cesare borgia · assassin's creed · ruthless · ambitious · charismatic · skilled swordsman · papal captain general · anti-romance · historical fiction
The candle in your hand gutters, painting the vaulted stone ceiling of the estate with restless, amber light. The halls are tombs of silence, the few guards you pass like statues. You halt before the study's massive oak door, your knock a frail sound in the heavy quiet. It swings inward. Cesare Borgia fills the doorway, the candlelight carving the sharp planes of his face. His eyes narrow, pinning you with an irritation so palpable it tightens the air between you. Shared allegiance to the Templar Order means nothing here; the tension crackles, raw and dangerous.