Celestine's POV
We continued free-running across the roof and we later shifted to another type of fun.
When we stopped by a mansion within the district of Vendome, we stalked the rooftop—crouching as low as we can to avoid detection from the sniper I spotted on the balcony—and Arno engaged his Phantom Blade but I held him back and gestured that I want to be the one to kill the sniper via aerial kill.
Just when I was about to leap down, I heard more footsteps coming from the room where the balcony is connected to. I just have to take my chances, perhaps I just need to pull out my blade quickly so that I can rush to my next victim.
Chk.
Jumped straight down to the sniper with a clean direct kill—and just as I have thought, a swordsman inside the room!—and as swiftly as I can I entered the room and covered my next prey's mouth using the same hand where my armament is attached around my wrist. Less trouble of being locomotive.
A few minutes after reassuring that he's already dead, Arno followed my lead and even avoided detection from the guards on the ground level.
"Well, that's some… tact."
I chuckled, "Can't decide a right word for it?"
"The word 'skill' is cliché."
We looted them and then pocketed them until I spotted another one examining and peeping through a keyhole of a strongbox…
Wait, he didn't notice his other companions getting killed? That's one stupid bastard right there.
Before he could even turn his head to us, see the carnage and react I released a Phantom Blade at the blink of his eye—the projectile landed straight into his forehead and I chuckled at the funny sight of a dead man with a blade stuck on his head.
So what if I have sadistic humor?
I didn't bother to retrieve my blade anymore and then Arno and I examined the strongbox.
"What do you think is special inside?" I ask.
"Only one way to find out." Arno.
"So who's a better locksmith?"
"Let me give it a try."
He bent down, fished for a lockpick and the hook, he carefully tries to budge into each latch (there were three of them); I stayed quiet and observed him as he manages to click at the every single latch—he got to the second one pretty quick and then he finished the third one at a single blink.
"Tell me, which of each latch is the trickiest, Arno?"
"It varies, depending on my concentration."
"I see."
He lifted the lid open and then the strongbox contained a pearled bracelet and necklace—that happens to be a pairing—the other contents were parcel packages so we left them alone.
"Do you think these are convincing for the merchant?"
"Of course it will." I smirked.
We left the house through the nearest open window right next to the chest, we descended to the ground by safely landing on a haystack—we landed in the same haystack.
"Who goes out first?" I asked in a whisper, trying not to scare the townsfolk close by the hay.
"Ladies first." He chuckled playfully.
And I brushed my way out of the haystack, shrugging off the tiny straws of hay that clumped onto my coat and I stepped at a distance for Arno to get out—he did the same thing I did when I got out of the stack.
"Now, should we find a merchant?" I giddily queried.
"Let's." he did that smirk that somehow made my lower abdomen feel strange that it made me smile like an idiot.
I tagged along behind him, while walking I mentally recall that smirk on his face just a few minutes ago and everytime I think about it I close my eye shut just to try to take it out of me but it's difficult.
"Celestine?" he called out and I suddenly opened my eyes.
"Hm?"
He grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly, "You alright? You were behind me."
"Oh, sorry…"
"Please just stay right next to me—never behind me."
I nodded to reassure him and then we walked our way casually to the nearest merchant and sold the pearls we found in the chest. He accepted our price of 400 livres on the necklace and 250 on the bracelet—not that we're picky on the price or anything.
"Arno…?"
"Yes?"
"I… I want to see the Pantheon, if that's alright with you."
"You speak like a shy little girl. Why are you so flustered lately?"
"Nothing."
"Are you sure?" he leaned closer to me that the tips of our noses touch.
I tried my best not to look so flustered, I swallowed the nervous lump lodged in my throat and nodded as an answer. He held my hand again and tugged me so I attempted to keep myself at the same pace as he is and then he started to climb on a wall—to which I am obliged to climb as well and follow him which is no problem at all and then we scanned our surroundings on the top to find the fastest route to the Pantheon district.
"Celestine!" Arno called out, realizing that he's ahead of me—he's just waving his hand, gesturing me to get there.
"Arno, wait!"
I caught up to him, carefully taking my steps as I jump so that I won't do the same mistake I did when I looked back at him without knowing what's ahead of me. When I was one building away from him, I saw him already reaching his hand out to me—yes, I wanted to grab hold of him so I hastily made my way on that rooftop between us.
Gasping for the last air before I could even leap, I have already taken hold of his arm—my forearm crossing with his and my grasp is already on his elbow—and he pulls me in away from the edge before the heel of my boots slip off and become the cause of my fall. We both stumbled together on the dust of the roof and felt each other's heavy breathing on each other's necks. I felt his chest shaking and when I pulled up to look at his face he was laughing.
What the fuck just happened to him?
"Arno, you're laughing like an insane idiot." I sarcastically remarked.
"Seeing you so worked up and determined to make long jumps is just so adorable—lighten up, you're the one who initiated the idea to go Pantheon for a stroll." He replies.
I leaned down to kiss him long and hard, my tongue even made its way into his mouth and he welcomed it; before I could even lose control, I pulled away and sat up—he did the same.
"Are we heading out yet?"
"Yes, let's go. Keep up with me, alright, Celestine?"
I nodded and the two of us dashed away—roof after roof, swung bar after bar, passed through any open window we can find to get to the other side conveniently—until we finally found ourselves close to the dome itself.
"Where should we head first? The dome or the plaza?" I ask, examining the surroundings under our feet.
"Anywhere you want, my dear."
"Is it safe if we pass by the guards' camp?"
"If we're not too suspicious."
"What's so suspicious about two Assassins together?"
"Nothing at all."
I looked past the houses and apartments, focused on the mansion that is right next to the square occupied by the National Guard used as their training ground and at the same time their base; I concentrated on the base itself and see if there are any parts where the two of us can safely explore without those suspecting looks.
"You won't be able to see that far, my little falcon." Arno takes me by the hand and then brings us closer to the mansion and the base camp.
Then I wondered…
With Xavier and that wound I have inflicted on him, how long will it take to heal completely for him to battle again?
How many hideouts does he have across Paris? Is the Pantheon one of them too?
Will it even reach the New Year? It's only a couple of months before the last month of the year arrives.
Could it be that it'll be a matter of time?
When I shook off those thoughts and ponderings in my head, I kept my pace up with Arno so that we're free-running side by side; suddenly and strangely, I sensed a commotion up ahead in the direction that we're heading so I told Arno to descend to the ground with me.
"Celestine! What's going on?"
"Something's up! Come on!"
Coming from the distance as I close in to the scene, I saw a flash of red.
Another mob?
While Arno and I run, we have already brandished our swords and interfered with the extremist mobs.
"More revolutionary bastards!" one of the guards howled.
I blocked an incoming attack from a brute who was about to cut down one of the rebels—who seems to be badly cut at the leg—I greeted the surprised brute with a welcoming but sarcastic smirk and pushed him away as I picked the fight.
I saw Arno on the other side of the mob, skillfully wielding sword and Hidden Blade together at the same time and so I had less worries for him and then continued with my own side of the fight. Stealing the pike from the very hands of the lancer, I supposed I must have scarred some rebels who saw me impaling the enemy with his very own weapon when he was coming straight at me—the head of the pike practically went straight through from his front to his backside.
When the last of the loyalists were still standing—he received the most brutal butchery because Arno and I teamed up against him: the two of us began sprinting up towards the enemy who was taking advantage to another helpless fighter, Arno had disarmed the loyalist by severing his sword hand and continued to stab him on the right side of his ribcage with his Hidden Blade, and then I made an uppercut jab to the underside of his face using my Hidden Blade hand, and again just like what happened to my side of the fight earlier, the rebel witnessed this in front of his very own eyes. I have to be honest, pulling out my armament worried me because I must have lodged the blade hard into this man's skull—to the fact that I care less of the gore and my Hidden Blade mattering the most instead of the blood that tainted my robes. I tilted my head up to give myself a breather and then my hood fell off, but I cared less; I approached Arno to have the mechanism of my armament checked—see if I had unhinged something that shouldn't be when I deeply stabbed the dead bastard.
"Arno, do you think my blade's alright?" I casually asked him, showing him my Hidden Blade smothered and dripping with blood.
"Err… yes, it's alright—fortunately the wheel and the cog isn't dislodged." He replied awkwardly, as if he's squeamish with the blood that's drenched on me.
Before I could even forget, I turned to the rebel that we helped—just to make sure that he wasn't overly traumatized with what he has seen.
"I'm sorry, I hope that the stunt we did didn't scare you too much, I—"
I was cut off and surprised to meet again one of the fighters I used to team with in the pact before I came to the Brotherhood.
"Cesaro?" I gasped.
"Celestine," he made a gentle welcoming smile, "I see that you haven't changed—especially your bloodlust."
Cesaro is one of the fighters I used to work with when I still belonged to their faction, they were also the ones I teamed up with months ago in Marais during that time where Cesaro and his troops were agitated by the duelists after insulting them as peasants and street vermin, I was one of their party of scouts and I was also one of their swordsmen—as far as I can remember, I helped out Arno there when he intervened into the faction duel and he was still a stranger to me back then; wow, how time really flies.
Coming from the side, the other rebels recognized me as well and they began to murmur my name and phrases such as "She's an Assassin?", "Who knew?", "She's the daughter of an Assassin as well," and lastly, "She fights like one—she was bound to be one after all."
"Who are these people?" Arno whispers as he bent a little forward close to my ear.
"They're the rebels I used to fight with—before the Brotherhood." I replied.
I took a glance at him because I noticed that he was breathing unusually heavy—it's not the type of heavy breathing he would do when he's exhausted—I turned around to fully face him only to find him clutching on his right arm.
"You idiot, why didn't you tell me you were bleeding?!"
"Just a scratch…"
"Scratches don't leave out blood spread all over your sleeve, Arno!"
"Err… Heh, Celestine dearest, you can stay in our safehouse for now. It's just a short walk from here." Cesaro.
"Merci."
They made their walking route safely through the district, Cesaro led the way and Arno was in pretty bad shape to do any sort of climbing just so he can stay away from the sight of the duelists. Cesaro led the troop and divided them in several parts of the district—his orders were to clear out the way of each street that they are going to pass according to the route that he has in mind for Celestine and Arno to get to the safehouse as they tag along with him.
While the couple tailed Cesaro, Arno was interrogating Celestine about her past affiliation.
"How long have you been with them before you came into the Brotherhood?" Arno.
"Well, ever since my teenage years—I told you that story before, didn't I?"
"Yes, but you never told me of further details."
"Well, you have it now."
"Has he always been the leader of the gang?"
"For this division, yes."
"Of course, there ought to be more for each district."
Celestine planted a tender kiss on Arno's forehead, wiped the sweat off of his brow with her sleeve as they continued to tail behind Cesaro, he held tightly around her shoulder for support and so far they haven't encountered a single duelist—they may have gained a little sympathy from the National Guards who passed by them (in the first place, Cesaro never ordered his scouts to eliminate them hence it would cause them trouble which would take them longer to get to the safehouse and have Arno fixed) and Celestine may have gotten anxious, so tempted to turn back to check if those guards have taken either suspicion or sympathy for their apathetic disguise she tried her best to not so much give a side glance to them; she noticed that Arno's arm may have gotten numb and heavy for him because he was barely moving it.
"We're almost there." Cesaro reassured.
Celestine nodded as a response and a few turns of the road they arrived at a modest bar which she recognizes very well—she used to stay there too.
"Ey, Cesaro, is my room still there?" she jokingly asks when they have stepped into the bar.
"Yes, you two may occupy that for now while we tend to his wound."
"No, no, I'll tend his wound. I know his body better than any of you do."
Cesaro boomed out a throaty chortle given that her statement was vulgar but he found it amusing—but realistically, it's true. He was beginning to welcome the couple into the bar where it was swarming with rebels in their usual house clothes which is a very convincing disguise if they lose the holster and sheaths.
"Come sit down for a while and let the housekeepers ready the spare room for you." Cesaro.
"Nobody took my room?"
"Well, there are some rebels who have their own houses, some rent inns and we only use your room for medical purposes."
"How convenient and coincidental." She smirks. "Then it stank of blood and pus?"
"Oh dear no! No, no, no! We made sure that we always clean it because the Master really ordered us to clean it after every patient has been discharged."
"Master?" Celestine muttered under her breath while she supports Arno, all sweaty.
"Let me help you with some drinks."
"No, no, that's fine… I just need some tending and some dressing…" Arno muttered wearily.
Before Cesaro would even accommodate Arno and Celestine, the boss of the bar made his appearance.
"Cesaro! You brought in people without my acknowledgement?"
"You don't understand, sir, it's Celestine—her companion is wounded, he needs his injury to be dressed immediately."
Celestine…? The master of the house muttered under his breath.
The master of the bar, concealed within the shadows of the dimness of the second floor, took steps leading to the top of the stairs—with each footstep that gives a loud thud of his boots on the floorboards, the light of the lamps on the metal brackets gradually reveal his face. It is as though with every step he takes, it matches the racing of Celestine's anxious heartbeat—she doesn't even know why is she getting so worked up about, she had dealt with several intimidating bar owners before, what could go wrong with this one amongst the others she had met before?
The master's face finally unveiled from the dimness of his own bar and safehouse just when he was halfway down the staircase, the light of the bar's lanterns showed him.
A fairly tall man…
Black hair kept short and neat…
Light brown eyes with the light of the fire burning in his irises…
A light stubble growth on his chin, jawline and ends to the bottom tip of his sideburns.
His complexion like that of an Italian noble.
Celestine abruptly stood up that the feet of the chair she's sitting on creaked against the wooden floor with her fists fully clenched, caught the attention of the bar patrons and the master wordlessly acknowledged; she slightly shook her head—somehow not believing what she is currently seeing with her own two eyes—and she took herself a little while to register everything from mind to mouth as she feels tears begin to well up under her lids.
"Alessio?" she choked.
"Celestine." he replied.
"I can't believe it—you're still alive."
"It seems that your ragazzo is badly wounded, shall we bring him to a room?"
"My room. Wherever he goes, I go as well."
"Such devotion. Does it remind you of anything?"
"No." she replied bitterly with full conviction, accompanied with a slight shake of her head.
Alessio was silent and he called for his housekeepers to ready the spare room and also medical supplies, Celestine insisted that she's the one to tend Arno's wounds and the servants obeyed her request so they left the supplies with her—she was unconfident with the servants because they were bar maids. She has already filled the basin with lukewarm water and then put some drops of the topical medicine.
The two of them went inside—leaving the door open—and she watched Arno get comfortable with the bed.
"I'm sorry if my old room isn't that comfortable compared to the one in the mansion."
"No, it's fine—it's temporary and we need someplace to rest instead of struggling in the streets."
Indeed, both of them were worked up with the skirmish but it was Arno who needed so much attention especially from Celestine. She takes off her coat and then begins to help him with his own coat, she unbuttons his shirt and loosened his belt so he can breathe comfortably.
"Let's take a look now." She says as she takes off his shirt to check the injury.
Semi-solid bubbles clotted the outer lining of the wound, it saved Arno some blood but for only a little while and it demanded to be tended immediately; she immediately dipped the rag into the filled basin and clean his wound, while doing so he was looking around her once-humble dwelling.
"So, this was your room, huh?"
"Yeah, it was never spacious anyway—it was exclusively only for me because it was so small even up to now."
"About the bar master… Alessio, was it?"
"What about him?" she has sort of slowed down in her work of taking care of Arno's wound.
"Was he the same Alessio you told me about months ago?"
She stopped wiping the dried out blood off his wound, clenching the rag nervously and took a deep breath.
"Yes, he is."
"You didn't tell me he was part of your rebellion."
"That's because he never was."
The tone of her voice changed from benign to firm and steely, then continued to do her medical work.
"Then mind telling me how he got to be the master of this bar?"
"I… I don't know." She sighed sadly, "I have always thought that he was in Italy—with the wench he married. After that final letter, I thought he had learned to love her—not just because she and her family sustained his family's business but because of… natural tendencies. I actually thought they had children."
"Do you still love him?"
"No… I lost that feeling for him long ago."
"Do you love me?"
She smiled, "Of course. Very much."
Arno toyed with the loose locks of her hair and brushed them behind her ear, planting a kiss on her forehead to make her feel better and then she continued to tend to him.
Outside the bedroom (the door was open), Alessio overheard Celestine, he processed everything he said and he wanted to tell her that majority of what she said isn't true; yes, he did stay in Italy ever since but he never loved his betrothed, let alone they never had children at all! He went downstairs and pretended that he didn't overhear her at all. He went to the bar counter and asked for his usual drink from the bartender and asked for a second glass for the guest—he was referring to Arno.
"Is it too tight?" Celestine.
"No, the binding is fine." Arno.
"Altro?"
"No, grazie, mi cara."
Alessio casually knocked on the frame of the door, acting as if he heard nothing at all just a while ago.
"Mi scusi? Am I interrupting?" Alessio.
"No, not at all." Arno.
"Well, can you still stomach a drink or two, Arno?"
"Of course." He stands up.
"At least put your shirt back on, Arno." Celestine.
Arno chuckles and obeys her, he takes his shirt from her and leans forward to kiss her long and hard—right in front of Alessio. Obviously, it was awkward.
As soon as he wore his shirt, he tagged along with Alessio downstairs to the bar—leaving Celestine alone in her old bedroom which gave her time to collect her medical supplies and put them away while the boys are downstairs.
Arno's POV
Alessio and I sat down on the bar while his bartender accommodates the patrons, he and I were having some drinks and I got to admit his choice was nice.
"Have you always known how to speak Italian, Arno? Or did Celestine teach you?"
"Actually, she taught me. She lent me some books we had in our library, she talks to me in Italian often and I would ask for the translation and she would lecture me some more phrases and words."
"How long have you been together?"
"It's been months now."
"I see."
Alessio clinked his glass on the counter, lifting it at just a small centimeter away from the wooden surface and then carefully dropping it while he supports it with a loose clutch of his hand; I knew it's my turn to start the conversation.
"Since when did you get to the rebellion?"
"Just recently—say, two months ago. Did Celestine tell you about me?"
I have a feeling he must have overheard her a while ago.
"Yes, she told me about when you two were young."
"Oh… heh, that story. Did she include the part about the letters?"
"Yes, she did. She even thought you had children with your new wife."
"Rubbish. I never even loved that woman, I can't even call her my wife."
"Celestine told me it was an arranged marriage."
"Indeed it was, it was a heavy burden for me—not just for me and my parents. I wanted to come back, to escape and to fulfill her promise until the wench threatened me; my family was relying on me and I couldn't decline that. But they're gone now, it was just me and her."
"I'm sure she would have understood."
"But I was afraid that I might lose her—she may have understood but it might drive her away from me, therefore failing to keep my promise. I left and broke her heart—do I have enough reason to convince her?"
Would she? I mean, would she hear him out and understand? If she did, would she still drift away from him?
"How did you get here to Paris, Alessio?"
"By many ways. I escaped the wench, took whatever money I had left for myself, rented a horse to get to the border and then hiked all the way here to the city; I strived, worked—I had experience anyway—and eventually ended up with them. When the original owner of this shack died, he passed down the responsibility to me—because the old man had no son, rest his soul, and I was the only one he had left. The rest of his tenants weren't that… reliable."
"I see."
"You know, some of my patrons here are Assassins."
"Really now?"
"That is why I recognize those hoods anywhere—including hers."
"Have you always known, Alessio?"
"Have always known what?"
"That someday she would be an Assassin?"
"Yes. Given the fact that she was born and raised by an Assassin couple, how can it be unlikely? Besides, I've seen the way she acts and moves—quite aggressive, almost masculine and also assertive. She even—heh—fights like a boy."
I can't help but chuckle because it's true anyway, we made a toast with our glasses together and chugged the liquor.
"This is nice. What is it?"
"Moscato."
I savored the taste of the new liquor in my mouth, the alcohol doesn't sting at all and it's just the right mildness; without the sting of the alcohol, anyone can taste the sweetness of the drink. Maybe the mansion has this as well?
"Arno…"
"Hmn?"
"Have you two ever done it?"
Does he meant sex? I have to honest, right?
"Yes, we have. Twice or thrice now." I replied.
"You're a lucky man. Treasure her."
"You don't have to tell me that."
He smirked as he stares at the bottom of his empty glass.
"I have always thought she was worth it… but I failed her. I should have been more of the man she expected me to be."
The boys had no idea that Celestine was listening to their conversation the whole time, she was sitting by the railings of the second floor as she listens to them. She heard every single thing that her past and present exchanged.
Her heart sank after she listened to Alessio's side of the story. She was having mixed emotions, she never even knew that that happened to him during his stay in Italy; most of assumptions were wrong—such as Alessio having children and naturally learning to love his wife—but either way, she can't bring the past now.
"Everything's over. The damage has been done." She muttered to herself as the sound of Arno and Alessio's glasses hit the surface of the bar.
Alessio… you were right…
You have failed me.
You made me wait for so long only to find out that you have been forcibly married to someone else—you could have written to me weeks before your engagement. So I stopped… I stopped hoping, I stopped waiting and moreover, I stopped loving you because I thought that she might have been more beautiful and richer for that matter because you said her family was to sustain you.
Well shit.
I don't want to sound so demanding but why didn't he? Why didn't he man up? Jaysus, men sometimes.
ITALIAN:
Ragazzo – boyfriend
Altro? – Do you need anything else?
Mi scusi? – Excuse me?
Boom.
Did you even see this coming?
Xielle.