Okay Arno is not the main focus of this chapter. I also have to build up the other characters and the only way I can do that is by writing them on their own. This encourages development. Arno is currently foiling off of Evangeline and Raphael, but Francois is also a huge part.

Also, there is a neat little thing I am sticking with as far as the lore of the games so keep your eyes peeled for that. (Don't literally peel your eyes, that hurts)

To Modern Age: Thank you so much for the review! Yeah, I want to see this franchise go in a good direction, but I feel like the developers see it more as a cash grab now. I'm old school AC. Unity has its problems, but I still love the game. Hopefully Valhalla will give my nostalgic journey I'm looking for.

Raphael could only watch as Arno and Evangeline completely ignored each other for the thousandth time as she moved around the cafe the next day. The blue clad assassin had obviously just woken up from what Raphael could assume was a good hangover from the night before. One cup of coffee was not going to cure the sluggish manor in which Arno was trying to comprehend the world around him at that moment. Thankfully, Mirabeau was only expecting Francois to give out the full details of the mission and its success.

To be fair, Raphael had also downed his fair share of alcohol the night before and was now sipping on a strong blend of black coffee to cure it. While he did this, he found entertainment in watching the people around him as he sat at the table in the corner. However, it was not long before Arno joined him looking worse for wear and with a cup full of black coffee. He barely said anything for a few minutes as Eva walked around greeting all the guests that had come in for a mid-day pickup. The greatest part was that she was smiling when she talked to each person, but there was still that wall of ice that she surrounded herself with.

"Exactly how many bottles of bourbon did we go through?" Arno asked after a few minutes while attempting to massage his temples to help ease the headache pounding through him. "I know I had a bottle of wine in my hand last night before bed." Clearly alcohol was Arno's way of dealing with his inner demons, which was why Raphael did his duty as a friend and fellow assassin brother to try and cut Arno off at a certain point.

"The whole case between the four of us." That was precisely three bottles each, not counting the two that fell out of the cart when Francois tried to avoid a cat in the road. Somehow, they could hold their own when it came to drinking. "You are lucky I haven't thrown you in the fountain outside yet."

"You could try, but I'll be honest, I don't care." It was evident that Arno was more worried about other things now that Arceneaux was out of the way. The fact that Raphael did not feel the need to comment on that statement summed up his thoughts on Arno's behavior. He honestly did not think about it any further when he saw Francois coming around the corner into the cafe.

"I do not like the look on Francois' face." Raphael remarked and Arno slowly turned around in his chair to see what the green clad assassin meant. Sure, enough there was Francois with an uncomfortable and half annoyed look on his face that he only had when it involved the Duke of Orleans.

"He looks like he is about to attend his own funeral." Arno commented before going back to his coffee as the oldest of the four assassins moved to their table.

"That is what it looks like." Raphael said. "Better prepare for a grumpy Francois for the next few days." He took a sip of his coffee as the man in question came to a stop at the table. "Orleans?" Raphael looked up at the grey assassin.

"I'd rather not talk about it." Francois cleared his throat. "You two are free to continue your previous tasks." He did not say much more, but the grumpy tone in his voice announced to the two assassins sitting down that he was not looking forward to speaking with the Duke and he walked out of the cafe without saying another word.

Arno and Raphael looked at each other after watching Francois leave with an invisible weight on his shoulders. What did the Duke of Orleans mean to the older assassin that weighed so heavily on him? The answer to that question eluded Arno and no one had said anything to him about it, not that it was any of his business. Francois kept his personal life out of the Brotherhood, like the rest of them, except for Jean. Jean was a different story as he was the more open of the four of them. Together they really did not know that much about each other and honestly, Arno preferred it that way. He sat back in his chair trying to put the relief of his headache first and the thought of personal lives in the furthest part of his mind. Raphael seemed to be in the same state of mind and they both sat there either watching people or keeping to themselves.

Palais-Royal was one of the few places that Francois could walk in without being noticed by the doorman. His close relationship with the Duke, especially since the palace had been open to the people of Paris, made it possible for him to do so. Most greeted him as if he were royalty when he walked to the upper floors of the palace where the Duke lived during his stay in the city. The grandeur of the place was something that Francois could live without, but he had grown up in the Dukes estates across France. It was not until he was old enough to leave the protective bubble that Louis-Philippe offered him that Francois decided to make acquaintances with Mirabeau in the board houses across Paris.

The Mentor had seen something in him other than his connections to Orleans and it was not his abilities to shoot. It was more or less a way into the private affairs of the Duke and the one person who could exchange correspondence between the two Jacobin supporters. In return for this, Francois was the Duke's way into the Brotherhood. This presented a problem for the young assassin at first, but over time he learned to play both sides and then when he met Jean, things became simpler. Now, Raphael and Arno were part of the equation that the youngest had no idea of.

Turning down the hall to the Duke's study, Francois found himself face to face with Louis-Phillipe the younger. The Duke's oldest legitimate son, who despite being spoiled, was a better choice for the throne than the current pair upon it. The assassin sighed as he looked at the dark-haired teenager before him, not really wanting to have a conversation with the young man. They knew each other too well to fight about what came next, but it happened, nonetheless.

"Louis." Francois said curtly before trying to move past the boy.

"Francois." The boy and heir to Orleans said as he put a hand on the older man's shoulder to stop him. "I heard there was an explosion last night." Of course, a colonel of the Dragoons would know about the explosion of the old fortress on Saint Germain.

"You know who we can thank for that." The assassin said keeping his gaze to the doors of the Duke's study.

"I'm sure Father has nothing to do with it." Louis defended his father in any political plot against the throne, but the two of them both knew that he was behind most of it. "Although, I could be mistaken."

"Let's hope you are right." Francois put his hand on the boy's shoulder before moving forward and stopping before the doorman halted him. "Francois Louis Toulouse d'Orleans" He gave his full name which was never heard outside of the Palais-Royal before the doorman nodded and let him in.

Nothing about the study had changed since the last time Francois had been there. Normally, the man at the desk had the furniture rearranged every month or so. Since the Duke had recently come back to France from England, it seemed he had little time to put that energy into furniture and more time into possibly killing his cousin. The man at the desk was more interested in his letters than he was at Francois at that moment, but as soon as the door closed, the older man looked up with a smile.

"I did not think you were going to come back so soon." Despite his graying hair and how much less of it there was, the only thing that did not change about the Duke was his ability to act jovial.

"I wouldn't have come if it was not important." Francois said reaching into the inside of his coat and pulling out the letters he acquired from Denard Arceneaux the night before. He walked up to the desk and set them down in front of the Duke with a stern look on his face. "Letters that indicate your involvement in a plot to blow up the monarchy." The older man picked the letters up and began to read them with interest.

"Ah, Arceneaux." He chuckled. "He has been sending letters about how he was going to rectify the hierarchy, but I have learned my lesson from the last attempt and did not reply." He said dropping the letters and opening a drawer in his desk. "You may read these if you wish." Francois watched as the duke placed a stack of letters on top of the ones, he had given the older man. "Mirabeau is more than welcome to read them as well since he is advising the King on matters of state."

"Of course, you know about that." The assassin picked up the stack of letters and put them in the inside of his coat. "There is nothing you do not know about between the Assassins and the Templars. It's a wonder you aren't a Templar yourself."

"I would not have placed you in Mirabeau's care if I were on the side of the Templars." The duke said knowing he was the most well informed and powerful man in Paris at the time. He had connections everywhere and it was no surprise he knew about the two factions fighting with each other to take control of the country. "As much as I respected de La Serre, his goals did not align with mine. Although, I do miss our conversations."

"Any word on de La Serre's daughter?" Francois asked.

"She is staying out of sight and mind." The duke said sitting back in his chair and putting his hands together. "I find it fascinating how small the world really is. You know a young man who grew up in the de La Serre household. He is an assassin who was born into the Brotherhood and I knew the Grand Master as a friend." The smile on his face gave Francois the idea that the man was playing sides again. "I can only imagine what will happen when she goes to the Brotherhood for help."

"You are far too clever and devious for your own good, Father." The assassin said with a smirk on his face. "It's amazing your head hasn't ended up on the end of a pike yet." He loathed the thought of the Duke's head separated from his body, but if he continued to be involved with Jacobins and Robespierre, that was likely going to happen. "I can't keep cleaning up your messes."

"No, but you do me a great service by doing so." The Duke smiled again with a little glint of pride in his eyes for his first-born son. "You will be staying for dinner, I hope?" This late in the afternoon, Francois felt he really had no choice and the suggestive tone in his father's voice made it hard to refuse.

"Do I have a choice?" He looked at his father who slowly shook his head. "Far be it from me to disappoint Her Serene Highness by declining dinner." Francois bowed to his father like any lowly servant would in the presence of the Prince du Sang. The assassin walked out of the room with a sour feeling in his gut at the prospect of eating with his family in aristocratic fashion.

Royalty was not the cleanliness that most believed it was. Francois had the absolute pleasure of dining with the King and Queen before the riots broke out and he wanted to forget about it the moment he stepped out of Versailles for good. The stench was unbearable in some places of the palace and what added to the experience was the grotesque way the King gorged himself on his meals. Those of low birth were never invited to the grand banquets, but Marie-Antoinette had a soft spot for Francois despite the fact that she disdained his father. She called him handsome, charming even, and had remarked on how he could have been Adonis. Although, none of the ladies in the room at that time could even compare to the woman sitting next to the Queen.

The very same woman who was standing in the hallway outside of the room he had been given for visits. He halted his stride and watched as she spoke to one of the servants with her delicate brown curls bouncing with the movement of her head. Francois could stand there watching her for hours, or days, if he could. She was a vision of elegance only afforded to the blood of a king. She was wearing the blue dress he had always liked to see her in and every time she sashed around in it, Francois saw a Princess turn into something more akin to a Goddess. He had to get control over himself before moving over to her.

"Madame Elisabeth." He bowed his head to her politely as she turned her attention to him. Her dark green eyes sparkling with hidden delight upon seeing him and she held out her hand for him to take.

"Monsieur." She did not curtsy to him for she was the King's sister and he was the illegitimate son of the Duke. By all rights, they should not even be in the same space as one another, however, fate deemed it necessary for them to be equals to each other behind doors. He held her hand delicately before kissing her knuckles with the slightest grin on his face. Francois stood up straight before looking around to see if the servant had disappeared before pulling her into the room behind her and shutting the door behind them with a devious look on his face. "I did not think you would come here today." She said as Francois lowered his hood and pushed her up against the door.

"Is that why you put up with my sisters and the duchess every day?" He asked as he leaned down to kiss her on the neck. Despite coming from Tuileries, she smelled like lavender and jasmine.

"To have the chance to see you?" She smiled at him as he pulled away from her. "Absolutely." She ran her hand through his dark hair as he went back to his previous actions which made her moan in response. Francois knew his way around her body enough to find out what made her make the most pleasuring moans. Elisabeth put a hand on his chest before pushing him away with a smirk on her face. "We better make good use of our time, Monsieur."

"If you insist, Madame." Francois could not contain himself as he made to grab the beauty before him and kissed her deeply as she began to work on undressing him. The first to go was his belt that held his pistol and weapons, which fell to the floor with a thud while his fingers worked to untie the laces of her corset. She kept pushing him towards the bed in the center of the room as he finally was able to untangle her from the corset. Of course, there were more layers to work through before she could finally be exposed.

After all was said and done, the two of them laid in the bed together quietly enjoying the feel of each other's skin. It was always like a dream to Francois. To have his lover there in his arms, but not to be able to have a life with her was maddening and exhilarating at the same time. Elisabeth had her head on his chest as he ran his fingers through her tangled hair, sometimes earning a small grunt as his fingers found a knot. He stared up at the ceiling, tracing the elegant patterns carved into the panels with his eyes as he held on to his love. She in turn reached for his empty hand turning it over to trace the heartlines on the palm of his hand.

"What are you doing?" He asked her as she ran her finger down the palm of his hand.

"Reading your heartline." She giggled. "Marie had all her ladies learn when we moved to Paris." She pointed to the line going horizontally across his palm. Then she found the line that was just above the base of his thumb. "It's a shame that palm reading tells me nothing that I do not already know about you." She smiled as she reached up to kiss him.

"Thank Heaven for that." Francois chuckled. "I don't want you telling me I'm going to die fat and happy when we both know that is a dream." The odds of such a thing in his career as an Assassin were slim and especially when he loved the woman in his arms.

"Which is why it is a good thing my brother does not know about us." Elisabeth emphasized the importance of the secrecy of their relationship. "Paris is already exploding and the last thing we need is a scandal with the Duke of Orleans illegitimate son and myself." Her smile turned into a frown at the thought of their affair becoming public knowledge, if it was not known already. Francois put a hand on her cheek with a concerned expression on his face.

"France will not burn because of us." He said before kissing her.

There were complications to the whole affair, but that did not discourage Francois from seeking his peace with the woman he loved regardless of her title. He knew what was at stake and of course he was careful about it. This did not stop what he felt for Elisabeth. He could look into her eyes all day and not notice the world around him on fire, or himself for that matter. What mattered was that he did not want to give her up. The feel of her soft skin under his hands and the sound of her soft voice in his ear as she whispered his name was everything to him. She was everything.

"I have to go." She broke the kiss and put a finger on the corner of his mouth. "Marie will be expecting me to join her for her bath." She smiled as he held her hand.

"Does the Queen really bathe fully clothed?" He asked her with a teasing smirk as she moved to get out of bed picking up her shift off the floor. She giggled as she pulled the white garment over her head and grabbed her stockings off the foot of the bed while he laid there watching her.

"Every day." Elisabeth could not help but to smile broadly as she put her foot up on the chest at the foot and began to slowly put her stockings on. She lifted the hem of her shift up above her knee and halfway up her thigh to give him a good show. "With lemon juice, almonds, rose petals, and sage in her bath water." His eyes followed her hands as she pulled the silk up her leg slowly. "Oh, and I forgot the ass's milk."

"Sounds delightful." He said not really paying attention to her words. "Us poor degenerates prefer a nice dip in a fountain or the Seine once a year." He winked at her as she moved to find her corset right where it had fallen to the floor. "That is if we don't get caught."

"Either way, you do not smell like most of the men at the palace and that is enough for me." She said as she began to lace up her corset and then leaned over to kiss him. He sat up as she pulled away and turned around so he could help her tighten the laces. Before long she was fully dressed, and he was halfway dressed. "I don't suppose you will be here tomorrow."

"No." Francois grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to him as they moved to the door. "I have some unfinished business to attend to." He said leaning up against the door.

"Then until we meet again." She said to him before opening the door. "I love you." She told him before she left him there in the room by himself feeling disappointed and refreshed at the same time. Love was complicated. That much Francois knew, but he refused to let it die.