Chapter Text
Lisbon
September, 1749
You run through the long hallway, turning the corner that leads into the kitchen. The greasy, wet tile floor causes your boots to slip. Your knee scrapes the floors as you quickly get up, leaving a dark stain on your brown breeches.
“Come here!” José laughs as he reaches over the kitchen counter, almost throwing himself over it. You hide behind Cláudia, giggles escaping your mouth as you grip her voluminous skirt.
“Crianças, por favor! Take it outside, will you?” Cláudia waves her flour coated hands around, forcing you to release her. A smile appears across her aged features as she sinks her hands back into the dough. It was impossible for her to be angry at the joy of two children, especially at yours. After all, she had been the one taking you in, 10 years ago on a cold December night. It wasn’t snowing, but it might as well have been. Feeling the cold digging and twisting between one’s bones was unbearable, even more for a scrawny, nearly naked and barely fed 7 year old girl like you were. Cláudia, the maid, caught you in the kitchen, holed up by the fire, the window you got in from still open. But instead of waking up surrounded by guards, you woke up surrounded by warmth. Warmth from the blanket she pulled over you.
Your feet whirl around in a quiet dance, as José eyeballs you from across the counter while pacing from one side to the other, his chest oscillating quickly due to his heavy breathing. You are panting a bit yourself… Perhaps now is the time where all that resistance training will be proven useful? Your eyes remain on José as you plan your escape route, hopefully he won’t detect your slightly distracted look.
Where can you go? He stands between you and the door, so that is not an option. The pillar to your right… You could use that as an advantage, no? Distract him somehow and loop around it? No. That would never work. Cláudia; maybe she could…
In a matter of seconds, a thousand worthless ideas run through your head. Until you notice the sunlight hitting the back of Cláudia’s white dress. The window directly behind you is open and ready for you to jump off. It’s not that big of a fall now is it? 2 meters. Perhaps 3? 4? You don’t know, but it is too late now anyways.
You turn around and leap over the window, landing sturdily on the cobblestone pavement below. A sting-like sensation crawls up your legs, but your pride is too high to let you give up now, so you distance yourself from the wall, hearing Cláudia’s muffled rant. José sticks his head through, wide eyes, such a shocked facial expression that causes you to burst out laughing. The few people on the street continue their doings, although their disturbed looks are not discreet, most of them accentuating once they notice what, and whose building you just came flying from.
“What are you waiting for?!” You shout towards the window, starting to run down the narrow street.
The dark alleyways are swept by your passing form. You leave the shadows, finding yourself in the small square ahead of Saint Dominic’s church. Your rhythm slows into a normal pace and your gaze adverts to the ground. You walk by the front of the church, heart pounding inside your chest. Father Gabriel’s eyes are on you. You can feel them piercing through your skull.
“Girl.” He motions you to come closer.
“Yes, Father?” Your hands sweep behind your ears the strands of hair falling from your bun, in an attempt to tidy up.
“Where are your siblings?” His eyes scan you up and down, noticing your attire. A shirt, laces undone, causing it to gape slightly; dark colored breeches cover your legs till just under the knee, leather boots then taking over. Clothing rather not appropriate for the lady you are supposed to be.
“I believe they are headed towards the harbor, senhor, as I am.”
“Oh.” His eyes look away from yours. The previously severe look in them turns apologetic, “Send my regards to the marchioness, and the marquis of course.” He nods, a hand pats your shoulder, “Go on, child.”
As the church door closes, José emerges from one of the alleys behind you, “Y/N!” A grin takes over your mouth as you glance at him. You skip in place before rushing towards the market.
You descend through Lisbon’s hills, the mountains across the river in the distance, take over most of the view between the buildings. The sun burns your face, but the wind soothes it. Sweat runs down your back, the strands of hair falling down your neck cling onto your skin.
As you approach the main avenue, your sight is flooded with an endless spectrum of colors and shapes. The air is filled with voices and high-pitched laughs. The modest merchants loop around their stalls, interacting with the passing court. The women walk in their pastel colored gowns, the men in their dark suits, most of them wearing white wigs over their heads. You cringe just by watching them dressed like that. You hate when you are forced to wear those gowns. The corset deprives you from breathing properly, the huge heavy skirts make it nearly impossible to move ordinarily, not to mention the fact that the fabrics are thick and layered, causing an extreme discomfort amongst warmer temperatures. As you scoot in-between these people, you are pretty certain most of them feel the exact same way, judging by their soaked collars, and mostly by the disgusting smell of sweat surrounding them, combined with the flowery scents they use trying to mask it. You cover your nose with your arm, inhaling the lavender scent of the shirt you’re wearing. You keep it that way until you leave the crowded street, stumbling into the Commerce Square.
Guards ride by you mounted in horses while others are on foot, merchants carry their goods through the dirt. Children run around as gaudy carriages pass by. You take a deep breath, taking in the smell of the sea mixed with the sweet exotic spices. Finalmente, you think to yourself when you see the Tagus river a few meters away. There are a couple schooners just off the coast sailing into the ocean, a few rowboats are scattered throughout the water, but what catches your attention is the big frigate anchored on the port. Several men walk along the planks, carrying crates and barrels, while others hurry on board making the final adjustments before sailing. That must be the one.
You notice the big group of noblemen and women near it, umbrellas sheltering them from the sun. As you approach the group, their heads tilt your way; some women gasp, some men frown, others snort in amusement, all the reactions you were expecting coming from the court when glancing at you in your current state. Luís is one the men who laughs, “There you are!” He throws an arm around you, pushing you close to his side. The wind causes his wavy dark auburn hair gathered in a low ponytail to wiggle slightly. A mouthful smile crosses his shaved features as he looks at you.
Luís is the oldest of all the siblings, the one who trains you and the one who taught you everything you know about the Creed. He is an assassin and your mentor, as much as you hate to put it that way. He wiped your tears away when you scraped your knees, and stood up by you and José when you two got into trouble. Above all of it, he is your brother, even if not by blood.
“I was worried you would not be able to say your farewells. We all have already.” Luís gestures around you, the court members whispering between each other a couple meters away from yourselves. The king’s family is there as well, although they don’t seem to pay much attention to either of you.
Before you can reply, José arrives and punches your shoulder lightly, “I caught you!” he says out of breath.
Your eyebrows rise as you scoff, “You wish! I let you catch me.”
Luís’ eyes glance between both of you before gesturing to his brother, “Go on.” As José walks towards his parents, the soft sound of whimpers and sobs fills your ears. When you glimpse to your right you find Mariana clutching onto her handkerchief, wiping away her tears. Leonor and her husband are by her side, Leonor stroking her little sister’s hair, murmuring soothing words to her.
A shadow is cast over you and Luís’ grip gets tighter. The Marquis of Pombal stands in front of you, “And what happened to this young lady?” The disdain in his voice is perfectly audible. It takes every single one of your nerves to not roll your eyes at the man.
The Marquis of Pombal is a man you are not very fond of, or rather, no one seems to be. He is an arrogant, austere aristocrat, and to make it all worse, a templar. He is talked about at the dinner table, at the meetings you overhear and generally everywhere the court might be at. He does not appear to be bothered that one of his fellow peers, the Távora family, your family, is connected to the Assassins, and you’re not sure whether to take it as a good or a bad sign. A red strand of velvet hangs a templar cross on his chest, over his black clothing. His severe features are surrounded by a grey wig, its ends resting on his shoulders. He is staring you down, clearly disturbed by the look of you.
“We were training before. She even managed to knock me off my feet a couple of times, did you not?” Luís pats your shoulder, his smile certainly fake, however genuinely taunting the marquis. He is lying, yes, but the annoyed look on the marquis’ face is worth it. Before he can counter, Luís moves you to his front, both hands on your shoulders, guiding you past the marquis, towards his parents. “Y/N, you are the only one left. Go say your goodbyes to mother and father.” He lets go of you, slightly pushing you forwards.
“Mother and father”, the words linger in your head. The marquis and the marchioness of Távora are not your parents, at least in the traditional sense of the word. They took you in after Cláudia found you. The marchioness was radiant with the thought of having a daughter once again, as she had just lost one. In matter of fact, they had lost more than a couple of children, either before or after birth. Due to that or not, the whole family raised you as one of their own and gave you everything you ever needed to this day and forward. Leonor and Luís always treated you as a little sister, you bonded instantaneously with José, him being the same age as you, and when Mariana was born, you were the first one to hold her chubby fragile form. You owe these people everything, however you don’t have the courage to call them mother and father. Always sir, madam, marchioness, marquis, but never mother or father. You never felt up to their level, you never felt like a noblewoman, and you certainly did not consider yourself one. Perhaps that is the reason. You are definitely not of noble origins, therefore considering yourself not good enough to call them that. Even if you were of noble origins, you couldn’t possibly know it at this point in your life. Your childhood is long gone and your memory of anything before the Távoras with it.
The marchioness opens her arms as you walk into her sight “Y/N, querida!” She hugs you quickly before cupping your cheeks between her hands, “Oh, I’m going to miss you so much…”
You nod, smiling. Your eyes start to water, a knot forming in your throat, “Father Gabriel sends his regards to you and the marquis. I also wish you a safe journey to India.”
The marchioness must have noticed your watery eyes, as she pulls your face up so you’re facing her, one hand tucking behind your ear the strands of hair in front of your face, “We will return soon, dear, do not worry. Listen to your brother, yes? He will take over until Francisco and I return.” She plants a kiss on your forehead, then turning your body to face the marquis, who is speaking with the king.
The king pats the marquis’ arm, as they shake hands, “I have no doubt you will do a fine work as the Vice-King, Francisco. I expect you and Leonor to have a pleasant journey to India, I made sure the captain was the best of the fleet.” The marquis bows his head lightly, “Thank you, your honor. I will not disappoint.”
As the king walks back to his family, the marquis turns to you placing both hands on your shoulders, his eyes fixated on yours, a deep tenderness in them like you have never seen before in this man, “Luís informed me your skills have improved. I trust you will be a great assassin by the time we return, Y/N.” You nod, words always lacking when it comes to goodbyes. The captain shouts and all the men start to board the ship. Your heart begins to race as you see the moment of their departure coming closer, “Leonor and I love all of you very much. We will be back before you notice, dear. Try not to be too much of a problem to your brother, understood?”
A tear runs down your cheek but you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt, “Yes, sir. I hope you both have a safe journey.”
The marquis and the marchioness board the ship as Luís places an arm around you once again.
The ship begins to sail away towards the ocean, Leonor and Francisco standing in the deck, waving at your siblings and half the court in land.
Luís squeezes your shoulder slightly as you rest your head against his arm, “Do not worry, little sister. They will return.”