The Assassin Bureau: Imagines and Preferences

Baited: Arno Dorian x Reader

They had taken you from the Cafe late last night, burlap sack over your head and coarse ropes roughly wrapped around your wrists. No one had said a word to you and you'd been too frightened to speak up. You already knew everything anyway. You knew why they had taken you. Arno had explained it to you weeks ago that something like this would happen if you stayed with him. You hadn't been scared then. You thought you were stronger than that, eager to stay with him and eager to face whatever challenges would arise. It had almost been like a silent challenge to yourself: stay with the one you love despite the dangers.

So, when the Templars came and kidnapped you, it wasn't all that surprising. You simply kept silent and hoped that Arno would eventually seek you out. You were no use to them dead. They needed you alive if it meant baiting Arno into coming. They wanted revenge for something that happened a month ago, some sort of explosion that cost them thousands. You weren't entirely sure, their words muffled by distance.

The heavy metal door to the room shoved open, groaning and whining, boots clomping hard into the stone floor. Rough fingers wrapped around your elbow, jerking you up onto your feet and hauling you forward.

You couldn't see anything, your shoes scuffing and nearly tripping you, the cold draft in the building chilling you down to the marrow. You stumbled forward when a hard hand hit your back, shoving you out into the harsh wintry winds that seeped past your layers of clothes.

You tripped down onto your knees, just barely able to keep your shoulder from cracking against the ground. "My boyfriend won't stand for this," you muttered it, hoping to give yourself enough confidence to keep back the tears.

He scoffed, the roll of a quick chuckle. "We're counting on it, sweetheart."

You confirmed that they were using you as bait, clenching your hands into tight fists. "You won't catch him easily."

"You've no idea what you got yourself into." The musky sack was snatched off of your head and you took down a sharp, frigid breath. Your eyes fluttered, blurry and adjusting to the faint light of the moon. He squatted down in front of you, jagged scars snaking every which way along his face and neck. "Your boyfriend's a murder, sweetheart. Did this to my face, he did."

You clenched your teeth, firstly because you were angry and secondly because it was freezing outside and you didn't want you teeth to clatter. You were in a graveyard, piles of bones and the moist, earthy smell of death bit your nose.

"So." He leaned forward, hot breath searing across your face. "Where is your scary boyfriend, now?"

There was a quick and sharp cry of pain. Your attention jolted towards the sound, finding one of the Templars on his knees. A rope, pulled taut, was jutting out of his chest and leading upwards towards one of the mausoleums nearby. He was just a shadow, hood pulled up over his head, but you knew it was Arno. It had to be him.

"Men!" He shouted, jumping up onto his feet and snagging hold of his large poleaxe that had been leaning against one of the trees. "Take out the Assassin!"

Arno stepped forward slowly, his boots hitting the edge of the roof when he jerked the rope free of its victim. When no one came at the command, your captor hesitated. Arno reached back and with a flick of his wrist the rope dart was flung forward. The Templar had predicted the attack, his poleaxe swinging outwards and clanging down onto the dart. He hadn't, however, realized it was a distraction. Arno took the leap off the mausoleum just as the Templar was lifting his gaze from the dart, having no time to defend himself. The blade pierced quick and deep, barely a sound leaving the man's throat.

You sighed, your body slumping. "Arno."

He stepped over the dying man, hidden blade slinking back into his sleeve. "I thought we agreed to be exclusive?" He kneeled down, smile wide upon his lips. "And here I find you in a graveyard, partying with other men?"

You laughed, deciding you preferred laughter over crying. "Arno. Shut up and untie me."

"I don't know..." He leaned forward, voice growing soft as he spoke against your ear. "I think I like seeing you bound up." His hands slid across your arms, following them behind your back to the coarse ropes. "I might just have to use this to my advantage."

You chuckled but it quickly got caught in your throat, tears brimming your eyes. You murmured lowly, untrusting in your own voice, "I was so scared."

"You're safe now." The ropes tugged and fell away, your arms falling bonelessly at your side. "I promise you. Come. Let's get you home." He helped you up onto your feet, arm curled around you when your legs weakened beneath your weight. "Can you stand?"

"I'm alright." You forced yourself to walk forward. You didn't want Arno to feel guilty about what happened. And you knew that he would be. His jokes couldn't hide it forever. "I just need a warm drink, is all."

"Oh, a warm drink and a warm bed." He grinned, waltzing with you awkwardly through the graveyard and out onto the trashed cobblestone streets. "With some warm company?"

You melted against him, delighted that he had arrived when he did. "Yes, please."