Chapter Text
.la volpe
"Pray explain," Lorenzo said, his voice tight with excitement.
"You're aware of the Rift War?"
Lorenzo tipped up his chin, his eyes narrowing, as though trying to decide whether La Volpe was making a joke at his expense. "The religious mummery spread about why humans were kicked out of Eden?"
"All 'mummery' tends to have a little fact behind it all." La Volpe shrugged. "Are humans the children of Eve, while truebloods the children of Lilith the Outsider? Perhaps. Whichever it is, the Creator-Race sought always to address the imbalance. I've heard of artifacts like this all my existence - though this is the first time I've seen one intact and functional."
"I see." Lorenzo narrowed his eyes for a long moment, calculating possibilities. "It seems that we must, after all, occupy Roma."
"The Barbarigo forces have fled and the Borgia militia has surrendered." Malik supplied briskly. "But the infrastructure of Roma has been mostly destroyed, and come the warmer days, there will be disease and worse from the mass graves."
Lorenzo shuddered. "But this building-"
"Leave it," La Volpe shrugged.
"What?"
"If it could be easily destroyed, the Templars would have done it by now."
"They can't have known what it did," Lorenzo pointed out doubtfully, "Or Rodrigo wouldn't have tried to use it."
"True, there are Precursor weapons around the world, along with these," La Volpe gestured at the platform. "And they are often very similar in appearance. I have looked at Vidic's notes, however, and it seems that the Templars did originally try to destroy the platform. They had their suspicions about it, but Vidic did not seem to contemplate the possibility that the conversion would affect even a trueblood."
"So should we not at least preserve it for those turned against their will?" Lorenzo demanded.
"No. Those who are turned against their will can find their way here." La Volpe said quietly. "Precursor artifacts are not to be trifled with, Duce. Best that we leave this one alone."
"Was this your interest in Roma?" Malik spoke up, frowning slightly. "I recall you saying something of the sort before."
"Did I know that an artifact was in Roma? Yes. I thought that was most likely, given Templar efforts. Did I know which particular artifact? No." La Volpe stared at the bloodstained depression in the platform for a long moment more before straightening up. "Still, a most satisfactory conclusion to this exercise. It has been quite a pleasure working with you and yours, Duce."
"And it has been an honour working with you, Immortal," Lorenzo replied, just as formally. "Though you've yet to explain to me who Vidic was to your Order."
"Some secrets the Magi will prefer to keep," La Volpe said wryly. "But you have righted an old wrong, and for that, you have our thanks."
.federico
"I can feel your brother staring at us across the distance," Federico said playfully, and Kadar blushed, darting a quick look over his shoulder to the distant, one-armed man seated on a horse.
"He's picked up all of his bad old habits again now that I've... reverted." Kadar said delicately, though he didn't seem regretful, then he smiled lightly, tentatively. "I'm still really grateful for everything that you've done for me, Federico."
"Think nothing of it, uccellino." Federico eyed him closely. "I'm glad that you're happy."
"Really?" Kadar burst out, then he blushed again and mumbled, "I thought that you were going to be mad."
"Kadar, you were turned against your will, and for most of your life as a vampire you were ill-used," Federico pointed out patiently. "It was not something that you chose, and I'm glad that you've had the chance to... go back to what you were. Just like Altaïr."
"I'll miss flying," Kadar murmured, then looked again hastily over his shoulder as if to check whether his brother was listening. Federico stifled a laugh, utterly charmed, and was still amused when Kadar turned back to look at him. "I'm so happy that you're not angry," he added, in the same hesitant tone. "You've done a lot for me and... and... I've said that before already, haven't I, and-"
Grinning, Federico leaned over to give Kadar a quick, brushing peck on the mouth, then he laughed when Kadar quickly flung his arms around Federico's neck to deepen the kiss. It was sweeter now than it was before, somehow, Kadar's lips deliciously warm now against his mouth, and the hammering beat of Kadar's heart was intoxicating to pick up over the rush of warm blood under his skin. Exquisite.
"Come to Monteriggioni whenever you like," Federico invited, brushing a quick little kiss over Kadar's brow. "And... perhaps not now, nor soon, but in time, if you ever decide that you would like to fly again... let me know."
Kadar's wide-eyed look was thankfully not wary, and he didn't taste of fear when he gave Federico a shy, open-mouthed kiss. "I'll think about it," he whispered. "But don't tell my brother."
"Never," Federico promised, and held Kadar close until they were hailed.
.rebecca
Rebecca was perched on the top of the wagon, looking back over the bulk of the fort. Somewhere within, Ezio was saying his goodbyes to his family, paying his last respects to his uncle's grave. "At least Maria woke up."
"Hm? Oh yes, of course," Leonardo said distractedly. "We wouldn't have left otherwise. I was fairly sure that I was close to a breakthrough on her case. I think she woke up by herself, though, rather than through any aid of mine. She just needed time to heal."
"Still," Rebecca teased, "See, I told you Ezio would do what you wanted."
Leonardo hesitated. "Actually, I was talking to Maria about it - very offhandedly, of course, and she was surprisingly encouraging, and mentioned it to Ezio herself. I didn't ask directly. I really didn't want him to go along with this whim of mine and leave his family behind."
"War's over, we're on holiday, and you're the most beautiful man in Italia," Rebecca drawled. "Sure he wants to keep you in sight."
To her glee, Leonardo actually blushed a little, though he went back to piling supplies on the cart. "It won't all be a holiday. I'll be carrying some diplomatic missives to the other freehold territories. Lorenzo has plans."
"He always has plans," Rebecca shrugged.
"What about you, Rebecca?" Leonardo asked, as he checked the horses' tack. Bred in the Auditore stables, both carthorses were beautiful, spirited animals, unafraid of their trueblood masters, their plate-sized hooves stamping on the grass as they whickered at the attention.
"Seems with you gone, Lorenzo needs an ambassador to the Auditore, and they don't mind me so much, so that's my gig for now." She grinned when Leonardo arched an eyebrow at her. "Keeping the peace and friendship and fun and all that."
"Oh dear," Leonardo murmured.
"What?"
"Well, ah, I'm sure that you'll do fine, my dear," Leonardo said hastily, "Only, perhaps, there's still time for me to give you a better understanding of some of the intricacies of Monteriggioni's social structure and-"
"Don't bother, I'll be fine," Rebecca cut in breezily. "I mean, what can go wrong?"
"Now I'm worried." Leonardo protested, and was in the middle of determinedly giving Rebecca some sort of crash course on Tuscan diplomacy when Ezio swooped down out of the air, turned into his man-shaped form, and kissed Leonardo firmly on the mouth.
"Thanks," Rebecca said dryly, "He was talking my ears off."
"But he has the most beautiful voice," Ezio said adoringly, and scowled when Rebecca made an archly choking noise.
"Gods, the two of you, just go, you're worse than newlyweds-"
"I'm utterly rational," Leonardo corrected, though he smiled warmly at Ezio as Ezio helped him up onto the cart - an utterly unnecessary action for someone of Leonardo's strength and height. "Seriously, Rebecca."
"I'm going to be liaison between here and Firenze. I'll do fine, won't I?" Rebecca asked Ezio.
Ezio hadn't even taken his eyes off Leonardo. "Mm? Yes, of course."
"See?" Rebecca grinned at Leonardo, who rolled his eyes at her.
"Good luck," he said reluctantly.
"Have fun and stop worrying," Rebecca shot back, and waved as Ezio handled the reins, the horses picking up into a quick trot.
.desmond
"Welcome back," Hastings said mildly, and folded his arms. "Hopefully you're less pathetic as a human as you were when you were a vampire."
"Fuck you," Desmond shot back, and Hastings actually smirked as Lucy helped Desmond up.
"Well, what now?" Hastings continued, arching an eyebrow. "Seeing as you've been of just about no help all this time."
"I used to be a bartender," Desmond said irritably, "Not some secret Syrian cadre vampire hunter."
"We could use a bartender in Headquarters," Lucy noted, though she smiled wryly as she said this. "Ignore him, Desmond. We're just glad it worked. Welcome back."
.suleiman
He found his oldest friend and companion at the docks, watching the few night-time workers amble about good-naturedly, carrying crates are calling out playful jibes at each other, utterly unlike the Barbarigo-controlled reign of terror that had been in place only a short while ago. In places, there were still cages, partly shattered, filthy and stained with waste and worse.
Yusuf was beside their ship, sitting on a crate at the dock, watching the water, and he grinned when Suleiman stepped up to lean beside him. "Had enough of the party?" he asked, in their native tongue.
"You left."
"Oh." Yusuf blinked at him. "I would have said something to you if I knew that you would worry."
"The device is not such a bad thing," Suleiman told Yusuf softly. "For the people turned against their will, it is a blessing."
"But to the rest of us, it is a weapon," Yusuf replied quietly. "I think we should leave Italia."
"Leonardo is coming by."
"Yes, I suppose," Yusuf said uncomfortably. Yusuf hadn't been exactly pleased when Suleiman had suggested travelling with Lorenzo's renowned weaponsmith and one of the meçkey: Lorenzo's note had come in the morning, on a messenger bird.
"It's up to you, Yusuf," Suleiman said soothingly. "I would not mind seeing more of the world, and Leonardo's mind is renowned for being most singular. They would be excellent travelling companions."
"Perhaps," Yusuf grunted, glowering at the waters. "Or perhaps we should stock up on provisions and head south. Cross the sea again."
"If you like," Suleiman said gently, and Yusuf let out a frustrated sound.
"I do not know. I feel like running, but we cannot run. This thing that they have found, I think it will change the world." Yusuf's hands clenched in his lap. "And I want us to be away from here as it happens. I had even thought about possibly returning to the Empire, to tell the Sultan about-"
"No," Suleiman cut in. "My apologies, Yusuf, but we must not. You know what will happen if we do."
Yusuf nodded slowly, uncomfortably. The Ottoman Empire had little tolerance for magic or artifacts that threatened the status quo: likely, they would invade Italia, and Duke Lorenzo's hold on his lands was still shaky. "I know. But they will find out eventually. You know they will."
"When that comes," Suleiman said slowly, testing the waters, "I think we should offer our allegiance to the Duce again."
"Against our own people?"
"Against injustice."
Yusuf stared at him for a long moment, then he nodded tightly, and Suleiman smiled at him in relief. "Yes. You are right. So be it."
.ezio
"Probably ignorance," Ezio scoffed, tugging Leonardo down onto the hay beside him. Paying off the farmer had required all of Leonardo's tact, grace, and a great deal of coin, and Ezio was frustrated and irritable by the end of it all.
"Perhaps. It was an interesting distinction," Leonardo continued, and would probably have expounded on his point all night had Ezio not rolled him onto his back to kiss him roughly. Leonardo tensed for a moment, then muffled a laugh and licked into Ezio's mouth, teasingly at first, then hungrily, until they were groaning and rubbing against each other in the dark. "You're very loud," Leonardo murmured against his lips, and Ezio could see the gleam of Leonardo's amused grin even in the dim light of the moon.
"So are you."
"Poor Yusuf and Suleiman," Leonardo mused.
"What about them?"
"Why else do you think they opted to stay in the city?"
Oh. Oh. Ezio let out a low, rough chuckle. "So tonight you can be as loud as I like."
Leonardo rolled his eyes, but he still allowed Ezio to pull off their clothes with more urgency than he usually liked, allowed Ezio to fit between his long, beautifully pale thighs and kiss his neck over the hay, his tousled sandy hair glorious still over their discarded shirts.
"Still wet from before," Ezio said roughly, as he hitched Leonardo's thigh up against his flank, and he waited for Leonardo to nod tightly before he sank in, groaning, exhilarated, glorying in the beautiful, velvet slide of it all, all the way into Leonardo's eager body. A low, thick moan seemed to be dragged out of Leonardo's throat, then Leonardo whined and ground against him, urging him on, his cheeks flushed.
The brutal pace he set ended up so rough that Leonardo laughed breathlessly at the alarming creak that the rafters made at one particularly punishing thrust, and Ezio slowed unwillingly, eyeing the hayloft they were in suspiciously until they kissed, bodies fitting together perfectly, the pace slowing and turning tender, all the more intimate, until they were finally spent, Ezio stifling his cries against the sweat-damp skin of Leonardo's neck.
When he nipped playfully at the skin, as Leonardo panted and tried to catch his breath, fingers batted at him with playful reproach. "No, Ezio."
"Not ever?"
Fingers tipped up his chin, and Leonardo's expression was sober as he looked at Ezio. Instantly, Ezio felt a little ashamed. "Mi dispiace."
"No, no." Leonardo kissed at the edge of his lips, his hand going up to stroke Ezio's hair. "I am not offended, caro mio."
"It can be a gift," Ezio muttered, a little encouraged by Leonardo's indulgent tone. "All the time in the world for your endless curiosity."
"Or a curse, that takes my curiosity itself," Leonardo countered, and kissed Ezio again on his lips when he started to protest. "Oh, my love, it is yet too soon for me to risk everything."
"I know." Ezio nuzzled him back, feeling soothed under Leonardo's quick, earnest caresses, his clever fingers rubbing over Ezio's back, dipping over his spine, until Ezio was pliant and tucked against Leonardo's lean frame. "But I am a greedy soul."
"I know that much." Leonardo murmured, though he smiled as he said this, and Ezio leaned back up for another kiss.
.malik
Malik scowled. It was still too early into his departure from Firenze to have this conversation, in his opinion. "Of course he did."
"And?"
"And I told him that I wanted to check on the rest of Italia," Malik shrugged. "And if all seemed well, then I wished to check on the lands of my birth."
"Kadar didn't come along," Altaïr noted.
"Yes, thank you, that was supremely obvious," Malik shot back, his tone caustic. "Kadar is his own man and can do what he pleases."
"The world must be turning on its head," Altaïr mused, and sidestepped his horse out of reach quickly when Malik glared at him.
"You didn't need to come along."
"Why not?" Altaïr noted. "I am human again and can rejoin the Brotherhood." His tone was flippant, but his eyes were serious as he stared at Malik. "But if there is something wrong with Masyaf, then you should tell me."
"Perhaps. We'll see, when we get there. It's been a very long time since I've heard any news out of Syria."
"Italia is a long way from Syria, and those two Ottoman Empire boys you questioned are barely old enough to tie their shoes."
Malik smiled briefly at the exaggeration, but the good humour didn't last. "Regardless, now that Italia has some breathing space, I felt it was time to return. If all is well, perhaps I will stay, perhaps I will come back to Italia."
"I suppose that Al Mualim should know about this device in Roma," Altaïr observed, and arched his eyebrows when Malik tensed a little. "Malik, if you are suspicious about the Mentor, then you must tell me why."
"No. It is probably nothing." Malik muttered, unwilling to tell Altaïr that it had been mostly instinct that had driven him from Masyaf: instinct and grief and sentiment.
"If you are worried that I will side with him, or something like that, whatever it is, you will be mistaken," Altaïr continued stubbornly. "I trust your judgment."
"You thought some of my judgment heresy only a short while before."
"Ah," Altaïr shrugged again, and this time a smile pulled at his scarred lip. "I've had time to re-evaluate things since."
Before Malik could make a comment, or even a jibe, Altaïr stepped his horse over, leaning close to brush his lips over Malik's cheek, then grinned as Malik flinched and nearly startled his horse into rearing. By the time he got his steed back under control, Altaïr was safely several strides away and grinning.
"I'm grateful that you stayed your hand," Altaïr told him later, when they stopped for camp. "Against me. Against Kadar."
"Grateful that I was a coward?"
"No! Not that." Altaïr said sharply. "Never that."
"Serendipity aside, it was-"
"It was mercy, I think," Altaïr interrupted quietly. "Even if you do not choose to see it this way. And I am grateful for it." When Malik did not answer, Altaïr added, "Malik, you have forgiven me for what I have done. But you have not forgiven yourself, have you? That is what drives you so. Why you were so... bitter. There was nothing that day that you could have done. It was my fault."
"I could have stopped us from confronting Robert in the first place. Forced you to stay in Masyaf." The words seemed to tumble from him, in drips and drabs, and he could not stop himself. "We could have stayed in Masyaf."
"And I would have made the same mistake again. If not then, then in the future. I was a very stubborn youth." Altaïr said evenly. "You did your best, and it was my fault that caused all this. So let that go, Malik. God has given Kadar and I another chance. Let go."
Malik nearly snapped something at Altaïr, but the earnestness in Altaïr's eyes drew him short: eventually, he looked away, towards their campfire. "I wouldn't know how," he said finally.
"Is that also why we are going to Syria?"
Malik's lips quirked briefly, but he made no answer, and eventually, Altaïr settled down against him, warm and inviting and so very alive, and Malik curled down to press against him with a soft and bitten-off whisper of a promise.
.lorenzo
It was from Maria, along with a few well-wishes from Federico and Claudia. Lorenzo flicked his eyes over it, and got up from his seat, heading over to a side table where an unfinished game of chess had been in progress for weeks. He made Maria's move on it, according to her letter, and studied the board, even as Giovanni pressed himself flush against Lorenzo's back, mouthing at his neck.
"Stop that," Lorenzo said irritably. "I'm thinking."
"When I thought of introducing you to my mate," Giovanni grumbled, though he did stop, "I didn't think that the both of you would immediately strike up a long correspondence and even start playing chess."
"No one else here is remotely competent ever since Leonardo and Malik left Italia," Lorenzo muttered. He moved the black knight on his board, stepped over to his desk, and scribbled the move down on a piece of parchment. Before he could start writing the rest of the letter, however, Giovanni tugged the quill pointedly from his fingers and kissed him, languid and lazy, with just enough of a hint of his fangs against Lorenzo's lips to make Lorenzo's heart quicken.
"I've been away on your business for half a week, Duce," Giovanni rumbled, against Lorenzo's parting lips. "And I do not feel appreciated."
"Hm. That depends on whether you've been particularly useful."
"Cruel as always," Giovanni said, with arch regret, though he did at least step away, rounding the desk towards the map on the far end. They discussed the territorial collapse of several of the trueblood lands, and the anarchy within some of them, then the Sforza ventures past their borders, all until Lorenzo was having difficulty stifling his yawns again, and Giovanni was grinning indulgently at him.
"You'll grow old before your time, Altezza."
"Silence." Lorenzo circled the problem spots on the map. "Any other troubles?"
"You want more trouble, Duce?"
"Well," Lorenzo said testily, "Seeing as we're about to rebuild large swathes of infrastructure across Italia, it helps to stay informed."
"I think you should conquer Italia first before building your roads and wells," Giovanni said, with a lazy grin that made Lorenzo scowl at him again.
"I'm looking to create a free Italia, not rule as Emperor."
"Pity. 'Emperor Lorenzo the Magnificent' does have such a good ring to it."
Lorenzo rolled his eyes. "That's it, you're going to have to wait for your drink this time. I want to finish the letter to Maria first, and my ledgers."
"I'll help you with the ledgers, and you can finish that letter," Giovanni countered. "Stop charming my mate."
"I'm not charming her, she just happens to be an excellent correspondent who also, coincidentally, is a better chess player than you are."
Giovanni snorts, even as he leafs through the ledgers. "She's told me more often than once how the Duke of Firenze is so very erudite and educated and wise. It's getting tiresome."
"I think she'll have been a far better companion than you've turned out to be," Lorenzo retorted tartly. "More attentive, at the least."
"You don't find me attentive?"
"You're possessive, not attentive. Now be quiet. I'm concentrating."
Giovanni chuckled, but he kept his peace until Lorenzo had finished the letter and risen from the desk: this time, when he approached, Lorenzo allowed himself to be pulled into Giovanni's arms and kissed. It was always tender like this, at the start, even if he could taste Giovanni's hunger between them, in the way Giovanni tensed up as he pressed his palms up over his shoulders, in the way Giovanni's eyes grew dilated when Lorenzo drew back for air.
Tonight, instead of tugging him impatiently towards the spare room, or making some comment about the bed, Giovanni merely kissed him again, slower now, lazy, until at the end, breathless, Lorenzo murmured, "Are you not hungry?"
"For you?" Giovanni shot him a mischievous grin, and said archly, "Always."
Lorenzo started to retort, the words muffled instead when Giovanni pressed another kiss against him, then lower, over his throat, to graze his teeth against the first scar on his skin, rumbling when Lorenzo sucked in a high, soft breath. "Yes," Lorenzo whispered, when Giovanni pressed his tongue lightly against the scar tissue, and he curled his fingers tightly into Giovanni's vest, and around the back of his neck.
Later, when sated and in bed, naked and entwined, Giovanni murmured, absently, "You would truly prefer Maria over me?"
"Well," Lorenzo said, and pretended to ponder the point, then smirked when Giovanni growled at him and shifted over to nuzzle at the fresh bite on his neck. "I suppose you have your benefits," Lorenzo conceded, and laughed when Giovanni muttered something incoherent and nipped Lorenzo pointedly on the shoulder.
This, in a way, was peace, Lorenzo decided, as he allowed Giovanni to lick a way up to his lips; difficult as the truebloods were, sensitive as the matter of Roma was. He had struggled all this while to achieve the impossible, had gambled everything upon it and had won. It wasn't perfect, not yet, not with much of Italia still in disarray from the chaos the Templars had left in their wake, but it was a beginning.
The world may have bent to his will, but Lorenzo was acutely aware, particularly now with Giovanni pressed against him, how much of that he owed to the Auditore, even now. "Tomorrow," he murmured, when Giovanni settled back down onto his flank, "I should visit Monteriggioni."
Giovanni arched an eyebrow at him. "That's new. You've shown no interest in it before."
"I'm well aware that I'm rather late in honouring a few memories," Lorenzo said delicately. "And in reinforcing what has been a very... key alliance."
Giovanni snorted, though he was smiling as he pressed a kiss to Lorenzo's shoulder. "Very well. Unless," he added, "You mean to charm my mate to your side after all, and leave me in the dust."
"We'll see," Lorenzo bared his teeth, growing a little irritated by the teasing, and Giovanni laughed, tugging him to eye level, and there was amusement there, but there was affection too, and something deeper that he had no name for, something primal.
"You would be welcome, Altezza," Giovanni murmured, and it was a promise beyond what his words offered: for a moment, Lorenzo could feel a connection between them that would dare to defy time itself.
"Tomorrow, then," Lorenzo decided, his voice a little unsteady, despite his efforts, and this time it was Lorenzo who dared pull Giovanni close, to tuck them together; it would be here, like this, that Lorenzo would dream of the future.