Transformations: An Assassins Creed Unity fanfic

Chapter Seventeen: Tale as Old as Time

           

"I saw that Monsieur Dorian returned," he said.

            "He did."

            "It appears that I was wrong, this time. What about your father?"  

            "He returned as well, but he left shortly after," Eleanor said, trying to follow Christine's advice. If she gave him the conversation he wanted, she would be able to leave sooner.

            "A shame, I needed to talk to him," Michel frowned, musing to himself.

            "Well I'm sure I could relay the message," she offered.

            "I don't think so," he laughed condescendingly, "This is something that can only be discussed man to man."

            Eleanor narrowed her eyes, "I see. Well, I don't know when you'll be able to next contact him."

            "I'm a patient man," he assured her.

            "You said you wanted to apologize?"

            "Of course," he chuckled, "I wanted to say that I'm sorry you didn't quite understand what I was getting at earlier."

            Eleanor clenched her jaw to stop her from saying anything.

            "That's," she paused, taking relaxing breaths, "That's quite alright. Perhaps it was how you worded it."

            "Perhaps," Michel nodded, "I just thought you should know that I wouldn't be so worried about you if I didn't care about you so much."

            "I see," Eleanor responded. Such a simple answer was all she trusted herself with.

            "I'm sorry, Eleanor. I was waiting to talk to your father, but," he sighed, rubbing her cheek with the back of his fingers, "Being here with you, I can't wait any longer."

            "Michel," she attempted to warn him, before he says anything he regretted, but she was cut off.

            "Eleanor, I care for you. Deeply. And I want us to become more serious about each other," He took her hand from his should and placed a kiss on it. Eleanor frowned, trying to discreetly slip her hand away.

            "I don't think—"

            "I know this came to you suddenly," he whispered, closing the distance between them, "That's why I wanted to wait until I talked to your father, but I just couldn't hold it in any longer." Eleanor tried to scoot back but was held in place by Michel's hand. Their bodies were held pressed together.

            "Michel—"

            "I promise you'd be well taken care of and you won't have to lift a finger worrying about the house. Anything you desire will be yours."

            Eleanor waited for a moment, making sure Michel was actually finished with his proposal. He watched her expectantly, waiting for her answer.

            "I can't," she whispered, "Michel, I'm sure you've noticed. We're hardly compatible."

            "Compatible?" he scoffed, "We're friends, aren't we? I've changed from the arrogant boy you knew back in the village."

            "I doubt anyone could change that much."

            "I understand," Michel nodded, "You have to come to terms with reality, Ellie. I offer you stability with a husband that will care for you, far better than your current alternative."