Author's Notes: As promised at the end of "Assassin's Creed: Choices," I am providing this little 3-chapter tale to detail the moments between Breanne Wynsridge and Noris Polona. If you come across this story before reading "Choices," it can be read as a standalone, but reading Choices provides a better understanding of these characters and their significance.
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or Star Wars. I do, however, lay claim to Breanne and Jaksen Wynsridge, along with Noris Polona.
Summary: A detailed explanation of the significant moments between Breanne Wynsridge and Noris Polona, as highlighted in my previous story, "Assassin's Creed: Choices."
Interlude: The Templar's Temptation
Part 1 – An Imprisoned Introduction
It was supposed to have been a simple capture and data retrieval. He was already in custody, and she had been in the vicinity handling other matters, but the information he carried was vital to her husband. It only seemed logical for her to contact her beloved and let him know that she would be returning home with the data extraction he awaited. His voice on the other end of the comlink had been grateful that he had such a motivated Templar in his home, but the loving approval she expected never came. Instead, it was all business, and she had to presume it was because he could not show weakness to those who might be within listening distance on his end. Knowing it would do no good to dwell on her husband's immediate lack of affection, Breanne Wynsridge had shut down the comlink, not allowing his cool demeanor to disturb the mission she chose for herself.
As she walked towards the room where the prisoner was awaiting, she held her head high and would not admit her home concerns to anyone. She did not have time to dwell on her husband's gradually building coolness, but she still needed to quell her growing excitement, as this would be her first encounter with an Assassin, despite her forty-one years of life – twenty years of which involved her marriage to Jaksen. Throughout their marriage, her husband knew how to delegate the tasks amongst his subordinates, allowing her to stay safe. He always meant well to protect her, and he had been nothing but capable of ensuring that their lives were comfortable and secure. But, in his doing so, he had forgotten over the years that Breanne was not raised as a helpless damsel. She had been trained in physical defense since her childhood, and she maintained her skills as much as she could, but even she had to admit that in these years of her life, many of her skills had diminished. So, it was with great caution that her husband had allowed this arrangement before she cleared Bevin with his data.
Breanne hesitated before the closed door, drowning in the curiosity of meeting one of the people that was considered a nemesis to her Order. She felt an overwhelming enthusiasm at this anticipatory encounter, reminding herself to heed her husband's words and maintain her distance from the Assassin. Jaksen understood that she had this one opportunity to satiate her inquisitiveness, but he warned her to quickly return with the data she was to retrieve from his subordinates and not to prolong her departure. She knew that the men who had caught the Assassin would dispose of him, but it was on Jaksen's order that they had restrained from doing so, as she had argued a convincing case to her husband for her curiosity, and he had reluctantly relented to her petitions.
Before opening the door, Breanne decided that she needed to ensure she was every bit a proper Templar. She tugged gently at her long tunic sleeves, smoothing the light green fabric to a perfection before she ran a finger over the collar to ensure it was secured appropriately near her neck. It would do no good if she appeared promiscuous, flaunting her curves as opposed to standing rigid and poised without her body to act as a feminine distraction. After all, she was a countess on her home-world, and she needed to ensure that this Assassin showed appropriate respect to the woman he would be meeting.
She gave the long tunic a tug towards the back, and the skirt of the material settled into her belt more stiffly. Her dark green pants were as tucked into her knee-high brown boots as best as she could do, and she decided that she could appear no more proper than she already was.
Pushing on the button of the door release, Breanne stepped into the room that was part of an empty set of offices in a three-story building. The top floor and bottom floor were still occupied with laboratories and offices, but this middle section was awaiting a renter. It was an ideal place to hold a prisoner, as it was far enough above ground that no one at street level could linger and attempt to peer inside the tinted windows.
Stepping forward, Breanne fought to silence her gasp, as she wasn't entirely certain what to expect but still surprised by the sight. The Assassin's wrists were cuffed above his head and secured onto a pipe that would normally have been hidden behind tiles on the low ceiling. He was suspended above the floor, with his dark brown booted feet dangling at least four inches from the floor. His gray robes fluttered around his shins from the air that pushed through from the ceiling vent that was blowing on his back.
Of the two young Templars in the room who had been involved in the capture of the Assassin, the dark-haired one pushed a button on a small remote, and Breanne instinctively clutched her hand to her mouth to stifle another intake of air as she watched the Assassin's body shake from the stun that came from his cuffs.
"Was that necessary?" Breanne asked, bringing her hand back to her side and not quite certain why she should care since he was only going to be killed in a short time.
"Master Jaksen ordered us to ensure you would receive no harm, Milady," the blonde-haired man with the small mustache offered. "The Assassin has been temporarily paralyzed for your inspection."
Breanne took a breath to compose herself and stepped closer to the Assassin, as he hung harmlessly in place. With his eyes closed and his head leaning forward – his chin tucked upon his chest – her view of his face was obscured. She could only discern that he had light brown hair that was cut short, but with tuffs that were thick upon the top of his scalp. She felt her head tilt slightly in curiosity, as he looked no more a killer than the young servant boy at her home who tripped over himself to ensure she had everything promptly when she called for it.
She was within five feet of the Assassin now, and the two young men gently warned her to step no closer. Heeding their words, Breanne did not move any further towards him but instead scanned her eyes over his robes. She saw gashes in the material, blood stains, and small burn marks that she could not discern their origins, as it was difficult to decide if they were from blaster carbon scoring or fires. His holsters were empty of any weapons, and as her eyes moved up his arms, she saw that his blades had been removed.
"Where are his weapons?" she asked.
"He only carried one blade on his wrist, if that's what you mean," the dark-haired man responded. He was the older of the two Templars from what Breanne could tell. His blue eyes were sharp, and she sensed he had far more experience than he let on, based on the confidence he held. "And only one blaster. We already disposed of them."
Breanne felt a wash of disappointment suddenly, and forced herself to remain neutral. She had no idea what she would have said to the Assassin, but she had wanted him awake so that she could look into his eyes and see what kind of man performs the duties that his kind does. At the very least, she would have liked to have seen for herself what exactly a hidden blade was.
Still, she had other questions, and her husband's Templars would be forced to answer them in the Assassin's unconscious state. "What is his name?"
"Noris Polona," came the reply in a gravelly voice fighting to hide pain, but the voice was not from either of the Templar men. Instead it came from the Assassin, as he lifted his head but kept his eyes concealed in a shadow above him. "There is no need to hide it. You're only going to kill me anyway. You might as well know the name of the man you plan to execute."
Breanne's eyes caught the light-haired Templar as he was about to push on the remote, but her arm immediately stretched out towards him. "Stop."
He hesitated, and she made her voice firm, realizing she had an advantage suddenly, as the Assassin did not know that she was not his executioner. "The prisoner is allowed his final words. I wish to hear them."
"I can't say that I've come into contact with a woman executioner before, especially not one branded as a Templar," his voice spoke, a deep but quiet sound now that held the slightest hint of a smirk in it. There was the impression that whatever pain he had earlier had subsided as his attention had found something else on which to concentrate.
Breanne ignored the Assassin's gentle taunting, keeping her voice firm. "If you have important words to discuss before your end, I would advise you to speak them, or else you will never have what you wish to say known."
"Milady, we have done as you asked, and Master Wynsridge would not approve of our letting you linger," the blonde whispered strongly. His words held an underlying message that her time was over, and she had best return to the transport that would take her home.
Taking a quiet breath to steady her excitement at talking with her enemy in such an intimate setting, Breanne considered what to say next when the sudden rumbling of explosions began around them. She glanced once at the Assassin and saw his body stiffen as he rattled the cuffs above his head, but it was the last thing she saw as walls flew around them, and the ceiling crashed. She vaguely remembered throwing herself towards the pillar in the room, knowing it was the only stable point around them when a deafening noise enclosed her, and she was thrown into an unconsciousness so black it may as well have been death.