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I've been gone for a while, my dear FF...and I return to you with...an Assassin's Creed fanfic...for this I sincerely apologize (kinda).
And I own nothing, unfortunately, except for Mellissa and her family, some of the events in this fanfic, the fanfic itself, and what remains of my beaten, battered soul.
Enjoy!!!
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Regular Text
Memories/Flashbacks
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The blindfold against her eyes did nothing to dull her other senses.
She could clearly smell the mold of her holding cell, hear the faint creaking of chains, the gentle scuff of soft leather boots on stone, the steady breathing of the assassin guards.
The feel of the leather ties against her forearms was slightly dulled by her white sleeves. Despite her situation, they had not yet stripped her of the cowl. However, they had pulled back the hood, to tie both the blindfold and gag, leaving her closely cropped hair visible.
The darkness from the blindfold was strangely calming. Without it, she would have been able to see the full extent of her captivity, and it would have broken her.
Despite everything that had happened, hers was still an eagle's spirit.
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There was a new set of footsteps, different from her usual guard.
It was confidant and self-assured, radiating power. Someone from the top, then. Come to interrogate her.
"Sir!" called the guard, and she could hear his boots scuffing the stone floor as he hastily straightened.
"How long has she been like this?" came a deep voice, like velvet against steel.
"3 days, sir. She will not eat, nor drink, despite our best efforts. Everything we force down just comes back up again." said another guard.
A brief pause.
"Open it."
"But sir..."
"Do you truly think she will escape from me?"
Another pause, then the heavy scrape of metal against metal, the squealing of poorly oiled hinges, and the whisper of soft footsteps.
"Stand." came that voice, commanding. She did not budge, wether because she was unable or unwilling she didn't know.
A rough hand on her shoulder pulled her from her chair, and before she could stop it a strangled cry of pain had passed her lips, muffled by the gag. Her legs, unable to support her weight, gave out, and she would have fallen if not for those hands, which caught and cradled her far more gently than they had her shoulder.
"Sir..." trailed off one of the guard.
"It is fine. Have a healer sent to my chambers." came the voice again, from above her this time.
"Very well, Master Altair." she stiffened in the man's hold, uncertainty and apprehension racing through her.
If the flying one had come for her, then her death must be near.
Gently, the hands that held her lifted her, one arm around her shoulders and the other under her legs.
If she had not been so weak, she would have angrily protested being coddled in such a manner, but as it stood, she could do nothing but lean her head against the assassin's shoulder as he carried her from the dungeon.
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She didn't remember when exactly they had stopped moving, only that the delirium caused by the pain and blood-loss was steadily getting worse.
So when her back finally hit the soft sheets of an unfamiliar bed, she barely had the strength or sense of mind to struggle.
"Peace." came the voice again, softer and gentler than it had been in the dungeons. The shiver of metal against her skin caused her to jerk away, but then she felt the loosening of her bindings and her arms were free. Next was the gag, which she all but spat out, coughing several times at it's removal. Then the blindfold.
She had to close her eyes against the light, whimpering in pain as it assaulted her ill adjusted retinas.
"Shhh." came the voice again, and a damp cloth was placed over her eyes, for which she was grateful.
It was only when she registered that her mysterious benefactor was undressing her that she began to struggle.
"Stop." came the voice again, but she ignored it, fighting desperately against his hold on her.
Suddenly, the same hand as before closed over her wounded shoulder and the resultant flash of pain nearly caused her to scream.
"Please stop. I am only trying to help." came the voice again.
"What good is it to heal me, if I am already destined to die?" she growled, unmoving, but still tense.
"You misunderstand your situation." he said.
"Not likely." she retorted.
An annoyed sigh from above her, then the hands were gone, instead going to her forehead.
"How long have you had a fever?"
"Four days."
"And I assume this accounts for your being unable to hold down food?" it wasn't quite a question. She nodded tersely.
A soft knock on the door interrupted them.
She felt the slight dip in the bed as her benefactor stood and made his way across the room, letting in the healer.
After relaying the information he had gather to the other, the flying one left, leaving the girl in the healer's more than capable hands.
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She jerked awake, cries of pain and fear filling her ears.
She turned to her brother, who was also sitting up in bed, trying to see out of the tiny window of their room.
"Markus, what's going on?" she asked, scrambling out of bed and hastily pulling on a pair of slacks and a loose fitting tunic. She pulled on the first pair of boots to come within reach, and then crossed to the window, peering out alongside her brother.
Fire raged across the village, engulfing houses as it went, accompanied by dark shapes on horseback.
Suddenly, shouting underneath them caused both twins to crane their necks in order to get a better look at the street below.
"Mother and father!" she cried in alarm, and spun to the door, wrenching it open. She was halfway down the hall when her brother caught up to her.
"Stop, Mellissa! What good will we do them? We will only be killed."
She wrenched her arm out of his grip and turned on him angrily.
"I will not stand by and simply watch them as they die!" she shouted, before turning to run down the stairs.
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She awoke, screaming, desperately clawing at the hands holding her down, memories of fire, smoke and blood obscuring her vision.
"Markus! MARKUS!" the voice again, calling her back from the brink. His hands, scratched and bleeding from her nails, still holding her down, trying with all their might not to damage her already battered body.
Slowly, her vision began to clear, the smoke and blood fading, her eyes still blurry from her tears.
Just as slowly, a figure became visible, cowled face obscured in shadows, broad shoulders adorned with the white and black detailing of a head assassin.
She slumped, utterly exhausted, drained, breath coming in short pants as she attempted to regain herself.
"Let go of me." her voice was weak, scratchy, a testament to her screams.
The figure paused, as though uncertain, before relenting, drawing back and releasing her.
She sat up and rubbed her face, pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes, willing the memories to go away.
"Are you alright?" She snorted in laughter.
"Perfectly."
What part of the figure's face she could see, his mouth, turned down at the corners in a frown.
"Do you think you can keep this down?" he asked, changing topics as he handed her a bowl of porridge.
She took the bowl gratefully, and began to slowly spoon the soggy wheat into her mouth, chewing more than necessary.
"There are some things I need to ask you." said the figure, who had come to sit by her on the bed, watching her eat intently. She only nodded.
She knew this was coming.
"Why did you join?"
She blinked at him.
"What?"
"Why did you join the Assassins?" he repeated.
She paused, spoon halfway to her mouth.
"It's a long story." she said, placing the utensil back into the half empty bowl and shoving it aside.
"We both have time." he countered.
She sighed, reaching up to tuck a strand of stringy blonde hair behind one ear. It had gotten exceptionally long exceptionally fast, due to her not trimming it constantly.
"It started the summer of my eighth year. I lived in Acre with my father, my mother, and my twin brother."
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