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yinyangswings · 3 years

Text

Hanging off the Ledge

Fandom: Assassin's Creed Unity

Characters: Arno Dorian, Reader, Elise de la Serre (mentioned)

Pairing: Arno x femReader

Notes/Warnings: Implied thoughts of suicide, drinking, mention of vomit, used Google translate for my French so forgive me on that

Word count: 3088

Summary: You knew that there would always be trials when you fell in love with Assassin Arno Dorian. Knew that he had demons within him. What you didn't know was that your own demons would rear their heads at a vulnerable moment after an argument with him. Nor did you know that it would be Arno who finds you standing on the ledge of the South Tower of Notre-Dame, staring down at the streets of Paris.

She wandered around the streets of Paris. The moon mingled with the lamp light, the sound of men singing from the bars, dogs barking, a cat hissing from an alleyway.

She didn’t really notice.

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep being reckless like this, Arno!”

“For fuck’s sake Elise, I’m not a child!!”

She frowned, wrapping her arms around herself. The argument itself wasn’t a new one. She thought he was being reckless and he, as usual, didn’t appreciate being coddled. And if she was being truthful with herself, this hadn’t been the first time he had called her Elise by mistake. Right after she had died, he would call her that on a nearly daily basis. She had red hair. Elise had red hair. For a man who had been drinking away his sorrows, it hadn’t been a surprise to get the both of them confused. But as a few years had gone by and he had grieved correctly he had stopped. She had thought, naively apparently, that maybe he was beginning to move on. When they had gotten together she had thought that maybe he actually loved her. That, while Elise would always have some part of his heart, which she had expected, she could share with the ghost of his former lover.

But that seemed like it was a lost cause.

He doesn’t love you. He loves Elise. He’ll always love Elise over you. If he could save her by sacrificing you, he’d do it without hesitation.

She felt her eyes begin to burn and she roughly rubbed under them, pointedly ignoring the voice whispering in the back of her mind, but was pushing into her mind like a nail. She slowed when she found herself in front of Notre-Dame, the large building looming in the square. It wasn’t a church anymore. Some cult now ran it. The Cult of Supreme Being, if she remembered correctly. It was dark, signifying no one was likely in there.

Perfect.

She worked the door open and slid into the shadowed building. She remembered being a child and coming here once with her father and brother. It had been a beautiful cathedral, the stained glass glistening down upon the pews, the statues, the soft hymns of the choir.

She had gotten in trouble for staring too long, but she couldn’t help it. It had been a comfort for her.

It was now a shadow of what it once was. A daily reminder of the mistakes of this country. Of the change that had happened.

Just like you. You’re a mistake.

She found herself walking up the stairs in the back, her footsteps echoing despite being as quiet as she could. Several staircases, unlocking some doors, and climbing more stairs later she found herself in one of the towers, staring at the bells.

It was so quiet, only the wind passing through the room seemed to sing its song. She slid her hand across the one bell near her, feeling the chill of bronze soak into her hand. She jumped when her foot kicked something and she looked down to see a small crate of...wine bottles?

“Oh for God’s sake. Really?” She muttered, bending down to look at it more closely. It looked like someone had had the idea that no one would look for wine in an abandoned church.

Well...at least no one who wasn’t an assassin and knew how to pick locks.

She hesitated for a moment before she flipped the bottle over and looked at the label. It wasn’t even a good year. But it would do. She worked the cork out and took a swig, grimacing at the taste. She took another swig.

You’re useless. It’s no wonder your father died hating your existence. Why your brother died hating you.

And another.

You’re a disgrace to the Creed and the Brotherhood.

And another. The wine tasted bitter and she knew that she should stop, but it was helping with the pain, numbing it.

Arno will never love you. He will never see you as anything more than a replacement.

She coughed violently as she choked on the wine, not able to tell if the burn in her eyes was because of that or something else. She sank back, sniffling slightly and coughing at the burn. The voice was relentless.

Usually she could ignore it, plaster on a smile and carry on her day. But now…

Now…

Wouldn’t it be better if you just ended it?

As though to bolster the suggestion a sharp breeze rushed past her, creating a mournful sound through the tower she was in and she looked towards the opening.

And she took a step forward.

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Arno Dorian was not in the greatest of moods as he jumped from roof to roof. The argument was still fresh in his mind. He understood Y/N’s point of view on the whole thing, but he felt that he wasn’t a child that needed to be coddled. He was an assassin, just like her. He hadn’t appreciated her scolding him, but looking back it hadn’t been a critique but more of a worry of hers. And he yelled at her, making her leave their room and the Café. Which was why he was running around Paris like a lunatic in the middle of the night looking for her to apologize. He had considered waiting at the Café but after three hours, he began to grow worried. Even at her angriest, she hadn’t been gone that long.

His desperation was growing in stature when she wasn’t in any of her normal spots that she would go to. He was about to head back and see if she had made it back to the Café when the moon peeked out of the clouds and illuminated Notre-Dame. He spotted a flash of red on the top of the South Tower. He stumbled to a stop, looking up, squinting to get a good look, before hurrying over to the church, making short work of getting to the top.

Sure enough it was Y/N, sitting on the railing of the tower. She glanced over her shoulder, before looking back out towards the city.

“Bonjour Arno.”

“There you are.” He huffed, landing on the roof of the tower, a frown on his face. He took a step and blinked as he kicked a wine bottle, watching it roll away from him.

“...Fancy a drink tonight?”

“Casse-toi. Like you’re any better.” Y/N slurred, taking another swig from another wine bottle, swaying slightly in the wind.

“Y/N, get off the ledge.” Arno said evenly, despite his heart threatening to pound its way out of his chest. “You’ll fall, Cherié.”

She cackled, though there didn’t seem to be any humor in her voice.

“Wouldn’t that be…” She hiccuped. “Wouldn’t that be une tragédie? I’m sure my funeral would have a grand total of...one attendee; moi! They might even bury me, or they’ll just dump my body into the Seine.”

She laughed again though he frowned.

“Y/N.”

She glared at him, before rolling her eyes, and pointedly ignoring him, taking a swig from the bottle in her hand. She was silent, staring at the few people of Paris wandering around, unaware of the two assassins sitting above them.

“Suppose I’d need to avoid some random passerby though, oui? Can’t...can’t hurt an innocent because of the Creed.”

It was as if cold water had been dumped on him.

She couldn’t mean...she wasn’t seriously considering...

“Y/N, get off the ledge.”

It wasn’t a gentle request anymore. She scoffed, standing like a child who was being called home during a riveting game of tag and didn’t want to. She swayed and stumbled on it, drawing closer to the edge.

“And if I do that by jumping off? No stacks of hay down there that I can see.” She asked good naturedly, her voice amazingly calm.

“Y/N, don’t joke like that.”

“Who’s saying I’m joking?” She hummed, twirling in an unsteady circle, swaying backwards. Arno dashed forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her back onto the roof, the bottle falling out of her hand and disappearing over the edge. He could only hope it didn’t hit anyone below as his arms folded around her, holding her close as she began to fight against him.

“Avez-vous perdu la raison?” He snapped. “Why would you even consider killing yourself?!”

“Because the place would be better without me!”

Arno staggered backwards as she kicked at his legs, his mind reeling, trying to catch up with the situation, but unable to comprehend it.

“What are you talking about?! Do you know how devastated we’d be if you died?!”

“Who, Arno? Who would fucking miss me!?” She cried, fighting against him. “My family is gone, Arno! My brother died hating me because of the reason I was even brought into this world! Father hated me because I killed Mother! Name on fucking person who would care if my brains splattered on the steps of Notre-Dame below!”

“Me!”

To that she let out a laugh that could have been a sob.

“You? YOU!?” Her voice went into hysterics. “You don’t give a damn about me! You never did!”

“Y/N, what’s gotten into you!? Of course I-”

“I’M NOT ELISE!”

He went still and he released her in shock. She stumbled away, but didn’t attempt to jump off the ledge again. She seemed to curl into herself, tears sliding down her face as she looked at him.

“You think...you think I’m stupid? Or blind? You don’t think I don’t know that you see Elise every fucking time I fucking turn and you see my hair, or when we spar, or...or argue? You think I’m that blind to not see that ache in your eyes every damn time you even look at me?? For fuck’s sake Arno, you’ve called me her damn name tonight!” She inhaled sharply, trying to stop crying, but failing. His eyes darted from side to side, replaying the argument earlier in his mind, before his eyes widened.

“Y/N, I didn’t-”

“Do you know how much it hurts trying to pretend I’m happy, when I’m reminded daily just how unnecessary and unwanted I am in this world? How much better you and this world would be without me? You want Elise back so much but I’m not Elise. I can’t be her. I can’t even begin to compare to her.” She whimpered. “I’m an assassin, but I was literally only born to be that because my brother was too sickly to be one. And despite that, despite working day in and day out to prove to him I could be a good assassin, I know that my father didn’t even want me! So...so why even bother being here? No one wants me, Arno. I’m just...just this big mistake...I...I…”

“Ma Cherié…” He said, his voice suddenly rough and he hurried over to her, pulling her to him again. She struggled for a moment, beating at his chest to get him to let go. He did not, digging his hand into her hair to keep her still. “Ma Cherié, no.”

“Let go, Arno!”

“No. Not until you listen to me.” He said. “I know I make mistakes. Too many to count. I hurt you so much without even realizing it. And you are the most patient woman to not murder me in my sleep for that.” He trailed off, swallowing noisily, “Oui, there are times I think about Elise, and wonder what life would be if she was still alive, and oui sometimes there are moments where I see her in you.”

She struggled against him again and he thanked the wine running through her right now. At least he could get her to listen to him.

“But that doesn’t mean I’d be better off without you. That I don’t want you here.”

She went still.

“I love you Cherié. I love you so much. You don’t deserve all this pain and weight I’ve put on your shoulders. Especially with Elise. There are similarities between the two of you, but the differences outweigh them. Christ...I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve anything you give me.”

He moved her head away, cupping her face in his hands, brushing away the tears that were sliding down her cheeks.

“I don’t deserve waking up with you curled up to me and if I try to leave the bed, you hold onto me because it’s not yet time to wake up in your mind. I don’t deserve listening to you hum as you’re fixing a stitch in our robes while leaning against me, or your laughter when you’re sparring and you’ve pinned me. I don’t deserve having you scold me for being an idiot on a mission, yet having my back on said mission. I don’t deserve any of that.”

She stared at him and he gave a desperate laugh, his eyes glittering in tears.

“But even though I don’t deserve it, every day you bless me with those tiny memories. How could I be better off without you?”

She inhaled sharply, tears sliding down her cheeks. She let out a soft keening sound, closing her eyes tightly as a sob tore out of her throat, silencing the voice that was begging her to just pivot and jump.

“I can’t Arno...I just...I…I...I don’t know what to do.”

She heard him inhale shakily and felt him kiss her brow. He seemed to be shaking as well. He pulled her back into a hug, and she didn’t resist this time, just sobbing, face pressed into his shoulder.

“...Let’s go home.” His voice whispered into her ear after several minutes, rough as though he was holding back emotions. She nodded weakly, and he lifted her and carried her away. Before she could even object, he was walking down the stairs and past the bells of Notre-Dame.

She didn’t remember how exactly they got back to the Café Theatrë. She did remember having to stop several times in alleyways to puke her guts out from all that damn wine she drank. She remembered that Arno’s touch never seemed to vanish. Whether it was holding her hair away from the vomit, rubbing her back as she heaved, or holding her close to make sure she didn’t fall flat on her face when she stumbled away, he was always touching her.

The last thing she really remembered was going up the stairs to their room, being laid down on the bed and feeling a kiss against her temple. The next thing she knew, the sun was beaming into the room and her head felt like it had been used as a drum.

She let out a groan and curled up under the blanket, trying to rid herself of the headache. Distantly she heard a soft chuckle and then the clink of a cup on the nightstand.

“Can’t say I envy you. I know from experience it isn’t fun. Though this is a change in roles from what I usually remember.” Arno’s voice said softly. She muttered an expletive and peeked her head out from the covers. Arno sat down on the edge of the bed, offering a smile.

“Whatimeizzit?”

“It’s close to noon. I figured with the amount of drinking you did last night, you earned your sleep.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with the blanket again.

“Come on. Let’s get some food into you. I promise you’ll feel much better.”

“If I ever go towards a wine bottle again, you are free to spank me.” She muttered, finally leaving the cocoon of blankets and Arno smiled.

“Oui m'dame. Granted, while it is a tempting offer, I have a feeling that’s not going to happen anytime soon.” He said and she snorted, instantly regretting it and cursed under her breath. He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before handing her a pastry.

“Eat.”

She wasn’t really hungry, but nibbled on it anyways, glancing over at him as he watched her. He was just staring at her as though making sure this wasn’t a dream and she was actually sitting in their bed alive and well, despite the hangover. He had dark bags under his eyes, which were curiously bloodshot. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the night before. Almost as if he hadn’t...

“Did you stay up the entire night?” She muttered in surprise, realization dawning slowly in her hungover brain.

“...I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and leave to go back to Notre-Dame.” He finally said and she grimaced, looking away.

"Je suis désolé, Arno. I didn’t-”

“No! No, don’t apologize...just...is that the first time you’ve...that you’ve considered that?”

She shrugged.

“I’ve never gone as far as I did last night...but there’s always that voice in the back of my head saying that everyone would be better off if I wasn’t around...I don’t usually listen to it. But it was just...so loud last night. It drowned everything else out.”

“Y/N…”

She shifted away, embarrassed. He swallowed roughly before cupping her face, brushing a thumb against her cheek bone. She leaned into his touch, finally looking up at him.

“If it does happen again, if that voice becomes too loud?” He asked softly. “Find me. I meant what I said last night. I love you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you. And I’ll spend every day I have remaining telling you that. So find me, and I’ll put to rest any worry you have.”

She nodded, closing her eyes as he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and then very delicately her lips, before resting his forehead against hers.

It wasn’t a clean fix. There were still problems that needed to be discussed. Issues that needed to be talked about. In the future he would have nightmares of wondering what if he hadn’t gone looking for her, if the next day they had found her body at the steps of Notre-Dame, and waking up in a cold sweat to check and see if she was still there next to him, still breathing. For a while after, she couldn’t go near Notre-Dame, couldn’t even take a sip of wine before her stomach revolted at the contents because it reminded her of that night.

But right then and there, it didn’t matter.

She was sitting there breathing, and in his arms.

And that was all Arno Dorian cared about.

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Translations:

Bonjour : Hello

Casse-toi: Fuck off

Cherié: Sweetheart

Une tragédie: A tragedy

Moi: Me

Oui: Yes

Avez-vous perdu la raison: Have you lost your mind?