Blood's Thicker Than Water (Platonic)
Made this cause I love assassins creed and I hate how they left the plot point about Desmond having a kid from a one night stand. Like sure there’s a comic for Elijah but let’s be real, who here has read that comic?
Sorry if any of them seem out of character, I haven’t played the games in a long while lol
Also thanks to my friend for streaming the games so I can get back into them lol
You never really met your dad but from what your mother described him as he was….a troubled soul
Now to be fair you’ve never exactly met Desmond Miles yourself but from the stories she told it’s obvious he had his fair share of demons
Some of which seemed to spill from the cracks of his soul from the short time she spent with him
A bartender is what he was, until he suddenly up and vanished from said bar in 2012 and died not too long after
It didn’t really make sense then even to your young mind
The gap between his sudden disappearance and death leaving too much unsaid for your mind not to be annoyed by
But as a child you eventually put the thought away
Eventually you forget
Instead going on to pursue your next whim as you focus on the present, or in your case Learning about the past in the present time
Unlike your fascination with your father that went away, your love of history never faded with time
It just seemed to grow the older you got
Your not sure why but something about history just clicked with you
It was somewhere within the range of middle school and reading national geographic that you had realized you liked it
That despite how some areas of it were bleak and disturbing it was interesting
And it got even more so interesting as you delved deeper into the depths of libraries
Nose buried in books lined with dust and old parchment
Yellowed pages and old ink that you carefully decode from centuries of lost meaning and metaphors lost to the modern age
You studied from the ancients all the way up to Victorian
Easing your way though literal centuries of historical records as you soaked up information like a sponge
And it’s there you vegans seeing an odd…repetition of events that seemed to occur
Odd assassinations plagued each era you looked into, all of which connected somehow by people in odd dress
In some journals that had luckily stood the tests of time you uncovered more eye witness accounts
A solider’s log back in the revolutionary war talking about an odd man meeting with his superiors in the dead of night
The diary of a log master who wrote of an odd frequent visitor that had an odd blade hidden beneath his sleeve
The drawing of a Victorian child being freed from a factory that had a hooded lady and man on the rooftop
I’m one you found a symbol, one created from the bottom perspective of an eagle skull, something also commonly associated with these hooded figures
What’s odd as well is that with these hooded assassins you also find traces of another group
One well know to historians such as yourself
Oddly enough the symbol of the Templar knights keep showing up even after their annulment
It’s odd, but what’s more odd enough is that both seemed to be tied to other historical artifacts
Ones well kept in archives and from the public eye
Ones you shouldn’t technically know about if not for you sneaking into sections your don’t have the status to enter
Their always gold with odd symbols. Somehow always pristine and polished despite the fact their dated to be from before ancient times
They for some reason seem to call to you specifically
Tempting you with forbidden knowledge you wish to taste like Eve
But for now you choose to wait until you can do proper analysis on them without the risk of punishment
So you lie and wait
Admittedly you didn’t think anyone expected for you to be this good at your job
In their defence you were a university student here on Co-op and not an actual full time historian
Hell you were in first year for gods sake
But somehow despite it all
Despite the fact you had actual historians and people in the history program years above you here you quickly began to become an outlier
A shinning beacon within the large archive, so much so that you began being allowed in the restricted sections you already snuck into
Mind you, now properly allowed there with some supervision of sorts gave you much more flexibility in research
You got to touch these artifacts
Hold them in gloved palms as silk covered finger glide across its edges and ridges
You study them extensively decrypting and decoding the ancient texts and hieroglyphs
Jotting down what you found in both a report and your own personal journal
Your not sure why you do so but you chock it up to making sure no one takes credit for your work
And this continues to the point your eventually allowed alone with them
It’s great
You dedicate yourself to this task as you learn more and more
Soaking up knowledge like a sponge as you find out more of what was previously lost
Find new angles and perspectives on events
For history isn’t just a set time and date, it’s interpretation based on what we know from sources
And even then sources can be biased
Sources can lie and silence another person’s view on the event
Your more than happy to try make your own interpretations
Admittedly when you were asked to study what looked to be a necklace from these unidentified ancient artifacts you were ecstatic
How could you not be?
Intricate gold woven in something akin to Grecian jewelry
Yet also had hints of something akin to Egyptian
It also…glows? Or at least you swear you’ve seen it glow gold and pulsate a few times but that could be the sleep deprivation speaking
Either way it’s an honour
One you don’t take lightly as you study it
Spending countless restless nights and days trying to crack its code
An unknown source has been funding the archive and your research quite a bit
Betting big money on it much to your surprise and suspension
You get that this is potentially something big but it feels out of left field
Especially since no one knows the name of the company
It’s just under an anonymous donation every month
It’s sketchy
But you aren’t one to argue about free money to further your and your colleagues pursuit of knowledge
Not when this beautiful place used to be underfunded
Not when most historical records were donated by people with a good conscious
Not when this place was almost shut down
With a sigh you continue on your work
Diligently tact checking and writing up a storm
Your writing looks like chicken scratch but that was a commonality between all history majors
Well, along with being giant nerds
And it’s there at that desk at 3 am in the morning, tired and only running on 3 hours of rest you find something peculiar on the necklace
A sharp jaded edge that you absentmindedly prick yourself on by accident
With a groan you wipe the blood away on your pants
Then going up to get a bandaid
You swore to god if you died of tetanus you’d be positively pissed
Unknown to you the necklace starts to glow
When you get home your more exhausted than usual
Your limbs feel like their kade of concrete and your head is stuffed with tissue
Eyelids trying to glue themselves shut
You practically kick off your shoes before tumbling to the couch
Not bothering in changing clothes or showering for the sweet relief of sleeps embrace
So you flop down face first into the old leather cushions of your couch
Only putting in the effort of fishing a hand to grab a throw pillow and blanket from nearby that you burrowed yourself into
A comfy cocoon/prison you couldn’t will yourself to leave even as you swore for a moment you heard something in the house
But your mind writes it off
Your too tired to question anything let alone get up
All you want is sleep
And that’s exactly what you get as your eyelids shut
You fall into the realm of dreams, odd ones playing out in your mind
Blurred images of odd men
A weird void-like realm
The cries of an eagle overhead
A single word appearing in your head
Kenway
And then your eyes snap awake when the sound of arguing fills your ears
Yelling of several male voices jumbling up your already fogged up sense as you practically fall off the couch in a mixture of fear and confusion
Curses escaping your mouth when suddenly the voices go silent and your left in a realm of fear
Hair standing on end as the creaking of the house makes you more alert
Despite the fact you’d never fought a day in your life you will up the courage to grab a baseball bat and cautious cross to where you heard the commotion
Careful steps on the non-creaky boards of the home that you’d luckily memorized
And there you find several men in old garb
Accents of Red tying them together like a string of fate
Or a trail of blood fainting their very existence
they turn to you with sharp eyes
It’s the one in modern clothes that surprises you the most
The face of your supposed dead father staring back at you
Ocher brown eyes that had long lost their life now rejuvenated as they seem to find familiarity in your own features
Some of which mirror his own along with some of the others in the room
The bridge of your nose
A all powerful spark in your eyes as they flick between everyone and escape routes
The way your lip slightly twitches when you try to keep a brave face
Your posture as you decided what to do
It’s all too familiar to him and them in a way that isn’t just coincidence
Especially not when all of them are Kenway
Not when he had been able to prove to them that fact through the experience of virtually living through their lives up until his death
“I’m not sure who the fuck all of you are but get out of my house.” Your fingers twitch and flex as your palms grow sweaty, the wood absorbing the pressure and moisture “especially my dead dad look-alike”
You all but confirm his suspicions
Their suspicions
And it looks Ike for you tonight will be much longer than you anticipated
Turns out that artifact you were studying wasn’t just as normal one
Neither were the other ones you looked at
The way they explained it as was their “artifacts from dead gods”, a fallen civilization that engineered humanity into being their slaves
It’s a lot to take in
Even more so when your suspicions of something bigger happening throughout global history with those odd deaths were real
Oh, and these were you dead ancestors and dad somehow back from the grave and now in your home
…..yeah safe to say that’s a lot to take in after an already very long and tiring shift
You sit there as they explain this, half asleep, and half exasperated
Cause how the hell are you supposed to believe all this bullshit that for some reason feels correct
Something in you tells you that their right yet your mind is fighting that logic
You’d always been a logical person, when it came to most situations you used your brain instead of your heart
And in those cases things ended up fine
But now your faced with this
A situation where your heart is screaming for you to listen as your brain tries to take this all in
Cause logic is completely out the window at the moment
For now you have to trust them even if your still afraid
I mean, how couldn’t you be?
But you get the sense that they understand
At least a little bit by how their also thrusted into a new environment without much say
Perhaps that (along with your own apprehension) is helping comfort them as well
So for now they’ll stay
Your just thanking (the dead) gods that grandma and grandpa’s old home is big enough for all of them
Altaïr Ibn-La’ Ahad
The oldest down the line of your dad’s side of your lineage finds himself often reading through your books in your study
It was a bit of a surprise one day entering it to find him sitting in a spare chair but you don’t mind the silent company
Especially as he seems to find interest in your studies
Occasionally he breaks the silence and asks you a question about the subject he’s reading about
He’s by far the oldest (even if he’s back in the body of his prime) of them therefore he’s the one who has the most figuratively to catch up on
So you indulge him
And also asks questions as well that he seems eager in answering
Knowledge connects you both, scholarly intellect being the bridge between the two of you despite centuries of time apart
Typically he asks about thinks such as modern life and what is know about his home, what happened to it? What it’s known of his era
You answer as best you can
Especially since that era of time isn’t exactly your forte
But he appreciates it anyways
Appreciates that you try, appreciates that you passionately care about history in the first place
Admittedly your mom was supportive but never understood your love of history
She’d listen to your rants and long conversations with a polite smile but you knew she never understood what you were talking about
But he does
He does and contributes whole heartedly in just as much passion
It’s nice
What’s also nice is that he’s studied the artifacts you now study as well
So now your both constantly coming up and developing ideas together
A constant back and forth
Hypotheses, discussion, and testing
Delving deeper into discovery like you’ve wanted
But with this he also helps you see where passion and obsession mix together
After the loss of his wife and son he delved into studying as a form of escape
It drove who was left away
Made the pit in his heart deeper
He doesn’t talk about it often but he seems to see how you may go down the same path
And he warns you of it
Unlike his younger self (that he now appears as) he’s wise if a little rough around the edges
He encourages knowledge but not to the point where it’s an all encompassing and toxic obsession
Within the household he seems to take a somewhat neutral but quiet role
He helps out and offers advice and guidance
Much like a teacher and grandfather of sorts
Speaking up when he has to and making sure the house doesn’t end up in disrepair
He seems to have a fascination with modern appliances, or at least holds a thankfulness for them
Like a few others he sticks to his robes most the time but you’ve seen him sport more modern clothes once awhile
Stuff still somewhat reminiscent of what he wore before but with a modern flare. Things with hoods and draping. Silks and wool. Something with an accent of red mixed in
Sometimes when you fall asleep in your studies you find a blanket draped over you and a cup of tea at your side
He won’t admit it’s him but he’s the only one who knows your tea preferences
He keeps his worry for you deep down but it’s somewhat relived when seeing that you take his warning of not taking the pursuit of knowledge too far
“It says here there was something called the “French revolution”. Would you care to explain what happened here to me?” He asks making you pause your work for a moment, when he sees your smile he knows your answer. Sure he read some of this book and got the gist of it, but something about seeing your eyes light up at his inquiry makes him feel at peace for a moment.
“Would I ever!”
Ezio Auditore da Firenze
This man is quite literally all up in your (and everyone’s) business
Not in an annoy way per say but he’s definitely curious about the lives his descendants have led (both good and bad)
Ezio is very clearly a family man and it’s somewhat ironic to see since half of this household has some sort of familiar issue
Most of which is some sort of daddy issue stemming from either Haythem or Edward that trickled down the line to you
Something that Ezio is seemingly trying to wrap his head around
Out of the others he’s the one who opens up the most
Partially because you think he misses his immediate family and friends
It must be a lot to handle being away from home, now in a foreign land where everything has changed
Despite that though he keeps a brave face
Almost always flashing a smile as he drags you from your study to have some “bonding time”
You won’t admit it to his face but you don’t mind
Especially as he gives your poor hunched over back a break
And treats your pallet to some good old fashioned (literally) Italian food and not cup ramen once again
He tried it once and threw your supply out, saying he’d be supplementing you with food from now on
You can’t exactly say your disappointment or upset from the heaven that is fresh baked garlic bread and pasta
He cooks not only for you but for the others of the house as well, saying his sister taught him lest he piss off his future lady
Taking in their suggestions and cooking foods from their homes as a way of him offering comfort
Whilst he does these tasks he often hums in his mother tongue of Latin
You don’t have the heart to tell him it’s a dead language
Especially when he seems so happy that you can somewhat understand it
He’s happily rambling and teaching you words
Helping you sound out phrases and pronunciation correctly unlike your Latin professor
Some of his songs he lightly sings under his breath get stuck in your head since he has a good singing voice
But despite the facade you see the cracks
Sometimes you find him looking at modern objects mumbling about how Leonardo would have loved to see this or made something similar
Or how Claudia would’ve liked this book
How Petruccio would have loved this toy
It….leaves a bitter taste in your mouth
Once upon a time you felt this same type of longing for family
Once a time you thought of you dad before going to bed and staring at his old Polaroid with hope
One that would never come to fruition (until now)
It’s why you indulge him, to keep his mind off the deeper plunge of melancholy
Compared to the others he’s relatively open to modernizing
In fact he seems somewhat excited in these things
Raiding your wardrobe like a damn fashionista and critiquing what’s good quality
He also has a wide variety of looks, not sticking to something similar to his time of dress
Versatile and somehow up to date? Your not sure how but somehow he’s in fashion?
Like he must’ve found a copy of vogue or something cause there is no way he just guessed that this was the new trend
When you pressure him on it he replies that he’s simply that amazing
You call bullshit but have yet to find evidence
But in the meantime you ask get him to tell you about Da Vinci and you furiously jot down what he says
Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of Claudia’s quick wit
It makes him long for home yet as he looks at his descendants and ancestor he also feels….something
A small pit of warmth developing as he gets to know the inhabitants of this house longer
Meet Altair besides through a weird vision
His home is in Florence yet that feeling of comfort from the Villa is bleeding into these old (yet new) walls
“So this painting is his most famous work?” He asks looking at your computer with a bit of confusion, his scared lips quirking at the digital image.
“Yeah. This is actually probably the most famous painting in the world”
“Really? Of all his works this one is considered the best? I’m not doubting his skill but of all his pieces?”
“Believe me, I get it. It’s only this famous cause it was stolen”
“Stolen?!? Tell me who did it! I swear-”
Edward Kenway
For someone who was a feared pirate on the seas he’s surprisingly much less violent than you’d think him to be
Sure, he’s scary as hell still but at least he’s not stabbing you in the back and making off with your grandmas pearls or something
Still your a bit unnerved by him considering you did a project on him back in middle school and he’s now in your home
Munching on some god damn biscuits as if this was a normal situation
His son Haytham avoids his as best he can but he seems to bond with his grandson quite easily
Or more easily than he does with Haythem
It takes some time but you eventually go to him when you find him awake at the dead hours of night
A whisky bottle in hands as he occasionally takes a swig in silence as he stares out the window
You don’t talk
You don’t need to when he drinks in silence for awhile staring at the moon before eventually talking about the guilt
In his pursuit of power and gold he let people die
Greed woven into his soul as he sacrificed good men for his cause
He changed and did good yet his past haunts him
Hands stained red
Guilt eating away
A son who doesn’t want anything to do with him
At some point when he stops his rambles you speak
Reminding him that while his actions weren’t good he changed
It doesn’t wash the blood away but it stoped more from staining his hands
Though Haythem avoids him Connor is more than eager to fill his place
It doesn’t fix his overlying problems but it does help
In the morning he ends up talking with you more after this as your initial fear melts away
You end up seeing Edward Kenway, not the fiercesome captain of the Jackdaw
You see a man burdened by past mistakes and still wishes to do better
You see a human being at its core
With history it’s easy to forget the people your looking at was once alive and a breathing being
One who was just as flawed as you and I
But seeing a infamous pirate captain cry about issues pertaining not just time him made you remember that
He isn’t opposed to modernizing but seems to keep a certain sea-like touch to his appearance
Clothes for labourers and something loose is what he normally sticks to
He’s lucky though since he doesn’t exactly have traditional robes and can incorporate what he appeared in with a modern flair
Occasionally when he gets drunk he slurs out old shanties and talks about his epic tales
You might or might not have freaked the fuck out learning that James kidd was actually a woman
Mind blown
Ezio and Altair had to drag you away from your computer from writing an entire essay
Sitting on your countertop he holds a glass of whiskey in hand, one held out for you as you sit down beside him. The moon casts its gentle rays and lights the marble slab you both sit on. “I prefer Rum but this’ll do” it’s said in a playful tone that makes you nod and take a sip.
“I can grab some captain Morgan later…speaking of which, did you know him?
“No, but I did find a few of his things laying about “
“Care to tell?”
“Aye, sure thing”
Haytham Kenway
As the only Templar in this house it’s safe to say he’s definitely the outlier of the bunch
A relative lone wolf from the group that all hold some sort of Ill feelings towards him
From his father its confusion and sadness
The others it’s a mix of that and anger
From Connor it’s just plain…well your not quite sure how to describe it
The two’s entire family situation is just plain messy and thick with tension that their blades could cut through
But here’s the thing, in this house your also an outlier
A neutral zone so to say
Hell, the entire house seemed to be a haven of sorts from their whole Templar vs Assassin conflict
To be honest you don’t really care about this secret war
Well that’s a lie you are interested in these war of secret societies but you don’t specifically care to get involved in their politics
Not when you have business in interfering in it unless a fight breaks out and your telling everyone to calm the fuck down
So safe to say your kinda the only one who talks to Haytham
He is…well sometimes he’s a bit of an ass (in the British type of way) but at the same time he’s good conversation
Specifically when it comes to that of morals and philosophical beliefs
He is a conflicted man
A flawed one
But he holds his beliefs and morals despite the fact he’s been hurt and betrayed by a man he viewed as a mentor
He doesn’t talk about it much but he’s still hurt
Still seething with venom that burns his soul and flesh
Makes him want to lash out despite his upperclassman appearance and attitude
That despite it all he loves his son, so much so he willingly walked into what would be his death knowingly
That despite what happened he loves his dad yet can’t face him yet on account of what he became
What ideals and morals he still believes in even now
It’s perhaps he’s venting this to you rather than a journal because he knows you won’t judge him unfairly on the basis of what side your own
Your judging him as a flawed man and as an equally flawed person
It’s with him as well you open up about your own frustrations
How you still don’t know how to feel about this all
The fact that a lot of what you once knew was flipped on it’s head
Along with the fact your not even sure how to address your dad
It’s an entire mess but perhaps your both messed up together and that also draws you both to talking
To discuss your feelings of insucurity and confliction
To feel comfort that your not alone in not having your emotional shit in order
On some especially…emotional nights you both both have a cup of tea
He seems to enjoy that each time you use a different type, much of which used to be hard to obtain due to shipping and it’s prices
He hasn’t really yet grasped modern technology but your slowly helping him with it
It’s kinda like trying to teach a grandpa to figure out a phone, but now it’s him with the concept of a microwave
Like some of the others he’s yet to really also change his clothes to something modern
There has been a few times though he sported sweaters and vests
Your now working on helping his wardrobe since he prefers a sophisticated look
Occasionally he looks at the photos that line your walls, looking as you evolve through the ages
It’s…odd
With Connor he never had the chance to watch him grow
Never a snapshot to immortalize what he was like a child but now ones of you litter the walls like paintings
He feels melancholy
Yet at the same time he’s happy to get another chance maybe
One that is seemingly being helped by your gentle hand unknowingly
“I never thought about it until now but the stars are different” he says taking a sip of his matcha tea, he lets it pool on his tongue and experience the flavour. Not his favourite but not the worst
“That’s cause of light pollution here…though the stars do move so it it’s possible they’ve shifted position in the sky”
“Do they teach you about the stars in your schooling?”
“Yeah I took some. Not sure why, it just kinda spoke to me. Maybe it’s the Kenway blood”
Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway
Of the group Connor is the most quiet and surprisingly the one whom you connect with the best for some reason
Perhaps it’s cause your both socially awkward in ways that let you relate
Or the fact you’ve both been ostracized by society for various reasons
His company is that of a quiet one but one you accept it with ease as you both sit and enjoy each others company
A quiet kinship made of unspoken but understood words from one another
The reminder that someone else is there and your not truly alone
He is perhaps the one you feel you can understand the most
And it’s the same likewise for him
Your both people deeply hurt and still bleeding internally
People raised by only their mother in a cruel and harsh world
People who were let down one way or another by their father
People who are still mad and angry but use that to further their determination
It’s odd but you feel truly understood
Like your soul was peeled back to reveal at your core your still a lone spirit lost in the world
One clinging to what they know as their only lifeline in this confusing and jumbled mess of a situation
The hulking 6 foot 2 man shows you trails near your home
Taking to the forest paths you’ve know your entire life and helping you discover even more about them
And while he does this he teaches you more about the world as you both walk the old beaten path
He tells you how to identify what type of tree is which, which stones are likely geodes and what tracks belong to who
It’s honestly petty interesting especially since he adds snippets of stories from his heritage
In return you talk about what you know as well
Snippets of your own knowledge that he seems to store into his mind just as you do with his stories
An equal exchange of sorts
On these walks you begin to notice he takes you out on these when your at your most stressed
The times in which your mind is overworking and consuming itself with anxiety
The times in which you need to breath
Connor doesn’t seem like one to vocally express his care but he does so through action
Small inconspicuous actions that mean a lot more than what meets the eye
It’s seems that his towards you is helping you when you need it most
Taking you away to just take a moment for yourself
To just breath in the fresh air and let the sunset coloured leaves of autumn crunch under your boots
Letting the cold breeze take away your worries
It’s perhaps better than any type of verbal support
Yet another unspoken action of care and compassion through knowing and watching
Of watching and knowing when you need a break
When you realize this and give him a small tired smile as a thanks he seems to know
Only giving a small nod with a minuscule smile of his own
It only grows bigger when you begin to ask him if his traditions, of the stories and practices of his people that he’s more than willing to tell when he knows you ask out of genuine curiosity and respect
Connor is somewhat 50/50 in modernizing
He adapts quite well but still needs help with certain things as he navigates the situation
But like usual he is anything but resourceful as he watches what you do and figures it out
He helps the others quite a bit with what he’s picked up and somewhat takes pride in the fact he can help them
Whilst he’s privy to wearing his robes he isn’t against more modern clothes
The only problem though is sometimes finding stuff that fits him considering he’s not only a giant but also fairly muscular
But your both eventually able to find some stuff for him to wear that he likes
He really appreciates though that you try to buy clothes and jewelry from nearby indigenous peoples
It might not be his but he appreciates the sentiment and familiarity that the beaded jewelry give him
“I’ve lived here my whole life and walked down these paths a thousand times yet it seems more like your the local here” you say with amusement as you follow Conner through an area you’d be never been before.
He smiles, it’s small but there as he adds “just a matter of perspective. You see the paths your used to and I see ones you hadn’t noticed”
Desmond Miles
Yeah so this is entirely awkward for you
Like how the fuck do you emotionally deal with this and the fact your very dead dad who didn’t know you existed till now is now very alive
And living in your house with his very dead ancestors that are also now alive
Case and point you don’t, specifically you ignore the problem and act like everything is fine
You lock yourself away and try to avoid him like the plague
Somehow Scurry past him and into the kitchen to grab something before returning to your abode to eat
But then things got complicated
Things change
You began talking to the others
Slowly coming out the darkness of your study and joining the dinner table
But you still try to avoid him
It feels like the sight of him burns your mind, all those nights as a kid coming back to you
The hope and then disappoint in learning he died and that he likely never wanted you
Your mother never said this but the other kids did. They always teased and picked at the fact you were a mistake
It’s why you push so hard now to be the best, To prove them wrong (to prove to yourself that your worth existing)
The fact is that now he’s here and you don’t know how to deal with that
How would you even start?
What do you even say to him?
You quiet down when he enters a room because you don’t know what to do
Whatever your about to say dying in your throat like a caged bird and all that came come out are garbled noises as you evade him
Eyes casting down to your hands like a child averting their gaze from their parent when in trouble (he is your dad so it’s the same thing right?)
Leaving the room he’s in as quickly as you can once a take is done
The others notice quick, I mean how can’t they? A damn butter knife can cut through the tension
The whole thing with Haytham and Connor is less tense than this
But what can you even do?
How in thick do you talk to him and how can he even talk to you?
Your 18 and in university, he’s 25 and was a bartender in New York before apparently sacrificing himself for the world
He’s closer in age to being a big brother rather than your dad.
But even besides that he’s been long dead and gone since 2012
It’s been years since that point and more importantly he’s someone important and your not
He’s an assassin born to a bloodline of other assassins
Someone who was raised in this tradition with greatness not only in his origin but also in his death
And your you
A child born from a one night stand who’s only achievement is being good at knowing about old people
It hurts but it’s true
If he’s a star then your a candle compared to his light
A mere blip or spark to the greater picture
There had been times he looked like he wanted to say something but you scurry away before he can say anything
Sometimes you catch the looks and small gestures Ezio tries to make as if to encourage him to go up to you
How Connor sometimes brings up to you how he wishes for reconciliation with his dad and that perhaps it’s possible with your own
Altair not beating around the bush and plainly telling both him and you to talk
But it all feels for naught and dies when those feelings and thoughts return
But eventually he corners you
Well not really corners you per say but he catches you as you leave your study after a talk with Altair
“Listen I don’t have any grudge against you. For one you died, I’d be a dick if I blamed you for that or your decision to save the world and whatever. Second you didn’t know about me in the first place” you say briefly looking up at him before averting your gaze, he looks like he wants to say something but he can’t get a word out before you continue “but you don’t have to act like my dad or anything. You never asked for me, it was a mistake, I was a mistake and I’m fine with it.” (Your lying to yourself)
You leave before he can get a word out, and he’s left alone in the hallway. When he returns to Ezio he just sits down in silence. It’s enough for everyone to know I didn’t go the way he wanted.
Admittedly when you begin to notice odd figures at the achieves you write it off
I mean it could literally be anyone plus the supervisors aren’t making a fuss about them here
If anything their welcoming them and looking at them with hopeful eyes
Small glances full of opportunities in them
It’s odd but maybe their just some non-profit here to support the archive
Or even private benefactors of sorts
But then they turn their attention to you
Plastic smiles on their faces, artificial pleasantries as their main spokeswoman sits in front of you in a slick suit
Her stilettos tapping against the ground as your eyes trail to her bodyguards of sorts
They stand not too close nearby
Watching
Waiting
And then she begins talking
And slowly you grow more and more uncomfortable
Hands playing with one another, fingers twitching in your palm as crescent are indebted in your skin
They apparently are interested in your findings
In your research
But more specifically you
They’ve researched you…a lot
Down from where your mother was born to her great great something grandfather
And your father
…but that’s not public knowledge
It wasn’t even on your birth certificate
This….this isn’t
She smiles though now the darkness melts away into something more knowing
Dangerous and sadistic of sorts
And it’s there on her little pin showing her name you recognize the logo
Within your house you’d vaguely heard whispers of the others talking in hushed tones
You didn’t mind
The less you know the better in that sense
Out of sight and out of mind
But sometimes you’d hear the mumbles of a name that you didn’t put together until now
One spat with venom just as they did with the word of the Templar
Abstergo
You barely have time to react before your black bagged and sufficiently knocked out
Mind drifting to that of panic
What would happen to you?
What will happen when the others find out?
But then those thoughts fade away into the dark void of sleep
When you wake up things are odd
Everything is a sterile white and too bright for your foggy sleep tinged eyes
The room is blurred as is your senses as you weightlessly drift
Everything feels odd
And then it happens sharp and pure pain that leaves you writhing and screaming into the void
And that’s when you notice that white light had left and your in a void of sorts
Empty glitching effects all around you as your left to look around in confusion until you see something
A memory? Specifically one of your memories
Your staring at a simulation of sorts of your past self
A 8 year old in their bed with chubby cheeks pulled up into a melancholy smile
You recognize this moment, your small hands holding a picture that had long been put away into a scrapbook and forgotten
Your left wordless and confused
And then that bitch’s voice appears again and she explains
This entire thing is a simulation of your memories
And essentially their gonna go through your head picking through them to not only learn what they want but then use you as their lab rat cause of your bloodline.
Cause apparently memories of your ancestors could be accessed that way and it was generally easier to have a descendant rather than finding objects and artifacts
And it’s there in that simulation it feels like your mind is being ripped apart
Memories ripped from your mind to play out in front of you as she makes comments and documents them before their forced back in and another is ripped out
Like book having pages torn out and then crudely stitched back in
It hurts so damn much
Over and over
Your just left in screaming again on the ground of this simulated world as she makes idol comments
Left begging for it to stop
For someone to help
For the love of god someone help you make it stop
Of course this would happen to you
You’ve always had shit luck despite your whole family motto being “make your own luck”
What utter bullshit
You can’t make good luck from bad
Can’t just change things when the scales are already tipped one way
But then like a miracle from above she goes quiet and suddenly the memory is gone
And your left in the void still reeling from it all
Still on the glitching ground before once more white encompasses your view
Blinding and bright as your still recovering
And then an unfamiliar voice tunes in
“Your safe” it’s heavily accented, in an Irish twang that’s soft as he says these words to you. A reminder that your ok now, it’s over. “Can you walk?”
You try to look at him with squinting eyes yet they still can’t adjust, your limbs feel heavy like solid rock. Unmoving even as you try. With some difficulty you shake your head
“Aight, I’ll have you carry you then. Are you alright with that?”
“Just get me out of here…please. I just want to go home, I miss my family” it sounds pathetic but as tears begin to fall the stranger doesn’t seem to think Ill of you.
“Don’t worry, I get what that’s like.” The tone is sympathetic and like before is soft “you’ll be home I no time, I promise”
You think for a moment before responding “I trust you”. For a second you feel him go still at that before he picks you up.
For awhile there’s buzzing alarms and panic as your saviour gets you out whoever’s you were taken too
There’s not a moment of silence as he sharply runs and dodges past what you think to be gunshots
Occasionally he grumbles something but for the most part he seems calm
Composed despite the chaos of it all
So much so that it makes you wonder if this is an average Tuesday for him
There’s so much shout and yelling for your already pounding head
But sometimes the yells are silenced as the sound of a blade cuts it short
Footsteps far behind eventually stopping
Sirens getting more and more distant and allowing you and the man to breath
It’s there in the pocket of silence you learn his name
Shay
It sounds familiar, like really familiar yet you can’t put your finger on it
Either way your grateful because how can you not be?
Your away from that place
Away from the torture of having your mind picked apart like a lab experiment
Having the privacy of your memories looked at and prodded
But now your somewhat okay
Your eyes feel weird, your vision feels weird like it keeps switching between something
Your at least somewhat able to walk though it’s unbalanced
but Shay doesn’t seem to mind
He offers an arm that you cling to for support
A kind smile on his face as he makes sure you didn’t injure yourself further
And then you notice his clothes are….old
Like Haytham and Connor level old
And…shit
It’s halfway home through the trails you recognize due to Connor that your vision changes
The world feels bigger as if your third eyes opened or something
Shays figure and presence is highlighted in a clover green
And perched nearby is another green figure, one waiting for a good moment
Shay follows your sight before promptly having to duck out the way from a knife that flies at his head
He pushes you back behind him, you stumble back vision switch between monochrome and normal as someone else grabs you
Instinctively you almost yell before realizing who was now helping keep you steady
And the other person now attacking Shay
“Connor! He’s good! He saved me!”
“He’s a Templar!”
“So is Haytham and you haven’t killed him…again have you!”
At that Shay pauses, turning to look at you with confusion as Connor stops his attempt as slitting his throat
Ezio on the other hand helps you up but keeps a firm protective grip
Watching Shays movements like Connor in apprehension before the two settle down and stare at you for more detail
Both waiting on your word
“He saved me and today has been a long ass day-“
“You’ve been gone for 4 days”
You pause momentarily at that before adding “long 4 ass days of having my mind literally ripped apart. Can we please head back to the house and settle this there? Thank you”.
The moment you get back your almost immediately tackled to the ground by a familiar white and red hoodie wearing absent (dead) father
It’s….odd but nice
Desmond (still feels too awkward to call him dad) is holding you like a lifeline and you notice bags beneath his eyes
He looks like hell
But none of the others are any better either
They all like positively exhausted yet light up when seeing your safe
Your home
It reminds you of your mom when you returned home from school
The long work day evident on her brow but her smile lighting up the room at the sight of your face
It’s no different compared to then except for the fact they all (except Haytham) then protectively pull you away from the nearby Shay who’s being glowered at by Connor
Safe to say it’s a little awkward until you somehow pull free of Desmond’s death grip hobble your ass between the two lone Templars and Assassins
A long discussion having to take place between them all as you not only explain what happened but also it seems you all forget one crucial thing
It seems you forgot about your mom’s side of the family
Whoop de Doo you have more things to process and so does everyone else here
Specifically Connor and Haytham Because before apparently knew (or know of) Shay
Great, another complex relationship in this household like there needed to be more of that
But with this entire situation it also highlights something bigger
Your not safe
None of you are safe
Perhaps you never truly were
And that in turns leaves you with the difficult decision of what to do next
Because In this difficult game of politics between two ever warring groups your a neutral force
You wanted to stay that way but unfortunately fate had other plans
as your drug into this game your left with limited options of sides for not only yourself but for the others who seem keen on following you
Even the two (former?) templars seem to follow your decision
So When Des…er your dad suggests finding his old friends it seems like the best option
It’s either that or be kidnapped and prodded again and who knows what abstergo will do to everyone else (even one’s that once upon a time we’re on their side)
Besides, he says you’ll get along well with someone named Shaun so It can’t be too bad
So he sends out a message and you leave the home you find yourself look at with melancholy
It stopped being a home when mom died but now it seemed like it was just that again
Only time can tell what will bring upon you next
But….you think you’ll be ready for whatever is thrown at you when you have this odd group of family at your side
The expression of blood is thicker than water never really held much weight since you only ever had your mom until she was gone
But maybe you understand it a bit better now
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ezio auditore x shy!fem!reader ?
Il Dottoressa
Pairing: AC2!Ezio x ShyFem!Reader
Summary: Ezio has a crush on you, the doctor's daughter; or where Ezio gets hurt on purpose to see you.
Warnings: non-canon compliance, non-history compliance (i had to adapt), LONG ONE-SHOT, no description of reader, FLUFF, blood, injuries, italian translated using translator
Author's Notes: hii, thank you so much for requesting <3! i hope you enjoy reading it because i had tons of fun writing it! just a reminder: my requests for ezio are still open! click here for more info!
You should consider yourself a lucky woman. Your father Giuseppe was a man of Science, a doctor who always cared about your well-being and education, especially after your mother's death. He didn't obligate you to wed or have kids like most parents.
For him, for you to carry the family's legacy was to become a doctor. So you did your best to learn as much as possible, in secret. To the rest of society, your father suggested you be portrayed just as his errand daughter. Nobody knew the full extent of your abilities. So you advised treatments, assisted your dad in the shop he had, and turned out to be every child's favorite doctor. They were easier to talk to than most adults. You meet Ezio on your first day alone at the shop. Your dad had to help a patient with an urgent matter in another town and gave you clear instructions on how to proceed.
"They will try to bargain but do not drop the price too much. Let them think they got a deal."
The day went by relatively easy. Two regular clients pass by to get some medicine and talk a little. After a few hours of boredom, you open a book and let your eyes wander through the pages. Your dad may allow you to help with surgery next time if you gather more knowledge. You also needed to focus on having a steady hand...
"Scusi."
Startled by the sudden voice, you held your book close to your chest so it wouldn't fall. When you turn around, you immediately recognize the man: Ezio Auditore. Your dad had alerted you about him: the questionable man with a white robe and hood that always paid the total price. Your dad ordered you not to over-extend the conversation with the strange man. Your attention goes to his arm, where he was holding a torn, bloody sleeve. You don't need to predict he will ask you for a curative. You point to the chair, and Ezio sinks into the chair.
You get some alcohol and some clean cloths. You have no reason to be afraid or nervous; you are in the middle of town, and the man won't do anything. And now, most importantly, he was a patient.
Ignoring your internal concerns, you focused on working. His torn sleeve was soaked with blood, but you no longer saw any blood dropping out of the cut, so you concentrated on cleaning the blood from the injury with alcohol. Like most people, Ezio didn't react to the pain, so you continued. Then you begin to wrap his arm in a bandage. That cut had to be done with a sharp spear.
"Where is the other Signore that stays here?" Ezio asked, his voice sounding tired.
"My father had business somewhere else," You responded, focusing on finishing the bandage. When you are done, you make sure it was all secured. Looked perfect.
"So I won't lose my arm anytime soon, Signorina?" Ezio attempted to joke, giving you a faint smile, and you ignored him. You placed your stuff on the shop's cart and waited as he checked your work.
"Grazie. I haven't seen any women doctors around town. What is your name?"
"It will be 30 florins, Signore."
"Va bene," Ezio put the money in your hand, and you counted. It seems he gave you an extra five florins. He was already gone when you lifted your head, disappearing in the middle of the people. You want to call his name and catch up to him, but you shake your head. He either purposely did that, or it was just a mistake.
After that day, your dad decided you could stay in the shop alone. You were so excited and thrilled. Your dad could now go to another town as a doctor while you cared for his business.
You glow with pride and happiness. You see Ezio Auditore once or twice, jumping around buildings, doing who-knows. He didn't seem to notice you, which you thanked mentally. You had asked your dad what exactly Ezio was doing, and your dad affirmed it was neither your business nor his to know, it just looked dangerous. Ezio only appeared in his shop with parts of his body hurt, cut, bruised, or broken more than the average person. As curious as you are to ask, you understand your dad is done with this conversation.
The next time you see Ezio, he has a dislocated shoulder. You try to give him something to bite, but he shakes his head, gritting his teeth. You want to ask how he got this, but it is not your place. When you pop his shoulder back into place, Ezio grunts. You recommend that he avoid using that shoulder for more vigorous activities. Ezio gives you a half-smile as if he knows something you don't.
"It will be 50 florins this time."
You feel he gives you more florins when he hands you the money.
"You are giving me too much, Signore."
"As a thank you. Can't I do that?"
You don't really know how to respond to that. It is his money. Extra money even. Before you can answer, he grabs your hand and kisses it lightly. You freeze in your spot, unable to move.
"Name is Ezio Auditore. Can you tell me yours?"
It is your first time giving a good look at Ezio Auditore. He seems to have brown hair. He has a scar across his lips, now with what appears to be a naughty smile, which just makes him more charming. He is staring at you, really staring at you. You want to protest, but your voice dies down your throat. You gulp, trying to find something to say, but nothing comes out.
"We shall see each other around, Dottoressa."
And you do end up seeing him, now what it seemed once at least every week. Ezio appears with a horrible bruise on his back and watches, delighted, as you look away, mortified, when he lifts his robe. He appears a few days later with a raspy cough. Then, comes back three days later, alleging he fell to his head and had a horrible headache. You want to ask him if there are no other doctors in town, but hold your tongue. And Ezio was sincerely trying to make you smile and laugh most of the time.
Like when he appeared with a bow attached to his back. You took it out carefully, ensuring you didn't hurt him too much or cause him to die. Besides, you were thankfully thanking his presence at this point: the rate Ezio got injured, he would end up being your first surgery.
"Does it look like I die today, Dottoressa?" He exclaims as you finish cleaning the hole. Why he has to say that in such a sexy way?
"Not today, Signore Auditore."
"Ezio," He corrects you, as the other times, and you roll your eyes, ignoring him. When you are done, Ezio gives you more money than he should.
"I should not go far, probably. I will get hurt and come here for you to repair me." You answer him with a half-smile, too nervous to say anything else. You know he is getting hurt on purpose; he probably knows that as well, and instead of sending him away, you continue seeing him.
"Oh, mhm, I almost forgot," Ezio taps his body, takes out a book, and handles it to you. It seems to be about different kinds of poisons and diseases.
"What is this?"
"For you, Dottoressa. I have seen you read books about it and presumed you would like it."
You are surprised, flipping over the book with care. It looks expensive and updated. That would help you so much with your studies. You couldn't believe Ezio got you something like this.
"Signore Ezio, I can't accept it. "
"Per favore?" Ezio's voice sounds like he imploring, "You have done so much for me. It is the least I can do."
You want to say no and argue that he has already given you more money than he should, but Ezio appears so anxious for your answer. You feel the heavy book in your hands, and your desire gets the best of you. You nod, and Ezio's worried expression turns into a big smile.
"I will see you around, Dottoressa."
"Grazie, Ezio." You finally say when he is too far away to hear it.
After that, your relationship with Ezio got closer. Although you hadn't said your name, he seemed satisfied to watch you flustered when he called you "Mia Dottoressa favorita" or "Il Dottoressa Bella." Or when he continued to bring you more books. When you finally open them at home, they would have different flowers inside.
It wasn't hard to keep all of that hidden from your dad. Your father was out of town almost daily, traveling around Italy. It was also challenging to just not tell Ezio your name. Before, it was for your sense of security, but now, there wasn't much reason to keep it hidden. Ezio was nearly like a friend. Yes, he could be cocky and a little show-off, but he also had a gentle and entertaining side. He could listen to you speak for hours about how crazy the human body could be. He never interrupted you or seemed bored. On the contrary, it was like nothing else existed except for you.
"Are you going to be a Dottoressa at the end?"
"Si, Signore Ezio. Your books are helping me a lot." You confessed, feeling breathless like always when he was around. Gathering all your courage, you finally ask him, "Can I ask you something?"
"Si?" Ezio's gaze looks full of hope.
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to. Why are you always so hurt? Who are you fighting?"
Ezio ponders for a moment before answering.
"For mi familia. I would tell you more, but- " You certainly felt like you shouldn't have asked now. Idiota, you think.
"Well, if that might help you... I am your Dottoressa after all."
"Oh, you are my Dottoressa?" The way he emphasized the word my! You wish a hole had just opened in the ground so that it could eat you as a whole. This was something regular now: Ezio always says or does something to leave you without words. One of those days, you will gather all your courage and do the same to him.
But until then, you are happy that Ezio sticks around. Always afraid he will be one of these days badly hurt, and you won't be around to help him. You could only hope he would always come back to you.
EPILOGUE:
You are almost home when a few guards rush in your direction, screaming and pointing at the sky. With your heart shrinking, you look up, wishing that Ezio is safe tonight. Almost at your door, you hear a loud thumb next to a haystack pile. Looking around and assuring there is no one, you investigate the origin of the noise. To your surprise, you see Ezio badly injured. You run to kneel at his side, checking the extension of his wounds. It doesn't look well.
Merda merda.
"Ezio? Can you hear me?" He is semi-conscious, his eyes struggling to stay open. You can hear more guards getting close. With no choice and all your strength, you pull his body towards the haystack, hiding and praying that the guards won't see the trail of blood behind you.
The guards finally arrive, and your heart bumps against your chest as they investigate everywhere. You feel Ezio's rapid breath as you lightly place your hand on his chest as if keeping you there alive with you.
Ezio moans low, and you bend to his ear, whispering frantically.
"Shhh, I am here, Ezio, it is me. We will be okay."
When the guards finally leave, after what seems to take an eternity, you leave the haystack pile, making sure no one is around. Not hearing anyone, you hurry back to Ezio, attempting to make him fully conscious.
"Ezio, per favore, you have to focus on me. On my voice. We need to get you out of there, we need to bring you inside!"
"Dottoressa?" His voice sounds so weak it just breaks your heart. You hold his cheek, and his skin feels hot. A fever? What if he has been poisoned? You have to get him in your house, but you are afraid to pull him, and he dies, afraid you might be found by the Guards, and he dies.
There is no time for this, Dottoressa. This is your patient, and you better save him.
You pull Ezio's body with your arms to your house entrance. With difficulty, you place him on an old sofa-like, not caring about the mess. With not a lot of options, you rip his destroyed robe and his shirt. At this point, Ezio is shaking with cold, despite his body being extremely hot. You start disinfecting his injuries, checking how bad they are. It doesn't seem that he was punctured. While you clean, you notice the rest of his body for damages. You take his boots out, and with hands shaking, you rip his pants. Praying mentally for no injuries, you cut until his upper thigh. Nothing. Relieved, you focus on his head, letting go of his ponytail. No extensive injuries. Good. You continue cleaning and give him some medicine for his fever, covering his body with a clean sheet.
You let yourself get distracted by how long his hair is. You always theorized it was much shorter. You pass your finger through his hair, and Ezio lets out a long sigh.
You know the following hours will be crucial. Ezio might react badly; you must stay awake if he needs you. If he was poisoned, he might respond during the night. You bring a chair close to Ezio, watching him peacefully sleep. You implore him to survive. You plead for him to be healthy.
When Ezio wakes up in the morning, he is immediately aware of being in a strange house, not a cell. He tries to move, but his body just hurts so much. Last night, when he was on his way to see you with a small cut on his finger, he ended up getting in the middle of a mess. After fighting his way out, he was still followed. Tired and exhausted, he didn't know the extent of his injuries until he passed out and fell from the top of a building.
He examines around, finding you sound asleep in a chair. How he ended up there? Ignoring the pain in his body, Ezio sits down, roaming his eyes through his body. It could have been worse. He lifts the sheet, notices you cut his pants down and chuckles low. That seems to wake you up, and Ezio feels slightly guilty about it.
"Dottoressa?" He calls you. You promptly get up, touching his head and arms to check for any signs of fever. Looks normal. You were glad you didn't choose the leeches last night.
"How are you feeling, Ezio?"
"I am fine, probably thanks to you. How?"
"I heard something falling from a building last night. When I went to check, I saw you badly injured. Had to hide in a haystack while the guards were looking for you. Brought you here and kept an eye on you for the rest of the night."
"How come if you have slept, Dottoressa?" He jokes, and you laugh, glad to see him alive.
"Now I owe you my life. How much is this even going to cost me, Dottoressa? Am I going bankrupt?" Ezio questions in a teasing tone.
"N-no? I am just glad you are alright, Ezio. I was so afraid last night that you were going to di-"
"You saved me, mia bella. Just to prove you should be my particular Dottoressa. Not anybody else's. Mine." He provokes you again, confident that you wouldn't answer.
"Do you want me? To be just yours?" It is funny to watch Ezio lose all the color on his face. For the first time, he is the stunned one, left without an answer, "What happened, Ezio Auditore? Is something wrong with your tongue? Should I check for you?"
You don't know if it is last night's stress or Ezio looking like he is losing his mind, but you laugh until your belly hurts. Ezio is confused at first but smiles, understanding your joke.
"Very good, mia cara. Very good. Joking with my feelings like that. I could have died last night, you know."
Cleaning the tears in the corner of your eyes, you pull your chair close to his. Ezio observes, curious, while you grab and hold his hand into yours.
"I wasn't joking when I said I could be yours."
Your confession makes Ezio's mouth drop slightly, but he quickly recomposes himself. He cleans his throat, with his other free hand calling you closer. You get up from the chair, your legs shaking, and he starts by caressing your chin. You close your eyes, and Ezio follows his touch to your cheeks and lips. He traces your lips with his fingers, admiring you as the most beautiful piece of art he has ever seen.
You melt in his arms when he brings you closer and finally kisses you. Holding into his shoulder gently, you kiss him back, letting yourself fully stroke his hair. Ezio's hands are placed on your cheeks. When you two finally break apart, you are both breathless, wishing for more. Your heart, your soul, asks for more.
"Dottoressa.."
You shake your head, smiling, and finally tell Ezio your name.
MASTERLIST | EZIO'S MASTERLIST
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