IV

We Are Assassins

October of 1977

Bureau Of

The Assassins,

London

Diana Greene all throughout her life had been called ambitious.

Whether it be stealing her mother's homemade chocolate or stabbing her cousin in the thigh to get what she wanted, one thing to note was that in neither circumstances had she had to stab her cousin.

Her ambitiousness grew over the years, till it had reached its precipice, being taught a philosophy and motto that she followed sacredly, learning to wield knives, to shoot arrows and firearms, to study history that was forgotten to the ordinary men and women out there.

At the age of sixteen she now stood, in the same precipice, her reflection stared back at her, she was different, gone were the plain, worn black robes with tears and fading pigments, now replaced with the garb that she so longed to wear, though remodeled to her current conditions, it still retained the beauty of its first wearer over a century ago.

Black trousers, brown high boots, a belt holster for weapons, it was plain and normal assassin garbs, or even common spies, but the black tailored coat made with a myriad of fabrics and embellishments was her ultimate source of pride.

Primarily made from the finest corduroys of the 1860's embossed with a lacy pattern, seams and long sleeves made of black leather, the jacket, adorned with five silver clasps, decorative, dramatic yet functionable, a silver pocket watch hung from the front.

It would be scornful if one did not mention how far the Assassins took on with their flair for the dramatics, Evie Frye, though a willful Assassin, also flaunted her love for goth, which was unsurprisingly inherited by her great-granddaughter.

Her infamous Red Cloak, a leather cape strapped onto the jacket, with a lower section of black twill and patterned fabric with a darker red assassin emblem appliquéd on with grey thread, and grey lace detailing along the hem.

Diana's dagger and throwing knives were strapped onto her torso, unsheathed, and concealed with leather, her appearance gave off an aura of mystery, that kept people on their toes. Was this how Evie felt when she hunted Templars and rid them off London for decades? Mysterious and Powerful? That was what Diana felt.

But there was something missing though, she was not worried of the piece of a puzzle for she would be she would be earning it in mere minutes, her first proper hidden blade, the branding of her left ring finger, her title as an Assassin.

What kept her questioning, at long intervals was the question whether it was her own hard work that would earn her a place among the Order or was it because of the unknown sprout of – she had no name for it, she knew she was special, more so than her fellow peers; she had the Sight, more powerful than the senses of her partners and adversaries combined.

But so had her father, and his father, and his mother before him. Diana had no evidence that her father too had these powers, but she has never been told of a time where he was thrust onto the face of Death, maybe he had not simply told her of it; who would want to tell their children that they nearly die on every quest they leave for?

Yet, as unknown as it was, she was thankful to the force, if not then, she would have found herself meeting the bullet of a Templar guard no less, it would have been a pitiful death indeed.

Diana chose to believe this; the force that saved her was inherited, passed down from generations of Human-Isu bloodlines, that the famous Assassins Ezio Auditore and Connor Kenway too had it, but never scripted it down, letting it be one of the secrets that only those who inherited it would know, that her father was recipient of this force, and kept it a secret too; her notion that she stuck to was that the force would only appear when one was in mortal danger, face to face with Death itself.

It was a definite boost to her ego, but it kept her from taking off into the library to research, to dig up every book on the Isu and their powers, to reread the ones she already had countless times; she had time for that later.

The door to her chamber being opened was what drew Diana out of her thoughts, turning she saw the wise yet youthful face of Maya Greene staring, clothed in her own Assassin garments, her eyes were warm and glistening with pride.

'You look so beautiful.' Maya whispered, walking over, and taking Diana's hands in her own.

A sly smile crawled the young initiate's face, 'Just beautiful?' asked she.

'Oh, not just that, the arrogance as well.'

'That's more like it.' Diana laughed, her eyes scanning back at the mirror. 'Is it normal to feel… nervous along with the incessant pride and arrogance?'

'Very normal, though I think you would not like to be associated with anything normal?' remarked Maya, her hands brushing the stray hairs away from her daughter's face, behind her ear.

'In most cases, never; this however, I'm fine with.'

'Tell me, what did you feel …? With Crouth… and assassinating him.'

'We're going to be late-

'They are still preparing the tongs for the branding. A few more minutes won't hurt anyone but your pride.'

Diana realized her mother would not be letting her off the hook that easily, though she only meant good by asking, Diana did not know how to explain it, the anger, the fear, the power.

'Well, I snuck in from the balcony – threw one of my knives to kill the guard – and then hurled-

'What did you feel?' asked Maya cutting her off.

'What do you mean?'

'I don't want you to tell me how you killed them all, I want to know how you felt while doing it … causing someone's death is not something to be taken lightly Diana.' Maya said, her tone soft, hands now placed on Diana's shoulders.

'Nothing …' admitted she. '…I knew his death was unnecessary but … it was either I blowing my cover and getting killed – or the life of a Templar.'

'Diana, you do not have to hide the guilt-

'I do not feel guilt mother – I mean what I said. And is not feeling guilt all right?'

'I see… you are like your father in that sense, always the pursuit for the greater good, remember this Diana-

'You've told this to me a million-

'One more time wouldn't hurt-

'It would hurt my precious pride-

'It may but not your ears.' Maya finished in a firm voice and smacked her in the head.

'That was my head-

'Diana.'

'Alright.'

'Whether it be a Templar or not, inducing death comes with the price of never forgetting the faces of whom you did so to – I have spent nights getting your father to go to bed because of his nightmares – remember Diana, no Assassin ever wants to kill anyone, nor do they take any enjoyment in it, but we must so that the lives of countless others won't suffer.'

A pause befell the mother and daughter, both stared the other down in the mirror, until Diana spoke, 'I understand.'

Maya turned her by the shoulders and embraced her, Diana's arms struggled to move, she did not know how to handle it, but soon she returned the gesture, her arms snaking Maya's waist.

'Good.'

'I think my pride is really starting to hurt mother,' mumbled Diana. 'Can we go now?'

'This is where I'm supposed to say my little has all grown up.'

'Go ahead.'

'My little girl has all grown up.' Maya whispered, hugging her tighter, seemingly with the intention of never letting her go.

'And you mother dearest, will stay this way for the rest of your life,' retorted Diana, yet deep in her, she felt touched.

'That I will.'

'Can we go now?'

'Fine, let's not hurt your pride anymore.' Maya scoffed and pulled away, her eyes scanning her daughter's appearance, once more making sure everything was in place.

'One more thing, before we go…'

Diana stopped her stride, annoyance etched on the lines of her face. 'What is it?'

'You better not get a tear in your robes, if you do, I won't be here to stitch it back up for you.'

'Thank you for all the love and kindness mother dearest.'

'You're very welcome, now, who the hell are you standing there for? Get going!'

For centuries, the Order of the Knights Templar

Have searched for the mythical Apple of Eden.

They believe it contains not only the secrets of man's first disobedience, but the key to free will itself.

If they find the relic and decode its secrets,

they will have the power to control all freedom of thought.

Only the Brotherhood called the Assassins stand in their way…

-Unknown

'Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine – nothing is true, everything is permitted; these are the words upon which our creed was bestowed centuries ago.'

The candlelit chamber which housed the ceremonial intricacies of the Creed was now occupied, the wisdom that reigned it saw through hundreds of Assassins, old and new.

Diana Greene was merely one among those select hundreds, having sworn her allegiance when she learnt to speak, idealizing, and applying the words repeated in her mind, she was a harbinger of peace, stability and free will.

'Diana.'

Warm eyes glanced up, meeting a set identical; James Greene had always warned her of her path, that it was not prancing about naming oneself a saint or a bringer of light, but rather staying in the dark, hidden with the shadows, to fight a war in secrecy, never to be known by the world, erased, and forgotten from the sands of time.

Diana stepped forward, her gaze bold and fierce, naïve of the path she was about to walk into, but knowing and willing to sacrifice everything.

'Out of the dark, you come into the light. From the light, you will return to the dark. Are you prepared to travel the eagle's path?'

'I am.'

'Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent. Hide in plain sight. Never compromise the Brotherhood. Do you swear to uphold and follow these tenets of our Brotherhood?'

'I do.'

All the Assassins stood upright as the words left her mouth, their left wrists clutching the blade to their right. James gestured to his left, where a metal tong lodged, into the embers of a brazier; Diana followed, ignoring the gnawing feeling crawling in the pit of her stomach.

Diana watched the tongs being lifted from the fire, the metal brought forth to her, flexing her hand in a concealed frenzy of fear, she lifted her left arm, her ring finger stuck out, her eyes yet to be faltered; Diana clenched her jaw, biting down her scream as the agonizing heat of the metal wrapped around her finger, branding her as one of the Creed.

'Where other men,' said James, pulling the metal away and setting it back into the brazier, then turned and walked away. 'blindly follow the truth, remember,'

'Nothing is true…,' whispered she, inhaling deep breaths after having the tong lifted from her skin, the mark it left, red and raw, clear to her eyes.

'Where other men are limited by morality or law, remember,'

He strode to her, in his hand held a gauntlet, plated with leather and metal, the secret inside that lead to the deaths of many, concealed under the harmlessness of the leather.

'Everything is permitted.'

She raised her left hand once more and felt the faintness of the sacred weapon slid into her wrist, the braces were fastened, the symbol of the Creed gleamed in silver; she felt changed.

'We work in the darkness to serve the light,'

Diana Greene stepped back, the hesitation that was never in her swallowed away, and finished.

'We are Assassins.'

It was over.

Her fate was willfully and willingly sealed, the branding on her arm, the robes that covered her, the gauntlet strapped on her arm, and the blooming pride in her chest.

Her first mission from the dawn of her adolescence had come true and into fruition, it was completed by killing Crouth but rather being titled as an Assassin.

Suddenly, the cinders in the brazier lit into bright burning flames as if another person has walked over and threw a torch into it, Diana flinched, her breath stilled, meeting the eyes of her father, she knew that he too was surprised like her, like everyone else in the room.

'What's going on?' questioned Emilia, earning herself a glare from her cousin, who had not yet forgotten about her wrong intel that nearly killed her.

'I don't know,' answered James. 'Diana, Emilia, Edward, you three with me, the rest of you, search the bureau-

James had not to say anything anymore as his guess of a supposed intruder was true, but he expected a spy, or an attack from Templars, even the local police, though neither of the above could explain the cause of the phenomenon with the flames, but certainly not two people dressed looking straight out of a fairy tale.

Beside the now brightly burning brazier emerged from seemingly nowhere, two straight figures, one looking around in wonder, the other straight at Diana, the Assassins pulled out their weapons, Diana was pushed back by Emilia over to her mother; annoyance was clear in her features of being treated like a child.

The two intruders simply stood still, Diana peered through the shoulders of many Assassins to find that both the man and woman were unarmed, to the naked eye at least.

From what Diana could make out, it was indeed a man and woman, both likely to be in their middle ages, yet the man looked so much older and wiser, she could not make out much of his physique, but he was a tall man, yet his height was overshadowed by his long beard, white as snow, she was sure it could have been tucked into the belt or sash that coiled his waist, his bright purple robes highlighting his appearance from a mile away, she was curious as to he was, and wanted to see his face, but with the rows of Assassins standing guard in front of her and her mother would not allow her to do so.

But the woman with the bearded man was clear in her line of vision, compared to him, she looked much younger, yet shared his wisdom but from the lines on her forehead, and her thin lip, she seemed to be rather stern, but now she appeared tensed and rigid. She wore square glasses, and a cloak too, an emerald one at that. Her black hair – a contrast to her companion – was drawn into a tight bun.

'Who are you?' she heard her father sneer, his pistol drawn, aimed at the man's head; his answer better be wise, for it was common knowledge that James Greene never missed his aim, not even for a man who looked old enough to be his own father.

'I mean no harm,' said the bearded man, if Diana were not wrong, she swore she sensed calmness in his tone, if not amusement; it confused her, anyone would be afraid with a gun aimed to their head, all except for a cocky one who believed they would not be dying, but she felt he was an exception.

'I merely came to meet one of your own,' continued he, 'a Miss Diana Greene.'

'Diana, stay behind me,' ushered Maya, but her words seem to fall on deaf ears for Diana's curiosity was already piked.

'No, he-

'Diana!' Maya hissed, her voice stern; Diana turned, matching her gaze with fierceness.

'I said no, didn't I?'

'You petulant child, one of these days you'll get yourself killed-

'I'M HERE!' yelled Diana and shoved away from her mother's grip, and glared at Emilia who stopped her, 'Would you prefer I tell my father what you did?' she hissed.

That worked.

Then again, blackmail usually does.

Diana Greene walked unhindered, the bearded man's appearance becoming clearer as the closer she came, till she stood beside her father, ignoring the man's hissing repetitions of her mother's words.

'What do you want with me?' if anyone asked her where the sudden confidence came from, she would have no answer for them, she partially felt the foolishness of her actions, but her pride would never make her admit it.

'I do not want anything from you other than your time of a few minutes Miss Greene – maybe a year or two as well,' The bearded man said, adding his last words in a whisper.

It was then Diana could finish the portrait of him in her mind, his nose took over his face in her opinion, the sheer crookedness of it made her know that this man had been punched one or two times on his face during the course of his long past. His eyes held a twinkle that confused her alongside his eccentric appearance.

'And what would be so important for me to give you such time?' asked she.

'The mansion might be enough explanation I suppose,' replied he, the corner of his lips curved upwards.

Diana froze, unable to meet the questioning eyes of her father, but only the old, bearded man ahead of her, how did he know about it? Did he see it? She concluded that he must have; she thought back to his and the woman's sudden emerging, out of thin air – like a force of power? Or… no, she refused to call it that.

It was pointless to lie to the man, even if she tried, it would only make her look like a fool, 'You saw the light?' asked she, tone guarded.

'No, I didn't see it in person, neither did Professor McGonagall over here-

Professor? Who exactly were these people? She wondered.

'- but we were informed of it, from the Ministry,' he continued, 'that they detected use of underage magic in Lambeth, in the manor of Maxwell Crouth.'

Diana was bound to get a headache after this conversation, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, her palms unconsciously grappling onto her dagger hidden beneath the layers of her robes, feeling the urge to throw it at the old man.

'Diana what are they talking about?' asked James, the suspicion once directed to the intruders was now at his own daughter.

'I don't know,' she answered uncaringly, unable to focus on his question, her mind full of questions. Who were this so-called Ministry that they talked of? And underage magic?

The woman beside the man, or Professor McGonagall as he mentioned it, seemed to take it upon herself to answer her one primary question for her companion seemed to abandon the young Assassin with her confused thoughts.

'What Professor Dumbledore means to say, Miss Greene, is that you – are a witch.'

And those words were the cement that sealed Diana Greene's fate to the Wizarding World.