumpy roads. "Training…for what?"
He gives a sad smile as our eyes lock. He's hesitant as he clenches his fists open and close, but he finally licks his lips before placing a large hand over the small, cupped ones in my lap. "For you to become an Assassin."
