Fan Character Writing Snippet
Annabelle Laure Marguerite de Vasser is my Assassin’s Creed: Rogue fan character. She has been in development since 2013 as a Black Flag fan character. She eventually was developed to compliment Shay Cormac.
Fan Fic: Pale Fire
Fandom: Assassin’s Creed
WARNING: Rogue Spoilers
Date Written: April 2021
“What is the point of this?” Annabelle murmured, not even meaning to speak the words aloud. She must have, though, because Shay immediately reacted with a sour expression. “Why do you even care?” “That’s a dumb feckin’ question,” Shay growled, tossing the brush down in disgust. “After all we’ve been through…” “You don’t know me now, Shay.” “I didn’t even know you then.” He held out a handful of fruit: raisins, pears, figs. “Here. It’s the last of the dried fruit. It’s better than the fish. At least, it won’t make you want to kill yourself.” “I’m not hungry.” “Bullshite.” “Why do you even care, you oafish Irish ass?! I am an Assassin! You are a Templar! We are enemies! You should want me dead! It should be your fucking goal in life to see me dead!” “The world’s not so fucking simple, Ana! I don’t hate all Assassins, just the ones who betrayed me. Those are the ones who are going to feel my vengeance. And I’m not really a Templar, not yet anyway. I had nowhere else to go.”
Annabelle seethed. She knew she would never make any headway with him. What did he even hope to accomplish? It wasn’t like Annabelle could go back to the Parisian Brotherhood or even go onto the Davenport homestead. After the time they had spent together, her superiors would think she had been compromised. They wouldn’t be wrong. Shay had compromised Annabelle six years ago. She had been ready to throw away all of her ideals and beliefs and go away with him, then. The only difference was he was now her enemy. Annabelle didn’t long for romance then, but he inspired a need to be swept off her feet. Was what they had really love or was it a fleeting feeling that they thought was real? She picked a fig off the silver tray before he set the plate back on the table behind him. What was worse than knowing she had been compromised long ago was the urge to console him. “This is my fault,” Annabelle repeated the words she said the morning after they had reunited. She wouldn’t say the reasons why it was her fault. She never uttered a word to anyone about what had happened when the ground shook and the angry ocean battered the cities or even what happened afterward: except to Jacques, the man who raised her. “You said that before, but unless you conspired with Achilles to send me to Lisbon, none of this is your fault.” He popped a bunch of raisins in his mouth. “No, it is.” Annabelle handed him back the fig. She trembled at the memories – not the ones with Shay but the painful one that came after. She was tied up, quite literally, and couldn’t meet him on their prearranged location all those years ago. “Perhaps, I could have talked to the Mentor, made him understand reason. If I was stronger in Tomar … ” “I’m not a dull man. This isn’t the only time you expressed regret for how things ended. Standing me up and making me look like a fool wasn’t your choice. Who stopped you?” “It shouldn’t matter to you!” Annabelle growled, trying to build up the wall around her heart and distance any amorous emotions from him. She was angry: not at Shay but at the fact she still felt any affection for him. “I am an Assassin! You will be a Templar! No matter our past or how grey you think the world is, one thing remains true! We’re enemies! You should want me dead! And, Master Cormac, that will be our only outcome: one of us will die!”
“The only thing to do is tell you what happened, I suppose,” Shay grumbled, though it seemed he was hesitant. “I can sit here and try every other way under the sun to get you to see things my way, but you won’t understand why I’m standing before you keeping the company I keep as it were.” “You do not have to tell me anything,” she offered, sounding a bit more tender than she had wanted. She quickly added a barb. “It makes little difference regarding our current situation. I do not see a way for that to change.” “Achilles sent me after some ancient device in Lisbon,” he started, ignoring her. She already knew, just from the start, what happened. It had happened to her, but she couldn’t tell him that. She could never speak of that again. He was stronger than her. He was speaking of his wound. “I was full of piss and vinegar back then,” he went on. “Well, you know that much. This was about a year ago. I was ready to prove myself. It was a horrible mistake. I found the relic, but some great earthquake was unleashed when I touched it. Lisbon was destroyed in the disaster. I barely made it out alive, but so many others didn’t.”
Shay went silent. She struggled with herself. A part of her wanted to turn around and wrap her arms around him. Annabelle wanted to take his pain into her and shield him from the cruel world. How could she want that? He couldn’t possibly foresee the impact of his confession. Shay didn’t know how similar their stories were. It hurt her heart to know that he experienced the same as she did. She wanted to speak her own grief but fear took her voice. As he picked up the hairbrush once again, he turned back to her and gently grasped her shoulder. She lifted her arm and affectionately placed her hand over his. He always felt colder than she remembered. “That’s terrible,” she murmured.
“Aye, it would be merely terrible,” he agreed grimly, “if that’s all there was to it. There’s more to the story, I’m afraid. I went to Achilles, you see. I told him what happened, that we shouldn’t go after these relics we don’t understand, that we should stop others from trying it, too.” She had told all those same things to Jacques after what had happened in Peru, but he wouldn’t hear it. She held no illusions that Achilles was any different. “Achilles is mad with grief over his wife and son. He didn’t listen. He’s beyond reason. I tried to talk to him.” “Let me guess,” Annabelle prodded. “You barged in screaming and hollering, and when that didn’t work, you stole the manuscript and ran?” “And you say you don’t know me anymore.”
