I stood up weakly and rubbed my tired eyes, surveying the room with blurry peripheral vision. Thankfully, the physicians had said that everyone here was stable, albeit injured to varying degrees of severity. I felt happy that I was able to do a little to help and although I was exhausted and emotionally bereft, I felt I could continue for the sake of these men. I felt like I understood a little more about the Assassin's after today.

They showed ultimate respect to one another, and to everyone around them, even to me - a woman. They were always polite and gentlemanly in their ways, embarrassed coughs all around whenever I stooped to readjust a pillow or change a bandage. They were grateful and humble, without exception. I found them so intriguing for this reason; men of such virtue but with a different side, so full of danger. Perhaps this antithesis is what made them so dangerous, I mused silently.

Charisma to lure and escape, to charm and bribe; it must make them all the more potent to their targets. But I could not escape the fact that I had, without fail, found myself drawn to every man I had spoken to. I did not fear them but then again, I had no need to. They were only dangerous to those who they needed to remove. To anyone else, they were the epitome of integrity. I found myself respecting them a little for their conviction and resolve. While everyone else simply complained about the corruption or the injustice, these men did something about it. They were the action behind everyone's words. They represented the people and to them, the end justified the means.

It was hard to know where you stood with the Assassins. Did you support them or oppose them? Did you disapprove of their methods but approve of their results? It was hard. I think maybe my judgment was clouded by the man I had fallen in love with. I looked over to him standing with a group of black robed men in deep discussion and a small smile played over my lips. Yes, it was hard to go against everything the man you loved believed in and although I could not be in total accordance, I could understand the feelings and intentions behind it.

But above all, I had gained a sense of the intense bond of brotherhood and of duty amongst these men. They would lay down their life for one another, as I had readily seen only twenty four hours previously and they would not renege on a promise. It was this understanding that led me to an uncomfortable conclusion about Altaïr. Even though it felt like a lifetime away since Altaïr had first met me in Jerusalem under strict orders from Malik to escort me to Berothai, in reality it had only been a couple of months and despite all that had occurred between then and now, I had a terrible feeling that Altaïr's mission still stood.

That I was not in Berothai by now was no doubt seen as a failure in Altaïr's eyes and he would not stand for that. I realised with devastating awareness that the time would come, whether it be in the next day or the next week, when Altaïr would come to me and say he was taking me back to Berothai. For some reason, I knew it as truth. He had said to me in Damascus that whatever my feelings were towards him, he would make sure I was safely delivered to Berothai. At the time, he had meant hatred or fear but I knew that the same applied to love.

I felt so overwhelmed by my understanding of this, on top of everything else, that I had to sit back down. I was saturated with pain. Malik had left a hole in my chest that would not heal for many years. He was my last remaining family. The people waiting for me in Berothai were not known to me; they were distant relatives and I felt no kinship with them. No, Malik was all I had. That was, until I found Altaïr. I did not feel alone when I was with him; everything about him was a comfort to me. I loved him. To lose him as well was beyond bearing. I wished that it were not true yet I knew with painful clarity that I was right and he would not allow me into his life. I had a feeling he felt he had already let me in too much.

I stood up again, ignoring the light-headed exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm me and walked to where Altaïr now stood alone and pensive.

"I will sleep now, if that is alright." I said softly.

He looked at me gratefully and inclined his head. "Of course, thank you for your help."

I smiled weakly and nodded before making the arduous journey up the stairs to my room. When I opened the door, I saw that the shutters were open and a cool breeze entered the room, chilling it. I walked to the window and looked outside apprehensively, seeing only destruction. Houses still in ruin, rubble littering the streets, dust settled on the floor; suffering immortalised by physical means.

I turned away and lit the small candle on the table before closing the shutters and blocking out the moon. The room was steeped in a comforting glow and I felt a little more at peace.

I was so tired that the effort of removing my shoes was almost too much for me and when I had finally been enveloped in the thick, warm blanket, it was the ultimate sweetness. I blew out the candle and lay in the blanket of night.

This was my favourite time; this exquisite transient state between sleep and wakefulness; this moment where there is no thought, no movement, no deed more important than the feeling of your body, heavy and warm on the soft bedding. My body lies between the sheets and I am as protected as if I were resting in a cotton womb. This short moment when you are tired enough that to open your eyes requires a force of will too great; this is my favourite time. It is an ephemeral, fleeting state of wild exhaustion that leads to complete relaxation. All you can do is breathe gently, shallowly and wait for the few minutes until sleep takes you in its embrace, like an old friend.

This is the moment I look forward to each day and this is why I cannot abide trying to sleep when I am not tired. When you are not tired, sleep becomes an elusive spirit, flitting through your grasp, tempting you but never submitting. I hate this feeling; it is a feeling of helplessness, knowing that you can do nothing to make it come faster: you must simply wait. Only when I am as tired as I am now can I experience this beautiful, delicate feeling as it envelops me and softly brings me the ultimate liberation, if only for a short while. I knew that in the morning, my worries would hound me again but for now, I felt the sweetest nothing.

I woke up the following morning before the sun itself had even done so. I had slept soundly for the first time since I arrived in Masyaf; exhaustion had left no place for anything else but now that I had awakened, I had broken the watery surface of my sleepy mind and exposed myself once again to the horrors above. My fears, my grief and my worry were quick to make their presence known as I placed a bare foot on the creaky boarded floor and stretched my still weak body. I had hoped that Altaïr would have joined me - his presence was balm to me. But he had not. I had not thought he would make true my predictions so soon. I took a deep breath and tried to contain my worries so that they may not interfere with the coming day. And then I got out of bed.

For a few days, our interactions were distant but nothing unexpected; we were both still recovering from a terrible loss. Altaïr especially, who felt nothing but the burden of guilt for nearly all that had occurred. I did not see him often; he spent most of his time encased in his office, stooped over a desk and meeting with people more important than I at this moment. But Altaïr never sought me out and if we did see each other, it was not like before. I could see he was holding back. I was being cut off. It came to pass when I knew my departure was imminent, whether I wanted it or not and so there became a certain inevitability with which I faced the coming weeks.

I now knew he would broach the subject, I just did not know when or how. I am a patient person; I will never press people for information they do not want to give but in this case, I found it difficult to wait. It was simply waiting for confirmation regarding something I had already worked out for myself. It felt a little futile to delay yet I could not bring myself to broach the subject myself. I wanted Altaïr to do it when he was ready. And at least this waiting gave me time to formulate sufficiently scathing retorts.

And then one day, on a rare meet between the two of us, he said my name in such a way that I knew what his next words were to be.

"Asra."

I turned my head towards him and tried to look attentive, when inside I wished to run away and avoid him so he could never say it.

"You have to go back to Berothai. I will take you." He became a stone; a beautiful statue.

It was crushing. I knew it was coming but I could never have prepared for how much it hurt me.

"I do not want to go." I replied, my voice tight through control. It took all I had not to scream the words like a child.

"I have a duty Asra, to Malik and to myself. I said I would take you and so I will." He gave nothing away. He spoke impassively, like when I had first met him in Jerusalem, and he had answered my questions in the very same, cold and unfeeling tone. I didn't want to hear him like that again. It would be like having the cover pulled away from my eyes and allowed a moment of that soft, shining light only to be blinded once more and left to dwell upon what I had lost.

"Please do not think of your duty," I said tenderly, "think of yourself." I looked into his eyes and searched for anything but indifference. He seemed not to waver for a moment.

I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply. All my scathing replies had melted away in the moment and left me nigh on speechless. What could I say? He had decided and raging beasts could not change his mind. He had an objective to complete. No doubt he considered the time spent with me previously to be a diversion enough from his original task. He was trying to rectify his mistake. It hurt unbearably.

When I didn't speak again, he continued.

"We will leave tomorrow morning. I will escort you the way again. I promise to protect you better this time." It was formal; a business arrangement and nothing more.

"Thank you." I choked. Hot emotion welled within me and I balled my fists in an attempt not to cry. I hung my head so that if I did cry, he could not see. He nodded and turned on his heel out the room.

And I realised in that moment that he allowed nothing to enter him that came from another world.

I was angry at myself for not putting up a fight. There were so many things I could have shouted. I could have tried harder to convince him he was being ridiculous yet all I did was cry. After he had left me that evening, I lay in my bed and cried, the result of which became anger when the morning came. He must consider himself possessing some Herculaneum force of will in forfeiting personal happiness for duty. Other men would have realised their folly; but not Altaïr. He did not want to see further than he had been raised to see. Stupid man.

Yet how I loved him. With every fibre of my being I loved him and I had every reason to believe he loved me too but was denying it for some misguided greater purpose.

I thought of Malik. It was true that he had asked Altaïr to take me to Berothai but would he feel the same way now? Would he feel the same way now if he knew I would be so alone there, without even him to see? No, he would never do that. And I knew that if he realised how I felt about Altaïr, he would never order me away. No, Altaïr was not going against Malik's will, only his own. And yet he could not see it. And I could not make him see it.

When the morning came around, I arose early and filled up the crude wooden tub that had been provided for me, with the help of the kindly servant women. She bowed slightly and left when it had been filled. I watched the door close softly behind her and I waited until her footsteps had faded away down the corridor. Every time I was alone, this hot distress welled up inside of me until my body could contain it no more and it spilled down my face in salty trickles. I pulled my clothes off and let them drop to the floor until I was standing naked, cloaked in tears. When I had cried all I could for that morning, I stepped lightly to the bath and dipped one cold foot in. It was warm and welcoming and I sat down and curled my knees up to my cheeks, wrapping my arms around my shins. After what felt like hours, I leant back and submerged my mass of wild curls, using the special lotions provided to clean and perfume it. It felt so lovely in this warm water that for a brief moment, I forgot the journey I was about to undertake.

But it didn't last. As soon as I stood up and my body met the cold air, the reason for my departure hit me with painful acuity once more and I had to look upwards to stop the tears from falling. I wrapped myself quickly in the robe provided and sat on the edge of my bed. I seemed to perform these actions in some sort of daze, floating despondently from one act to another, never really thinking of anything but Altaïr. Perhaps I was holding myself in too high a regard but, I was certain that he did not want to leave me either. In fact, I was sure of it. Except that unlike me, he was entirely capable of ignoring his feelings when they did not suit him and to him. Love was something that did not suit him

Livanya suddenly flashed into my head, and I realised, with a softening heart that this is what she must have experienced. For the first time since the horrific and bloody culmination of her jealousy, I felt a pang of sorrow for all that she must have gone through.

The sun was just beginning to ascend over the curve of the land when Altaïr knocked on my door and asked if I was ready to leave.

'No, no, no!' I screamed inside but my traitorous lips mumbled, "Yes."

He nodded brusquely and stepped out of the room, beckoning me to follow. We walked silently to the gates of Masyaf, past the villagers who had still not yet finished mourning their dead. Khalil and Maysaa were finally recovered after their brutal journey here and saddled, ready to depart instantly. I realised that any opportunity for Altaïr to change his mind had passed long ago. He was resolved to depart and his actions betrayed nothing but this intention. He mounted Khalil assuredly and waited for me to climb onto Maysaa. I was slow and ungainly in doing so, no spirit behind my actions. Altaïr waited until I was safely on before he rode ahead. I had no option but to follow. And so began my painfully quick journey to Berothai in the presence of the man I loved but could not reach.

The days passed in hot, uneventful succession. We would camp at night in small villages or under trees if need be, but never once together. He avoided touching me and spoke to me only when necessary. I lived in my head. Every time I tried to speak to him my throat would constrict and the words would not come out. Every now and then he would glance at me and I could have sworn I saw something in his eyes. But as soon as I saw it, it was gone and his granite resolve reappeared.

By the time a week had passed, I had given up all hope. Perhaps he truly did not love me and I had merely been a diversion. I tried to convince myself of this, so that I could be angry at him instead. But I could not do it. A part inside me knew that he loved me as I loved him and that part was thankfully strong and full of life, like a fire that could not be put out, no matter how much it rained. And how it has rained.

After nine arduous and tryingly rapid days, Altaïr informed me that it would only be a further day of travelling until we reached Berothai. My heart sank ever further and the melancholy that had gripped me ever since I first caught wind of his intentions, tightened ever stronger. I should be so angry with him, yet I knew that was an emotion I could not muster well; it did not come easily to me. But I could not be angry at him because I knew why he was doing it; his duty was his life. I knew how blind he was being, yet I could not seem to express myself to that effect. I was angrier at myself for being too meek to tell him how stupid he was being.

When he told me the next day that the small town peeping over the horizon was Berothai, I felt the weak resolve within me strengthen ever so slightly; as if seeing the very town itself had reminded it how little time it had to make a significant appearance.

"Why are you doing this?" my ever-soft voice was even quieter through lack of use, but I knew he could hear me.

I could tell instantly that the hurt in my words had struck him for he breathed in ever so slightly, as if preparing himself.

"It is my duty as a member of the brotherhood. I was given a mission and so I must carry it out." His voice had no intonation and he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"Is it really that? Is this all I am to you?"

His eyes flashed. "Yes." His resolve was steadfast. I felt that naively confident part within me falter.

"Truly?" I asked, afraid now of the answer.

"Yes." He repeated. If before had been the rain, his answer was the flood. He did not love me and I had no response.

We rode towards the small village surrounded by swaying trees. It looked very pretty but I had no heart to care. I could only focus upon the back of Altaïr's hooded head, as if by staring at him, I might be able to convey my feelings. But of course, nothing changed. Without warning, he dismounted and took Khalil's reins in his hands to walk the rest of the way. I too dismounted. I choked back my despair so that I may face my new guardians with a modicum of dignity. I refused to cry from here on out.

My legs hurt from the riding and each step was sorer than the one before, but it was not just the pain from the journey. With every step, hope slipped away. By the time we reached the door of a modestly sized house and Altaïr had knocked on it three times, I felt nothing but cold emptiness. It took all my will to glance at him once more. His gaze was averted.

A kindly looking middle-aged woman with her hair in a severe bun pulled the thick wooden door open and glanced at us in surprise.

"Ah, Asra! We were expecting you weeks ago! We'd thought something terrible had happened!" I smiled at her and apologised.

"I know, I am very sorry for the delay. There were…unforeseen circumstances." I finished weakly. She gave a jovial smile and turned her head to Altaïr.

"Thank you young man, I see she is safe and sound! Malik said you could be trusted!"

He nodded in acceptance of her thanks. "It was my pleasure. I hope you will take good care of her." His tone was entirely indiscernible save for the sincerity in those words. But I was long past looking for lifelines. Whether or not there was care in his voice was irrelevant now. He did not care enough to want to be with me.

"Oh, no worries there at all my boy, she will be looked after like one of my own! And I do have four!" Her eyes crinkled pleasingly when she laughed and I found myself at least being glad that she was kind.

"Well, come in you two! Goodness, you both look as dreary as rain!" She laughed to herself again, motioning with her hands for us to come into the house.

"No." Altaïr said quickly. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I must return as soon as possible."

"Are you sure? You've come ever so far!" She said with motherly surprise.

"I am sure, thank you." He nodded his head briefly in thanks. Just as he made to leave, he looked at the kindly lady once more and said seriously, "Please care for her." Although it seemed for her, it was to me that he then turned his eyes. He looked at me for once moment, his eye fixed to mine, drinking in my thoughts. I could tell nothing from him but I knew that he saw every facet of my being. I blinked and all at once, he had turned around and walked back to Khalil, taken his reins in his powerful hand and walked off. Gone. I watched him walk away. Praying that maybe he would turn around. But he did not.

The lady looked at me quizzically when I did not move and so placed a hand on my forearm, gently but firmly pulling me into the house.

"Come child! You are away with spirits, I swear!"

"I-I am sorry. Pardon my rudeness." I apologised weakly, trying still to look to the point where Altaïr's body had dissolved into the crowd.

"Don't be silly my dear. Come, you must be hungry and introductions are in order!" I allowed her to guide me into the house, averting my eyes only when the door was forcibly closed.

I could not complain, it was wrong of me to do so. The house in which I now lived was lovely and well furnished and these distant relatives were warm and welcoming and kind. But I could think of nothing but him. Every waking hour was him. I helped around the house as much as I could; it kept me so busy that I didn't have time to dwell.

It was crowded now that seven people lived here. I shared a room with her two daughters, both of whom were gracefully accepting of my invasion. I had no belongings, so at least I did not take up too much space.

A week and a half passed and I had found a comfortable medium between my life with the family and my life inside my head. I had always found it easy to act as normal in any situation and so my new family did not know I was grieving.

But I had still lost the two most important people in my life. The grief would greet me in the morning and embrace me at night, a constant thorn in my side. But the family did not know and I would not let them know. I smiled brightly at them, laughed with them at dinner, helped them with chores in the house and around the village and never allowed them to see my pain.

I did though, in a moment of weakness, mention to the twin girls - Hala and Inaya - that I was the way I was because I was bereft of the two men I loved. At first they had been scandalised, assuming that I had had two lovers. I could not help but smile at their shocked looks, they were only young, just fourteen but they had a knowledge of the world that sat firmly advance of their years.

"No, I meant that I miss Malik." I said quietly. The girls nodded understandingly. The family of course knew now of Malik's death, I had had to tell them the moment I arrived. And although I still did now know the connection Malik and I had to this family, they were sufficiently upset that I realised it must be fairly close. The girls, however, had only met Malik as babies and so could nod in sympathetic understanding, but did not miss them in the way the rest of the family did.

Not in the way I did.

Hala looked at me with a sidelong glance, a small knowing smile playing upon her lips. "I know of Malik, Asra. But who is the other man from whom you are parted?" I couldn't help but smile at the unabashed curiosity with which she spoke. It was refreshing, though painful for me. But I did feel like it may help me if I could speak of it with someone.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself. The twins were sitting on their large bed facing my own bed in the corner of the room. They looked at me with hungry eyes.

"Hala, Inaya." I said sternly as I could. "You must swear not to tell anyone of what I will confide in you. Please?" I sounded desperate, even to my own ears.

"Of course." Inaya replied kindly. She spoke for her sister also, who nodded emphatically.

"There isn't much to say…" I started, letting Altaïr's face flood my mind and enrapture my senses. "…except that I am in love with a man I cannot be with." I sighed. "And I miss him dearly."

Hala, the extrovert and fiery twin with an inquisitive, girlish sparkle in her eyes, looked at me slyly.

"Did you lie with him?"

Inaya, undoubtedly the more unassuming one, spluttered in embarrassment at such a question. My reaction mirrored hers almost perfectly.

"Hala!" We both cried before all of us exploded into giggles.

"What!" She cried, unabashed at her outrageous question, "I am merely interested!"

I laughed and Inaya reprimanded.

"Hala, we are not…….we were not married. We did not touch each other." I said solemnly, desperately trying to remove the image of Altaïr's hand trailing over my back or caressing my face. But it was true, we never had.

"But you loved him?" Inaya piped up, now that she'd finished reprimanding her sister.

"With all my heart." I replied softly.

I did not want to go into any more detail and the girls were gracious in backing down from questioning. And although it did not alleviate the pain, it at least made me feel a little less alone.

I knew that I would recover; I would never forget but I would recover. I knew it would come to pass when the memory of Altaïr existed within my mind, always there but painless and covert. For now however, his image burned raw and at night, I longed for his strong hold around me. I longed for the touch of his lips on mine and for the evenings I had spent close to him, deep within his memories.

It felt wrong to be party to so much in so little time, only for it to suddenly stop and to be returned to such a mundane existence. Of course, I never wished to be imprisoned again, or to be beaten to within an inch of my life, yet I almost wish I could go back because then at least, I would be with him. I found myself wondering if he thought of me. I realised that he probably did not. He was an Assassin; able to forget the man through whom his blade had passed, even before he had hit the ground.

Three or so weeks had now passed since Altaïr had left me here and things had changed considerably. The family had taken it upon themselves to carry on with their life where I appeared too despondent to join in. Although I was always polite, I was nonexistent. They worked around me, incorporating me into their day when absolutely necessary.

One day, while I sat unobtrusively at the table, having washed and broken my fast already, the mother of this household, whose name was Fatima came and sat beside me. Her eyes searched my face appraisingly, settling upon my features one by one and scrutinizing them until I was uncomfortable but remained silent.

"How old are you child?" Her tone was not as gentle as it had been when I had first met her; she had become frustrated with my overly polite and unassuming nature. I wandered as a spirit amongst them, never burdening but never involved. I must have disappointed them.

"I am nineteen." I replied. She clasped my cheeks in one hand and turned my head from side to side; a merchant inspecting wares. I was irked at the handling but said nothing. She let go and her eyebrows knitted together on her slightly wrinkled forehead.

"You know that my daughters are fourteen now." She stated matter-of-factly. I did but I could not fathom her reason for mentioning it. Hala and Inaya, her twin daughters whose room I now shared, had just turned fourteen weeks before I arrived. They were two lovely creatures, kind and sympathetic enough that I had confided in them of my grief.

"Yes." I replied, confused.

"And they are to be married soon." She stated.

I choked on the water I had been sipping. "Already?" I gasped.

"Of course! I have found them each lovely husbands from the village. Brothers would you believe! That way, they can be siblings and sisters-in-law!"

She said everything with a self-satisfied air and one that invited praise. But I could only be shocked. They were so young.

But something disturbed me more. Her questions and intentions came together in my mind in a way that made me feel physically sick.

"It is time you too were married." Fatima said.

My eyes widened and I felt my jaw slacken slightly. I could not form words, I could only gape.

"But it will be hard," Fatima mused, standing up quickly, "you are ever so old now. I wonder if anyone will take you. But fear not, I am very good at matchmaking. I will find you someone suitable. You are very pretty, good sized hips and a small waist. You will do well!"

Her words were not at all directed of me; she spoke entirely to herself and she continued talking excitedly even when she had walked out the door.

"But Fatima, please," I cried, jumping up and following her, "I do not wish to be married."

"Don't be silly." She said with a flippant wave of her hand, "You cannot very well go on living here. You will be married and someone else will provide for you." And she walked quickly out of the door and upstairs to call the twins to join her for shopping.

I sat down hard on the chair, my mind in sick turmoil. Altaïr joined me in my head, haunting me with his presence. How cruel my mind was to remind me of him, in a time when I was thinking of my marriage to someone I could never love as I loved him.

The world was so often a cruel place. I had seen - even experienced - war and death, pain and suffering and I could deal with it. But now, faced with the prospect of losing what little independence and freedom I had, I felt such hysteria well up within me that I was surprised I did not go instantly mad. I had never had to think of marriage; it had been the only benefit of my father. He had spent too much time glutting on fine wine and good food to take an interest in my life, something which I had always been thankful for. Perhaps it was the absence of a woman in my life but I had never been instilled with a sense of conformity towards arranged marriages. They struck me as degrading and frightening. I never wished to be tied to someone that I had never met, or worse yet, had met but did not like. To have no choice in something so significant was a prospect that chilled me to the core.

And now here I was, in exactly the situation I had thought I had escaped. I was so foolish to think I could continue living my unmarried life. But being with Altaïr had made me feel as if I could do anything. He did not treat me like most men do; with as much respect as they would lavish upon a rat. He treated me like a person, someone with my own opinions and thoughts. I was never afraid to talk around him. And now, having emerged from this opulent bubble, I was facing the harsh reality of a woman's life. I could not help but think of Hala and Inaya, who would no doubt be pregnant by this time next year. I shuddered at the thought of these child-women having children themselves. There was something so wrong about forced marriage but I had a feeling Hala and Inaya had been indoctrinated into the 'correct' school of thought by their mother and so would not lament this coming arrangement. I suppose this was good though, because it would not cause them any heart-ache this way. Whereas I had never been brought up to expect a marriage and now I was faced with one and it made my whole being quiver with fear and revulsion.

Many things crossed my mind: an escape, a fight even but one by one my ideas were quashed by my own rationality. I knew there was nothing I could do. I was a member of this family now, effectively a daughter of Fatima and I had to do as she bid. Angrily, the impulsive part of me watched as it was calmed against its will, usurped by weak acceptance. I had no choice but to go through with this marriage. And I had decided, ever since I arrived in Berothai, that dignity was my new aim.

I would face it with dignity, mask my grief and my fear with dignity and watch dignifiedly as my freedom was forcibly ripped away and cast aside.

Yes. Dignity.

This was all getting too much.

Dear readers, it has taken me a long time, I know. As much as we all hate it, I have my A-Levels (Exams you take in England when you're around 17-18) in about a month! I'm panicking and should be doing a lot of work but all I seem capable of doing is slacking! I'm imminently about to fail Chemistry! Woo!

You are ever patient and I am so grateful to you for making my writing experience so wonderful. Thankyou, and bear with me.

Onto a slightly less sappy point! Have you heard of Assassins Creed: Brotherhood? Is that a no I hear? Same as me until about an hour ago! I had no idea it had even been announced but apparently it has been and the teaser website is already up! Go and take a look: ./brotherhood/

We get the return of our favourite florentine Assassin, Ezio. Should be good!

Take care my lovelies and see you soon!

- Minnie