ALRIGHT GUYS, an update at last! Its been a very busy time for me, but I have some great news. I've been offered a place at University of East London to study and eventually get a degree in Creative and Professional Writing, and I've taken it. I'm thrilled to bits over it, and its been a busy time of making sure I had the grades, the UCAS and the ability, and its been so worth it. More details after this phase! But yeah, I hope you like this - its been a long time without updating and my characterization may be a little rusty, but be assured I'm well up for getting back in the swing of things. Enjoy! :D
Since the foundations for war had been laid, a busy, dreadful hush fell over the Assassins preparations and those of their friends. No one had seen hardly anything of the Doctor, Ezio and Machiavelli: they had been locked away in the philosopher's office, going through a thousand plans that they would scrap and begin again. Leonardo had made himself scarce: if the Borgia got wind of the Assassins' frenzied activity and his connection to it, all would be lost. He remained with the Borgia most of the time, and everyone knew that he wished to be with Ezio and his friends, although nothing could be done about it. The Assassins themselves were spread out among the countryside, watching their enemies and calling in favours.
This war was pivotal, for time and space and everything they held dear. But it was of their own making, and everything that came afterwards would be of their own doing.
April 2nd, 1500. Rome.
When everyone was called to the hideout, there was a collective relief as well as a sinking dread. At last, these days of frenzied preparation would be over, and their efforts would give fruit.
But whether that fruit was poisoned was yet to be seen.
Everyone gathered in their own places, but the hush that fell over the place was suffocating. La Volpe was in his dark corner, but around him clustered three times the thieves accompanying him. They flanked him, watching distrustfully from the shadows. He surrounded himself with his den members for protection, for comfort, but remained on his toes. If the smoke got too thick, he would run.
Similarly, Bartolomeo had returned with a few mercenaries by his side. These men bristled with energy, muscle and weaponry: they clanked when they moved, and stayed loyal to Bartolomeo, remaining by his side. Perhaps Bartolomeo sought to prove his dedication with the presence of his men, but they made everyone nervous.
Claudia and Maria came alone. It was clear: their girls were not to be involved in the bloodshed. Amy seemed to have been released from her duties, as had Rory: they stood together at the front of the crowd, remaining close and staring ahead of them. They knew this kind of gathering, and what it meant. And sometimes they would look at each other sadly, as if they knew what it meant for them.
Most of the Assassins had returned from their business in the capital, except for Valentino, who had sent word with Giovanni that there had been news from one of their spies planted within the Borgia's military. Giovanni himself had relayed the message with little interest, but had sought Zita as soon as he had arrived home. His relief to see her there, tired but there, was immense, and while her back was turned to him he kept her image fixed in his head as a comfort for the times to come. Around him, everyone did the same. They knew what news was coming, even before it was said.
Ezio and the Doctor stood at the front of the room, looking almost blank. Ezio seemed wired and on edge, fingering the bracers on his blades, while the Doctor seemed tired. It was another war that, when cracked open, would reveal himself again, and the consequences were heavy on his shoulders.
'We go tomorrow.' The Doctor said. No one cried out, or shouted, but stared. Silent. 'We'll give you more information when we have it, but…' his eyes moved from one person to the next, following his own deep obligation to commit each face to memory. Perhaps their faces would be added to the thousands that he was responsible for. 'But remember this. This war, this fight would be nothing without the each of you. Whatever happens tomorrow and whatever comes of it, I promise each and every one of you that what you have done will not be forgotten. That you will not be forgotten. I promise you that generations to come will remember you, and thank you. Forever.' He nodded, and then his mouth tightened. 'For now, spend tonight with the people you treasure the most. Remember what is so good about them, and what they have done for you. You'll need it.'
Silence. Realising the speech was over, everyone departed. Amy and Rory remained to walk up to the Doctor. They stared at him and he stared back, wondering if they still recognized him, and then in the next second Amy had thrown her arms around his neck and Rory had wrapped his arms around them both. The Doctor gathered them close, and the three of them breathed in each other, and held it in their minds.
'We love you.' Amy told him seriously.
'The Ponds,' the Doctor murmured with the saddest smile. 'The wonderful, time travelling Ponds.'
'With you until the end.' Rory said. His and the Doctor's eyes met, and something he had never seen in the Doctor before passed between them. A certain kind of sadness, resolute misery, and something within him turned.
'Until the end.' Said the Doctor, like he was remembering a tail end of a dream - a horrible and vivid nightmare.
So yeah! University, Christ on a bike. Really, I wouldn't have dreamed of it if it wasn't for my fanfiction and the overwhelming positive response I got, and how I've come in leaps and bounds since I first started out with an old, badly written crossover. So thank you. Thank you to each and everyone one of you who've kept reading and supporting me. Its because of you that I'm off to uni, and that I have the confidence to do it.
Here's to the rest of this fic, and to you.
Thank you again. :D