Genovefa sighed and opened her eyes. Normally, on this morning, she would wake as soon as the sun had made the slightest notion to rise, then run to her parents, laughing and shouting that she was another year older. Today, she was twelve but she couldn't celebrate her birthday like she always did. She wished she was back home, her brother and her parents giving her a small present; a doll, a good luck charm, a wooden sword. But this year, she got nothing.

She curled up and let herself weep into her knees. Her brother was gone, her parents are dead, everything she knew was taken away, ripped away, and she was left as a peasant girl in a distant land where it was too hot and the people were too cruel. All she wanted was to go home.

Wiping her eyes, she stood, gathered her broom and went to work. The halls were quiet, they usually were this early in the morning, and so she simply opened the door to the Master Assassin's office and began sweeping. Genovefa started to hum an ancient song, something that her mother had sung to her when she was younger. Hot tears fell down her cheeks and her voice shook.

"Genovefa?"

She spun, gasping at the voice that appeared behind her, dropping the broom to the floor with a clatter.

"Are you alright?" Ambrose asked, concern etched on its face.

"Yes, sir, I'm fine, thank you." She said, keeping her eyes down.

"Nonsense." He said, picking up the broom beside her. "I can always tell when you're upset-"

"Sorry?"

"I mean, when someone's upset, I can always tell, ah..." He trailed off and passed the broom back.

"Thank you, sir." She whispered and took the broom from him. "Is there anything else you'd like? Some wine, maybe?"

"Tea, please."

She nodded and put the broom to the side. Genovefa was often given jobs to fetch food and drinks for the Assassins instead of just cleaning for them. So, she hurried off to the kitchen and collected boiling water, a cup and various ingredients to make any kind of tea. When she returned, Ambrose sat at his desk, hood back, his soft eyes scanning various documents around him. His sharp features looked tired.

"How do you like it?" She asked, setting down the tray beside him.

"Simple. Just two mint leaves, please." He said, his voice quiet and tired. It sounded as if he'd only just returned, that he had been out all night on a mission.

Genovefa nodded and placed two mint leaves into the delicate cup before pouring the hot water over it. She placed the steaming cup beside him and he smiled.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir." She gave a slight bow before taking away the tray and tucking her broom under her arm.

"Oh, and Genovefa?"

"Yes, sir?" She stopped at the door.

Ambrose gave a gentle smile.

"Happy birthday."