#hiddenbladeimagines

     The sound of the man’s voice startled her, nearly causing her to slip from the window’s ledge. “Where is it that you think you’re going, hmm?”

     She had been caught red-handed, quite literally she had thought to herself as she glanced at the blood dripping from her glove. In any other moment she would have ignored the unwanted company and hurried to meet Master Dorian but there was something oddly familiar in his voice. She peeked over her shoulder, careful to hide the majority of her face. Her muscles relaxed as noted the man’s features; Bonaparte. She rolled her eyes as she settled her feet back onto the palaces marble floor.

     His smirk widened into a wide grin as he carefully looked you over. “As an assassin aren’t you supposed to be undetectable?” He dared to stride closer to her, each step precise and sure.  

     It was her turn to smirk as she watched the soldier strut. “Who’s asking?” Her tone was playful, similar to the way her mentor spoke. She was relaxed enough to lean against the window’s casing, but her muscles were still ready to flee if the moment called for it.  

     He raised his hands up in surrender before folding them behind his back once more, “I’m a friend, not a foe.”

    “According to who?”  

    “You’re a tough one. Your mentor, Arno Dorian. We had met earlier and had asked me to keep the guards busy while you handled matters.”

     She scoffed, “I can handle things myself.” Secretly she thought of throttling Master Dorian for sending a babysitter, especially one who isn’t even trained like herself.

     No offense meant. I was just doing a favor.” He sauntered over to the desk where her victim’s body lay atop. She watched him carefully, catching his gaze as he watched from the corner of his eyes. “I do say though he failed to mention how lovely you’d be.”

     She hurriedly bit back her laugh. Master Dorian had cautioned her Bonaparte would be a character but she hadn’t expected someone so upfront. She could tell he was a self-assured man with the way he stood straight, shoulders pressed back, and his chest purposefully puffed out. She found his charade cute but not swaying.

     “I thank you but I truly must be going. Master Dorian can be a tad impatient.” She straightened herself from the wall and angled herself out the window once again. “It was a pleasure Monsieur Bonaparte. Until we meet again.” She tipped her head before gracefully leaping into the hay cart below.

     As she fell, she could hear him call out to her, “Meet me at the theatre tomorrow, say noon.”

     A smile played against her lips as his rant came to a close. “You see much of his father in him, don’t you?”

     His eyes bore into her, speaking volumes above what his words could.

     It was an act. The false sense of annoyance he projected was only a cover-up for the hurt he still felt all these years later. His charade only made her laugh, lighting a true flame in his chest. “Oh please, Bellec. There’s no shame in being a bit nostalgic. I see much of Charles in him as well but do not let that cloud your mind. They are not the same person, do not treat them as such.”

     “Don’t lecture me. The boy needs guidance. For fuck’s sake he’s siding with the Templars.” He through a hand up in the air as if cursing the heavens above.

     Despite his sudden flush of anger she kept calm, as she always had with him. “False.”

     “What?” He spat.

     “I said false. He is not siding with the Templars. He simply sees the battle from both points of view. He’s see the good as well as the bad from both sides.”

     Bellec scoffed at her remark. “Good? In a Templar? You trying to be funny, Y/N? There is no such thing. They’re corrupt, brain-washing savages and that’s exactly what they’ve done to him.”