Chapter Text
Desmond ~ 21st December 2012 ~ The Grand Temple, Turin, New York
What the fuck?
You would think he’d be used to this by now; would be used to The Ones Who Came Before crashing into his life and upending everything he thought he knew. Whenever Desmond thought that he had finally made it to the end of his journey, they came and created chaos.
Here they were, at the precipice of the end of the world. They had found the Temple. They had recovered all the power sources. They had found the key. They had kept the Templars at bay. All that needed to be done was to activate The Eye and keep the planet from frying.
Of course, it couldn’t be that simple. Nothing had been in the past few months. Not since Abstergo drugged and kidnapped him. Not since he’d been conscripted back into the Assassin-Templar War.
Has it only been three months? Three months since his eyes have been ripped open to reality. For Desmond it felt like years had passed. He barely recalled his quiet life as a bartender at Bad Weather. It was like looking back at a stranger. So much had happened since those routine days that he barely knew who he was now. He has more memories of living in the Masyaf Fortress, of wandering Renaissance Italy’s streets, and of battling across the Frontier, than he does of working in modern day New York.
And they expect me to make this decision?
“She would sacrifice you – sacrifice the WORLD – for no other reason than to deny me vindication.” Juno had walked right up to his face, her voice softer with what on the surface seemed to be sympathy. To Desmond it just rang false.
Minerva swept over with a small scoff, “They will enslave your kind, Desmond. Is this not why you fight? Is this not why you came here? To ensure more than just your race’s future, but it’s freedom?”
“What future? What freedom?” Juno seemed agitated now as she argued, “Billions dead and the whole cycle begun anew? This world has known nothing but heartache and horror since we left it!”
“Our gift to them. And you’d see it all returned.”
“Enough!”
The firm voice caused the squabbling ‘goddesses’ to whirl around while the humans watched as another translucent form appeared on the opposite side of The Eye. It took Desmond a moment to recognize the bearded being with his sweeping golden robes.
“Tinia?” he breathed. The ‘god’ ignored him as he stalked forward and pinned Minerva and Juno with his stern gaze.
“What are you doing here?” Juno snarled. Her composure was slipping as every second passed. It was getting closer and closer to the deadline.
Tinia’s voice was as calm and commanding as it had been in the Nexus. “I am here to do the same as yourself, Juno. I am here to advise Desmond.”
“And what advice could you have to offer? There is a clear choice!” Juno sneered back. Minerva stayed silent but watching. Tinia responded only with a chuckle before he seemingly dismissed her and stepped closer to Desmond. Behind him, he could feel Rebecca, Shaun, and his dad shuffle backwards uncomfortably. Desmond just stared.
“You have been created to undertake an enormous responsibility. You have heard of the two choices others would prefer you to make, but, ultimately, the choice is yours. As it was designed to be so.”
The words struck Desmond as odd. He furrowed his brow in bewilderment, “What do you mean? ‘The two choices others would prefer’? There’s more?”
“Thousands of years, innumerable calculations, infinite factors… and you believe it all accumulates into just two simple paths?” Tinia raised an imperious eyebrow. His pale eyes bored into Desmond’s.
“They are the two most logical options.” Minerva’s voice was sharp as she narrowed her gaze at Tinia. The ‘god’ didn’t even deign to look at her as he shrugged.
“In your opinion.”
Minerva drew herself up straighter and faced him head on. Her expression was a scowl of frustration. “The calculations were clear. Juno cannot be allowed to be freed! It is better if the Earth burns and begins anew!”
“You would doom the humans to even more misery and the same perpetual cycle, dear Minerva,” Juno eyes her with clear distain, a sneer twisting her beautiful face, “All those years trying to save them, and now you are so quick to throw them aside!”
“Enough! I don’t want to hear the same argument again! What do you mean? What are the other options?” Desmond quickly cut across them all in desperation. They didn’t have time for this! Time was almost up!
“Juno will advocate for the only choice that will allow her the freedom to try to rule over all humans,” Tinia began to explain before the others could, “while Minerva wishes you to follow the path that she has set. It would seem she has forgotten that humans were built with free will; Isu-Human descendants more so.”
“But what does that mean for me? What else can I do?” The non-answers were grating on Desmond already very frayed nerves.
“Minerva said it herself earlier,” was all Tinia deemed to say. Desmond wracked his brain but for the life of him he could not recall anything more significant in what Minerva had said. Before he could snap back at the old Isu before him, Shaun spoke up for the first time.
“‘You and the Templars have squabbled over our refuse. You have wasted centuries.’ That’s what Minerva said when she first appeared,” though he was confident in his recollection, Shaun just looked baffled behind his glasses. The stress of the entire situation showed in the deep lines scoring his face. Desmond was sure he looked no better. “Time? But how could that help us now?”
Desmond whirled back round to see Tinia nod back to the device. “Only you can use The Eye and The Apple, Desmond.”
“And that would work?!”
“If you want it to.”
Desmond froze. Using the two devices to alter time? It sounded absurd! How would that even work? He doubted there was some sort of manual to help him, and the Isu in front of him were clearly not willing to be more helpful. He could already see the anger flooding over Juno, and the indignation bristling Minerva’s shoulders. Tinia, in comparison, seemed unflappably calm. Desmond ignored them as the two women burst into more arguments.
He turned his head to look at his companions. If he wished for an answer there, then he was in no such luck. Rebecca just looked lost and afraid, Shaun still seemed both in awe and wary of the projections in front of them, whereas his dad was wearing a stone mask, the furrowing of his brow the only indication something was troubling him. His watch beeped on his wrist: one minute left. One minute to make his decision – fry the world, save the world, or change the world.
Which was the correct decision? The look into his future from Juno scared him on a deeply primal level; he had no wish to be revered and made into a godly symbol. He also did not think he could just allow billions to suffer an agonizing death from the solar flare. It went against everything he was taught, everything he thought he was capable of.
Before Tinia’s appearance, he had been leaning towards activating The Eye and allowing Juno her release. There was no telling the chaos, disruption, and unspeakable acts she would commit if he did. He knew next to nothing about her, except she was a great manipulator and had a deep loathing of humans. What he did know, though, was that humanity was all about resilience. It was also stubborn and refused to be told what to do – countless wars and rebellions across the ages was proof enough of that. He wasn’t religious by any means - especially not after all he had learned about the Ones Who Came Before - but if he had to have faith in anything, it was that humanity would not give Juno an easy time. Humans had mutinied against the Isu before and won. What was to stop them from doing so against just one of them?
But the third option – change the past, manipulate time -, could he do that? Where did he even start with it? What path did he need to take? What would he change? What could he change? What would the consequences be? What if he got it wrong? What if he made things worse? That’s not even to say how the hell did it even work?!
“Twenty seconds, Desmond!” his father’s voice instantly snapped him out of his thoughts as it had always been able to. He spared himself a moment to look back at their faces, trying to memorise them in the scant seconds he had, before turning back around. He ignored the ones before him, the beings who, though long dead, still tried to shape the universe around themselves. He refused to listen to the screeches of the two women and the void of silence from Tinia.
Instead, without another thought, he stepped up and placed his hand on the pedestal of The Eye. For one split second nothing happened, before a wave of gold flashed around the room and everything stopped.
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Federico Auditore ~ 29th December 1476 ~ Palazzo Della Signoria, Florence
The harsh sun and the relentless jeering of the crowd before them seared through Federico and agitated his already aching head. As he squirmed where he stood, the rope binding his wrists behind him burned into his skin, though not as much as the rough feel of the noose tied tightly around his neck.
This should not be happening, he thought with despair.
The previous night was a confusing blur. He had been helping his Madre set up for the evening meal when the front door had burst open. He’d joined his Padre in racing to the foyer of their villa only to be confronted by a battalion of soldiers with their swords drawn. They had barely had the chance to demand what was happening when he was grabbed from all sides and dragged through the doorway in a cacophony of shouts, protests, clanging armour, and the distressed wails of his mother and sister. It was only when Petruccio’s frail body was flung onto his in the barred carriage and his father’s shocked and alarmed eyes met his that he even realized they had been arrested.
Federico had known for years what his father Giovanni was: an Assassin. He had learned about the history of the Brotherhood, the Creed and Tenets they abided by, the skills they possessed, the importance of what they did and why they did it. He had learned all about the Templars. He wasn’t far off his own initiation ceremony, but he could not be counted as an Assassin just yet. Not that the interrogators last night knew or cared.
Throughout the harsh beatings and scorching burnings inflicted on him inside the Palazzo Vecchio, a man had stood above him and barked questions: why did you travel to Milano? What was your role in the death of Duke Sforza? Who else was involved apart from your father and brothers? What was the purpose of the brutal murder? Where is the other Auditore son? Did the Auditore plan to take over governance of Milano? What was Il Magnifico’s role in the death? Federico had remained mostly silent, the only noises he made were the cries of pain he could not hold back.
His father had fretted uselessly over his injuries when he had been dumped back in his cell, despite his own marks and the fact he could do nothing. Luckily, it had seemed Petruccio had been spared that experience. The soft sobs of his youngest sibling had wrenched his heart throughout the rest of the long night.
The guards had come back a few hours after dawn. He had struggled as they dragged him out, trying to get to his brother, when a blow to his head had made his world go white. He had barely been aware of where he was being taken and his battered body had been flung about like a marionette at the guard’s will. It had only been as the crowd began to scream for his blood that he had managed to focus again.
“Giovanni Auditore,” the Gonfaloniere’s voice boomed over the screams of the people, “you and your accomplices stand accused of the crime of treason. Have you any evidence to counter this charge?”
“Yes! The documents that were delivered to you last night!” Padre growled out in response.
“I’m afraid I know nothing of these documents.” The grandstand gesturing of the Gonfaloniere to the audience and the smirk on his face only increased the sick, sinking feeling in his stomach.
“He’s lying!”
There. That voice, barely heard over the rabble. Ezio.
Oh, mio fratello, Federico lamented. His younger brother should not have to watch this.
Federico quickly scanned the crowd and found Ezio trying to push his way through. It made his heart lurch to see the pale face shadowed by the hood of their father’s assassin robes; it was a sight he had not expected to see for many years yet.
“In the absence of any compelling evidence to the contrary, I am bound to pronounce you GUILTY. You and your collaborators are hereby sentenced to DEATH!”
Adrenaline spiked through him. Bile rose in his throat, his legs went weak, his mind filled with a loud buzzing. Pain lanced through his wrists as he struggled frantically against the bindings.
The trapdoor opened and he fell.
The snapping of his neck as the noose pulled taut never came. Instead, Federico experienced an instant feeling of weightlessness as everything disappeared and the world turned pale grey. His fear and panic muted to just beyond his reach. Is this what death feels like? Was his soul leaving for the beyond?
As though it was listening, a voice answered.
“You are not dead yet, Federico Auditore. You, your brother, and your father are still needed.”
He tried to look around for the person who spoke, but he could not even feel his own body. Did he have a body? Where would he even look? There was nothing but a vast expanse of grey.
“Who are you? Where am I? Wha- what’s happening?”
“You are in a time and space in-between. I am taking you all somewhere safe. I’m taking you to your remaining family.”
“Where?! I- I do not understand!”
“You will. The world will know you as dead, but you still have work to do. Learn, train, find and share information. I will speak to you again one day.”
Federico somehow felt the presence leave. He started to feel heavier, dragged down. The panic began to build like lava spewing from a volcano.
“Wait! What is happening? I do not understand! Help me!”
The voice did not answer. Federico began to flail, fighting against something that wasn’t there, trying to get his bearings. The pale grey of the world grew paler and brighter still, until everything flashed a brilliant white and Federico knew no more.