I don't own anything of the Assassin's Creed franchise. All credits to Ubisoft and wherever else they should be given.
Hi, sorry, this chapter is a little long. But hopefully you guys will enjoy it. Sorry if I have any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes but sometimes, even after rereading and editing each chapter, I still miss some things. Thank you for the reviews guys. Also, yes, I was never fond of Lucy. haha
I encourage all types of reviews and I also love questions if you guys are confused. I'll be happy to answer anything. Thank you so much. I'm really looking forward to continuing this story for some time.
Chapter Two: Meet and Greet
Desmond woke up with a start, after having a strange dream of reliving part of Altaïr's memories. The second he woke up though, he didn't remember just which memory it was. Feeling groggy, he sat up and swung his legs over the bed.
Yesterday, after being forced into the trunk for so long, he felt light-headed and sick to his stomach. He accounted that for the lack of oxygen in such a small place and bouncing around all over the place.
Lucy had brought him to this bedroom and he passed out without much thought. Now that he was awake, he looked around at the walls.
One wall, the one with the door to the room, had a large world map on it. There were a lot of scribbles on it with arrows, x marks, and circles. There was a small bits of text too but Desmond was too lazy to stand up and look at it.
The rest of the white walls were covered in pictures of various things. One side, the one Desmond was facing, were pictures of different places across the planet. Some were here in Italy, like the Coliseum and the Vatican. Others were of Big Ben, Easter Island, deserts, and churches in various cities.
The opposite wall had printed portraits of people, some painted and some photos. From what Desmond could see, none were celebrities but notable people from history. There was one of Jesus Christ, another of Henry Ford, the Wright Brothers, Theodore Roosevelt, Benjamin Franklin…and many other people.
Someone's a history nut…he mused as he stood up.
Desmond's stomach growled loudly. He hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday.
He glanced at the clock in the room. It was early, only seven in the morning. He wondered if Lucy or anyone else would be up.
After mulling it over, he left the room, wondering if there was a bathroom anywhere too. He found it after walking down the hall a bit, because it had a men's sign on it and the door next to it said women's.
The bathroom surprisingly had a shower in it. He was a little confused as to why the warehouse had a full bathroom in it but he didn't dwell too long on it.
Once he was finished, he washed his hands and exited the bathroom. He followed the hall some more, passing by another closed door. He finally came to the storage area, the room where the ceiling was at least fifty feet high. Desmond wondered what it use to store back when it was actually a warehouse.
Immediately, his attention was captured by a young woman, who was free running throughout the room, wearing a black racerback tank top and some black jeans. She was easily scaling beams, leaping from the rafters, climbing the boxes, as well as running along the safety bars.
She completely reminded Desmond of Altaïr, but better because her movements were more fluid and quick.
From what he could discern from his distance, she had medium-length, sleek, dark hair, most likely black, which was tied up into a high ponytail and lightly browned skin. This girl had an athletic build, so she was generally thin but with toned thigh and arm muscles.
He was highly impressed as he watched her, so much so that it rooted him to the spot. Desmond just couldn't stop watching.
The girl leapt off one of the boxes, twisting sinuously through the air before landing on the ground, her hand on the floor while in a squatting position. Her back was facing him as she stood to a stand.
She was closer now so Desmond could see a tattoo on her left shoulder blade. It was black, probably about the size of his palm, and he thought it was that symbol used by the Assassin Order.
So, she was an assassin.
"Desmond Miles…" she said, sounding amused. The woman turned to him, smiling almost brightly at him. "Feeling better?"
He blinked. "Uh," he said lamely. "Yeah, I am. Thanks."
She was pretty, he had to admit. This girl had probably the bluest eyes he had ever encountered behind long eyelashes. She had full, red-pink lips, a clear complexion, and finely shaped eyebrows. She was glistening just slightly from a bit of sweat but otherwise, she seemed like she hadn't been exercising at all.
"You sort of skipped out on dinner last night," she said, sounding friendly. "You're probably hungry, right?"
"Well, yeah-" he began but his stomach cut him off with an obnoxious growl. The woman laughed good-naturedly.
"I think that was a good enough answer," she replied. "This way."
The girl led him up a long ramp that led into a hallway. There was the option at the end of it to take a right or left. She took a left, which led to a larger hallway, one with three tall windows overlooking a street outside. Desmond had glanced to the right, seeing a what looked like a lounge chair in red but that's all he saw.
"So, I didn't catch your name," said Desmond finally, once they were in an open room that was the kitchen and a dining area.
"Oh!" she said in shock, turning around to face him. "I'm sorry. I'm Déjà. Kinda like Déjà vu…but instead, my last name is Swann."
She held out a slender hand for him and he shook it. "Well, you obviously already knew who I am," he replied. Déjà smiled and then turned to the kitchen again. She set about, getting pots and pans out, as well as pulling out various food items from the fridge.
Déjà began to crack eggs as Desmond stood behind the island counter, looking uneasy. She chuckled. "Seriously, you're making me feel uncomfortable when you stand there like that. Take a seat or something," she said, with a easy going roll of her eyes.
He laughed, but she could tell it was slightly out of nervousness.
"Do you want any help?" he asked awkwardly. "I mean, I'd feel bad if you're cooking for me and I didn't help."
She shrugged. "Only if you want to," Déjà replied. "The bacon does need to go into the pan though."
Desmond nodded and turned on the fire to the stove and took the package of bacon. "All of it?" he asked.
"Yes please, Shaun and Lucy will want some. Not Rebecca though, she's a vegetarian," Déjà answered, sounding distracted as she put pepper and salt in the eggs. He had no idea who Shaun and Rebecca were but he did as he was told.
It went silent, aside from the now sizzling bacon.
"I heard you're a bartender, Desmond," Déjà said suddenly, glancing up at him with a smile as she made the scrambled eggs next to him.
"Was a bartender," he corrected her jokingly. She sort of laughed. Well, at least she was easy to amuse.
"Right, my bad," she said, grinning. "Well, in any case, I'm thinking that you should make us all some drinks one day once all this shit is over."
Desmond chuckled. "Sounds good to me."
Déjà purposefully left that sentence open for him to question on, because she knew Desmond hadn't been talked to yet about why he was even here. Of course, Lucy could have talked to him about it for the four hours she was late, but no…she left him in the trunk.
She was still angry with Lucy about that.
"So, is anyone going to tell me what's going on?" said Desmond, turning over the bacon idly. Déjà smiled to herself.
"What do you want to know?"
Desmond thought for a moment. "Everything…"
She laughed and turned off the burner. "Well, I can't tell you everything," she replied apologetically.
"Of course," he said, sounding unsurprised.
"It'd take too long," Déjà assured him. She went to grab paper plates and started divvying out portions of the eggs. "Look, there was a reason why Lucy busted you out of Abstergo."
Desmond could've guessed that much. "I figured…" he replied. "I didn't think she'd do it for kicks and giggles."
Again, Déjà laughed at his small joke before looking serious again. "We need your help."
He turned to look at her. "For what?" he asked, sounding the slightest bit irritated or shocked, Déjà couldn't be sure. "Another treasure hunt through time?"
"Lucy has shown us everything you've done in the Animus so far," explained Déjà as Desmond started putting bacon on four of the five plates. "We know everything you do…. But Abstergo is gonna replace their Apple of Eden. The map your ancestor found guarantees it."
She stopped, looking up through the window with a distant expression.
"…The other assassins…they'll do what they can, where they can but…" she faded off. Desmond looked at her, concerned.
"What…? What is it?" he asked, setting down the plate. Déjà blinked and her vision cleared.
She glanced at him before replying. "We're losing this war, Desmond," she sighed. "The Templars…they're just too powerful and everyday…more of us die."
It was hard for Déjà to even admit that they were in a hopeless battle against the Templars. She was always headstrong about that; she'd always be the first one to jump in and give a rallying speech that the Order still had hope.
And many of her friends were out there, risking their lives for the cause but so many of them were dying, people she held close to her heart.
Déjà just wasn't sure how many more people had to die before she would break. Despite that, she couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now.
"I still don't see how I fit into this…" said Desmond, breaking through her thoughts. He had sounded mildly frustrated or something similar. She sort of smiled wryly at him, pushing away her sad musings into the back of her mind.
"We're going to train you," she answered while putting pieces of bread into the toaster, "turn you into one of us."
Desmond stared at her.
"What?" he said in complete disbelief. "No…. No, you haven't even seen me in action. I'm no good at this! And even if I was, it would take months, years even!"
Déjà couldn't help but laugh a little at his pessimism, although he didn't see it so funny. "No, not with the Animus," she replied. "You've heard of the Bleeding Effect? I'm sure Lucy explained it to you, right? You do, good. Well, that's how you'll be trained."
"But I'm just one guy!" he exclaimed.
She smirked. "Yeah, you are," she said almost darkly. "But, you know…sometimes, that's all you need."
Desmond didn't look convinced.
"So that's why she found him…" he said pensively, rinsing the pan that had cooked the bacon.
Déjà cocked her head to the side slightly in confusion.
"Lucy…back at Abstergo…she found one of my ancestors…" he clarified. "I think his name is Ezio or something like that."
She understood what he was talking about and nodded at Desmond.
"Lucy found that assassin so you could follow in his footsteps, learn everything he did, just like he did. That's years of training but it'll be absorbed into a matter of days for you," she said. "But you're not just going to learn everything in the Animus. I'm here too, to teach you as well because you need real world experience."
He shook his head. "I don't get it," he admitted. "Lucy broke me out of Abstergo and brought me here just so you can teach me how to be an assassin."
Déjà made a head gesture that signified that she neither agreed or disagreed with the statement. "Well, there's more to it than that, but it'll have to wait," she said. "There's just too much to explain right now."
Desmond looked thoughtful. "All right," he said. "I'm in. Just tell me what you guys want me to do."
Her smile broadened to a grin. She wasn't really surprised by his agreement; Lucy was the one who had been worried that Desmond would want nothing to do with the Assassin Order or the Templars…or the war between them, given his past.
"Thank you, Desmond," Déjà said. "You have no idea how much that means to us…the Order…."
"Well, after what those Templar bastards put me through," he replied, "I'm ready, willing, and able."
She laughed. "That's the spirit!" she said. "With that attitude, you'll make a fine assassin."
Desmond sort of smiled back. Déjà looked behind him, noticing movement…Shaun walked up, looking very exhausted. She figured he had been up for most of the night, being the workaholic that he was.
"What's for breakfast?" Shaun said irritably, not taking notice of Desmond standing there. Shaun was never really that nice when he woke up.
"Good morning to you too, douchebag," said Déjà playfully, placing a plate in front of Shaun as he sat down at the counter. "Don't be rude, say hi."
Desmond watched as she hit Shaun across the back of his head. Shaun shot her hard look before he turned his eyes to Desmond, who hadn't sat down to eat but was nonetheless, eating. He analyzed the guy while he did the same to Desmond.
It was clear that he was the sarcastic intellect of the group with his black glasses and general demeanor. His hair red-blonde hair was done up in a fauxhawk and he was completely clean-shaven. The guy had light brown eyes and wore black slacks with a gray sweater vest and a white collared shirt under it. The sleeves were rolled up just under his elbows.
"You must be the infamous Subject 17," said Shaun uninterestedly. "Desmond Miles, was it?"
"Who're you?" Desmond asked, having a pretty good idea who this guy was already.
"I'm sorry, where are my manners?" he said. "My name is Shaun Hastings and it's been lovely chatting, but you'll have to excuse me."
Shaun then set to work with eating his breakfast. Desmond got the distinct impression that this guy wasn't very friendly, or personable. He figured that was because Shaun was from England…and a lot of English people that Desmond had encountered were generally rude.
"Don't worry about him," said Déjà, smiling as she set a cup of coffee down in front of Shaun. She ruffled his hair in a sisterly fashion before returning to the rest of the dishes. "He's just an asshole with a chip on his shoulder. It's best to just ignore him."
Desmond tried not to laugh as Shaun looked up from his food, disregarding Déjà's comment.
"Oh, Desmond, how did you sleep by the way?" he asked crossly. "Good? Yeah? I hope so, seeing that was my bed, you know? We have a perfectly good one up here for you. So-"
He was cut short when Déjà threw a dishtowel at his face.
"Hey!" he snapped, practically slamming the towel on the counter.
"Jeezus, Shaun," she sighed. "You're such a dick when you don't get enough sleep."
"No, he's just a dick when he wakes up," said another female voice.
Desmond looked over to his left and saw another woman he didn't recognize. She has black hair too, but was shorter than Déjà's and cut into choppy layers. She wore a khaki and red jumpsuit, and headphones were around her neck. The girl was short, shorter than Déjà. Desmond guessed this woman was about 5'3. Her dark eyes were bright with life and when she had spoken, her voice was on the raspy side and full of excitement.
Déjà grinned at her. "Basically, he's a dick all the time."
The women laughed at Shaun, who was not amused. "Oh, haha," he said. "You both are comic geniuses."
"And what's the matter with the bed up here anyways?" asked Déjà.
Shaun scowled at his food and sipped on his coffee before replying. "It's too soft, mine is harder…" he said irritably.
"You're such a baby," Déjà teased while shaking her head. She turned to Desmond, who looked a little confused.
"Desmond," said Déjà before she gestured to Rebecca. "This is Rebecca Crane."
Rebecca held out her hand to Desmond. "It's nice to meet you, dude," she said, shaking his hand tightly.
"Same," was all Desmond replied with. Rebecca sat down beside Shaun and started eating her eggs and toast, telling Shaun and Déjà something about "Baby" needing a few more adjustments before being ready for use.
Desmond had a minor nagging thought floating in his brain. "Wait, if this is a warehouse," he paused, "how is there a working shower, bedrooms, and a kitchen?"
The three of them looked at him.
"About four years ago, the Assassin Order took over this abandoned warehouse and did a bit of renovation so it could be used as a long term hideout," said Rebecca after a moment. "So far, it's been able to remain out of Abstergo's eyesight."
"That's not likely to last now that we have you here. They're going to be looking for us with full force," sighed Déjà, who was rather fond of the warehouse, despite that it trapped her to some degree. Shaun agreed with her. "Still, it's a nice place. Other teams use to take up residence here for some time but they left because they were needed elsewhere."
"The only time we leave is when we are running low on supplies," added Rebecca before nudging Shaun in the arm. "We make Shaun run errands."
The two women laughed, making Desmond think that there was an inside joke he didn't know of. Shaun just rolled his eyes but decidedly refused to add anything to the conversation.
"Technically, the Order only added this kitchen and the showers," continued Rebecca. "The bedrooms were originally offices or smaller storage rooms. Actually, the main office is the research room down the hall."
Desmond nodded, feeling a little more informed…not that knowing about their hideout was necessary but he had been curious.
"Yeah, it's been our home for the last five months-"
"Six," corrected Shaun, casting a dark glance at Déjà. She playfully scowled back at him, taking a drink of her water.
"Excuse me, six months," she said, mimicking Shaun's tone. "Before that, we were stationed in Spain."
"Anyways," said Shaun before anyone else could say anything. "We should really be getting to work. Time is precious…doubly so these days."
He stood up and threw his plate away and tossed the fork into the sink. "Shaun's right, we have a lot to do," said Déjà, who had just finished eating. "You done, Desmond?"
Desmond glanced at his plate. "Yeah."
The three of them quickly cleaned up the counter and Déjà put the last plate in the oven to keep warm.
"Where' Lucy?" asked Desmond as he followed the other three down the hall.
"She jumped in the shower after I did," said Rebecca simply. "She'll probably be up here when you are already in the Animus."
They entered a large room after just after Rebecca. To his left, there was a long wooden desk, with two computer monitors. On the wall above the long desk, were more maps and people like he had seen in the bedroom.
At the back of the room, there was a full size bed just randomly by the window. Maybe that was the bed that Shaun had been talking about earlier.
There was also a metal desk with a computer with dual monitors in the room. However, Desmond's attention was in the center of the room, where he had thought he had seen a red lounge chair.
Up close, it looked nothing like a lounge chair, but a high tech gadget that he only assumed was the Animus. His eyes quickly noted the second Animus behind it, both of them facing opposite to each other so that the headrests were closest together. Beside both headrests was a desk and triple monitor computer.
"Wait, there's two…" said Desmond, confused.
"You're quick on your toes, aren't you?" jabbed Shaun in a sarcastic tone.
Déjà was now growing a little irritated with his snide remarks. "Alright, Shaun. Enough already," she said firmly, giving him a stern look. Shaun shrugged and sat down at his desk.
"Déjà's going to be in the Animus while you are," said Rebecca. "Both of you are going to be reliving one of your ancestor's pasts."
"It'll have a higher chance of success if we search through two instead of only one," added Déjà. "I have ancestor's that knew the whereabouts of the Apple…but we lost a of records and people to tell us where it was. We probably have some of the same ancestors, to be honest."
"So…you're here to watch us?" Desmond asked Rebecca.
"Well, it's my job to take care of Baby," she replied, gazing affectionately at both Animuses. "It's my job to keep her up and running."
He drew in his eyebrows. "Baby…? You mean the Animus?"
Déjà sort of laughed at his confusion. "She refers to both of them together as Baby," she said as she turned on the computer at the metal desk. "They're both linked up to one system, so it's really like one Animus with two outlets."
"Actually, I prefer Animus 2.0," said Rebecca proudly, "since Baby is twice as awesome as anything you'll find at Abstergo!"
Desmond could see the childlike enthusiasm in Rebecca's dark brown eyes as she spoke of "Baby." He felt like there would be no problem with working with her…Shaun was the one he was worried about.
"The Templars might have deeper pocket than us," she continued, "but they've got no ambition…no passion, no competitive edge! That's why with all their resources, anything they can do, I can do better. Faster too."
She grinned almost mischievously and then nodded to herself. Rebecca was very proud of her work and would brag about it some more if they weren't hard pressed for time.
"Anyways, take a seat whenever you're ready and we'll get started," she said, sitting down at the desk with the triple monitors. "I just need to make a few more adjustments…"
Desmond eyed her as she got absorbed into her work and he glanced up at Déjà, who was waiting for the say so from Rebecca. He looked around, wondering what Shaun was doing.
"What's all that stuff for?" he asked Déjà.
Shaun, having heard him, turned in seat and gave the pair a hard look. "This stuff, Desmond…? Oh this stuff is nothing special really, this stuff. It's just the stuff that keeps our entire operation from falling apart, really. It requires a great deal of concentration to keep it all moving so if you'll forgive me for not having time to chat idly like you."
Desmond was starting to get annoyed with Shaun and his rather rude demeanor towards him. Déjà picked up a pen off the desk and threw it across the room at Shaun. It hit squarely in the back of the head, to which he flinched.
"Really, Déjà?" he snapped.
"Like I said," she said, giving Desmond an apologetic look. "Chip on his shoulder."
"Shaun's in charge of maintaining our knowledge archives," offered Rebecca behind them. "It's like a digital library."
"AKA, the boring stuff," said Déjà loud enough for Shaun to hear. "Shaun's going to be riding shotgun with Rebecca while we are both in the Animus."
"He'll be watching over Déjà's progress while I'm watching yours, Desmond. That isn't to say I'm not watching both but because there are two of you in the Animus, I may miss something from one person when concentrating on another," explained Rebecca. "Basically, if you two come across anything of note, people, places, events, etc, he'll create database entries that both of you can consult for additional information,"
Shaun sort of snorted indignantly. "Yeah, it's not just databases though," he said, turning around to look at them. "I also provide tactical support for the other assassins. You know Desmond, once you're out there…doing stuff. Risking their lives, little things like that!"
Déjà always found it amusing when Shaun was moody and behaving like a child throwing a tantrum. She could see Desmond was not all that fond of Shaun.
She leaned over slightly with her arms crossed to whisper. "He'll warm up to you eventually. That's just Shaun."
Desmond had a very skeptical expression on his face but nodded.
"And Lucy?" he asked.
Déjà's face darkened a shade but he didn't know why. "What about her?" she asked.
"What's her role?"
Déjà walked away and he thought he heard her say something like, "Good question." She sat down in one of the Animuses but looked at him. "Lucy basically is the secretary."
Déjà smirked to herself, knowing Lucy would hate to be called that. Shaun sort of chuckled quietly.
"Secretary?"
"She checks up on our progress and reports it back to the Grand Master, gathers information from the other assassins across the world, things like that," said Déjà. "She picks up the little things we may slack off on inadvertently."
So basically, she useless, she thought dryly.
"Oh."
"Alright, I'm ready if you two are," Rebecca said, rubbing her hands together. "Let's get started!"
"Down," said Déjà, excited. Desmond could only assume with the way she said "down" that it was a form of slang, meaning "cool"…although, he had never heard that word used in that context until now. He found it strange.
Desmond sat down on the other Animus and then laid his head back. "So, how does this work?" he asked as Rebecca stood up.
She showed him a large needle and Desmond eyed it hesitantly. "Of course…" he sighed as Rebecca neared him.
"Deep breath," she advised. Rebecca quickly stuck the needle into the vein at his inner elbow, causing to make a noise of pain.
"Oh what are you, a tiny child?" mocked Shaun from across the room. Déjà couldn't help it and laughed anyway.
"Shaun!" exclaimed Rebecca, looking at him with an exasperated expression before she turned back and put a device at Desmond's head. Immediately, Desmond's eyes started to droop.
Rebecca put her attention on Déjà just as Lucy walked in the room. "You're just in time," said Rebecca, practically stabbing Déjà with the needle. Déjà made no noise but she had to admit, it was painful. "We're about to start."
"Excellent," said Lucy, setting down her food at the metal desk.
Déjà wanted to comment on how Lucy didn't say thank you for her meal but Rebecca had placed a device over her head and she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.
"Alright, here we go!" said Rebecca's enthusiastic voice somewhere beside her.
At first, everything was pitch black. However, after a few moments, everything turned white with strange faint lines surrounding her, creating a grid.
"Nice of you to join me," said Desmond's voice.
Déjà looked around at the vast expanse of nothingness and found Desmond on her right. She grinned. "This is probably the only time we'll see each other in the Animus," she said, winking at him. Her voice had the slightest bit of an echo to it, which was trippy.
He agreed. "Most likely."
"Good luck!" she said, clapping him on the shoulder.
With a flash of light, Desmond disappeared from her view. It took a moment for the world to solidify around her but when her eyes adjusted, she realized she was sitting at the back of a wagon or carriage with an older man beside her while they watched the dirt road fall behind them.
"Papa, if I were to get married to one of them, how will I continue to train under your guidance!" Déjà was saying to the man, who she assumed now was her father.
He sort of smiled and then put an arm around his favorite daughter.
"You are already quite skilled, my sweet Trinity," he replied, kissing her forehead. "There is not much else I could teach you. It is now the time when you take your skills to the outside world and better them."
Trinity gazed up at her father affectionately, happy to hear those words from him. Her father was getting older; she understood that, though it pained her. She could see it in the small wrinkles around his lips and blue eyes. His long, dark hair was tied back to keep it out of his face.
"I do not like your face without hair, father," she laughed after a moment. "You look so funny."
Her father smiled. "Your mother was not so fond of the beard," he admitted, chuckling as well in his deep voice. "But between you and me, I liked it."
Trinity grinned.
"Father!" called a voice from inside the carriage.
"Yes, my son!" replied Trinity's father.
"How much longer until Firenze?" said the male's voice. A dark head of hair peeked out from the side and Trinity turned to look down at him. "My butt is sore."
"Another hour," said the driver at the front of the carriage who was manning the reins.
"Thank you, messare!" said her older brother before going back into the carriage.
Trinity snorted. "It seems Valente is impatient," said her father, smiling. She agreed and leaned against her father's chest.
They fell silent, only the sound of the horses' hooves hitting the dirt and wheels of the wagon squeaking obnoxiously.
"I cannot believe I am forced to wear these ridiculous dresses!" she said suddenly in a disgusted tone. She glared at her maroon dress her mother had forced her to wear.
"You know your mother would not want you to wear breeches in front of our friends," said her father. "She would be most embarrassed if you were to not behave as a woman. You know that wearing breeches is looked down upon."
Trinity growled. Her father smiled to himself, already aware she was about to say something else.
"And I do not even like either of those boys," she said darkly. "I forgot his name but the younger one is mean to me."
"That was five years ago," said her father. "He was young then."
She scoffed. "That is no excuse for throwing rocks at me. If I had known how to at the time, I would have beaten him to a pulp."
Her father laughed at this. "That is not very lady-like, my dear."
"He would have deserved it," she replied loftily.
Even though she was only fourteen, soon to be fifteen, she acted much older. "Uniting our families has been a desire of mine for a long time now, Trinity."
"So make Arietta or Francesca marry one of them!" she exclaimed. "Not me! I have no desire to ever be tied down a man who will not respect me. I am an assassin, father! Not a wife."
She felt guilty though. She knew that her father also had a deep wish to see his first daughter in a wedding gown and marrying someone.
"On the topic of assassins," said her father, diverting the subject, "you must not speak of anything involving the Order. None of his children know."
Trinity had known that but she found it strange that they were not told.
"I understand father."
Again, the fell quiet. The scenery was vast and green; the farms they passed were being tended to by their owners.
"Ah, there it is!" cried the driver. "Firenze!"
Trinity turned in her seat, seeing the walls around the city off in the distance. She smiled to herself, remembering the last time she was here five years prior, when she was only nine.
"At last!" shouted her two brothers, who were leaning out of the windows of the carriage. "We made it!"
"We should head back inside the carriage when we are closer," suggested her father. Trinity agreed to it, not taking her eyes off of Florence.
Desmond's eyes cleared after a flash of bright light blinded him. Once his eyes adjusted, he realized he was inside a house, a woman talking quickly to the children beside him. Desmond assumed that they were his ancestor's siblings and the woman was his mother.
"I do not see why it is so important for us to look our best," he heard himself moan as his mother fussed with his hair for a moment. She had her children all lined up, dressed in their best attire, so she could inspect them over.
His mother moved on to her only daughter next to him. "Ezio," she said curtly to him, "your father and I already told you. We've received word that the Aldinucci's are arriving today."
Ezio nudged his older brother standing beside him and secretively rolled his eyes. "I still don't see the relevance-" he began.
"They haven't come to visit in five years…when you were only eleven," his mother cut in, smoothing the youngest of her children's shirt. "Don't you remember?"
"Not really," Ezio replied unconcernedly.
His mother held down a snort. "Of course not," she said in an irritated tone and more so to herself. "Well, since you apparently care not for family friends, let me remind you. Giuliano is a childhood friend of your father and Jovanna is Giuliano's wife. They have five children, two older boys, Dante and Valente, and their three daughters. Trinity, Arietta, and Francesca."
Ezio did remember; he remembered how aggravating the girls were to play with, especially the eldest daughter. Ezio even recalled a time when they had last visited when he threw rocks at her head to bother her. He and Federico, his older brother, preferred to spend their time with the Aldinucci boys. However, he didn't see the point of telling his mother that he remembered; he really was just trying to annoy her.
From what Ezio could recall from a conversation with his father a few years back, the Aldinucci's lived in Venezia, Giuliano having been quite successful with his banking branch there. Actually, now that he thought about it, Ezio thought he remembered his father saying that Giuliano was the reason he wanted to pursue banking himself.
On a side thought, he wondered why they arbitrarily decided to name their first daughter after an English term from the church….
"How long are they staying, mother?" he heard his sister ask, bringing him out of his thoughtfulness.
"About a month."
"A month!" said Ezio aghast. That meant he would be forced to be nice to the Aldinucci daughters longer than he had anticipated. He groaned.
His mother turned to him with a dark expression. "Ezio, please do not embarrass me or your father in front of the Aldinuccis," she said sternly. "I will not have you make a fool of the Auditore name."
He inwardly sighed. "Mi dispiace, mama," he said in a fake apologetic tone. "I promise I will be on my best behavior."
Federico snorted cynically at this under his breath.
Their father came into the room with a bright smile. "They have arrived," he said gently. "Come, let us greet them outside."
Ezio could not help but roll his eyes again, not really interested in playing meet and greet. He had so many other things he could be doing with his time…like wooing girls or beating up Vieri di Pazzi.
The Auditore family walked outside of the palazzo as a carriage stopped outside their gate. The driver of the carriage jumped down and hurried towards the door.
Once he opened it, an older gentleman stepped out.
"Giuliano!" said Ezio's father, not able to wait a moment longer to greet his friend. Giuliano broke out into a smile of his own and embraced his father.
"Giovanni, it has been too long," he said, holding him by the shoulders.
"Only a year but yes, far too long," said Giovanni with a short chuckle.
The driver, meanwhile, was helping out a woman. Ezio's mother, once having been kissed on the cheeks by Giuliano, greeted this woman warmly.
"Oh, Maria!" she the woman, embracing his mother.
The two Aldinucci boys stepped out of the large carriage, both helping out the girls. The first two were small, slight, and young. They looked a little confused as to who they should greet, if anyone at all, so they stood together quietly.
The eldest son let out the last girl before the driver shut the door and started to pull off some luggage at the top of the carriage.
Ezio was surprised. He didn't think that the eldest Aldinucci daughter would have gotten as pretty as she did in the last five years. Last he saw her, her jet-black hair had been much shorter, though now it was long and flowing past her shoulders. Her piercingly blue eyes didn't meet him and he wondered if she was doing so on purpose. She was no longer quite as young looking as she was before, but taking on womanlier charms. She filled out quite nicely too, especially around the bosom area, as well as grew taller.
A sharp pain hit him in the side. Ezio looked at Federico irritably.
"Your mouth was hanging open, little brother," he laughed.
"It was not!" protested Ezio, almost positive it wasn't.
Federico just grinned and turned his gaze back at the eldest Aldinucci daughter. "She is pretty though. Definitely a skirt you'd chase after, huh?"
Ezio shrugged indifferently, trying to recover from his early staring. "Eh," he said apathetically. "She is nothing special. Pretty, yes…but not beautiful."
Federico cocked his head slightly to the left. "I beg to differ…" he replied thoughtfully.
"You can chase her skirt then," said Ezio with a smirk.
His older brother didn't reply but instead, chuckled lightly. Their father beckoned his children over to say hello the family.
The only thing Ezio was certain about…was that it was going to be a long month.
I will try to always post the translations in the actual story if I need to. If it's only a small sentence or word, I'll just post it here. ^_^
Mi dispiace = I'm sorry
Messare = sir