You had already drifted off to sleep before you could see Feliciano's reaction. Your last conscious thoughts had been something along the lines of "what would he think?", "would he hate me?", or even the fleeting spark of hope, "does he love me too?"
Maybe you would never know, just to confess your love as your final breath is released from your lungs. Thoughts of love, death, and the Assassins swam through your consciousness, when suddenly your world went blank. Only the sound of your still-living heartbeat thudded calmly, piercing the abrupt silence.
Out of the vast absence of material form, you saw yourself. Standing in full-clad armor, you glanced around as you tried to take in the inexistent surroundings. Out of the thudding silence, soft footsteps began echoing through the space, as if slowly stalking on wooden flooring. You looked up.
A white-cloaked figure slowly began forming as the footsteps came closer. You felt no fear, muttering a hello.
The figure stopped in front of you. A taller assassin, looking down at you calmly. You studied his facial structure as he greeted you back- he looked just like man in the picture in the Assassin's Den. Ezio. You blinked, opening your eyes to the black world of the Eagle Vision once again. A wispy blue was cast upon the form of the Assassin standing before you as if he was made up of the blue fire.
It is said that the blue in fire is the most dangerous.
You were soon greeted by light as you opened your eyes. Your vision blurred from sleep, you took in the moment. You were still alive
but Feliciano wasn't next to you. As soon as you noticed his absence, you shot up into a sitting position, ignoring the extreme, searing pain that came to your stomach and torso. Where had he gone?!
You glanced around again- you weren't in the same room. It wasn't even an Assassin den, you thought. You had been laying down on a small bed in the corner of a small, decorated room. You quickly began feeling fear sweep over you, so you swung your feet over the side of the bed, ignoring the pain. You shakily stood, though the speed of the movement almost sent you tumbling over. Immediately supporting yourself up against the wall, you looked down at yourself. All major sources of pain were wrapped in bandages, with some deep red leaking through. You turned back to the bed you were on- next to it was a nightstand with a small cloth on it. In this cloth were small, bloody caltrops.
It took you a minute to understand- the doctor had gotten to you in time after all, but why here? You noticed your Assassin cloak and armor hanging on the wall- and you immediately put them on. Hustling-or limping- out the room, you noticed books all hung up on walls around you. You seemed to be in a library. Glancing to your left, you saw the same wounded person from before. It was a young man with a large bandage wrapped around his head, over one eye. Looking up at you, he spoke- "You should be resting
"I shouldn't!" You replied, coughing. "Where are we?!"
He shrugged, "Your Assassin friends moved us here to get better. I woke up just before they evacuated us- apparently something bad has happened," he murmured the last part quietly, a worried look in his good eye. "Your wounds will reopen if you move too much"
"What has happened?!" You limped closer to him, about to beat the information out of him if you had to. Another voice piped up from behind you, gently touching your shoulders. You spun around, ready to fight again, paying no mind to the pain. It was an unhurt woman.
"Please sit, miss," she said calmly. "The North Bayezid den, where the two of you were being tended to, has been attacked by the Ottomans. Your friends," she turned to you, "brought you here. They are back at the den defending it at the moment."
You were overcome by shock, you must help them! "How bad is it?" The woman gazed at you calmly for a moment, giving you a silent, dry look.
"Pretty bad. I was told that they went as far as bringing in some heavy-duty weapons and machines to assist the defense."
You didn't have to comprehend your decision for even a fleeting moment- you had to go help, even if you were injured. Without another word, the woman turned her back to you and continued off into the opposite direction from which she came. You scowled at nothing, how could you be wasting your time here when the man you loved was killing himself trying to defend a mere building? You tightened your belt and lifted the ashen hood over your head.
Casting a glance back at your wounded acquaintance, he looked back up at you. He held your determined [E/Y] gaze for a moment before looking down at his feet, as if granting permission for you to run off. You studied him for another moment before turning to the door.
You shoved citizens aside as you hauled your wounded form through the streets clogged by the massive Constantinople crowds. Paying no mind to the rude remarks from the people your ran into, you had that single goal in mind- protect Feliciano. Every chance you had, you-without decreasing your speed-propelled yourself up onto buildings and other objects in order to keep the same pace. You had never run so fast in your entire life, despite your numerous, now-reopened wounds.
You didn't even know where you were going, somehow your feet knew where to carry you. Soon, a large stack of murky smoke emerged into your line of sight.
Lifting yourself onto one last roof, you stood and studied the horrific sight before you-
The large, majestic tower of the Assassin den was lit ablaze, the red and yellow tails of the fire licking hungrily at the beautiful wood. The roar of this fire was overpowering the normal noises of the streets. The obnoxious call of merchants, the undying chatter of the Constantinople general public, and the noisy clatter of shoes on hard stone was lost to the area. All that remained was the fire's unmerciful growl, and the yelling of the attackers and defenders of the den. Two large machines were standing guard in front of two hastily-made barricades protecting the den on either side. These machines- a large tank and cannon- were firing ruthlessly into the invading formations of Ottoman soldiers. Some highly-decorated Assassins- even the masters from a few other dens- were shouting orders to crossbowmen, bomb carriers, and other Assassins hiding along the rooftops.
You found yourself looking around for either of the Vargas brothers. The familiar thick Italian accents, the raging spitfire from Lovino or the bright, happy smile from Feliciano. Either would spell hope for you at the moment, though all that currently mattered to you was finding Feliciano safe.
You broke your gaze from the burning den and ran along the roof, scanning the area for your targets. In the streets, some Assassins were fighting vis-à-vis against some Ottoman soldiers. You wished to help all of them, but your heart wouldn't let you. It was still searching for that one man.