Richard the Lionheart silently paced about his room, his hands folded behind his back and his mind reminiscing of everything. His head remained low in deep thought as well as a bit of depression. No expression was written on his face – he was much too distracted to even attempt to make any sort of emotion – as he kept pacing about in his room, trying to collect his thoughts and make sense of them before coming to a conclusion. So many things had happened so fast in the past few months that really made an impact on him and everyone around the city, and lately he had been distracted from it all to do...well, anything to actually fix any of it at once. It greatly impacted the things he did during his rule, and it was to a point where he just could not take it anymore. He was unable to truly understand the matters that had fallen onto his lap. For starters, his own daughter – Cynthia Richard – had left her home, leaving him and everything she once cherished behind forever. She ran away with an Assassin – Altaïr, he believed was his name – along with Ada Haksson and Alexandra Benedek, her closest friends. At first, it seemed like yesterday when it all happened, but in reality, it was just a few months back, after Abel - Cynthia’s late fiancé - was murdered by his own daughter. At least, that was what the guards said to him when word got out of the Englishman’s demise. He, also, figured out just who and what the Templars were, what they were up to for so long.
That was another reason why he had become so distracted from everything that needed attention, but it did not just stop there. The last time he saw his beloved daughter was just last month, standing by the side of Altaïr, after he brutally killed Robert de Sable right before his very eyes. Seeing his daughter so distant, especially from him, broke his heart. Knowing that she had turned her back on everything she was taught, everything she ever learned, hurt him greatly. To make matters worse, he watched Cynthia lace her fingers with Altaïrs‘, holding onto him and never planning on letting go for even a split second, just before looking over her shoulder and sending him an apologetic look. It was one that would never leave his mind, and maybe it would haunt him for as long as he lived. Since that very day, he had not heard from her or of her whereabouts. No letters came from her to assure her safety, no sightings of her in the cities with any other Assassin, nothing at all. It was as if she no longer existed in the world. It was as if she vanished from the world entirely.
Richard slowly stopped pacing for a moment, standing in the middle of the room and staring at the floor and his own feet. A feeling of guilt and regret filled his body as he continued to think of his daughter. How could he have let this happen? He may not have had anything against the Assassins, but to know his daughter, his daughter, was willing to leave him behind and forget everything about her past just to disappear with them broke him. It distracted him from his duties as a King and did not give much time to sleep. The anguish over the disappearance of his daughter hurt him to the core, and he would do anything to try and bring her back safely. Of course, she would try to fight against him, as he could tell she truly loved Altaïr with all her heart and soul added with the fact that they were so engrossed on protecting the people, his people, from the Templars. Still, he wanted to see his daughter again, know that she was truly safe with the Assassins. If he knew that much, he would be content and let her go like he should have from the very beginning.
He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. Well, Jamila, he thought. This must be what you meant by when the time is right. When she finally grows up...
A knock was soon heard at his door, breaking the King from his chain of thought. Composing himself, he turned his head toward the door and called out in a strong tone of voice, one that a King should always have.
“Enter.” He commanded, doing his best to keep his leader-like demeanor clear to all his subjects. Just because he was distracted by other matters does not mean he had to show it to anyone else, whether they knew about it or not. In an instant, the door to his bed chambers slowly opened, and a young man of about twenty years of age entered. He quickly bowed respectfully before his King before standing straight and speaking.
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The Broken Dove (An Assassin's Creed Fanfic)
Fanfiction[Book II of the "Millennia of Fate" Fanfic Series] Months had passed since the events of Cynthia's soon to be wedding with Abel; and a few months since she, Ada, and Alexandra arrived at Masyaf to become Assassins. However, tension begins to rise no...
