A/N: All of the mature segments of this ficlet (such as foul language and mildly sexual content) I've found fit to include because I assumed that a franchise like Assassin's Creed required it, in a way, and in an attempt to match the characterization better...Then again, I could be gravely wrong by doing this, but it was the feeling I got writing this. Perhaps you will disagree, which I'll wholeheartedly come to accept. I look forward to any kind of criticism concerning this piece, and I thank you all for reading in advance, if you do read it! :)


Name: Dafne Vespucci (a member of the Vespucci family from Florence)

From: Florence (Firenze)

Year of birth: 1477 (she is 9 in this chapter, but that'll change right in the next one).

Notice - phrases written in Italian:

Gesú Cristo - Jesus Christ

Grazie! - Thank you!

Buona fortuna! - Good luck!

Arrivederci! - Goodbye/Farewell!

Buongiorno! – Hello!/Good day!

Sono... - I am...

Si - yes

Benvenuta! - Welcome!

Il tuo padre - Your father

Capisci? - Understood?/Do you understand?

Zia - aunt

Perfetto - perfect/great

1. Chained

Rushing furiously over the mystic hills of nobody, the carriage advanced forward. The coachman yelled at the shackled horses at the top of his lungs, swinging his whip high above his head. He seemed enraged, adrenaline-full; but in his carriage rested the complete opposite.

Dafne had already given up her life since she learnt of it in Firenze. Why continue living in shame and pity, clinging onto nothing but self-confidence? She wasn't the kind of person for it. Everything had crumbled.

Her gaze fell on the open carriage window. What if she were to end it all now? Only one precise leap would be enough. No pain, no misery, nothing to sulk after anymore.

Or perhaps, as a noble, she deserved a far more theatrical death? Something to remember and tell stories about for decades to come? Dafne decided to wait. Surely, her aunt would have the answer. Would that be the reason destiny had sent her on this fateful trip?

"These thoughts of mine I find unbearably heavy. Is it possible for the minds of people to be so poisoned and ruthless, so close-minded and...Stupid? My own family...My family...My sister and my parents..."

Dafne sighed and looked towards her knees. Actually, it was her toilette that caught her eye. It was blood-red, adorned with golden threads. She hated it, and with a passion. She wished to tear it apart, shred it to tiny pieces, to let go off its grip. But how would the precious Romans react at the sight of her naked? A scandal, by the name of Gesú Cristo!

Dafne sighed once again, closing her eyes. She couldn't bear staring at anything for too long. It caused her headaches. She pretended the source was unknown, but in reality...Ah, it still appeared hard to admit.

The tormenting silence was finally broken with the opening of the carriage door. Though the silence inside of Dafne's soul remained uninterrupted.

"Grazie, Signore. Buona fortuna, e arrivederci," upon being given her baggage, Dafne bowed politely to the coachman and bid him farewell, as such refusing him to carry it for her.

She walked the muddy Piazza del Popolo, and it appeared somewhat emptier than she'd expect. Nonetheless, she walked on. Dusk approached as she finally reached her aunt's house, located on the opposite side of the Palazzo Senatorio.

Dafne knocked twice.

"Ooh, I'm cooooming!" a cheerful female voice answered from the inside. A middle-aged woman, dressed like she just came out of a grand ball, opened the door. She was short, a bit over-sized, with rose-red cheeks and a natural smile as her facial expression.

"Buongiorno. Sono Dafne Vespucci. From Firenze I come, and for my aunt I search," Dafne spoke as what she thought was polite introducing. The woman's eyes, therefore, widened in surprise, though in the next moment, she sighed, seeming to suddenly remember something that calmed her down.

"Si, si. You came to the right place. Ah!" in a theatrical manner, Dafne's aunt placed her hand on her forehead, as if she was having a headache, and slipped back into the house.

"Here, my child, sit! I shall be right over!" uttering her sentence with some sort of sorrowful pity, as she pointed at the table in the main lobby, the aunt disappeared, and Dafne was left alone yet again. But not for long.

"Buongiorno, Signorina, benvenuta! Let me take your baggage to your room upstairs!" a servant walked up to Dafne and took her chest full of clothing, jewelry, and other things, 'a goodbye gift from her family'. Before she would leave, the servant turned to gaze at Dafne, murmuring, "Madonna Agostina's family oughts to be beautiful!"

She ignored the servant's remark. Left alone in silence, Dafne thought. Words scrambled up inside of her brain, forming sentences, a lot of opinions of this and that, before it all expired away. One lingered, though: her family in Florence. Her supposed 'loved ones'. The ones who made her an outcast. An orphan of a sort. For they were as good as dead for her now.

Dafne clenched her fists in prevention of crashing down to the floor and crying.

"Here I am! So, you're Dafne..." different in both appearance and behavior, the aunt returned. She now wore a venomously green jasper toilette, and her eyes shone strictly. Dafne looked at her, innocently biting her lip.

"Funny, I did not see you had any escort when you came," Agostina certainly changed, her voice now colder and colder.

"I wanted not to bother the man, I-"


Dafne's eyes widened at Agostina's sudden exclaim.

"You are a noble! His job is to serve you, and yours is to rely on it! While you are in my custody," the aunt narrowed her eyes, "You will learn your place."

Agostina closed up on Dafne, facing her directly, their noses mere inches away from each other.

The girl's eyes were watery.

"Il tuo padre wrote to me about you. Mark my words: while you're under this roof, there will be no swords, no horses, and you will learn to speak and walk as all the other maidens do. You will grow up to become a lovely woman, you will get married, have children, and live in peace, just like you're supposed to. Capisci?" with a raised finger, Agostina stalked around the room, as Dafne dropped her head, bluntly observing the floor. The aunt's tone booked no argument. And before her speech was even done, Dafne realized she had jumped from one hell straight into another.

"Si, zia."

"Perfetto! You are free to go to your room and take some rest, you're surely tired. And don't be late for dinner in half an hour!" with that said, Agostina wandered out of the room. Overwhelmed, Dafne sprang up from the chair and ran up the staircase. Finding herself in a wide, heavily decorated corridor, she saw an open door. Glancing through it, she found her chest, which meant that these were meant to be her private quarters from now on.

Dafne closed the door behind herself, eagerly opening her chest and taking out a scrap of blank papers she secretly packed up. Also taking out a writing feather and some ink, she wrote down:

"April 2nd, 1486, Roma

It has become perfectly clear to me that my talents are unwanted by my family. Even my aunt's mind appears poisoned and blind. But I shall not give in. My chapters are yet to be written out.

Her smoldering tears fell straight onto the paper, mixing with the still drying ink and ruining the handwriting.