Secret Santa Fic - For Abi - "Timeline"
Jan 1, 2013 17:20:02 GMT -5
Post by Rhett Goddard on Jan 1, 2013 17:20:02 GMT -5
Abi, sorry for delivering this crappy fic as a gift. I'm not even sure I fulfilled what you wanted 
Warning, do not read this fic if any of the following is true:
Warning, do not read this fic if any of the following is true:
- You don't like boring fics.
- You don't like long fics.
- You don't like confusing fics.
- You don't like me.
- You haven't finished Assassin's Creed 3 and don't want to have the ending mildly spoiled.
TIMELINE
December 10, 2012. 10:23 a.m. Sean’s office, Hammel Institute.
-Well, what would you prefer be doing, then? –the gray-haired man behind the desk asked.
-Anything.
-Like?
-Anything –the boy shrugged-. Anything’s better than having to talk about my feelings with a fifty years old mind reader.
-I am not fifty years old.
-Still.
-I can’t change my age. And the sessions are mandatory, I can’t change that.
-See? –the boy rolled his eyes-... I’m screwed.
-We don’t have to talk about your feelings though –the psychiatrist gave in-, what do you want to talk about? We’ll talk about whatever you want.
-Really?
-Yes.
-Even videogames?
-We can try –Sean nodded.
-There’s this game named Assassin’s Creed…
December 10, 2012. 3:11 p.m. Café L’Heure, Pilot Ridge.
-Are you drunk already, Stefan?
-It’s 5:00 p.m.! Of course I am.
-It’s three o’clock –the mind reader corrected the younger man.
-But it’s five in some place of the world.
-…
-So, I was talking to Patricia and…
-Stalking, you must mean.
-Talking, stalking, chasing around the Farmer’s Market after reading her facebook status and checking her foursquare profile, it’s all the same, see, the point is that I think I have a chance.
-How many times do we have to have this conversation? She’s homosexual.
-I look pretty in dresses.
-And I’m sure of that, but being a homosexual usually entails…
-But I look VERY pretty in dresses. Did I tell you about that time I…
May 2, 1853. 11:29 p.m. London, England.
Lady Hamelina had ordered the ball room to look both heavenly and spectacular, and it sure did. Long white and sparkly drapes decorated the four walls with large bows on the top every couple of meters. Judging by the amount of shine that came from the center of each bow, one could swear it was decorated with diamonds, and if one knew the Lords of Ridgeshire, who had made their money by selling and distributing wine, one could actually believe that there were diamonds up there. They were celebrating their 60th anniversary, after all.
“It’s beautiful,” the young brown haired boy said to himself in astonishment.
The ball also happened to be the first social event of magnitude for the youngest son of the couple, Seanán, who had been named after an Irish friend of the family. He had recently been introduced to society in a ball of his own, but it had been nothing near as big as this one, as there were rumors that the queen herself was going to show up. But Seanán didn’t care about this, of course not, the ball room was vibrant and full of life and his only care in the world this night was his best friend Stephan and the situation the young German had his toes dipped in.
“I’ve seen more beautiful,” Stephan, in his thick German accent, said to Seanán.
Stephan was particularly older than the young aristrocratic boy from Ridgeshire, and this was nowhere near his first ball. A couple of months ago, in another ball in the other side of England, one which the Queen herself attended, he had met the love of his life. They danced, they talked and they left. He sent her letters, she read them and she ignored them. He visited her to her country house in Pilottown, she opened the door and she closed the door immediately afterwards. She clearly didn’t want anything to do with him.
“Do you think Patty will be here?” Seanán asked curiously.
“Her family was invited,” the young German explained, “she better come.”
News reached that the Queen will not be attending, a cold had caught her off guard and with the recent flu spreading around, it was better if she stayed in the palace. Most people were disappointed, but not our two young boys: just as the news arrived, so did the young lady, pearl of both boys eyes, even if this last fact was a secret the young British was hiding from his dear friend. As expected, unfortunately, and to her parents’ dismay, the young lady refused all the dancing propositions and courtship attempts made by the young German. But both boys had a plan under their sleeves.
“Will you dance with me, my Lady?” Seanán propositioned courtly Patty just as his father had taught him, a small smile unable to withdrawn from his face.
“Yes, of course,” she bent her knees softly before taking his hand into the dance floor.
And they danced and they danced. For Seanán it seemed like they danced for seconds, and for Patty it seemed just the same. For Stephan, who was now sitting in a table in between the few young ladies who hadn’t found a dancing partner yet, the time his best friend and the love of his life spent dancing seemed like hours, fueled by mild and unfounded jealousy, but always under the thought that it was nothing, and that Patty was hers.
“Thank you for the dance,” the young British boy said as he led Patty away from the dance floor and unto the table he had found her in.
“Any time,” she softly responded as she sat and while seeing the young brown haired boy leave.
Next to Patty, an unfamiliar face, to her, sprouted conversation. The other young lady introduced herself as lady Oriana and before the end of the night, the two girls were talking like they had known each other for their whole lives. Oriana had told her about the boy she liked and how he didn’t pay attention to her and Patty in return told her of Stephan, and how he was too obnoxious and restless, and how she simply didn’t reciprocate the feelings. Oriana had to hide a sad expression behind her hand fan.
“She doesn’t like me,” the young German told Seanán as he took his dress off and removed his make-up, “and she thinks I’m obnoxious.”
“I’m very sorry, Stephan,” the boy said as he helped take Stephan’s dress off, “but at least now you know and you can get this over with.”
“She invited me to her country house next week,” he responded with a soft smile.
“You’re not thinking…” the boy looked at his friend’s face, “you can’t!”
“You’re a very boring person, my friend,” Stephan affirmed while Seanán couldn’t help but sigh deeply. “Oriana is definitely going.”
December 10, 2012. 3:18 p.m. Café L’Heure, Pilot Ridge.
-That didn’t happen –Sean shook his head as he continued his coffee.
-I swear.
-You didn’t go to a Victorian-themed Halloween party, Stefan.
-I still swear.
-You were at your place. You threw a Halloween party, I was there.
-It wasn’t this year’s.
-You didn’t know Patricia last year, Stefan.
-You are a very boring person, Sean. Has anybody told you that before?
-Sure.
December 10, 2012. 5:21 p.m. Hammel’s halls, Hammel Institute.
-Sean! Good timing! –Patricia exclaimed
-Patricia, hi –he smiled at her-, how can I help you?
-I know it’s not… office time, but maybe you can hear me out a bit.
-We’re friends, Patricia, of course, tell me.
-Do you remember Ariadne?
-Yes, you’ve been dating… what, a couple of months now?
-Four, but see, the weirdest thing happened this morning. We were in the Farmer’s market and…
September 16, 1099. 9:34 a.m. Bordeaux, France.
Not tired enough after having run through the whole vineyard, the two kids managed to find their way into the market plaza. That morning, the place was vibrant and full of life, and nothing like the young kid had ever seen before. His eyes were shining in joy, he loved the place already.
“Patsy, it’s beautiful!” he told her as their hands touched each other while they sat on the fountain.
Ora had seen thousands of new things this morning. Patsy had given him a full tour of the vineyard and he had immediately fallen in love with the country life. Its calmness, its sights, its smells, its colors and its breeze, but if he had to choose his favorite from the whole lot, he’d have to choose the company. Of course, he was not entirely aware of what it was, one does not fully understand what love is when seven years old, but if he did, he would have named what he felt with those four letters.
“More than the vineyards?” the young girl asked Ora.
“A lot more,” he nodded at her with an innocent smile, “everything here is so vibrant and full of… life.”
Having been born in the Staffan House, a cadet branch descendant of the Capetian dynasty, Ora had never actually been outside a castle. His life had always been filled with luxuries and servants. This day, instead, he was wearing dirty borrowed clothes from Patsy, whose family worked in the vineyard Ora was visiting. They had, of course, escaped, not really aware of the consequences such escape would summon upon them if they were to be discovered.
“You say that like vineyard isn’t,” Patsy’s hands squeezed Ora’s as she spoke, “I like the market, I do, but the vineyard is green and has far more life than the plaza.
“Grapes and plants aren’t alive, you dummy,” Ora said with genuine confidence.
“You castle kids don’t know anything about anything,” Patsy laughed.
“I’m glad you invited me here, then,” Ora simply smiled, “so you can teach me.”
Patsy smiled. She was more than happy to teach Ora. They had just met the day before, and it was like they knew each other their whole lives. Ora had told her about his life in their castle which was actually not far from here, and where no other kid his age lived, and Patsy told him all about her life in the vineyard and all the adventures she had gotten herself into. Neither kid could hide their excitement at having met someone they felt so connected with.
“Patsy?” An older voice interrupted the two kids’ conversation, “Patsy!”
The small girl turned to see a man in gallant armor behind her. She instantly recognized him, it was Siôn a Welsh knight who lived nearby and frequented the vineyard. He was in his young twenties, having received his knighthood at a very young age and worked for a mercenary band who proud themselves in taking jobs which didn’t disrupt their morale beliefs: a Holy Order, they called themselves.
“Siôn!” Patsy immediately exclaimed in excitement and ran to him to tackle him with a hug, which caused nothing more than a small disappointing expression in Ora’s face.
“Patsy!” The knight repeated. “Haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”
The Welsh knight took a seat in the fountain with the other two kids, his attention immediately directed at all the questions Patsy incessantly asked of him. He told her of her latest adventures and the ones he was about to embark on. Patsy asked details of him, what monsters he had slain and how many princesses he had kissed, and Siôn told her all about it, abstaining himself, however, from talking about any princesses, always assuring young Patsy that she grew up, she’d be his princess.
“That’s stupid!” Ora proclaimed after having been silent all this time ever since Siôn appeared. “You can’t be a princess if he’s not a prince, and he’s just a knight.”
Silence.
“I don’t think we have been introduced,” Siôn abstained himself from denying or affirming the young boy’s words, “I’m Sir Siôn of the Holy Order of St. Hammellian.”
“Well, if you need to know,” Ora crossed his arms in his chest, “I’m Ora of House Staffan from Ridgemont, and I do not like you. You’re a very boring person, sir.”
Siôn immediately recognized the name. The House Staffan, although small in comparison to other dynasties in France, was still powerful in its own right. The young Welsh man, being a knight, respected the noble houses, and such, he couldn’t detain himself from standing up from his seat and kneel before the young Ora, who finally showed that smile that had been hidden since the Siôn’s arrival.
“Yes, that’s right,” Ora said menacingly, “you call me ‘lord’ next time, scum.”
“Ora, stop it!” Patsy shook the young boy from side to side, “Siôn’s my friend!”
“No!” the boy corrected Patsy, “I AM your friend! He’s just a knight, a servant, our servant!”
“Ora…” she was amazed and heartbroken.
“With me you can be a lady,” he continued, “almost a princess. With him you’d be no one.”
December 10, 2012. 5:47 p.m. Hammel’s courtyard, Hammel Institute.
-So? –Patricia asked curiously.
-Huh? –Sean seemed to awaken from a day sleep state.
-What do you think?
-I… -he had no idea what Patricia was talking about-, I’ll to give it some thought first.
-But it’s a simple yes or no question.
-Yes, but –Sean quickly scanned Patricia’s mind-, you don’t want to break up with her, do you?
-No… I just said that.
-Exactly –he still had barely any idea of what they were talking about, but he decided he could wing it-, that’s why it’s not a really simple matter. Relationships are hard, Patricia, it’s not simply breaking up with someone over nothing.
-But it wasn’t nothing! –she exclaimed- I really disliked how she treated that guy, like if he were some manservant and she was some princess.
-Everything –Sean corrected himself-, I meant ‘everything’, not ‘nothing’. Sorry, Patricia, I’m just a bit tired, it was a long day –he explained-. What if we pick up the subject tomorrow over morning coffee? Just don’t do anything too drastic.
December 10, 2012. 8:17 p.m. Sean’s office, Neville Residence.
-No, they aren’t visions –Sean explained in the phone-, it’s just like when I’m in someone’s mind, in their memories. It felt just like that.
-But whose? –the man in the phone asked-… You’re talking about a Victorian era ball dance in England and a town in Middle Age France. It’s impossible for those memories to be… memories.
-Yes, I know, that’s exactly why I’m concerned, Greg.
-Hallucinations?
-It wasn’t a hallucination nor illusion nor vision of any kind.
-I’m sorry, Sean, I don’t know what else to say –Greg let out a sigh through the phone line-. Maybe it’s a one time thing kind of thing.
-Except it happened twice…
-One day kind of thing, then –he corrected himself-. I don’t think you have anything to worry about if it doesn’t happen ever again.
-And if it does?
-But it probably won’t.
-Maybe I’m getting old –Sean said rather worriedly-, and age is messing with my powers.
-You should get some sleep.
December 10, 2012. 8:23 p.m. Sean’s bedroom, Neville Residence.
-Are you ok? –Josh asked as Sean walked into the room.
-Yes –Sean said with inner doubt-, I’m just tired. I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.
-That’s ok –Josh smiled slightly while inviting his lover to his side-, c’mere.
August 3, 1492. 10:40 a.m. Palos de la Frontera, Spain.
The port was vibrant and full of life. A very special event was going to happen within the afternoon hour, three big ships and its sailors were to depart to the end of the world, and their families had gathered since early morning to give them proper farewell. No one was certain that they were ever going to come back.
“It’s so beautiful,” the young girl said as she stared at the ocean.
She was almost nineteen and she had never visited the sea before. She was amazed by it, by its salty breeze, by its waves and by its apparent infinity. It was good, if everything went according to plan, the sea was all she was going to be able to see for weeks. Fortunately, she simply couldn’t think she would ever get bored of it. She had to hide her amazed face, though, she was dressed as a sailor, and trying to keep her identity, and sex, hidden.
“Patrick, come,” a man, also dressed as sailor, approached her from behind. “we need to get to the boat as soon as possible.”
“You don’t think he followed us here,” she asked as he followed the slightly older man, “do you, Sebastian?”
Sebastian was a sailor and he and the girl had known each other their whole lives. They couldn’t see each other much due to his job, but whenever he was on land, they found the time to meet and talk about their lives. She always told him of her boring life on land while he amazed her with her adventures at sea and foreign lands.
“I doubt it,” the sailor nodded at the girl without turning his head around. “but let’s be cautious anyway.”
It was hard approaching the boats, there was far too many people around them. At the same time, though, the quantity of people was good, as the couple managed to easily blend into the crowd. A few minutes later, they had managed to reach the correct boat, but the captain’s right hand man wasn’t letting anyone in for now, at least not until the captain himself was present, and he was nowhere to be seen. He recommended them to take the time to say their proper goodbyes or simply enjoy the land’s drinks and food in the meantime, but Sebastian didn’t doubt it for a second: it was better to stay as close to the boats as possible. He knew they would only be safe inside the ship, and not before.
“Let’s practice a bit,” Sebastian took his companion to one side and spoke softly with her, “what will you tell when someone asks you about yourself?”
“My name is Patrick,” She swiftly said. “I’m of Irish ancestry, but Spanish for at least two generations. I have been a sailor for a year, but this will be my longest trip so far. I have a child and a woman in Seville, who I met when we were kids, and another in Castille, who I met in one of my trips.”
Patrick’s reality was very different in fact. Born into a wealthy noble family, she was married by her parents into an even wealthier family to the heir of their wealth. The first few years were good; Esteban, her new husband was a very busy man in charge of the family’s numerous vineyards. When the business plummeted, however their relationship did with it.
“You’ll be safe here.” Sebastian assured her.
It was the only thing the young girl wanted, but the truth was different. In the other side of the crowd, people were moving away to let one seemingly very important man pass. Sebastian looked at it from a far and hoped it was the captain, but a hunch was telling him otherwise, and as such, his right hand found his way into the dagger in his left side. Whatever could happen, he’d be ready.
“Tricia!” Esteban yelled as he approached the couple.
“Get behind me, my love,” Sebastian took a couple steps towards older man.
Esteban didn’t think it twice: his sword was out and pointing at Sebastian’s neck. In the opposite side, the young sailor’s dagger was out as well, but unlike Esteban’ his hand was shaking: he didn’t know much about duels, but he knew that a sword always beats a dagger, a fact Esteban didn’t took long point out and laugh at.
“Just leave me alone, Esteban,” the girl yelled, “I don’t want to be with you!”
“And you prefer this sailor?!” Esteban laughed yet again, “I may not be as rich as I was initially was, but this sailor will never offer you anything that I couldn’t and wouldn’t.”
The vineyards’ production could have plummeted and the business could have drowned beyond salvation, but the wealth it had previously provided Esteban was about enough to get the family by for at least another generation. Both Esteban and his wife knew this; the problem was that the Spaniard wasn’t aware that money was not the problem.
“You are a mean person Esteban!” Tricia yelled again, still behind the sailor’s protection, “I don’t want to be with someone like you.”
“She doesn’t love you anymore,” Sebastian introduced, “she loves me. Be a man and let her be with the one she loves.”
“But how could you love this…” The Spaniard looked at Sebastian with disgust, not able to find one little thing good in him, “fine. Let’s duel, then. A duel of life and death for love.”
The people around the confrontation immediately took some steps back. Hardly anyone was paying attention to the coming voyage anymore, the focus of everyone’s eyes was the upcoming fight. Bets started to run around the people fastly, most of them going towards the older Esteban, but some, the more romantic ones, betting to the young and inexperienced sailor who had the girl’s heart and seemed to deserve it even more. Sebastian nodded to the Spaniard’s proposition and wielded his dagger pointing at him, knowing his life was going to end within the following seconds, but knowing he’d die for love.
“No!” the young girl ran and placed herself in front of the two boys, “stop this nonsense!”
“This is all you wanted, Tricia,” Esteban said with a smile, “your two men will fight for you, and death shall decide. Now move aside, a fight is no place for women.”
“I don’t love him!” she exclaimed, her hands raised towards both men in an attempt to stop them, “I don’t love Sebastian, I just wanted him to take me out and away from you.”
“What…?” the young sailor could hear his heart breaking.
“Sorry, Sebastian,” she turned to the sailor, “you’re a really nice guy, and you will find someone who will love you back, it will just not be me.”
“You… choose him?” Sebastian asked confused.
“I’m choosing no one,” she promptly stated.
But Esteban wasn’t happy with this either. He had been promised a fight, a fight for Tricia, and Sebastian was not going to back down. Pushing the girl aside, the Spaniard made a swing of his sword towards the sailor’s head, but his sword was swiftly stopped by another as soon as the sword had made contact with Sebastian’s skin.
“Stop this nonsense,” an officer brandishing the Crown’s symbols in the uniform commanded Esteban.
In between grunts, the Spaniard agreed and sheathed his sword back. Approaching his wife, Esteban gave her one last look up and down, one filled with disgust, and spat at her feet. Fortunately for both of them, other royal officers who had appeared at the scene held her as she tried to tackle Esteban after doing that. The Spaniard then approached the young sailor who had passed out in the floor and let out one last laugh.
“You probably weren’t worthy my sword getting dirty anyway,” he told the fainted sailor, “you couldn’t even make my wife love you back. You must be one very boring person, sailor.”
“Everything’s going to be ok…” the officer who had just saved Sebastian’s life kneeled down and cleaned the blood from the sailor’s cheek, noticing he was opening his eyes just as the Spaniard was leaving, “can you hear me? My name’s Jose. I’m going to make sure you’re ok.”
“Jossssssssh…” was all Sebastian could mutter while attempting to regain strength.
December 11, 2012. 3:00 a.m. Sean's bedroom, Neville residence.
-Josh?
-Huh?
-I had the weirdest dream.
-What time is it? Go back to sleep.
December 11, 2012. 10:01 a.m. Sean’s office, Hammel Institute.
-I’d like us to pick up where we left yesterday –the gray-haired psychic said in a hurry.
-You still want to talk about Assassin’s Creed? –the boy was excited.
-Yes –the psychic tried to arrange his thoughts-, the game where they can see memories stored in their genes, right?
-Yes!
-What happens in the end?
-Huh? –the boy asked confused.
-Yes, how does it end?
-Well –the boy shrugged his shoulders-, the world ends on December twenty first at the end of the third game.
December 20, 2012. 7:57 p.m. Café L’Heure, Pilot Ridge.
-I’m telling you, Greg –Sean said after his first sip of coffee-, I did the research. I connected all the dots.
-You sound like a conspirationist…
-I spent more than a week researching. I’m sure.
-That the world is going to end?
-Well I don’t know that… -Sean rolled his eyes slightly.
-But that’s where you’re getting at –Greg nodded-. Just because you have ancestry placed where your visions…
-They were not visions –Sean interrupted his friend.
-Where your “whatever” said, doesn’t mean the world is going to end.
-I know that.
-You’re stocking on canned food and invited me for “one last coffee.”
-…for the day.
-You’re basing it off of a videogame –Greg pointed out-, would you imagine if that boy had talked to you about a zombie game?
-But…
-You just need to rest –Greg affirmed again.
December 21, 2012. 00:01 p.m. Sean’s bedroom, Neville residence.
The old psychic had watched the first minute of the dreaded day unfold without much circumstance. He was slightly relieved and, at last, he stopped looking at the watch in the coffee table and turned around to look at the ceiling while his nerves calmed down.
“Well,” he said to Josh, “for what it’s worth, one minute in, and we’re still alive.”
He heard no response, though, and quickly imagined Josh was asleep. Rearranging himself in bed, he patted his pillow a couple of times and rolled to face his lover. Except…
“Aaaaaaa!” Sean screamed as he noticed the state of his lover’s body.
It was a corpse what was next to him. Charred black and partly eaten skin covered some parts of his face, while others showed the skill teeth and brain directly. Sean’s first reflex was to move back and out the bed immediately, but he couldn’t: a hand had grabbed him. The sheets fell aside and it was Josh’s zombified hand grabbing his arm and squeezing it tight. He looked back at Josh’s face, it was moving and getting closer. He could hear disgusting grunts and a cracking sounds as the corpse opened his mouth to bite the psychic in the face. Sean knew this was the end of him.
December 10, 2012. 10:24 a.m. Sean’s office, Hammel Institute.
-Wait –Sean motioned to the young kid before he started telling him about his videogame-, you can project alternate timelines into other people’s minds, right?
-Huh… I’m not sure, I think so? –he answered confusedly-… I still have no control over it… Weren’t we going to talk about Assassin’s Creed?
-Yeah, no –Sean said while shaking his head softly-, maybe it’s better if we don’t.
-Well, what would you prefer be doing, then? –the gray-haired man behind the desk asked.
-Anything.
-Like?
-Anything –the boy shrugged-. Anything’s better than having to talk about my feelings with a fifty years old mind reader.
-I am not fifty years old.
-Still.
-I can’t change my age. And the sessions are mandatory, I can’t change that.
-See? –the boy rolled his eyes-... I’m screwed.
-We don’t have to talk about your feelings though –the psychiatrist gave in-, what do you want to talk about? We’ll talk about whatever you want.
-Really?
-Yes.
-Even videogames?
-We can try –Sean nodded.
-There’s this game named Assassin’s Creed…
December 10, 2012. 3:11 p.m. Café L’Heure, Pilot Ridge.
-Are you drunk already, Stefan?
-It’s 5:00 p.m.! Of course I am.
-It’s three o’clock –the mind reader corrected the younger man.
-But it’s five in some place of the world.
-…
-So, I was talking to Patricia and…
-Stalking, you must mean.
-Talking, stalking, chasing around the Farmer’s Market after reading her facebook status and checking her foursquare profile, it’s all the same, see, the point is that I think I have a chance.
-How many times do we have to have this conversation? She’s homosexual.
-I look pretty in dresses.
-And I’m sure of that, but being a homosexual usually entails…
-But I look VERY pretty in dresses. Did I tell you about that time I…
May 2, 1853. 11:29 p.m. London, England.
Lady Hamelina had ordered the ball room to look both heavenly and spectacular, and it sure did. Long white and sparkly drapes decorated the four walls with large bows on the top every couple of meters. Judging by the amount of shine that came from the center of each bow, one could swear it was decorated with diamonds, and if one knew the Lords of Ridgeshire, who had made their money by selling and distributing wine, one could actually believe that there were diamonds up there. They were celebrating their 60th anniversary, after all.
“It’s beautiful,” the young brown haired boy said to himself in astonishment.
The ball also happened to be the first social event of magnitude for the youngest son of the couple, Seanán, who had been named after an Irish friend of the family. He had recently been introduced to society in a ball of his own, but it had been nothing near as big as this one, as there were rumors that the queen herself was going to show up. But Seanán didn’t care about this, of course not, the ball room was vibrant and full of life and his only care in the world this night was his best friend Stephan and the situation the young German had his toes dipped in.
“I’ve seen more beautiful,” Stephan, in his thick German accent, said to Seanán.
Stephan was particularly older than the young aristrocratic boy from Ridgeshire, and this was nowhere near his first ball. A couple of months ago, in another ball in the other side of England, one which the Queen herself attended, he had met the love of his life. They danced, they talked and they left. He sent her letters, she read them and she ignored them. He visited her to her country house in Pilottown, she opened the door and she closed the door immediately afterwards. She clearly didn’t want anything to do with him.
“Do you think Patty will be here?” Seanán asked curiously.
“Her family was invited,” the young German explained, “she better come.”
News reached that the Queen will not be attending, a cold had caught her off guard and with the recent flu spreading around, it was better if she stayed in the palace. Most people were disappointed, but not our two young boys: just as the news arrived, so did the young lady, pearl of both boys eyes, even if this last fact was a secret the young British was hiding from his dear friend. As expected, unfortunately, and to her parents’ dismay, the young lady refused all the dancing propositions and courtship attempts made by the young German. But both boys had a plan under their sleeves.
“Will you dance with me, my Lady?” Seanán propositioned courtly Patty just as his father had taught him, a small smile unable to withdrawn from his face.
“Yes, of course,” she bent her knees softly before taking his hand into the dance floor.
And they danced and they danced. For Seanán it seemed like they danced for seconds, and for Patty it seemed just the same. For Stephan, who was now sitting in a table in between the few young ladies who hadn’t found a dancing partner yet, the time his best friend and the love of his life spent dancing seemed like hours, fueled by mild and unfounded jealousy, but always under the thought that it was nothing, and that Patty was hers.
“Thank you for the dance,” the young British boy said as he led Patty away from the dance floor and unto the table he had found her in.
“Any time,” she softly responded as she sat and while seeing the young brown haired boy leave.
Next to Patty, an unfamiliar face, to her, sprouted conversation. The other young lady introduced herself as lady Oriana and before the end of the night, the two girls were talking like they had known each other for their whole lives. Oriana had told her about the boy she liked and how he didn’t pay attention to her and Patty in return told her of Stephan, and how he was too obnoxious and restless, and how she simply didn’t reciprocate the feelings. Oriana had to hide a sad expression behind her hand fan.
“She doesn’t like me,” the young German told Seanán as he took his dress off and removed his make-up, “and she thinks I’m obnoxious.”
“I’m very sorry, Stephan,” the boy said as he helped take Stephan’s dress off, “but at least now you know and you can get this over with.”
“She invited me to her country house next week,” he responded with a soft smile.
“You’re not thinking…” the boy looked at his friend’s face, “you can’t!”
“You’re a very boring person, my friend,” Stephan affirmed while Seanán couldn’t help but sigh deeply. “Oriana is definitely going.”
December 10, 2012. 3:18 p.m. Café L’Heure, Pilot Ridge.
-That didn’t happen –Sean shook his head as he continued his coffee.
-I swear.
-You didn’t go to a Victorian-themed Halloween party, Stefan.
-I still swear.
-You were at your place. You threw a Halloween party, I was there.
-It wasn’t this year’s.
-You didn’t know Patricia last year, Stefan.
-You are a very boring person, Sean. Has anybody told you that before?
-Sure.
December 10, 2012. 5:21 p.m. Hammel’s halls, Hammel Institute.
-Sean! Good timing! –Patricia exclaimed
-Patricia, hi –he smiled at her-, how can I help you?
-I know it’s not… office time, but maybe you can hear me out a bit.
-We’re friends, Patricia, of course, tell me.
-Do you remember Ariadne?
-Yes, you’ve been dating… what, a couple of months now?
-Four, but see, the weirdest thing happened this morning. We were in the Farmer’s market and…
September 16, 1099. 9:34 a.m. Bordeaux, France.
Not tired enough after having run through the whole vineyard, the two kids managed to find their way into the market plaza. That morning, the place was vibrant and full of life, and nothing like the young kid had ever seen before. His eyes were shining in joy, he loved the place already.
“Patsy, it’s beautiful!” he told her as their hands touched each other while they sat on the fountain.
Ora had seen thousands of new things this morning. Patsy had given him a full tour of the vineyard and he had immediately fallen in love with the country life. Its calmness, its sights, its smells, its colors and its breeze, but if he had to choose his favorite from the whole lot, he’d have to choose the company. Of course, he was not entirely aware of what it was, one does not fully understand what love is when seven years old, but if he did, he would have named what he felt with those four letters.
“More than the vineyards?” the young girl asked Ora.
“A lot more,” he nodded at her with an innocent smile, “everything here is so vibrant and full of… life.”
Having been born in the Staffan House, a cadet branch descendant of the Capetian dynasty, Ora had never actually been outside a castle. His life had always been filled with luxuries and servants. This day, instead, he was wearing dirty borrowed clothes from Patsy, whose family worked in the vineyard Ora was visiting. They had, of course, escaped, not really aware of the consequences such escape would summon upon them if they were to be discovered.
“You say that like vineyard isn’t,” Patsy’s hands squeezed Ora’s as she spoke, “I like the market, I do, but the vineyard is green and has far more life than the plaza.
“Grapes and plants aren’t alive, you dummy,” Ora said with genuine confidence.
“You castle kids don’t know anything about anything,” Patsy laughed.
“I’m glad you invited me here, then,” Ora simply smiled, “so you can teach me.”
Patsy smiled. She was more than happy to teach Ora. They had just met the day before, and it was like they knew each other their whole lives. Ora had told her about his life in their castle which was actually not far from here, and where no other kid his age lived, and Patsy told him all about her life in the vineyard and all the adventures she had gotten herself into. Neither kid could hide their excitement at having met someone they felt so connected with.
“Patsy?” An older voice interrupted the two kids’ conversation, “Patsy!”
The small girl turned to see a man in gallant armor behind her. She instantly recognized him, it was Siôn a Welsh knight who lived nearby and frequented the vineyard. He was in his young twenties, having received his knighthood at a very young age and worked for a mercenary band who proud themselves in taking jobs which didn’t disrupt their morale beliefs: a Holy Order, they called themselves.
“Siôn!” Patsy immediately exclaimed in excitement and ran to him to tackle him with a hug, which caused nothing more than a small disappointing expression in Ora’s face.
“Patsy!” The knight repeated. “Haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”
The Welsh knight took a seat in the fountain with the other two kids, his attention immediately directed at all the questions Patsy incessantly asked of him. He told her of her latest adventures and the ones he was about to embark on. Patsy asked details of him, what monsters he had slain and how many princesses he had kissed, and Siôn told her all about it, abstaining himself, however, from talking about any princesses, always assuring young Patsy that she grew up, she’d be his princess.
“That’s stupid!” Ora proclaimed after having been silent all this time ever since Siôn appeared. “You can’t be a princess if he’s not a prince, and he’s just a knight.”
Silence.
“I don’t think we have been introduced,” Siôn abstained himself from denying or affirming the young boy’s words, “I’m Sir Siôn of the Holy Order of St. Hammellian.”
“Well, if you need to know,” Ora crossed his arms in his chest, “I’m Ora of House Staffan from Ridgemont, and I do not like you. You’re a very boring person, sir.”
Siôn immediately recognized the name. The House Staffan, although small in comparison to other dynasties in France, was still powerful in its own right. The young Welsh man, being a knight, respected the noble houses, and such, he couldn’t detain himself from standing up from his seat and kneel before the young Ora, who finally showed that smile that had been hidden since the Siôn’s arrival.
“Yes, that’s right,” Ora said menacingly, “you call me ‘lord’ next time, scum.”
“Ora, stop it!” Patsy shook the young boy from side to side, “Siôn’s my friend!”
“No!” the boy corrected Patsy, “I AM your friend! He’s just a knight, a servant, our servant!”
“Ora…” she was amazed and heartbroken.
“With me you can be a lady,” he continued, “almost a princess. With him you’d be no one.”
December 10, 2012. 5:47 p.m. Hammel’s courtyard, Hammel Institute.
-So? –Patricia asked curiously.
-Huh? –Sean seemed to awaken from a day sleep state.
-What do you think?
-I… -he had no idea what Patricia was talking about-, I’ll to give it some thought first.
-But it’s a simple yes or no question.
-Yes, but –Sean quickly scanned Patricia’s mind-, you don’t want to break up with her, do you?
-No… I just said that.
-Exactly –he still had barely any idea of what they were talking about, but he decided he could wing it-, that’s why it’s not a really simple matter. Relationships are hard, Patricia, it’s not simply breaking up with someone over nothing.
-But it wasn’t nothing! –she exclaimed- I really disliked how she treated that guy, like if he were some manservant and she was some princess.
-Everything –Sean corrected himself-, I meant ‘everything’, not ‘nothing’. Sorry, Patricia, I’m just a bit tired, it was a long day –he explained-. What if we pick up the subject tomorrow over morning coffee? Just don’t do anything too drastic.
December 10, 2012. 8:17 p.m. Sean’s office, Neville Residence.
-No, they aren’t visions –Sean explained in the phone-, it’s just like when I’m in someone’s mind, in their memories. It felt just like that.
-But whose? –the man in the phone asked-… You’re talking about a Victorian era ball dance in England and a town in Middle Age France. It’s impossible for those memories to be… memories.
-Yes, I know, that’s exactly why I’m concerned, Greg.
-Hallucinations?
-It wasn’t a hallucination nor illusion nor vision of any kind.
-I’m sorry, Sean, I don’t know what else to say –Greg let out a sigh through the phone line-. Maybe it’s a one time thing kind of thing.
-Except it happened twice…
-One day kind of thing, then –he corrected himself-. I don’t think you have anything to worry about if it doesn’t happen ever again.
-And if it does?
-But it probably won’t.
-Maybe I’m getting old –Sean said rather worriedly-, and age is messing with my powers.
-You should get some sleep.
December 10, 2012. 8:23 p.m. Sean’s bedroom, Neville Residence.
-Are you ok? –Josh asked as Sean walked into the room.
-Yes –Sean said with inner doubt-, I’m just tired. I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.
-That’s ok –Josh smiled slightly while inviting his lover to his side-, c’mere.
August 3, 1492. 10:40 a.m. Palos de la Frontera, Spain.
The port was vibrant and full of life. A very special event was going to happen within the afternoon hour, three big ships and its sailors were to depart to the end of the world, and their families had gathered since early morning to give them proper farewell. No one was certain that they were ever going to come back.
“It’s so beautiful,” the young girl said as she stared at the ocean.
She was almost nineteen and she had never visited the sea before. She was amazed by it, by its salty breeze, by its waves and by its apparent infinity. It was good, if everything went according to plan, the sea was all she was going to be able to see for weeks. Fortunately, she simply couldn’t think she would ever get bored of it. She had to hide her amazed face, though, she was dressed as a sailor, and trying to keep her identity, and sex, hidden.
“Patrick, come,” a man, also dressed as sailor, approached her from behind. “we need to get to the boat as soon as possible.”
“You don’t think he followed us here,” she asked as he followed the slightly older man, “do you, Sebastian?”
Sebastian was a sailor and he and the girl had known each other their whole lives. They couldn’t see each other much due to his job, but whenever he was on land, they found the time to meet and talk about their lives. She always told him of her boring life on land while he amazed her with her adventures at sea and foreign lands.
“I doubt it,” the sailor nodded at the girl without turning his head around. “but let’s be cautious anyway.”
It was hard approaching the boats, there was far too many people around them. At the same time, though, the quantity of people was good, as the couple managed to easily blend into the crowd. A few minutes later, they had managed to reach the correct boat, but the captain’s right hand man wasn’t letting anyone in for now, at least not until the captain himself was present, and he was nowhere to be seen. He recommended them to take the time to say their proper goodbyes or simply enjoy the land’s drinks and food in the meantime, but Sebastian didn’t doubt it for a second: it was better to stay as close to the boats as possible. He knew they would only be safe inside the ship, and not before.
“Let’s practice a bit,” Sebastian took his companion to one side and spoke softly with her, “what will you tell when someone asks you about yourself?”
“My name is Patrick,” She swiftly said. “I’m of Irish ancestry, but Spanish for at least two generations. I have been a sailor for a year, but this will be my longest trip so far. I have a child and a woman in Seville, who I met when we were kids, and another in Castille, who I met in one of my trips.”
Patrick’s reality was very different in fact. Born into a wealthy noble family, she was married by her parents into an even wealthier family to the heir of their wealth. The first few years were good; Esteban, her new husband was a very busy man in charge of the family’s numerous vineyards. When the business plummeted, however their relationship did with it.
“You’ll be safe here.” Sebastian assured her.
It was the only thing the young girl wanted, but the truth was different. In the other side of the crowd, people were moving away to let one seemingly very important man pass. Sebastian looked at it from a far and hoped it was the captain, but a hunch was telling him otherwise, and as such, his right hand found his way into the dagger in his left side. Whatever could happen, he’d be ready.
“Tricia!” Esteban yelled as he approached the couple.
“Get behind me, my love,” Sebastian took a couple steps towards older man.
Esteban didn’t think it twice: his sword was out and pointing at Sebastian’s neck. In the opposite side, the young sailor’s dagger was out as well, but unlike Esteban’ his hand was shaking: he didn’t know much about duels, but he knew that a sword always beats a dagger, a fact Esteban didn’t took long point out and laugh at.
“Just leave me alone, Esteban,” the girl yelled, “I don’t want to be with you!”
“And you prefer this sailor?!” Esteban laughed yet again, “I may not be as rich as I was initially was, but this sailor will never offer you anything that I couldn’t and wouldn’t.”
The vineyards’ production could have plummeted and the business could have drowned beyond salvation, but the wealth it had previously provided Esteban was about enough to get the family by for at least another generation. Both Esteban and his wife knew this; the problem was that the Spaniard wasn’t aware that money was not the problem.
“You are a mean person Esteban!” Tricia yelled again, still behind the sailor’s protection, “I don’t want to be with someone like you.”
“She doesn’t love you anymore,” Sebastian introduced, “she loves me. Be a man and let her be with the one she loves.”
“But how could you love this…” The Spaniard looked at Sebastian with disgust, not able to find one little thing good in him, “fine. Let’s duel, then. A duel of life and death for love.”
The people around the confrontation immediately took some steps back. Hardly anyone was paying attention to the coming voyage anymore, the focus of everyone’s eyes was the upcoming fight. Bets started to run around the people fastly, most of them going towards the older Esteban, but some, the more romantic ones, betting to the young and inexperienced sailor who had the girl’s heart and seemed to deserve it even more. Sebastian nodded to the Spaniard’s proposition and wielded his dagger pointing at him, knowing his life was going to end within the following seconds, but knowing he’d die for love.
“No!” the young girl ran and placed herself in front of the two boys, “stop this nonsense!”
“This is all you wanted, Tricia,” Esteban said with a smile, “your two men will fight for you, and death shall decide. Now move aside, a fight is no place for women.”
“I don’t love him!” she exclaimed, her hands raised towards both men in an attempt to stop them, “I don’t love Sebastian, I just wanted him to take me out and away from you.”
“What…?” the young sailor could hear his heart breaking.
“Sorry, Sebastian,” she turned to the sailor, “you’re a really nice guy, and you will find someone who will love you back, it will just not be me.”
“You… choose him?” Sebastian asked confused.
“I’m choosing no one,” she promptly stated.
But Esteban wasn’t happy with this either. He had been promised a fight, a fight for Tricia, and Sebastian was not going to back down. Pushing the girl aside, the Spaniard made a swing of his sword towards the sailor’s head, but his sword was swiftly stopped by another as soon as the sword had made contact with Sebastian’s skin.
“Stop this nonsense,” an officer brandishing the Crown’s symbols in the uniform commanded Esteban.
In between grunts, the Spaniard agreed and sheathed his sword back. Approaching his wife, Esteban gave her one last look up and down, one filled with disgust, and spat at her feet. Fortunately for both of them, other royal officers who had appeared at the scene held her as she tried to tackle Esteban after doing that. The Spaniard then approached the young sailor who had passed out in the floor and let out one last laugh.
“You probably weren’t worthy my sword getting dirty anyway,” he told the fainted sailor, “you couldn’t even make my wife love you back. You must be one very boring person, sailor.”
“Everything’s going to be ok…” the officer who had just saved Sebastian’s life kneeled down and cleaned the blood from the sailor’s cheek, noticing he was opening his eyes just as the Spaniard was leaving, “can you hear me? My name’s Jose. I’m going to make sure you’re ok.”
“Jossssssssh…” was all Sebastian could mutter while attempting to regain strength.
December 11, 2012. 3:00 a.m. Sean's bedroom, Neville residence.
-Josh?
-Huh?
-I had the weirdest dream.
-What time is it? Go back to sleep.
December 11, 2012. 10:01 a.m. Sean’s office, Hammel Institute.
-I’d like us to pick up where we left yesterday –the gray-haired psychic said in a hurry.
-You still want to talk about Assassin’s Creed? –the boy was excited.
-Yes –the psychic tried to arrange his thoughts-, the game where they can see memories stored in their genes, right?
-Yes!
-What happens in the end?
-Huh? –the boy asked confused.
-Yes, how does it end?
-Well –the boy shrugged his shoulders-, the world ends on December twenty first at the end of the third game.
December 20, 2012. 7:57 p.m. Café L’Heure, Pilot Ridge.
-I’m telling you, Greg –Sean said after his first sip of coffee-, I did the research. I connected all the dots.
-You sound like a conspirationist…
-I spent more than a week researching. I’m sure.
-That the world is going to end?
-Well I don’t know that… -Sean rolled his eyes slightly.
-But that’s where you’re getting at –Greg nodded-. Just because you have ancestry placed where your visions…
-They were not visions –Sean interrupted his friend.
-Where your “whatever” said, doesn’t mean the world is going to end.
-I know that.
-You’re stocking on canned food and invited me for “one last coffee.”
-…for the day.
-You’re basing it off of a videogame –Greg pointed out-, would you imagine if that boy had talked to you about a zombie game?
-But…
-You just need to rest –Greg affirmed again.
December 21, 2012. 00:01 p.m. Sean’s bedroom, Neville residence.
The old psychic had watched the first minute of the dreaded day unfold without much circumstance. He was slightly relieved and, at last, he stopped looking at the watch in the coffee table and turned around to look at the ceiling while his nerves calmed down.
“Well,” he said to Josh, “for what it’s worth, one minute in, and we’re still alive.”
He heard no response, though, and quickly imagined Josh was asleep. Rearranging himself in bed, he patted his pillow a couple of times and rolled to face his lover. Except…
“Aaaaaaa!” Sean screamed as he noticed the state of his lover’s body.
It was a corpse what was next to him. Charred black and partly eaten skin covered some parts of his face, while others showed the skill teeth and brain directly. Sean’s first reflex was to move back and out the bed immediately, but he couldn’t: a hand had grabbed him. The sheets fell aside and it was Josh’s zombified hand grabbing his arm and squeezing it tight. He looked back at Josh’s face, it was moving and getting closer. He could hear disgusting grunts and a cracking sounds as the corpse opened his mouth to bite the psychic in the face. Sean knew this was the end of him.
December 10, 2012. 10:24 a.m. Sean’s office, Hammel Institute.
-Wait –Sean motioned to the young kid before he started telling him about his videogame-, you can project alternate timelines into other people’s minds, right?
-Huh… I’m not sure, I think so? –he answered confusedly-… I still have no control over it… Weren’t we going to talk about Assassin’s Creed?
-Yeah, no –Sean said while shaking his head softly-, maybe it’s better if we don’t.
