The boys didn't let themselves get too drunk, before Arno could even start to feel tipsy he retired upstairs in his shared bedroom with Celestine; when he entered, he found her in her shirt and breeches, her boots were put aside by the foot of the cheap wooden wardrobe, her back at him whilst she gazes at the streets under the evening shade through her open window.

"Celestine?"

She glances to the side, "Arno…"

"Everything alright?"

"Yes…"

Even when it's really not after everything she has heard from downstairs, she tries her best to pretend that she didn't hear them at all. He walks up to her and gently places his hands on her arms, she sniffed lightly and the scent of Moscato was still fresh in his mouth.

"Moscato…" she muttered.

"What?"

"Moscato—how was it?" she smiled.

"How did you—?"

"It's a common drink amongst Italians—even the neighboring countries and states like it."

"I see, it's the flavor that entices the taste buds." He fiddles with the necklace he gave her, still glimmering silver like the stained glass windows of Notre Dame. "So you've always worn it?"

"I made sure it was underneath my shirt to avoid having it pulled away from my neck."

"From thieves?"

"Not only them but tittering women as well. This is a rather pretty object for them to brag with should they take it out of my neck."

She glances at the window again—Arno joined in as well—they can see the life even underneath the night: the merchants doing one last run in selling, the citizens carrying their torches to light their way home through the poorly-lit annexes, the shops, mansions and cafes lighting up the candles of their lanterns and chandeliers, and the distant silhouettes of the families in their bedrooms tucking their children to sleep. Upon seeing the sight of a mother and father saying their good night to their child, it struck down to Celestine's heavy heart and caused her to slip away from Arno's arms and then sulked in their bed—her old bed that only fits one person but that was no problem with the two of them anyway.

"Celestine?" Arno worriedly asks but got no answer, "Is everything fine?"

"Yes, I'm just tired. Very tired." She uttered faintly as she sat down and stared on the creaky floorboards.

He kneels down to level his face with hers, caresses her cheek and hair to soothe her.

"I don't think so, mi cara."

"There's no denying that, hmm?"

"What's wrong?"

"I heard everything…" she said that in a lower volume of her voice, when Arno's eyebrows pulled together and he asked her to say it again she said in a rather satisfactory volume.

"Oh, I see, so you heard my conversation with Alessio."

"Yes… I did."

"And?"

"Alessio's got a point throughout the entire conversation."

Arno knew well to understand that simple sentence. He sat down next to her, put his arm around her so he could pull her in closer to embrace her warmly and she gladly welcomed his hold; while the both of them keep each other warm, the flickering of the candlelight goes here and there until the two of them blanketed themselves under one sheet and exchanged words before going to bed. Arno noticed that Celestine was eyeing on the family she saw a while ago and then brought up the topic of family.

"Celestine, were you always an only child?"

"Well… Unfortunately, Mother had a miscarriage when I was ten—the three of us were expecting a little boy. During her pregnancy, I would always lay beside her and look at her stomach, imagining how things would go if my brother was out in the world. I even wondered if he would go play swords with me or would he rather fancy riding instead."

"He would have fancied both, as long as his sister is there to guide him."

"How about you, Arno?"

"Always have been. In truth, I fancied a younger sibling myself but…"

"But what?"

"I think that Mother and Father were all right with just one."

"Arno…?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want a child with me? Be honest with me."

At first Celestine was very reluctant to say it despite the factual number of times they have did it in bed but it was a serious matter for her—she wasn't sure about Arno if he felt the same, she was never certain if he wanted a family with her or would he want it with some other woman, she never knew at all up until now. The way Arno's face projected right in front of her made her heart race; and she did her best in concealing her nervous rapid breathing, preparing herself for the burden of the answer she dreads instead of the answer she hopes for, she examines Arno's face expression closely—reading and determining him as much as she can just like how she decodes riddles and navigate a map—then her fist clenched and put it closer to her chest which was beginning to ache not out of pain or heartbreak but out of sheer anxiety of the unexpected.

"Yes, of course, I would love have children with you."

Of course she also knew Arno's ways in dealing with women (because evidently enough she has heard that intel from the other Assassins—she doesn't just swing around with Arno, Octavien, Siegfried and Felix), part of her says that she shouldn't think that she was that special and that he was a charming swindler of women's emotions. On the other hand, the second part of her says that she must believe what he said and that it was not out of some kind of reluctance. This was the first time she was in such a muddle of things—which she admittedly brought to herself—and her trembling hands were the evidence.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"Are you telling the truth?" her volume was faint again.

"What? Have you forgotten the promise I gave you when I wore that necklace around your neck?"

Celestine's POV

Oh… so he was serious after all, huh?

What was I thinking questioning his honesty?! Merda…

"No… I haven't forgotten." I muttered.

I remember very well—it's almost like a lucid dream when in fact it was a memory and it was very clear to me, so clear that I can even retrace from the downstairs up to my bedroom. That night when I kept my hopes up because I'm so head over heels for this Assassin.

"See? You honestly thought I was lying?"

"Yes I did. I was afraid that I might end up with another Alessio…"

As you ended up with another Elise.

I wanted to tell him that sentence running in the back of my head but I knew that it might make things much worse, though I swore to myself that I would never bring it up ever again because he and I were going along very well; I was only testing but that does not count as a valid excuse to question him.

"Honestly, Celestine, how could you think of such things?"

"Maybe because I'm afraid to be left behind again. So I had to prepare myself for the worst—again for a second time." I choked.

"Oh, Celestine."

"I'm sorry." I sighed.

He kissed my forehead and then on my eyes, "I understand, no need to be sorry."

Is he really sure to marry me? With the ring and everything…

"In fact, I have always dreamed of raising a family with you because I was confident that you will say yes when I propose to you, I'm confident that you will marry me—we'll have children and live in Italy or Versailles—but I figured that we have to finish our business first with Maximus and his chaperone; what if you get pregnant while those two are still alive? We have to eliminate them first because I can't risk my wife and child to be under the danger of an existing Templar Grandmaster."

I chuckled and gently pressed my first three fingers on his lips, "Shh, you talk too much sometimes."

He pressed his lips on the paddings of my fingertips whilst his eyes were having that suggestive glint while he looks at me, I melted at the sight of his tongue playing on my fingers while he effortlessly makes those eyes at me.

"Why are you fumbling, my darling?" he smirks.

"I don't think now's not the time to play games, Arno." I tried to put that serious air with him.

"Really now?"

He's at it again!

"What about your wound?"

"It's getting better allowing me to move more freely."

He inches himself closer to me, his hands crawling down on my arms and his lips planting on my collarbones; he begins to prop himself up to reach more regions of my body such as the base of my neck, my shoulders and my bosom, nibbling my earlobes and licking the curved cartilage of my ear—he was playful again… and I was beginning to love it.

No! He's supposed to heal first before being too suggestive!

My fists clench in resistance, my head turned to the side as he toys with me and then he sits back up and I met his eyes.

"Let's continue this when we're finally home." He smiles adorably.

"You idiot! You were just teasing me!" I thumped my knuckles against his sturdy square shoulders.

He chuckled and he kissed me tenderly on my cheek, lying down next to me again and tucking us in one blanket.

He later fell asleep, besides the smell of the medicine I put on his wound was rather nauseating that you can only forget about the stench in your sleep. I played with his hair and stole a kiss on his forehead as he sleeps adorably—I always love how he sleeps.

As Celestine falls asleep a few minutes after Arno did, Alessio was doing the regular checking of the rooms—when he was done with the rest of his comrades, Arno and Celestine's bedroom was up next and as he gently opens the door producing a light squeak of the old hinges, he found the girl he once loved turned to the door—to him—sleeping soundly as her Assassin embraces her from behind. The faint orange light illuminated the smile on her face, so beautiful even in her sleep that Alessio remains mesmerized of her unfaltering allure.

Just at the sight of her sleeping peacefully, he smiles to himself and then followed by a frown shortly afterward.

"Good night, you two." He bids them in a whisper and then closes the door.

Two more bedrooms to check and he was all done—everyone is asleep and resting very well—he goes downstairs and then sees himself to the bar, finding his bartender cleaning up after himself.

"Pietro, why don't you go get some rest? You deserve it after a long day." Alessio kindly dismisses.

"Oh thank you, sir, but I have to see to the customers."

"No matter, I'll handle them. I insist. I'll do the cleaning myself as well."

"You're very kind, sir, molto grazie."

"Prego."

As the bartender retired upstairs to one of the shared bedrooms of the bar, Alessio helped himself with a bottle of Chianti while accommodating the customers. Majority of his staff that he housed were Italians—he somehow made it a refuge for them because he was once a nomad when he got to Paris and so he decided to return the favor for charity—the Assassins he spoke of were temporary lodgers but yet they were also regular patrons so they left when they were sure that they're healed and well—of course some of them took a hearty drink before heading out. As he accommodates the bar patrons, he accommodates himself as well, exchanging conversations between the men sitting by the bar—he knew most of them—and sharing good laughs, it was an ordinary night for the shack.

He stayed up until closing time, giving himself some few more drinks before going to bed—he had high tolerance anyway as he says so himself—but while drowning himself in one of his finest (and favorite) wines, he remembers through the sight of the smile of the sleeping Celestine; from her smile, he remembers the very first fragmented bit of memory he has of her—the way her eyes twinkle, her chime of her laughter whether it's the softest of her giggles or the boisterous chortle which he finds adorable of her, the curvature of her smile, the way her hair sways in the air as she twirls around to face them while she happily frolics; it's the heavenly sight of an angel for him (in a state like that of his), he was still sober but he was at the verge of drunkenness. He called it a night and then went to his own bedroom, his head swirling with the effect of too much Chianti and recalling memories.

The next morning, just a few minutes after daybreak, Alessio and some of the fighters were already awake; their first line of duty was to ready the food for the others, Arno and Celestine included, so before opening the shop for the customers they started with themselves first. They made do with some simpler but heart Italian meals and then the lodgers started to dig in, Alessio called for Cesaro to wake up the couple so they could join in the meal.

Cesaro politely knocked on the door and Arno—already fully dressed back into his Assassin coat—answered, "I hope you don't mind, signor, but Messer Alessio calls for the both of you for a meal."

"Is that so? Va bene, I'll get her ready—she's still asleep."

"Va bene. I'll see you both downstairs then."

As Cesaro left, Arno closed the door quietly and then walked up to Celestine, still asleep and warm under the blanket, he waited for her to wake up as he pets her hair; from underneath the floorboards, he could hear the small commotion of the lodgers from downstairs, the clatter of the tableware and their indistinct voices calling on each other. He began to wonder if Celestine would want to join them, knowing that she wasn't much used to eating together with a big group unless it's with their Brothers but since they were her previous troops, she's bound to adjust to them.

She wakes up, finds Arno sitting by her side on the bed, as she sits up and rubs her eyes she greets him with a gentle kiss on his head—slightly startling him.

"Buongiorno, mi colomba." She greets with the raspy sleepy tone she still has.

"Buongiorno." He greets back with a smile.

"What's going on downstairs?"

"Ah, the lodgers are taking their breakfast."

"Then the shop is open now?"

"Not exactly. I think they're supposed to take their fill first before opening."

Majority of the people housed and working in here are Italians… Who are they to him? I only know a few of them because I fought with them during skirmishes but who are the new faces? Celestine thought to herself.

"It's pretty much like back home, eh, Arno?"

"Yes, but compared to numbers, we're a bigger lot."

"Indeed, given that some of us prefer to take their fill at home, too."

She gets out of bed to put on her coat, washes her face and then ties her hair into the usual braid she does; when the clamor from downstairs softened, she and Arno went down to claim their share of the food—they were surprised to see the food served for them along with the others: giovane, anacardo, bollito misto and arrosto misto. The sight of the meal made their stomachs rumble and so they took their own hearty fill as well which was beyond satisfying, after her meal, Celestine snatched a mela from the tray of fruits and then leaned against the window sill watching over the passersby through the slightly-hazy window—her hood was down, her braid resting on her shoulder down to her breast and her eyes focused on the daily cycle outside the tavern.

"What's your head doing in the clouds so early, hmn?" Arno.

"Oh, nothing—I forgot the last time I looked through a window to take a view." Celestine.

One of the boarders who is working as a sweeper for this morning passed by them and then opened the doors and drew the curtains (the windows where Celestine and Arno are standing by don't have any), the sweeper was rather a young boy—perhaps fifteen—and then he put aside his broom to take the rod used to light the lamps; Celestine and Arno's mouths curved up to smiles, being fond of the young lad working so hard and energetically in a calm breezy morning.

"You can take your morning walk, mademoiselle, monsieur. Mornings like these give a good view of the river and the harbor." The lad remarked to them cheerfully, apparently noticing that the two Assassins have been keeping an eye on him.

"Is that so?" Celestine chuckled.

"Oui!"

"You're a rather jittery lad, what's your name?"

"Friedrich, mademoiselle."

"Friedrich, I'll keep that in mind. If anyone searches for us, tell them we followed your advice, alright?"

"I will!"

Arno and Celestine casually took a morning stroll, practically blending in with the citizens and the river was just nearby the taverna so they walked by the concrete fence and took a glimpse of the busy-bodied workers by the harbor, the small boats anchored by the shore of the river, the cargo that's being carried out by the sailors for trade—but the first thing that caught Celestine's eye was the light shining on the ripples of the water.

"How's your arm, Arno?"

"It's starting to itch now but I'm trying to resist it."

"I think we should get back there to change your bandages."

"Maybe later, I'm enjoying this serene morning with you. I hope I get to see mornings like these when we're finally married." He smiles in a carefree manner.

Celestine's POV

"When we're finally married."

Those words echoed in my mind and a vibration rung through my skin, it's like how a tuning fork would ring if you put it right next to you ear and give that tingling sensation travelling through you.

Does he really mean it?

But, I like the idea… I like it very much.

He did say last night that we could live in Italy if that's what I wish. Of course, my home country would be nice but I like it here in France too—perhaps Arno won't allow for our child to grow up without knowing his or her goofy uncles, I'm referring to our three Brothers.

But would he also allow our child to grow up undergoing training to be an Assassin? Like how my parents did so? Technically, both of us are Assassins so… is it mandatory? No, that sounds like a strong word… Customary? Traditional? Natural?

If he wished to have a child who will have a normal life, a normal childhood, then he would have wanted marriage from another, wouldn't he?

I wonder, if he ended up with Elise—who is practically a Templar—whose path will the child follow? Or will that child be the bringer of balance and peace between Assassin and Templar—will that be expected of him because he is a spawn of both Assassin and Templar? Then what pressure the child will withhold as he grows, not knowing which path of the crossroad he will take.

What would become of the child I am to bear someday?

"Arno, where would you prefer to live? Italy or France?"

"This is regarding our future family, isn't it?"

"I'll be direct—yes."

"Well, that depends on you, my dear. I'm all right with either."

"The idea of raising a family…" I muttered under my breath.

We noticed straight ahead some children selling scraps of coal, wood and parchment—whatever they can to get a piece of food—but what struck my heart more was a little girl selling fish in a rusty pail which I figured she got some stock from the harbor's cargo but there was a normal-sized piece of cloth to cover the top from flies and that she would only lift it up to show the fish to the people passing by her. I got a good look at her—tanned skin due to so much exposure to the harsh afternoon sun, her face was etched with grease and sweat probably caused by whatever odd jobs she's taken just to get a bite, her clothes are tattered and sewn with mismatching patches of different cloths, her hair was curly but matted so she kept it tied up. The poor thing…

Obviously it was hopeless in her case because the people prefer to buy from the sailors and vendors but not from her; I couldn't help it, I let myself get behind Arno as I dug some coins from my pouch—I wanted to make sure it was more than enough than how much her sale of fish could amount to overall—I got three hundred livres from my pouch (I have more than enough anyway); I approached her, knelt down to her level so we can see each other eye-to-eye, at first she was startled and shy hoping that I would buy from her.

"W-Would you like some… F-fish, madame? It's clean, I swear! Fresh from the harbor even!"

I chuckled and smiled at her, impressed by her technique of trade but instead, "Hold out your hand."

"What for, mademoiselle?"

"Well, do you have a family?"

"I… I have my mother."

"Well, you two must be very hungry and tired."

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Then hold out your hand."

At first she was hesitant to obey me but when I reassured her that everything would be fine, then I carefully placed the three hundred livres on the cloth she uses as a cover—I did in front of her so her eyes widened in amazement of seeing so much amount of money, probably she's already thinking what to buy for herself—and then gave her one of the handkerchiefs I looted from the extremists the other day when Arno got injured to replace the covering.

"But let's keep it a secret, alright? Keep this safe for you and your mother."

"Yes, I will!"

"What's your name?"

"Antoinette!"

"Oh, Antoinette, what a pretty name. Promise me you'll keep our secret?"

"Yes! Merci, Mademoiselle! Merci!"

She happily skitters off, never minding the fish she has and keeping a close eye—and hand—at her money. I stood up watching her scamper away, brushing past Arno—who kindly gave way for her, I caught a little smile curving up in his face—and then turned to me.

"You're very good with children." Arno comments.

"Really now?"

"First with the sweeper lad back in the bar and now her. You're quite the motherly character—even towards our Brothers."

"I thought I was more of a sister to them."

"Well, yes… But, I have to say," he pauses.

I turned to him curiously, "Huh?"

"You'd make a wonderful mother to my children."

I can't help but blush. My cheeks are flushing out their color and I felt my arms shaking nervously! That sentence sent chills down my spine—but it's the good kind of chills down the spine!

"What's gotten in your head to think that?"

"I've seen how your compassion works with those young ones. Your kindness to them, your consideration."

"I just… try to live up to the example of my mother—being a caring woman and all that."

"You're doing a very good job."

He took my hand and calmed down my sudden nervousness and then continued our morning stroll. We made sure that we'd take the route near the bar for easy travelling, I still have to change this big slug's bandages because his wound is beginning to itch—that's good, it's at the verge of healing.

Our stroll was short but it was nice. When was the last time he and I got a time off like this?

When we arrived back in the taverna, I noticed that there were Assassins—and I recognized two of them belonged to Adrien's scout troop, these were Henry and Louis—I approached them at the bar and they were pretty startled with my approach.

"Celestine?! Arno!? Where were you two!? You've been gone for two days already!" Henry.

"Isn't it normal for Assassins to take two straight days of work?" I retorted with a raised eyebrow.

"You know you could've done a better approach to us, Celestine, besides sneaking up on us and make our hearts stop." Louis.

"I thought that that was the best way there is."

They both groaned with hilarious awkward expressions, to ease them up I patted their shoulders at the same time, "At ease, I was only joking. How's home?"

"We're doing well, although the troop is trying their best in digging up the rounds in search for more leads."

"And you two?"

"Adrien sent us in this district. We're just—how do I say this?—taking a break."

"Since you've taken your break, I believe that you two would do your tasked rounds afterwards?" Arno.

"Y-Yes, sir!" both of them responded in unison.

"Good."

"Come on now, don't be so hard on those two." I added.

"I wouldn't want them getting out of here drunk."

"You sure are fatherly."

"What?"

"I said you sure are fatherly, you make them behave as if they're children." I chuckled.

"Then that makes us a perfect match."

"We still have work to do, Arno. Come on, upstairs you go. I still have to change those bandages."

I fetched a new basin of water and the same rag—which happens to be laundered already—and Arno took off his coat and shirt, he also untied the knot of his bindings, revealing that his wound has already formed into a thick scab and won't be needing any wraps anymore. It's best to keep a scab open rather than wrapped shut for it to heal quicker. I only rinsed it with little amount of medicine to quicken the recovery span of the scab and then put on his shirt again, my eyes wandered for a bit and noticed small light cut scars on his chest, I ran my fingers across them to feel if they're still bumpy or not.

"Is something wrong, amore?"

"No, nothing. It's just that… those little nicks."

"Ahh, these, they're nothing serious. See how they've healed well?"

"Yes, I can see that." I smile then kiss his cheek.

I buttoned his shirt, then his vest and finally handed out his coat for him. Suddenly, we were gazing at each other's eyes until we heard the muffled sound of clamor and steel coming from outside.

"Are you able to hold your sword again?"

"Yes."

We abruptly went outside our bedroom, the staff and the fighters were acting serious. Most of them were dashing left and right, they were all rushing downstairs and most of them had their weapons ready. I leaned by the banister of the second floor's hall and called at Cesaro.

"What's going on?!"

"Templar scum outside! They think they can ransack the place without putting up a fight? They're going to get it!"

I turned to Arno, "Come on! We have to help."

"Let's go!"

ITALIAN:

Giovane – (young) wine

Anacardo – cashews

Arrosto misto – assortment of roasted meats usually lamb, veal and pork

Bollito misto – various meats boiled and served with a selection of sauces

Mela – apple