The Target of His Heart (An Assassin's Creed Fanfic)

Ch. 2: Abel

Enraged, I turned around and marched right up to him, moving fairly close to his face.

“You are a liar!" I snapped at him, the frustration that had been building up over time finally boiling over the edge. "The only reason why you wish to marry me is so you could use me to get what you want out of my family, my Kingdom: money, power, recognition!" He moved his head back a bit, trying to keep a small distance away from me. "You want to become the next king so you can rule this peaceful land! You want all the attention you never got when you were in England! You want all the money you can get your grubby little hands on so you can buy everything you want, since you are nothing but a spoiled little ungrateful child living in royalty!" I moved closer to him, and he took a small step back as he stared at me in fake shock. "And what do I get out of this, Abel? NOTHING! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! You are just going to throw me to the side like a rag doll and leave me to die just so you can have all the power to yourself, and so I will not oppose you or go against your wishes!"

"But...but Cynthia, I would never - "

"This idea of marrying you is ridiculous! This pathetic wedding is unwanted! EVERYTHING ABOUT OUR SO CALLED RELATIONSHIP DISGUSTS ME TO NO END! I hate everything about you, and I regret the day I ever said yes to your damned proposal!" People around us started staring in shock. "I just wish I had never met you in the first place! I wish I found someone else who actually cares about a woman and her feelings towards a man and does not plan on using her just to get what he wants!"

With those words having left my lips, I abruptly turned on my heel and stormed away from him, fists clenched tightly with anger. My rage was to a point when I just wanted to hit something, anything, as hard as I could and break it to pieces. However, I chose to keep myself from doing such an insane thing. To keep myself in check and not scare anyone around me, I prevented myself from turning right back around, walking straight up to him, and just throwing a fist right into his face. Instead, I decided that I wanted to be alone for the rest of the day, get my mind off him for a little while. That, or be around someone who would keep me a little sane for a little while. People around me took notice to my angered state and aura before quickly dispersing out of the way, watching me as I marched past them like an angered bull and away from the pathetic excuse of a man named Abel. My fists clenched to a point where they would puncture skin and make them bleed. However, I took deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself.

That bastard of a man, without even lifting a finger, made me feel so frustrated and enraged. Sometimes, I hated the decisions my father made for me. He still, to this day, only saw the child he had seen every day in the past, and he believed I could not make my own decisions for myself or for the land without a king by my side to help me. I could tell he saw me as only a child, a little girl, and assumed he would have to make all of my decisions for me until the day I stood at the altar and said "I do" to a man who later be dubbed King. Although I loved my father dearly despite the distant relationship between us, why did it have to be someone like Abel? Why did it have to be a pompous, self-centered brute who only believed his wants and desires were more important than anything else? That the money and power that belonged to my father and myself should belong to him? Why was he chosen to be my husband? His parents raised him to be better than that, since I had met with them once before. They agreed he was just no good, but it was only to me, which seemed very odd to both of them. They were not sure as to why he suddenly acted the way he did, and they were not sure what to do about it.

“If we had some sort of idea,” Abel's father said, sounding a little saddened and worried at the same time, “we would have used it on Abel by now. But even we, people whom he had gone to all his life, do not know what to do.”

A heavy, defeated sigh escaped my lips as I slowly attempted to unclench my tightly clenched hands, knowing that punching someone or something would only result in an injury, whether it be big or small. I was sure my father would not want me to become injured a day before the wedding, especially if it resulted in injuring the groom as well. Instead, I decided to calm my anger and riled state of mind by going to visit my good friends who would be able to help a little. With their assistance, I would be able to keep myself in check even if it was for only a little while during the day.