The first official chapter is here :D

I know this chapter is also not very lengthy, but I wanted to get the details of Arno's and Élise's different but same pasts described so the story becomes more apparent for those who are questioning how this tale is going to play out. Like I said before, this is just an idea I've been playing with that I probably spent a week formulating, and thanks to you, the readers, I will continue writing until I figure out how I plan to conclude this story.

Thanks for the lovely reviews and the awesome support.

Enjoy.

Chapter 1: Soirée

May 5, 1789

Versailles

Why do the nobles hold decadent parties almost every day of the year?

I've never truly understood the social occasion even after all the years of being dragged to them with my father. It is as if these men and women preferred wasting their wealth on meaningless celebrations while the rest of France perished under debt. It would not astound me if half of them did not know that their riches have cost hundreds of lives, but I am sure they would look the other way regardless.

Fireworks explode overhead while a group of latecomers and I wait for our turn to enter through the gates of the Château de Versailles. I hardly recognize the faces in the crowd, and quite frankly, I don't wish to learn them. Knowledge of their existence usually involves a death, and despite my occupation, I despise playing God with their lives.

"Name?" the man asks as I finally approach the gate.

"Arno Victor Dorian," I reply while straightening my back.

The corner of the man's lip ghosts a frown for a fraction of second before he nods and ushers me along. I continue on without hesitance as I roll my eyes at the rude gesture that could have easily been missed. I guess my father's suit is too traditional even for the servants. As I make my way into the palais, I let myself fall into the flow of the crowd as we all march to the same area: the ballroom. The people around me speak wildly about a range of topics, but each subject includes the same person.

The guest of honor.

At long last, I make it to the ballroom where the party is in full hype. Men and women dance in pairs in the center of the chambre while the rest line the walls and gossip amongst one another. Closing my eyes, I drown out the space around me before reopening them to a new world. From across the room, a figure illuminates with a golden hue letting me know where my target is hiding.

With what little patience I can muster, I maneuver through the mass as elegantly as possible despite the many women who 'fall' in my way. I am forced to excuse myself more times than I should until I finally reach my location. Taking in a deep breath, I clasp my hands behind my back and steadily walk forward until I am standing at the man's side in front of the crowd.

"It's been a long time, Arno," the man states as he examines me out of the corner of his eye. We both keep our gaze forward at the dancing figures in the center of the room, but our attention is on our surrounding patrons.

"Good to see you too, Monsieur de la Serre," I reply as I notice a fidgety man in the corner.

"Thank you for coming on such short time," he whispers under his breath. "I hate to call you away from your mourning. You have my condolences."

"Merci, monsieur."

"Natural causes," he huffs. "Such a rare form of death with men of our occupation, but then again, your father always had a strange form of luck."

I smile at the comment. "That he did, but I highly doubt you brought me all the way out here to reminisce about him."

"You are quite right," he mutters while he gives a curt nod to a passing friend. "I know that tensions between the Templars and Assassins have grown quite bitter, but we can not let our ancestor's past dictate how we should act in the future. Do we really want to go back to senselessly killing one another because our opinions differ?"

"I'm going to take a wild guess and conclude that negotiations both within and outside your order are turning sour," I assume.

"That's an understatement, but yes. Mirabeau informs me that some in the Brotherhood do not agree to our truce as well, and we have had men on both sides die from insubordination. I know it seems a bit far-fetched, but I believe the thought of destroying the peace was placed in their heads. Otherwise, I do not think they would have gone through with it."

"You think someone within both our orders is trying to tear us apart?" I question as I finally turn to look at him.

"I know they are," he replies while making eye contact.

"So what now?" I ask as I turn away to scan the area once again.

Monsieur de la Serre sighs while pulling an envelope from his coat and handing it off to me. "This is a letter intended for Mirabeau. You spoke of returning to Paris, so I hope that you will join in our cause to keep stability for both us and France."

I place the parchment in my coat as my attention catches a tassel of familiar red-hair within the dancing figures. "You asked me to return from Austria so that I may be the neutral party for our truce?"

"Your father has been preparing you for when this day were to come. You've been on both sides of our agreements, and even spent several summers within my home as an honored guest. I'm not asking you to side with me, but to make sure that we do what is best for our Orders."

I nod as I understand his stance in all of this. So much has been accomplished since our two Orders have put aside our differences to help stabilize the nation, but going back to the old ways…we might as well destroy France now.

"I will speak with Mirabeau in the morning and see the complications for myself. I can not guarantee a neutral stance, but I hope we can come to an understanding," I state as I turn to face him once again.

"It is all I ask," he retorts.

I smile and give a curt nod his direction before eyeing the crowd one last time. "If you would excuse me, I must take my leave. It's quite a trip to Paris."

"Do as you must…and Arno…stay safe."

I turn towards him and nod in understanding. François de la Serre does not spook easily, and judging by tonight's behavior, someone out there is threatening an internal war. As much as I despise death, I've grown to hate diplomacy more. Politics does not run in my blood, but somehow, my father and I were chosen to be the representatives for the Brotherhood. Sometimes I wish they would just send me on a suicide mission.

Disappearing back into the crowd, I quickly maneuver across the ballroom once more and exit into the corridors. Although I have not even been here for an hour, I'm already desperate to escape this party; however, I know I'm not going to get away so easily. I notice a figure following closely behind, but far enough away to keep a distance between us. I sigh as I continue through the maze of halls until I reach an empty section of the building before stepping into a room and locking the door behind me.

Walking up to the window, I clasp my hands behind my back and watch the fireworks light up the night sky. I smile as I hear the fiddling of the knob before light pitter-patters scratch against the lock. After some time, the mechanism finally clicks and the door slowly opens to reveal my follower. Through the reflection of the glass pane, I see the red curls of the guest of honor as she closes the door behind her and relocks it.

"Élise," I say with a sour taste as she approaches me slowly.

"Arno," she greets with a smile. "Testing me again?"

"You are definitely getting better," I state while eyeing her reflection closely. "But you are still far too slow."

Her lips form into a playful pout as she circles to my right and stands at my side to watch the fireworks with me. "It's been what: six…seven years? What brings you back to France?"

I curl my lips downward as the last memory from our childhood resurfaces. "For someone who pushed me off a balcony out of pure spite, you are far too intrigued with my business."

"When I see an Assassin speaking with my father, it becomes my business."

"Really now?" I question with a smile as we both turn to look at one another. "Because if I recall, you have yet to be ceremonially accepted into the Order."

"And you think yourself better than me since you have been entitled a Master?"

I almost lose track of my thoughts as I stare into her watery-green eyes. Although she is the exquisite beauty every man dreams of owning, I see the sharpest of thorns beneath her stunning elegance. And to think I had once bought into her attraction until she broke my leg.

"Shouldn't you be torturing your suitors right now?" I ask in order to change the subject. "Or has your father insisted no more men try for your hand in marriage?"

Élise slowly takes a few steps closer while folding her hands behind her back similar to my manner. "Those boys are far too boring. It seems I can no longer find anyone who can last more than a few hours."

"So you come back to me, the only toy that hasn't broken yet?"

"What can I say?" she mutters as our bodies are so close now that I can feel the heat from her skin. "You are far more durable than they are."

"Ah, you have been tormenting others? So I am not as special as I thought I was."

Her eyes narrow as a mischievous grin forms on her face. Élise leans forward until our lips barely brush, and although I know what game she is playing, I do not pull away. She is trying to get the upper hand and gain control, but she should know by now that I am not the same boy she used to so easily trick.

"If you think that charm of yours is going to work on me, then I'm sorry to disappoint," I mutter.

Élise merely smiles as she brings her mouth to my ear. "The kiss wasn't meant for you."

She winks my direction before turning on her heel and makes her way towards the door. As she unlocks the mechanism, she gives me one last side-ways glance before disappearing into the corridors. Despite the years of training to prepare myself for anything, there was always one thing I could not bring myself to master: women. And it does not help that the one whom I am having the most trouble with was cursed by the devil himself.

Collecting my confused thoughts, I straighten my back before exiting the room and heading towards the main entrance of the palais. The guards don't even spare me a second glance as I pass them by, but I guess I would not as well. After so many guests, the faces tend to blur together and everyone begins to look the same.

As I am about to begin the long trek to the gates, I see the familiar stature of François de la Serre who seems to stumble from the side of the building like a man who has had too much to drink. I am about to call out my goodbyes to him until I notice the red liquid seeping between his fingers as he holds on desperately to his neck. I rush to his side with the guards shortly in tow as he falls to the ground with one final breath.

I kneel at his side with a clenched heart and a mind full of questions as I examine his wounds. It was evident during our brief talk that he was wary of death threats on his life, but yet he stayed here in the middle of the danger despite it all. Losing control of my emotions, my vision flashes and the world around me drains away while the trail to my target becomes clear through the darkness. I stand straight once more before marching off towards the side entrance of the palais and follow the path laid out for me.

It seems Monsieur de la Serre was right: there was someone out there who did not want the peace between the Templars and Assassins to continue, but who would prefer chaos?