Chapter 1: Choice
Chapter Text
Desmond ~ 21st December 2012 ~ The Grand Temple, Turin, New York
What the fuck?
You would think he’d be used to this by now; would be used to The Ones Who Came Before crashing into his life and upending everything he thought he knew. Whenever Desmond thought that he had finally made it to the end of his journey, they came and created chaos.
Here they were, at the precipice of the end of the world. They had found the Temple. They had recovered all the power sources. They had found the key. They had kept the Templars at bay. All that needed to be done was to activate The Eye and keep the planet from frying.
Of course, it couldn’t be that simple. Nothing had been in the past few months. Not since Abstergo drugged and kidnapped him. Not since he’d been conscripted back into the Assassin-Templar War.
Has it only been three months? Three months since his eyes have been ripped open to reality. For Desmond it felt like years had passed. He barely recalled his quiet life as a bartender at Bad Weather. It was like looking back at a stranger. So much had happened since those routine days that he barely knew who he was now. He has more memories of living in the Masyaf Fortress, of wandering Renaissance Italy’s streets, and of battling across the Frontier, than he does of working in modern day New York.
And they expect me to make this decision?
“She would sacrifice you – sacrifice the WORLD – for no other reason than to deny me vindication.” Juno had walked right up to his face, her voice softer with what on the surface seemed to be sympathy. To Desmond it just rang false.
Minerva swept over with a small scoff, “They will enslave your kind, Desmond. Is this not why you fight? Is this not why you came here? To ensure more than just your race’s future, but it’s freedom?”
“What future? What freedom?” Juno seemed agitated now as she argued, “Billions dead and the whole cycle begun anew? This world has known nothing but heartache and horror since we left it!”
“Our gift to them. And you’d see it all returned.”
“Enough!”
The firm voice caused the squabbling ‘goddesses’ to whirl around while the humans watched as another translucent form appeared on the opposite side of The Eye. It took Desmond a moment to recognize the bearded being with his sweeping golden robes.
“Tinia?” he breathed. The ‘god’ ignored him as he stalked forward and pinned Minerva and Juno with his stern gaze.
“What are you doing here?” Juno snarled. Her composure was slipping as every second passed. It was getting closer and closer to the deadline.
Tinia’s voice was as calm and commanding as it had been in the Nexus. “I am here to do the same as yourself, Juno. I am here to advise Desmond.”
“And what advice could you have to offer? There is a clear choice!” Juno sneered back. Minerva stayed silent but watching. Tinia responded only with a chuckle before he seemingly dismissed her and stepped closer to Desmond. Behind him, he could feel Rebecca, Shaun, and his dad shuffle backwards uncomfortably. Desmond just stared.
“You have been created to undertake an enormous responsibility. You have heard of the two choices others would prefer you to make, but, ultimately, the choice is yours. As it was designed to be so.”
The words struck Desmond as odd. He furrowed his brow in bewilderment, “What do you mean? ‘The two choices others would prefer’? There’s more?”
“Thousands of years, innumerable calculations, infinite factors… and you believe it all accumulates into just two simple paths?” Tinia raised an imperious eyebrow. His pale eyes bored into Desmond’s.
“They are the two most logical options.” Minerva’s voice was sharp as she narrowed her gaze at Tinia. The ‘god’ didn’t even deign to look at her as he shrugged.
“In your opinion.”
Minerva drew herself up straighter and faced him head on. Her expression was a scowl of frustration. “The calculations were clear. Juno cannot be allowed to be freed! It is better if the Earth burns and begins anew!”
“You would doom the humans to even more misery and the same perpetual cycle, dear Minerva,” Juno eyes her with clear distain, a sneer twisting her beautiful face, “All those years trying to save them, and now you are so quick to throw them aside!”
“Enough! I don’t want to hear the same argument again! What do you mean? What are the other options?” Desmond quickly cut across them all in desperation. They didn’t have time for this! Time was almost up!
“Juno will advocate for the only choice that will allow her the freedom to try to rule over all humans,” Tinia began to explain before the others could, “while Minerva wishes you to follow the path that she has set. It would seem she has forgotten that humans were built with free will; Isu-Human descendants more so.”
“But what does that mean for me? What else can I do?” The non-answers were grating on Desmond already very frayed nerves.
“Minerva said it herself earlier,” was all Tinia deemed to say. Desmond wracked his brain but for the life of him he could not recall anything more significant in what Minerva had said. Before he could snap back at the old Isu before him, Shaun spoke up for the first time.
“‘You and the Templars have squabbled over our refuse. You have wasted centuries.’ That’s what Minerva said when she first appeared,” though he was confident in his recollection, Shaun just looked baffled behind his glasses. The stress of the entire situation showed in the deep lines scoring his face. Desmond was sure he looked no better. “Time? But how could that help us now?”
Desmond whirled back round to see Tinia nod back to the device. “Only you can use The Eye and The Apple, Desmond.”
“And that would work?!”
“If you want it to.”
Desmond froze. Using the two devices to alter time? It sounded absurd! How would that even work? He doubted there was some sort of manual to help him, and the Isu in front of him were clearly not willing to be more helpful. He could already see the anger flooding over Juno, and the indignation bristling Minerva’s shoulders. Tinia, in comparison, seemed unflappably calm. Desmond ignored them as the two women burst into more arguments.
He turned his head to look at his companions. If he wished for an answer there, then he was in no such luck. Rebecca just looked lost and afraid, Shaun still seemed both in awe and wary of the projections in front of them, whereas his dad was wearing a stone mask, the furrowing of his brow the only indication something was troubling him. His watch beeped on his wrist: one minute left. One minute to make his decision – fry the world, save the world, or change the world.
Which was the correct decision? The look into his future from Juno scared him on a deeply primal level; he had no wish to be revered and made into a godly symbol. He also did not think he could just allow billions to suffer an agonizing death from the solar flare. It went against everything he was taught, everything he thought he was capable of.
Before Tinia’s appearance, he had been leaning towards activating The Eye and allowing Juno her release. There was no telling the chaos, disruption, and unspeakable acts she would commit if he did. He knew next to nothing about her, except she was a great manipulator and had a deep loathing of humans. What he did know, though, was that humanity was all about resilience. It was also stubborn and refused to be told what to do – countless wars and rebellions across the ages was proof enough of that. He wasn’t religious by any means - especially not after all he had learned about the Ones Who Came Before - but if he had to have faith in anything, it was that humanity would not give Juno an easy time. Humans had mutinied against the Isu before and won. What was to stop them from doing so against just one of them?
But the third option – change the past, manipulate time -, could he do that? Where did he even start with it? What path did he need to take? What would he change? What could he change? What would the consequences be? What if he got it wrong? What if he made things worse? That’s not even to say how the hell did it even work?!
“Twenty seconds, Desmond!” his father’s voice instantly snapped him out of his thoughts as it had always been able to. He spared himself a moment to look back at their faces, trying to memorise them in the scant seconds he had, before turning back around. He ignored the ones before him, the beings who, though long dead, still tried to shape the universe around themselves. He refused to listen to the screeches of the two women and the void of silence from Tinia.
Instead, without another thought, he stepped up and placed his hand on the pedestal of The Eye. For one split second nothing happened, before a wave of gold flashed around the room and everything stopped.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Federico Auditore ~ 29th December 1476 ~ Palazzo Della Signoria, Florence
The harsh sun and the relentless jeering of the crowd before them seared through Federico and agitated his already aching head. As he squirmed where he stood, the rope binding his wrists behind him burned into his skin, though not as much as the rough feel of the noose tied tightly around his neck.
This should not be happening, he thought with despair.
The previous night was a confusing blur. He had been helping his Madre set up for the evening meal when the front door had burst open. He’d joined his Padre in racing to the foyer of their villa only to be confronted by a battalion of soldiers with their swords drawn. They had barely had the chance to demand what was happening when he was grabbed from all sides and dragged through the doorway in a cacophony of shouts, protests, clanging armour, and the distressed wails of his mother and sister. It was only when Petruccio’s frail body was flung onto his in the barred carriage and his father’s shocked and alarmed eyes met his that he even realized they had been arrested.
Federico had known for years what his father Giovanni was: an Assassin. He had learned about the history of the Brotherhood, the Creed and Tenets they abided by, the skills they possessed, the importance of what they did and why they did it. He had learned all about the Templars. He wasn’t far off his own initiation ceremony, but he could not be counted as an Assassin just yet. Not that the interrogators last night knew or cared.
Throughout the harsh beatings and scorching burnings inflicted on him inside the Palazzo Vecchio, a man had stood above him and barked questions: why did you travel to Milano? What was your role in the death of Duke Sforza? Who else was involved apart from your father and brothers? What was the purpose of the brutal murder? Where is the other Auditore son? Did the Auditore plan to take over governance of Milano? What was Il Magnifico’s role in the death? Federico had remained mostly silent, the only noises he made were the cries of pain he could not hold back.
His father had fretted uselessly over his injuries when he had been dumped back in his cell, despite his own marks and the fact he could do nothing. Luckily, it had seemed Petruccio had been spared that experience. The soft sobs of his youngest sibling had wrenched his heart throughout the rest of the long night.
The guards had come back a few hours after dawn. He had struggled as they dragged him out, trying to get to his brother, when a blow to his head had made his world go white. He had barely been aware of where he was being taken and his battered body had been flung about like a marionette at the guard’s will. It had only been as the crowd began to scream for his blood that he had managed to focus again.
“Giovanni Auditore,” the Gonfaloniere’s voice boomed over the screams of the people, “you and your accomplices stand accused of the crime of treason. Have you any evidence to counter this charge?”
“Yes! The documents that were delivered to you last night!” Padre growled out in response.
“I’m afraid I know nothing of these documents.” The grandstand gesturing of the Gonfaloniere to the audience and the smirk on his face only increased the sick, sinking feeling in his stomach.
“He’s lying!”
There. That voice, barely heard over the rabble. Ezio.
Oh, mio fratello, Federico lamented. His younger brother should not have to watch this.
Federico quickly scanned the crowd and found Ezio trying to push his way through. It made his heart lurch to see the pale face shadowed by the hood of their father’s assassin robes; it was a sight he had not expected to see for many years yet.
“In the absence of any compelling evidence to the contrary, I am bound to pronounce you GUILTY. You and your collaborators are hereby sentenced to DEATH!”
Adrenaline spiked through him. Bile rose in his throat, his legs went weak, his mind filled with a loud buzzing. Pain lanced through his wrists as he struggled frantically against the bindings.
The trapdoor opened and he fell.
The snapping of his neck as the noose pulled taut never came. Instead, Federico experienced an instant feeling of weightlessness as everything disappeared and the world turned pale grey. His fear and panic muted to just beyond his reach. Is this what death feels like? Was his soul leaving for the beyond?
As though it was listening, a voice answered.
“You are not dead yet, Federico Auditore. You, your brother, and your father are still needed.”
He tried to look around for the person who spoke, but he could not even feel his own body. Did he have a body? Where would he even look? There was nothing but a vast expanse of grey.
“Who are you? Where am I? Wha- what’s happening?”
“You are in a time and space in-between. I am taking you all somewhere safe. I’m taking you to your remaining family.”
“Where?! I- I do not understand!”
“You will. The world will know you as dead, but you still have work to do. Learn, train, find and share information. I will speak to you again one day.”
Federico somehow felt the presence leave. He started to feel heavier, dragged down. The panic began to build like lava spewing from a volcano.
“Wait! What is happening? I do not understand! Help me!”
The voice did not answer. Federico began to flail, fighting against something that wasn’t there, trying to get his bearings. The pale grey of the world grew paler and brighter still, until everything flashed a brilliant white and Federico knew no more.
Chapter 2: Waking
Summary:
Maria has a dream, and Ezio thinks on his latest assassination
Notes:
Thank you very much to all who read and interacted with the first chapter of this story! I am glad you all liked it!
I'm also sorry it has taken me over 3 weeks to get this chapter out. Looking forward, I aim to get out at least one chapter a month (with any luck, more), so please bare with me!TRIGGER WARNINGS:
Mentions of past rape in the first part of this chapter. It starts at the third paragraph in, and lasts for 3 paragraphs. I tried not to make it graphic at all, and more alluded to it/ described around it, but please mind yourselves if it is a trigger for you.
This chapter also deals with depression/ catatonia. Again, nothing too graphic, and it doesn't really get angsty.Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Maria Auditore ~ 3rd January 1480, Monteriggioni
It was the same dream she had every night.
She watched helplessly as the Firenze guards barged into her home and destroyed her life. She remembers that on the night she had clung to Petruccio, her Uccellino [Little Bird], and screamed and begged as they ripped him from her arms and out into the cold evening air. She still hears his terrified cries ringing in her ears. But here, trapped in her own mind, her own memories, she was nothing but a bystander, unable to speak, to plead, to move, to fight.
She again saw three guards beat Giovanni as he struggled against the horde, before he too was hauled away. She watched as Claudia was held back by a white-faced Annetta before she could claw away at the guards blocking them. And when her boys were out of the Piazza, those guards had moved towards her.
At first, she had struggled. She slapped out at them, clawed at their faces, bucked against the hands forcing her down, and kicked at the hands travelling up her skirts. She remembers the sensations; the bile chocking her throat; the feel of their clammy bodies; the terror; the disgust; the fear…
But then they had moved towards Claudia. So, she had stilled. She allowed them to do as they pleased. Allowed them to laugh and jeer. Allowed them to degrade her. Allowed them to do anything that would stop them from touching her Prediletto [Darling], her only daughter.
She fought against them in the only way left to her: she refused to react. She would not let them see her pain, her heartbreak, the rip in her soul. She retreated inwards, where they could not reach her, and locked herself away.
But still she dreamed. She remembered. Every night.
Somehow, though, tonight was different.
The dream seemed muted, in a way. The echoes of feelings and sensations didn’t seem as strong. The screams and wails that usually assaulted her mind’s ears were barely audible. Everything seemed slower, and more faded.
In the corner of her mind’s eye, a golden glow appeared.
Distracted by the brightening light, she barely noticed when the dream stopped. Everything turned to a dove white. A confusing sense of peace blanketed her. The glow grew and lightened into the shape of a man.
“Maria Auditore.”
She startled with surprise. This was new. What was this light? Maria could make out no features, no defining characteristics of the silhouetted man, but she sensed a warmth radiating from him.
Peace. Safety.
He spoke again before she could.
“You have suffered, Madonna [My Lady],” his voice was pleasantly calm, “more so than someone should. You have locked yourself away to save yourself more pain. Now it is time to wake up and come out.”
Wake up from her living nightmare? The idea was comforting, but the thought of doing so terrified her for she did not know what waited beyond. She felt exhausted even at the prospect. She knew the effort of doing so would be enormous.
The Golden Man moved closer to her.
“Your children need you, Maria. They need their mother back.”
Ezio. Claudia.
She could not see it, but she sensed a pleased smile come from the light.
“Yes, Maria. They have both grown, changed in many ways from the children before that night. But they will still need your strength and love in what is to come.”
What was coming? Did she have enough strength left to spare? She felt hollowed out and broken.
But her children needed her.
She felt something grow within her. Hope, perhaps? Her love for her children? Determination, certainly. No longer could she stay trapped within herself. No longer could she let the memories and despair swallow her whole soul. Ezio and Claudia needed her. She would always fight to help them - she was their mother.
“That’s it, Maria.” The gentle voice encouraged, “I cannot say it won’t be hard. I’m sorry I cannot offer you more help than I have.”
You have helped me escape.
Chuckling came from the Golden Man. “I have only given you a nudge. You would have escaped by yourself at some point. You will awaken soon, but I will leave you with a gift.”
Maria felt sad that the glowing silhouette would be leaving her; it had been so long since she had felt this tranquil.
“In two days’ time, you will have visitors. Those that were taken from you will be returned.”
Scusi? What did that mean? She immediately thought she knew of whom he spoke, but quickly shied away from the idea. It was impossible. She could not allow herself the hope.
Around her, the white expanse began to darken. The Golden Man seemed to walk towards the distance. She felt herself lurch slightly in panic. The darkness got closer and closer.
“Do not worry. You are waking. Goodbye, Maria Auditore. We may meet again.”
Before she could reply, he disappeared, and everything faded.
Waking seemed somewhat easier than usual to Maria. She blinked open her eyes and lay quietly, letting her gaze survey her room.
Everything seemed brighter to her. Her bedding, the curtains draping the windows, the wood of the various bits of furniture seemed richer in colour and more detailed. The mattress beneath her and the nightgown she wore felt more solid, more real, than she remembered them being. It was as if a veil had been lifted from her senses bringing everything into a sharper focus. Has everything always looked this glaring? Or was it simply that she was now more present in herself to see properly?
Maria knew she was in the Villa Auditore in Monteriggioni. Ezio – her brave, brave boy – had brought them here at some point. The details of the journey were very vague. How long has it been? How long since she lost her love and her dearest boys? How long since they were torn apart and-
No.
Maria squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. She could not go down that path. She could not let her despair drown her again. The voice in her dream was right, she needed to wake now. She was needed.
With what seemed to be a herculean effort, Maria sat up, threw the bedding off herself, and dragged her body to the edge of the mattress. She leaned against the post of the bed, baffled by the tiredness that flooded her. She contemplated how hard it would be to dress herself before spotting a robe draped over the chair next to her bed. It would have to do. After putting it on, Maria took a deep breath and pushed herself up to leave the room.
Mio Dio! [My God!] Her legs wobbled beneath her as if protesting being used and her feet felt clumsy as she made her way to the door. How long had she been lay in her bed? Did she not walk about much more? She felt as though she had been stuffed away, motionless as a doll for years. Had she been? She could not remember the last time she had left her room, though she had a very vague memory of walking with Claudia in some sort of garden. The lack of clarity in her memories frightened her. She knew she had shut herself from the world, but the lack of knowledge of anything of her day-to-day life was disconcerting.
Finally reaching the landing, she rested against the marble wall overlooking the entrance hall. The walls around her were mostly bare but for a few paintings. Were they new? She did not know. Reminding herself to study them later she eyed the length of the landing and the grand stairs leading down. Already exhaustion was plaguing her, and she felt a strong urge to simply turn around and return to bed. It seemed like the easier option than trying to tackle going downstairs.
I cannot do that, she prompted herself as she continued her way.
It was as she was halfway down the Grand Stairs, holding on to the railing with a strong grip, that someone came across her.
“Maria?” the astonished voice was a low timber and Maria turned to see Mario Auditore gaping at her from below. He seemed to shake himself before he climbed the stairs two at a time to reach her. His arm was gentle but firm around her back as he held her steady.
“Good morning, Mario,” her voice was hoarse, unused for however long. She gave him a small smile as she reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. Mario stared at her in surprise for a moment, before a large grin spread across his face.
“You seem well today, Sorella [Sister]?” he questioned, looking between her eyes for any signs of illness. She nodded at him.
“I feel more myself today,” Maria replied. Mario’s eyes lit up as he tightened his grip around her waist briefly before they set off down the stairs again.
They took their time, Mario patiently guiding and supporting her as they carefully made their way towards the dining room to break their fast. As they walked, Maria couldn’t help but glance at him, cataloguing the changes she saw in him.
She had not seen her brother-in-law for many years. Even before the tragedy in Firenze it had been a while as he and Giovanni had had some sort of disagreement, the details of which alluded her. Now she could see that his face had a patchwork of new wrinkles, and the grey had spread to pepper throughout his dark hair. His belly had more girth than she remembered – no doubt from the years of drinking wine in excess - but he still possessed that core of steel that all Auditore seemed to have.
Finally, they made their way to the dining room and Mario had just helped her sit when another voice made their presence known.
“Madonna Maria!” it was Annetta who rushed forward and grasped her hands tightly with affection. Maria could not help but smile at seeing the woman. “It is so good to see you up and about! I shall bring you some food from the kitchen right away. Oh, Signorina [Miss] Claudia will be so pleased to see you up to break your fast!” With that, the loyal servant quickly bustled away, never giving Maria the chance to greet her properly. Mario chuckled as he settled down next to her and poured her a goblet of water.
Maria shook her head in fondness before taking a sip, the water tasting cool and crisp. She relaxed back into the wooden chair, content to wait and regain her strength. Mario did not disturb her as he shuffled through some papers and messages that had been left at his seat for him.
Annetta had just returned with some warm bread and porridge when the dining room door clattered open, and Claudia stumbled in in a rush. The young girl quickly straightened herself before freezing in place, staring at Maria.
Maria took the time to stare at her daughter in return. Gone were the last stubborn bits of childhood fat clinging to her face and frame, her daughter now stood tall and slender as a woman grown. She still seemed to favour her headdress and gown in shades of gold, though she now bore both with more elegance and grace. Her daughter still looked like how she remembered, but her eyes showed the biggest change. No longer were they filled with childish arrogance and youthful joy; now they seemed to hold more depth inside, as well as a constant pool of sorrow. Maria watched as those soulful eyes blinked rapidly as tears began to brim.
“Mother?” Claudia whispered in disbelief. Maria’s own eyes filled as she beamed at her daughter and held out her arms. That was all it seemed to take for Claudia to rush forward and throw herself into her mother’s arms with such force she nearly knocked Maria off her chair. Maria simply tightened her arms around her precious daughter and rocked her slightly as she shook with her tears. Maria basked in the peace of having one of her children in her arms as she cooed reassuring nonsense in her ear.
Soon, too soon in Maria’s opinion, Claudia pulled back just enough to sit in a chair next to her. She kept one of her mother’s hands clasped tightly between both of her own as she stared into her eyes.
“You have returned to us?” she questioned uncertainly.
“Yes, Claudia,” she replied with a firm nod. “Oh, I am so sorry, Prediletto. I never meant to leave you like I did. I am so sorry!”
“You were so lost,” Claudia whispered. Maria’s heart clenched at the despair that wobbled her voice. “We could not seem to reach you, no matter what any of us did!”
“I know, I’m sorry. I hid away, deep inside. I could not face what happened…Did not wish to feel…”
“Of course. What happened that night was brutal and barbaric. People have fled from lesser events.” Mario remarked calmly as he served them both.
Maria nodded before she hesitantly asked the question she knew she needed to ask, no matter how much she dreaded the answer, “How long has it been?”
Claudia rubbed her hand soothingly. “Just passed three years since… then.”
Maria let out a small moan of distress. Three years. She had been lost within herself for three years. How had so much time passed? She could not recall much of it, just hazy memories that she could not rely on being real. So much time lost, so many moments when she had been needed but unable to help. The world had passed her by while she trapped herself in the past.
“I’m so sorry! I-I…” her throat closed as tears tracked down her cheeks. Claudia shushed her with a sad smile as she kissed her hand in comfort. Mario passed her a small piece of tablecloth to dry her face.
“You are back now, that is all that matters.” Claudia affirmed. Maria gave a watery sniffle as she finished wiping the tears away. What was done, was done. All she could do was not fall back into wallowing.
“Why now, Maria?” Mario asked softly. It was somewhat strange to see her the Auditore Gonfaloniere being so gentle, but she appreciated his efforts.
“I had a dream…” Maria began hesitantly, “Usually I was plagued with memories of… that night… over and over, no matter whether I was awake or asleep. Last night something changed.”
“The memory changed?” Claudia asked.
Maria nodded. “Yes. The memory faded away and instead a man came to me. A man bathed in golden light.” Claudia and Mario shared a quick look.
“A man? Someone you know?”
“No, I had never seen him before. I could not make out his features, the light was too bright to see. He was calm and brought a sense of peace with him. He told me it was time to wake up, that I was needed. That something was coming, and you needed me for it.”
Mario sat up in alarm. “What? What is coming?” Maria could only shake her head helplessly.
“He did not say.”
“Does it matter? It was only a dream.” Claudia said. Her brow was furrowed in confusion as she glanced between her mother and Uncle.
“True, dreams are strange things. Though that is a rather peculiar dream to have.” Mario was about to turn back to his food, but he saw something on Maria’s face, a flash of hesitance. “Did something else happen?”
Maria pressed her lips together for a moment. She had not planned to repeat it, sure now in the light of a new day that the words had been some hope of her mind spoken by her dream. However, something nagged at her that it was not a figment of her imagination.
“The Glowing Man told me that ‘those that were taken from you will be returned’. I awoke soon after.”
Her family stared at her with the same bafflement on their faces as she felt within herself.
It was very likely that the dream was just a dream, something Maria’s own mind had made up to help herself escape the torment she was putting herself through. Perhaps after three years, she had decided within herself that it was time to emerge from her memories herself and return to the world around her. It was clearly what Mario and Claudia assumed happened, at first glance.
But that did not explain the sense of certainty she felt that it was not a simple trick of her own mind. There was something in the safety the man had emitted, in the tranquillity he blanketed her in, that had seeped into her soul. The kindness he displayed, the hope he made her feel – surely that was not entirely her imagination? Everything inside her told her that the man was real. But if he was, then why did he appear to help her? Who was he? And did she dare to hope that she would indeed be reunited with those she had lost?
Ezio Auditore ~ 4th January 1480, San Gimignano, Tuscany
The wind that whistled loudly in his ears was not cool enough to chill him as his back soaked up the day’s warmth that had seeped into the stone roof of the Torre Grossa. Ezio let out a deep sigh, feeling the strain in his muscles and joints begin to fade as he relaxed. He appreciated the lack of guards at the top of the Great Tower in San Gimignano as it allowed him a moment of peace to think.
Last night had been… unexpected. He had not known for certain what he would find when he had followed Jacopo de’ Pazzi to the Ancient Roman Theatre outside of the city, but he had guessed The Spaniard would show his face. Ezio had, after all, eliminated the other Pazzi Conspirators, though it has taken him a year and a half to do so.
Antonio Maffei. Francesco Salviati. Bernardo Baroncelli. Stefano da Bagnone. Jacopo de’ Pazzi. They had all sought to hide themselves, protected by their wealth and connections, but with the help of Mario’s mercenaries, he had eventually found them all.
Well, The Spaniard had gotten to Jacopo first. Ezio had merely granted him mercy.
Rodrigo Borgia had managed to flee before he could reach him. For a brief while he had thought he had nearly completed his mission and avenged his brothers and father. It had been a foolish thought, a naïve hope, that he would only have one more name on his list. As it turned out, there were more Templars at play.
Ezio knew that he would need to travel to Venice soon. The Venetian that stood beside Borgia and helped gut Jacopo for his incompetence would need to be found. But there was still time for that.
Ezio had managed to evade the guards last night by running back into the city and climbing one of its many towers. He had spent today collecting his scattered coin, restocking at the merchants, and liberating a few banks of some codex pages. It had been as he had evaded a small patrol of guards still looking for him that he had seen the Assassin symbol with a skull in its centre embedded in the stonework of the Torre Grossa. A few hours later and he now had an Assassin Seal for the Sanctuary taking up room in one of his many pouches.
Ezio stretched his long limbs out before he pulled himself up with a groan. As nice as it had been to stop and rest, it was now time he made his way back to Monteriggioni. His business here was done.
As was his habit, Ezio shut his eyes before opening them again to his second sight. The world dissolved into a dull grey as he looked around. There were a few swashes of bright red walking around one of the towers in the distance, while the nearest tower to him stayed grey with a small mound of white on its roof. No other bodies outlined near him, which meant that there were no guards around to-
There!
A brief flash of bright gold in his peripheral had him spinning to face it before he froze. His left hand had reached up to grab a throwing knife, while his right waited to flex and bring out his hidden blade.
There was nothing there.
Ezio stayed perfectly still for a moment as his eyes darted around. Everything in his immediate vicinity stayed that same dull grey. He slowly turned in a circle, still poised to act, before he cautiously approached the ledge to look below him. Even after he made a circuit around the perimeter of the roof, he still saw nothing.
I could have sworn I saw a man lined in gold… Just for that second.
A few moments passed before he relaxed his stance and blinked back to his normal sight. Still, he saw no one. He scrubbed his face with both hands as he took a few breaths to try to calm the surge of adrenaline.
Once calm, he turned back to the ledge and stepped up to it. The few pigeons bobbing around took flight. As he looked down at his feet, Ezio spotted a feather. With a smile on his face, he bent down to grab the present for his mother.
The feather was unlike any he had ever seen. Different than the usual off-white feathers he usually collected; this one seemed to shine in a strange way. Looking closer, Ezio could see thin veins of bright gold weaving through it. The gold seemed to glint in odd ways instead of simply reflecting the dimming Tuscan sun. Frowning, he ran his fingers over it. The off-white feather vanes felt as soft as expected, but the golden lines seemed more solid and rigid. It felt… unnatural.
It might be worth making a trip to see Leonardo before I return to Monteriggioni, Ezio mused as he tucked the bizarre feather away with the Assassin Seal.
After adjusting his robes and his hood, Ezio stepped to the edge, briefly glanced down to check his positioning, before he flung himself off the roof and arced into a perfect Leap of Faith.
Notes:
In the AC2 game, the novelisation, and the AC Wiki, it is STRONGLY implied that Maria was SA'd by the guards who came to arrest the Auditore men, and that in part led to her being in her catatonic state for decades. I decided to stick with that. I also drew on my own experiences with severe mental health issues and to try to describe how Maria is feeling throughout this chapter. Whether it worked or not, I leave that for you to decide.
The Pazzi Conspirators Assassination Dates:- (Canonically, these all take place over the span on about a year and a half.)
*Maffei - at some point in 1478 (Date unknown (After 28th April 1478 when Francesco de' Pazzi was assassinated))
*Salviati - 12th April 1479
*Baroncelli - 3rd May 1479
*Bagnone - at some point in 1479 (Date unknown)
*Jacopo - 3rd January 1480I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Feel free to let me know what you think, any improvements I could make, or your ideas for things to come!
Chapter 3: Reunions, Part 1
Summary:
Giovanni, Federico, and Petruccio find themselves in a strange place, before Maria's dream comes true and a family is mostly reunited.
Notes:
Thanks to everyone who has read, commented on, or left kudos on this work! It is greatly appreciated!
This chapter did not want to be written. It was such a struggle. I have deleted parts and completely rewritten most of it several times. I also apologise if the ending seems rushed.
It is technically before midnight on the 23rd April in the UK (where I live), so I've technically posted this within the month like I said i would!
Large end note warning!
TW: The boys react to the news of Maria's rape at the hands of the guards. Nothing graphic is described or mentioned.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Giovanni Auditore ~ 5Th January 1480, Monteriggioni
The world seemed to form around him piece by piece. Though he had yet to open his eyes, Giovanni could feel frigid stone beneath his body and the air he breathed tasted stale and musty. He lay there, completely still, as he allowed his disorientated and confused mind to settle.
The last thing he fully remembered was standing on the gallows, rope around his neck as a blossoming crowd brayed for his blood. His heart had been filled with a despairing anguish for his two boys who had been caught up in a war they were not yet fully part of. A choking fury had clogged his throat as he had glared helplessly at the former friend who betrayed his family. He remembered the sickening swoop in his stomach as the trap door had disappeared from beneath them and they began to fall.
Then the grey had come. It had blanketed his entire being, draining away the surge of adrenaline and leaving nothing behind but a blank slate.
“You have made mistakes, Giovanni Auditore. But I will give you the opportunity to do better. Your family is waiting for you. It is time to work as a unit, rather than a lone Assassin.”
The voice had come from nowhere. It echoed without a body, or perhaps from somebody hidden from him. Before he had the chance to demand answers, to demand the person to show their face and explain, everything had faded to black and then to where he was now.
The same sense of calm the grey had brought him seemed to be lingering as he only felt the faintest stirrings of panic when he opened his eyes and found he had been lay on the floor of a run-down church. Pews were haphazardly stacked around the edges, drapes that were perhaps once white hung off some of them, and only a few faint streams of light filtered through the boarded-up windows.
“Padre [Father]?” a high-pitched child’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. Giovanni scrambled upright and twisted his head around to find the owner of the voice. In the corner opposite him sat Petruccio whose face lit up when he saw him. Giovanni didn’t waste another moment; he shot across the cold floor and wrapped his arms tightly around his youngest child.
“Oh, Petruccio! Are you well? Are you harmed?” he frantically asked. One of his hands cupped his frail cheek while the other brushed his black hair away from his eyes. He had never thought to see his son’s bright eyes peer up at him ever again.
“Yes, I am well,” Petruccio chirped. He seemed calm and happy, as many children can be in some strange circumstances. “Federico will wake up soon.”
“Federico-?” Giovanni cut himself off as his gaze found his eldest son. Federico was indeed stirring, his tall form wedged behind a crate covered in dust and cobwebs. Giovanni reached out a hand and grasped Federico’s ankle and shook it slightly. “Federico? I need you to open your eyes for me.”
Federico complied with a groan. It took him a moment before he was able to focus on the pair of them. His brow creased in bafflement before he sat upright with a gasp.
“Father! Brother!” he quickly moved closer to them both, his hands reaching ahead of him to grasp at their arms. His grip was tight, as though if he let go, they would disappear. Giovanni’s chest ached at the thought.
“We are here. Are you injured at all?” Federico took stock of his body before shaking his head. Giovanni felt relief; their situation was uncertain, and any sort of malady would have made things more difficult. He did not quite understand what was happening, how they had gone from the moments of their deaths to sitting in a musty old church, but now was not the time to dwell on it. They needed to work out where they were and how to get to safety.
Giovanni had something else lingering in his mind at the same time.
“I am so sorry for what almost happened, my sons.” He met both of their eyes briefly and watched as their solemn faces stared back at him. “I had no idea any of that would occur. Had I known, I would have moved us all out of the city, or at least have found us somewhere to hide…”
“Father, you could not have known we would be betrayed as we were.” Federico’s voice was soft in sympathy. Giovanni shook his head.
“Perhaps not, but I was lax in my duty. I should have seen it coming. I should have thought about the possibility, at the very least.” The guilt gnawed at him. After the disaster of his trip to Milano, he should have taken precautions. He could have worked harder to press his informants for any information. He could have warned his children to be more cautious. He should have worked faster to finish moving on Francesco de’ Pazzi. Perhaps these thoughts were irrational – how could he have ever known that Alberti was a traitor? – but Giovanni could only think about the fact that two of his children had almost died because of him.
“But it happened because of the bad men! You are not a bad man, you are good!” Petruccio piped in. His dark eyes were wide and round as he beseeched his father to believe him.
“Thank you, Petruccio. However, we must now focus on finding out where we are.” Giovanni deflected. He stood up, pulling Petruccio with him before he nudged him towards Federico. “Stay near your brother. I am going to open the front door and see where we are.”
Federico met his gaze and an understanding passed between them. Federico would not let anything past him to get to his brother.
Giovanni edged towards the main door of the church, brushing thick cobwebs aside, refusing to dwell on the fact that he had no weapons on him in case of attack. There was nothing barring the door from their side apart from a thick iron latch. His first tug of the latch made a high-pitched squeak. Giovanni gritted his teeth at the sound but pressed on with more force. With a great scraping and a loud clunk, the latch opened, and Giovanni froze. He could feel Federico and Petruccio behind him and off to the side, out of view if someone was watching from beyond the door. After a few moments where there was no alarm cried nor hurried footsteps heard, Giovanni opened the door and looked outside.
At first, he was confused. He had expected to see some of the Florentine architecture in either the surrounding buildings or a square in front of the church. He had even been prepared to see the more rural farmland near the city’s walls on the off chance they had been hidden in the outskirts of the city. He did not expect to see a small courtyard with its cracked ground sprouting countless weeds, as squat houses backed on to it, with their chipped sills and roofs that were missing tiles.
Giovanni cautiously ducked under the planks of wood that barred the door on the outside and stepped out. There was no one near the building and all was calm. The night sky above was clear, and the moon shone brightly. He looked around him, taking in the buildings, the skyline, the high walls that loomed above. A twinkle of recognition scratched at his thoughts before he realised where they were.
Somehow, they had awoken in Monteriggioni.
For a brief time, Giovanni stood stunned as he looked around himself again. It had been many years since he had stepped foot in his hometown, but he recognised it all the same. It brought a wave of relief as he realised that they were safe here, that they would find an ally in his older brother close by.
He ducked back through the doorway and gestured to his boys with a small smile. “Come, it is safe. We can move around freely now.”
The two of them slowly emerged, Federico going first and covering his brother, until they were both looking around in wonder.
“Where are we, Padre?” Petruccio’s voice was filled with curiosity, but the way he gripped Giovanni’s hand tightly showed he was still rather frightened. Giovanni squeezed his small hand back gently as he led them down an alleyway. Though he felt more relaxed now he knew they were somewhere supposedly safe Giovanni still checked the shadows and any bends they came near. A quick glance at Federico showed that he was doing the same. Good, he is using his training, he thought.
“This is the place I was born, Petruccio. I grew up here for many years. My brother, Mario, still lives here. He will help us.” Petruccio’s eyes widened in some excitement, but he did not speak again.
Soon they came to a set of well-kept stairs that led them up to the Villa. The lawn and surrounding gardens were kept neat, but when he looked closer at the building Giovanni could see some fissures spreading up the brickwork like vines. A few windows were missing shutters and the ones still intact had flaking paint around the edges. He frowned. Why was the Villa in such a state of disrepair? Had Mario been struggling all these years?
Pushing those thoughts aside, he pulled them towards the front doors which thankfully stood sturdy. He did not know how late in the night it was but politeness was unnecessary in this situation and so he knocked heavily on the door.
They waited in the dark. Just when Giovanni was about to knock again, the door was pulled open, and the familiar face of Annetta greeted them. She looked puzzled as she opened the door though she wore a polite smile. Giovanni was able to briefly wonder why she was at the Villa Auditore in Monteriggioni, before her face fell in shock and all the colour seemed to flee her face. She shrieked, shrill and loud, as she scrambled away from them, her shaking hands coming up to clasp at her chest. Petruccio startled badly against his side, and Giovanni was not much better. Before he could call her name, or step forwards towards her, there was a crash in the background and a hulking figure came swiftly from a side door, brandishing a broadsword threateningly in front of them.
Giovanni saw Federico push Petruccio behind his bulk as he himself stepped forward defensively. The approaching man soon stumbled to a stop as he finally recognised him.
“Giovanni?!” Mario’s voice was hoarse with a horrified wonderment. His eyes bulged as he stared, the scar across his left pulling taut. The last time Giovanni had seen his brother in person had not been pleasant and the argument between them had forced many years of absence between them. However, none of that mattered anymore as some of his tension abated swiftly at seeing his older brother once again. No matter what had occurred between them before, no matter what words were shouted out in anger, Giovanni knew without doubt that Mario would help and shelter them as long as needed.
“Brother,” he answered. His own voice was slightly wobbly, “I’m sorry it is so late, but we need your help. We-”
A clattering echoed the wide room as the broadsword was dropped to the floor. Mario caught Giovanni in a crushing hug which he instantly returned. The embrace was full of desperation on Mario’s part, and it filled Giovanni with confusion. It had obviously been a couple of days since the almost hanging (it would have taken whomever had moved them to Monteriggioni at least a day to do so, and that would have been after they had been smuggled out of the city) but could news of the event have already travelled so quickly to Monteriggioni?
Mario pulled back and clasped his trembling hands to Giovanni’s shoulders. He was shocked to see the older man’s gaze was watery with suppressed tears.
“It is so good to see you alive, Fratellino [Little Brother],” Mario said with a tremulous smile. Before Giovanni could respond, he had moved over to the others. He clapped Federico on the back and ruffled Petruccio’s hair. “And it is wonderful to meet you, Nipoti [Nephews].”
“Salute, Zio Mario [Hello, Uncle Mario]” Federico said with a wane smile, “I wish we could have met before in better circumstances.”
“Yes, brother,” Giovanni inserted himself in the conversation with more urgency than before. “We need your help. No doubt you heard about what happened in Firenze. Somehow, we were saved and brought here. But we must find Maria and my other children, whom I fear are still stuck in the city.”
Mario stepped back and frowned at him. “Giovanni, Maria and Claudia are here in the Villa. They are upstairs sleeping.”
This surprised Giovanni. The fear that they had inadvertently abandoned his love and his children to hide in Firenze from the threat of Alberti and his Templar allies had been lurking largely in the back of his mind. After finding shelter within the Villa, his next plan had been to gain the aid of Mario to help him find them and smuggle them to safety. He knew that Ezio would have taken care of Claudia and their mother when he had been imprisoned, but the boy had not been trained yet and he was young still.
He glanced over to Annetta, who seemed to have composed herself, though she hovered uncertainly in the corner. It was odd that she was here. He had always had an agreement with the maid that should anything happen to him she would take the remains of his family and take them to her sister, Paola. Paola would then shelter them until she could contact the Mentor of the Brotherhood – Mario – and work on getting them to safety. Had that already happened? Had plans been made as soon as he was arrested? Had Mario managed to save them and bring them to Monteriggioni?
But the whole series of events had happened too quickly for word to have reached Mario in time for him to then mobilise a rescue mission. Even with Volpe and his thieves aiding him, such a feat would not have been possible in such a short amount of time. And he doubted Mario would have left them in an abandoned old church until they woke.
Then if it had not been Mario, who had saved them? Who had brought them to Monteriggioni? Who had rescued his wife and remaining children from the city? None of it made sense!
He watched as Mario and Annetta shared a loaded and cautious look. Mario then sighed, before he turned to look at him again. His face seemed to be carved in sorrow and uncertainty. The look caused Giovanni to feel as though his gut had turned to lead.
“What do you remember? How long has it been since your trial?” Giovanni frowned at the question. A quick glance showed Federico was just as perplexed. Petruccio still seemed anxious as he clung to his brother, though he curiously peered at his uncle and the large atrium.
“It can only have been a few days since our trial. How ever many days it took whoever saved us to take us from the city and bring us here. We awoke in the abandoned church near the town walls. We do not know who brought us here, or how we escaped our fate in Firenze. As soon as I recognised where we were, I brought us to the Villa. That is all we know and can remember.”
Mario scrubbed in face tiredly with one hand before he focused a piercing gaze on Giovanni. It was the hard look of the Mentor, the uncertain look of a younger man, and the sympathetic look of family, all rolled into one.
“Giovanni. It has been three years since you and your sons were unjustly hanged at the Piazza della Signoria.”
Federico Auditore ~ 5th January 1480, Monteriggioni (Same night)
Three years.
According to Uncle Mario, it had been three years since he, Petruccio, and their father had been killed. To the world’s knowledge, they had been judged guilty of treason and thusly punished. They had been hanged on the noose and ceased to exist.
However, that was what only appeared to have happened. The three of them were obviously not dead. At least, not now. Three years in the future. In a different city than the one they were murdered in.
Federico felt sick. The entire situation was incomprehensible. It was an impossibility unable to be dreamed up by the maddest of philosophers. There was no sense, no reason, no clue as to what was happening, or how this had all come to be.
He seemed to have become detached from reality. It was as though he had somehow been untethered from the Earth. He felt he was looking down at someone else ensnared in his mother’s desperate grip.
When Annetta had brought his mother and Claudia to the family room, there had been a moment of bewildered silence before it had burst into a cacophony of hysteria. His mother had descended on them with a frenzied fever, her arms desperately trying to embrace them all to her breast, her lips attempted to press overwrought kisses across all their faces, all the while weeping with joy.
Claudia had remained frozen near the doorway, her face fixed in stone. She had seemed a strange sentinel statue, until their father had reached for her with tears in his eyes. That seemed to have broken the spell, and the stranger in front of them melted back into the familial girl he knew.
The most evidence of their displaced time was clear in his mother and sister. Their mother was gaunter than he had ever seen her, her face lined with grief and stress. Her lustrous black hair had become brittle and sprinkled with grey, and her skin had a waxy pallor to it.
Claudia was no longer the boisterous, confident young woman he had seen – to him – only a few days ago. She had lost whatever childish plumpness she had had, and her eyes were harder than before. She also seemed to have a weight pressing on her that curved her shoulders when she was not directly looked at.
The past three years had been hard for them.
When everyone had final calmed down, they all sat quietly in exhaustion. His mother still clung tightly to Petruccio, smoothing her hand through his hair as he clutched Claudia’s hand tightly. He himself was dragged down in the small space between the end of the sofa and Maria; she clearly did not want to be far from them. His father and Uncle Mario had dragged their single chairs closer to the group.
Once Annetta had brought them all some wine (warmed milk for Petruccio) and disappeared again, his father started the much-needed conversation.
“Where is Ezio? Is he safe?”
Mario took a deep gulp from his cup and wiped his mouth of the sleeve of his doublet before answering. “He has been in San Gimignano, tending to some business. We received a letter from him this morning saying he was going to visit Firenze briefly before he returns. We expect him to return tomorrow evening.” Federico frowned.
“Business? What sort of business?” he asked. There were many things that Ezio could have been sent to do, though the brief look Mario shot his father gave him a suspicion that his tasks had something to do with the Brotherhood. Had he been initiated? With a jolt, Federico realised that his brother would now be twenty, the same age as himself. He pushed the bizarre thought to the back of his mind.
“We can find that out later,” Giovanni interrupted as he looked to his wife. “What happened after we were arrested? How did you get out of Firenze?”
His mother tensed up beside him and she gulped heavily. She seemed paler somehow. Claudia leaned over and grasped her with her other hand before speaking.
“The guards did not leave straight away,” she said slowly, reluctantly. “They decided to… they wanted… they-” Claudia did not seem able to get the words out and stared sadly at their mother, her bottom lip quivering. Maria shut her eyes tightly and shook next to him. It was only when his father keened out a heartbroken “Oh, my love,” and fell to his knees before her that Federico understood.
Fury bloomed in his chest, a fierce fire that choked him. Those gentaglia [scum] had raped his mother. As if destroying their peaceful lives had not been enough, they had then brutalised the gentle, loving woman who birthed him.
“I- I became catatonic. I hid within myself… I could not cope with everything…” Maria whispered. Federico wrapped his arm around her shoulders, helpless to do anything else. “I only came out of it two days ago… I do-don’t remember much from the past years…”
“It’s okay, Amore mio [my love]” father reassured as he tenderly stroked the few tears she had shed away. After a last smile he turned to Claudia, who picked up the tale.
“Not long after they had finally gone, Ezio came back from his errands. He asked me to look after Mama and sent us with Annetta to her sister’s place. We did not see him again for four days.” Father’s brow furrowed.
“Four days? I know the night of our arrests he climbed up the tower where we were kept. I told him to gather some documents from my office and hand them over to Alberti. They were supposed to prove our innocence, but…” he shrugged helplessly.
“He was there, at the trial. I saw him in the crowd. He was moving towards the stage, trying to get to us. Our eyes met just before they opened the trapdoor.” Federico spoke up; he could still clearly see the anguished look on Ezio’s face behind his eyelids. Father hung his head with a sad sigh.
“You remember falling through the trapdoor?” Mario’s voice was alarmed. Federico shrugged at him.
“I remember feeling it open, and beginning to fall, but then there was… everything went grey and there was a voice. I did not recognise it. It told me it was taking us somewhere safe.”
Mother turned to look at him. “Was the voice coming from a man in golden light?”
“No. It seemed to come from nowhere. Why?”
“A few nights ago, I had was in a dream when suddenly everything turned to grey, and a man in golden light spoke to me. He helped me come out of my state and told me that those I loved would be returned.” She gave a gentle smile as she squeezed those she had her arms around.
It must have been the owner of the voice that Federico had heard. From the sounds of it, his mother did not find out who the man or being was, but he seemed to be helping them. Federico did not know how exactly the man was helping them, nor how he managed such things. He did not even know why the man would decide to help them at all, but he would be eternally grateful for his second chance.
Giovanni shook his head. “We can look further into that when we know more. Do we know what Ezio did after the trial?” he brushed over their ‘deaths’, seemingly not wanting to linger on them. Mario took up the story then.
“Paola sent me some reports. Ezio managed to escape the Piazza, but Alberti had the city guards hunting for him. He managed not to get caught, and later that night he stole away your… bodies…” he hesitated over the word. Again, as a group they dismissed the awkwardness of it. “…and he gave you last rites. Paola and her girls taught him how to blend in with the crowds, pickpocket, and how to get attention off him when wanted. He is a quick learner, that boy is. Two days after your execution, Ezio assassinated Uberto Alberti.”
Federico stared at his uncle as his mouth gaped in horror. Ezio killed Alberti? Even he, at aged twenty, had never killed a man; he was not yet an inducted Assassin and had not been assigned a contract. Ezio had never even been told about their father’s real occupation, about the war between their Brotherhood and the Templars. He must have been so confused, so terrified! In that moment Federico’s heart broke for his brother. Within a few short days he had had his entire life destroyed into something unrecognisable. He had seen them be executed for false allegations, become the head of their family tasked with looking after their mother and sister, been hunted in his own city by someone he had thought he could trust, he had to bury half of his family, and then he had killed the man who had betrayed them.
Federico could not bear the thought of all his brother had been through for he could do nothing to rectify it. He had not been there to share the burden, to help shelter him as he was supposed to. He now knew that the fun loving, idealistic, good-natured brother he knew would no longer exist. Oh, he may still have moments where those traits shine through and block the darkness within, but he would never be the same again.
His father too looked shattered at the truth of things. He had sat backwards, his face ashen. Regret was in every line of his body. Mario gave them a moment before continuing.
“He got him at an art show. By all accounts, it was a messy, public affair. Less of an assassination, more like the slaughtering of a pig.”
“Mario!” Mother admonished him, gesturing to Petruccio who looked unperturbed. Mario grimaced but did not apologise.
“He came to get me and Mama from Paola’s, told us what had happened. Then, with the help of Paola’s girls, he slowly guided us out of the city. We almost made it to Monteriggioni when that toad Vieri caught up with us!” Claudia huffed and rolled her eyes when mentioning the boy. Federico had to hide his smile at his sister’s usual dramatics. It was good to see she still did them. “He had his guards try to capture us, but Zio Mario soon turned up and helped Ezio fight them off. Vieri ran away with his tail between his legs.”
“Why was Vieri de’ Pazzi the one to try and apprehend you? Surely it would have been his father?” Mario rolled his eyes at his brother.
“Because he was initiated as a Templar by that time, Giovanni.” His father looked shocked.
“Surely not? Vieri is just a boy, only seventeen at the time!”
“Not everyone has the same ideals as you, Giovanni!” Mario snapped back at him. A fierce glare formed on his face. “Speaking of, how could you not have told Ezio about the Assassin Brotherhood by that point? Per l’amour di Dio [For the love of God] the boy had no idea what was going on, or why such a tragedy had happened! I thought they had come to Monteriggioni so Ezio could get continue his training, to take up the mantel, but he looked at me as if I was mad when I spoke of it! My poor nephew found himself neck deep in blood, secrecy, and brutality with no understanding or guidance! The fact he had managed as well as he did up until that point says more about him than it does you, brother!”
His father scowled at his uncle and opened him mouth to argue back, when he paused. A few seconds later and he had slumped back down and hung his face in his hands.
“I was going to introduce it to him in the new year, as I thought he had grown old enough. He had already picked up free running and some fighting techniques from Federico. Knowing what I know now, I wish I had told him sooner. Unfortunately, it is too late for that, and I cannot change it.” The two elder Auditore’s stared at one another before Mario softened slightly and backed down.
“It was shocking to find out that our boring banker father was actually an Assassin and part of an ancient order,” Claudia chimed in. At their father’s look she elaborated, “I soon learned about the order after we began living here. It was impossible not to. Some of the mercenaries taught me a few basic defences when I made them, just in case, but Ezio is the one who is now involved.”
“He has become an initiate?” Federico asked. He was curious where his brother would lay amongst the ranks. Mario rubbed the back of his neck.
“Ezio goes on his own missions, gathers a lot of his own intelligence, and fulfils contracts. He hasn’t been inducted into the order yet, however, as he still has some things to learn, and we do not believe he is fully ready.”
Federico frowned. He had been on the cusp of being inducted and given his first contract before everything had happened. “It seems rather backwards. If he is not ready to be inducted, then why is he allowed to fulfil contracts of his own volition?”
“Since Giovanni’s ‘death’, your brother is the only person who actively works in the field. Oh, the rest of us are Assassins and we can and will perform assassinations if needed, but for the most part we all also work in other areas: I work with my mercenaries, Paola with her girls, Volpe has his thieves, and Machiavelli is a politician through and through. Simply put, needs must. The Templars raised their heads after your ‘deaths’, and they needed taken care of. Ezio has also been rather driven to avenge you.” Federico nodded at the explanation. It made a lot of sense, though he was saddened at the burden his brother had taken on so young. His father too looked pensive, and the others had nothing else to say, before Giovanni asked Mario to continue telling them what had happened in the previous years.
And so, he did.
Mario spoke of how he and his mercenaries had gone to Tuscany to deal with Vieri and how Ezio had eventually joined them and been the one to end the boy.
He told of how Ezio had then gone back to Firenze, met up with Volpe, and uncovered a plot against the Medici designed to give the Templars control of the city.
How Ezio had managed to save Lorenzo de Medici from an attack at Sunday Mass, before managing to assassinate Francesco de’ Pazzi in the ensuing riots.
He told them that Ezio had spent the past year and a half wandering San Gimignano and the Tuscan countryside to find the rest of the Pazzi Conspirators with the help of Mario’s mercenaries.
He said that his brother had eventually caught up with them all and had assassinated Antonio Maffei, Francesco Salviati, Bernardo Baroncelli, Stefano Da Bagnogne, and, finally, a few days ago, Jacopo de’ Pazzi.
Some part of Federico was a bit in awe of what his brother had achieved in just three years. He had gotten the rest of their family to safety, trained himself up a little, then hunted down and assassinated eight Templars. In the scheme of things, it was a lot to accomplish in such a short amount of time. The rest of him was just dismayed at the heavy responsibilities Ezio had taken upon himself.
Their father looked similar to how he thought he must – immensely proud, yet profoundly saddened. The information had been nothing new to Claudia as she had been around the past few years. Their mother had listened attentively, occasionally frowning or gasping, but overall, she held herself with a spine of steel as she always seemed to have. Petruccio seemed rather distressed at points but remained quiet. Federico was not entirely sure his smallest sibling fully understood what was going on and about everything that was said, but he was still young.
The wine had long since been finished, the candles tapered down even smaller, and it seemed like the sky outside was beginning to lighten with a new dawn. It was after a jaw-cracking yawn that Mario suggested they all find their beds. They had tomorrow and more after all to discuss everything.
“Federico, I’m sure Ezio won’t mind if you take his room for the night before we get you a new room. It is right at the top, in the attic. Petruccio-”
“-Will stay with Giovanni and I in my room. The bed is big enough.” His mother interrupted. Mario gave her a soft smile, and no one protested. It was as they were all standing up that Federico noticed that Petruccio was stroking something tiredly in his hands.
“What have you got there, Fratellino?” he asked gently. Petruccio perked up slightly.
“A feather!” he held it up excitedly to show him.
It was indeed a feather, though not one that Federico had ever seen before. The down of it shone a pearlescent white, making it seem to almost glow in the low candlelight. Looking closer at it, he could see that the shaft and cadmus seemed to be made of gold, with golden threads weaving through the vanes of the feather. It was incredibly beautiful and uniquely unusual, even with it looking rumpled from being clenched in his brother’s hands.
“It’s wonderful, Petruccio. Where did you get it?”
“He gave it to me after he brought us here.”
Everyone froze at that before turning back to look intently at Petruccio. The boy did not even seem to notice all the attention focused on him and simply stared at his feather as he stroked it once more. Father strode up to him and bent down to look worriedly into his eyes.
“Who brought us here, Petruccio? Who gave you the feather?”
Petruccio looked at their father, his cherubic face splitting with an innocent smile. “The man in the grey did. Desmond.”
Notes:
I am not completely happy with the ending, but I did not want to bog it down a fully detailed recap of canon with minute reactions. I got everything important in that I think was needed, and then did not know how else to end it. Again, this chapter was just a complete struggle!
TIMELINE:-
*29th December 1476 - Giovanni, Federico, and Petruccio are saved from hanging, though it appears that they were executed to Ezio and the rest of the world.
*3rd January 1480 - Ezio mercy kills Jacopo de' Pazzi after he is stabbed by Rodrigo Borgia and Emilio Barbarigo. The same night, Maria dreams are interrupted and she is helped out of her catatonic state.
*4th January 1480 - Ezio leaves San Gimignano to head back to Florence.
*5th January 1480 - Giovanni, Federico, and Petruccio wake up in Monteriggioni and reunite with Maria, Mario, and Claudia.It is said that Mario and Giovanni had some sort of falling out about how differently they wished to live their lives:
"Giovanni, who had been tutored in banking, preferred to live a calmer life, whereas Mario wished for more action. This difference eventually led to the two brothers losing touch with one another to such a degree that upon his arrival in Monteriggioni in 1476, Ezio Auditore was unaware who exactly his uncle was." (Found on Giovanni's Assassin's Creed Wiki page). To me, this is further shown in how Mario reacts to Ezio not knowing anything about the Brotherhood when he arrives at Monteriggioni. I think Mario would have pushed for Giovanni to introduce his children to the Brotherhood earlier in life.Towards the end I talk a little about how Ezio fulfils contracts and goes on assassination missions on his own, despite the fact that he is not actually inducted into the Assassin Order until June 1488, 22 years after his first assassination. Looking up the Assassin Ranks, this seems to be very unusual as only higher ranked members of the order can perform assassinations at will without prior permission from the leader of an Assassin Bureau, or the Mentor, nor without having to show proof of assassination. Ezio never has to do any of that, and pretty much seems to assassinate targets as and when needed or if he gets the opportunity. Though he keeps others in the loop, he doesn't gain permission and just does it. Also, the fact that he seems to be the only one running assassination missions or fulfilling contracts in AC2 while the other Assassins simply assist when needed, suggests to me that he was the only "field Assassin", so to speak.
As fans of the franchise, this makes sense to us as AC2 was a very early game, and all of the aspects of the Brotherhood and the ranks of Assassins had not been fleshed out at that point, however it doesn't actually make sense in the canon universe. So, I created my own little 'canon reason'.I am currently writing the next chapter, which I hope does not take me as long. Ezio will be returning in the next chapter, and we will see our first glimpse at Leonardo!
I hope you all enjoyed it!
Chapter 4: Reunions, Part 2
Summary:
Ezio has a moment of introspection as he wanders around Florence before catching up with a few friends. When he finally arrives back to Monteriggioni, he is greeted with a surprise that changes his life.
Notes:
A huge thank you to every single person who has commented, bookmarked, or given kudos to this work! You are all wonderful and I am glad that you enjoy the story!
I am sorry that this chapter is later than the month I said it would be. I have multiple chronic health conditions that make things tough, and my Ideopathic Intercranial Hypertension has made it impossible to stare at a computer screen long enough for me to complete the chapter quickly. I then came down with a nasty case of the flu, and also have a new 11 week old kitten who thinks that me typing on a keyboard is just a fancy way of me trying to play!
There will be a long AN at the end. Most of my chapters will probably contain long end notes as I like to add little tidbits about any research I found while writing, any relevant information, or reminders about canon and timeline differences I will be making. Feel free to read at your own leisure, or ignore completely.
The few sentences in bold during the first 'scene' are taken directly from AC2. I do not own them, did not create them, did not say them.
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ezio Auditore ~ 5th January 1480, Firenze (Same day as Giovanni, Federico, and Petruccio’s return)
Ezio exited the Palazzo Medici swiftly and heard the gate clank shut behind him. Moving unthinkingly, he blended in with the nearby crowd of citizens, allowing the flow of the people to guide him away.
Lorenzo de’ Medici had been courteous and quite grateful when he had met with him. Their meetings were always so, with an underlying familiarity that came from Il Magnifico’s friendship with his father. It made a small part of Ezio feel awkward to have that bond seemingly expand to him, seeing as they had only ever had a professional partnership.
This time he had walked away from Lorenzo with something other than a list of names - the Medici cape he had been gifted flapped against his left side as he followed the crowd.
Ezio had mixed feelings about the cape. While it would be useful whenever he was in Firenze as a deterrent against the guards and a warning to leave him to his business, it also gave the feeling of being marked by the Medici. An Assassin walking around with the emblem of an unrelated, notable noble blatantly displayed could give off the wrong impression. Ezio was an Auditore, and an Assassin – he did not belong to the Medici.
Ezio knew that his uncle would have a few choice things to say about his new gift. Mario had cautioned his nephew when he told him of the assassination contracts Lorenzo was sending him:
“Medici’s interests align with ours – for the moment. Remember, Nipote, that we are Assassins. We work in the dark to serve the light. We do not serve politicians who may have their own agendas.”
Ezio had taken the words to heart. In between routing out the Pazzi Conspirators in Toscana he had checked the pigeon coops for any missives from Lorenzo. He had received a few of them over the years, always with information about a supposed low-level Templar or an associate of the Pazzi’s and their whereabouts. The intel had been promising, but Ezio always made a point to check if the claims were true. Luckily, they were, and he had acted accordingly. Yet he would remain vigilant. He would not be used as a sharp tool to rid Lorenzo of his own problems.
Ezio knew that some would see that as hypocrisy. After all, he had begun his journey by gaining vengeance for his slain family. In the days following their deaths, the only things keeping him moving, the only things keeping him from drowning in a torrent of grief, was the burning rage and all-consuming need for revenge. These feelings led him to slaughter Uberto Alberti without hesitation. The murder of the Gonfaloniere had not brought his family back, nor had it given him peace. Instead, he had felt a satisfaction in knowing that the smug bastardo had gotten what had been coming to him. He had felt pride in knowing he had avenged his loved ones.
Ezio had lost little sleep over killing a man for the first time. His nightmares had rather focused on seeing his family discarded like forgotten rubbish near the Arno. Others forced him to remember being helpless to save them while the ropes pulled taut around their necks as they swung below the gallows. But he had had to press on – his mother and Claudia had needed him to guide them.
With nowhere else to go, he had taken them to Monteriggioni and to an uncle he had never met and scarcely heard of. It was supposed to be a stopping point for them, a safe place to rest while he arranged travel to Spain for them, to get as far away from their shared terror as possible. He’d had no time for tales of Assassins and Templars and an age-old war. He had needed to protect the few family members that remained.
However, when Vieri de’ Pazzi had begun to harass the town and its surrounding lands, Ezio found that he could not simply sit back and do nothing. He had met up with Mario and his mercenaries. He had followed his instructions to open the gates and then to find Vieri.
Ezio could admit – if only to himself – that it had not just been his uncle’s orders that had fuelled him to chase down and kill Vieri. There had been a small part of him, the last remnants of the young boy he had been, that had relished in the thought of facing his rival again. It had been excited to gain the upper hand once more, to show up the other boy and prove that, as always, he was better.
When the deed was done, and the life had left the boy’s eyes, the bitter fury that had festered within his heart had overwhelmed him. He had shaken his rival’s corpse as he spat insults and hatred at his broken shell. Mario had been the one to pull him away and correct him.
“Enough, Ezio! Show him some respect.”
“Respect? After all that’s happened? Do you think he would have shown either of us such kindness?”
“You are not Vieri. Do not become him.”
The reprimand had been simple, but it cut close.
He knew that Vieri had been a spiteful, hateful child, spoiled and narcissistic, delighting in the pains of those he saw beneath him. Vieri would have taken a cold joy in desecrating Ezio’s own body had he not been careful. He wouldn’t have put it past him to display his own corpse like a trophy of a great victory.
Still, Ezio had been the one who was victorious. And in those first few moments of Vieri’s afterlife, he had denied him peace by spewing hatred. Any comparison made between himself and the young Pazzi, no matter how small it may be, had been enough to make Ezio falter. He had watched quietly as his uncle had shown the dead man more kindness and compassion than Ezio had.
It had only been when he had returned to Firenze to stop Francesco de’ Pazzi that his own views had begun to truly shift, and the teachings of his uncle had begun to echo within.
Ezio had started out as an Assassin to tame the wild loathing and need for vengeance that overwhelmed his soul. Yet, though the Templars had shattered his previously sheltered life, it was not only the Auditore’s who suffered beneath them.
He had seen it when Giuliano de’ Medici had been brutally murdered at the Sunday Mass in front of his lover and brother.
He had witnessed the fright and furor they had brought to the citizens when the Conspirators had created anarchy with their attempted coup.
He had seen the malevolent madness glint in Francesco’s eyes as he screamed from the roof of the Palazzo della Signoria.
A city had been held in terror for the ambitions of a few men. The guards had been split between two factions. Lorenzo de’ Medici, Il Magnifico himself, had been halted by injury. The everyday civilians had been unable to stop it themselves.
But Ezio could. He had been able to stop the tyranny and free the city with a thrust of his hidden blade.
It had almost been like opening his eyes to a new dawn. The words of the Creed he had memorised seemed to resonate in his mind:
Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent.
Hide in plain sight.
Never compromise the brotherhood.
The words were no longer just a set of rules he needed to repeat. Rather, they had begun to settle over him with the heavy weight of responsibility and duty. It could no longer just be for himself and his family that he fought. Others who suffered by their hands needed someone capable to fight for them too.
Ezio was brought out of his heavy introspection by someone’s hand grabbing at his belt near where his coin purse was tied. His hand darted to check if the purse was still attached to him (it was) before he looked up into the tricksy eyes of a thief lounging against a building just ahead. The thief gave him a small smirk before nodding his head at the roof of the house opposite.
Ezio didn’t give an acknowledgement as he slid between a group of gossiping noblewomen and ducked into an awaiting alley. A quick clamber up the side of the building led him to a slanted roof of terracotta and the skeleton of a yet-unfinished building. He quickly stepped over the unfilled sill of a window and found a brown-cloaked man stood in front of an opening facing away from him.
“So, you have returned to our fair city.” The man said in his low, calm timbre.
“La Volpe. Thank you for leaving my coin purse where it belongs this time.”
La Volpe chuckled. “My men know better by now than to steal from the dreaded Assassino.”
Ezio let out his own huff of amusement as he walked over to stand by the master thief. The view showed that he had wandered closer to the farmlands and the outer walls of the city than he had thought while he had been lost inside his head.
“Well done in ridding the world of the rest of the main conspirators,” La Volpe turned his unusually violet eyes to stare into Ezio’s as a small smile crept on his face. “All in all, eighty people have been executed in relation to the conspiracy against the Medici. All remaining Pazzi family members have been stripped of their lands and property, while also being banished from the city or otherwise made to change their names. Every trace of their coat of arms has been destroyed, their names removed from any ledgers, and we even have a few new street names in Firenze.”
Ezio eyebrows raised incredulously. It seemed Lorenzo de’ Medici had been busy in his absence from the city. “Anything else interesting happen in Firenze recently?”
“Bianca de’ Medici’s husband, Guglielmo de’ Pazzi, is kept under house arrest. Pope Sixtus has also been upset; he has sent some troops to Florence on and off in recent years. Nothing the Medici don’t seem unable to handle.”
It seemed that war had been inevitable, no matter the outcome of that day two years ago. The Pazzi would not have been able to rest easily even if they had succeeded in killing Lorenzo de’ Medici as well as his brother. They had either underestimated, or not bothered to understand, the level of support the Medici had with the common people and merchants who lived in Firenze. There would have been unrest either way.
The two men stood quietly for a few moments as they took in the sight of people milling about below them. It turned out that La Volpe had more patience than Ezio as he was the one to break the silence first.
“I doubt you had me come up here so you can fill me in on a little gossip.” He said mildly.
“I assumed you would have a question for me, young Assassin.”
Ezio shook his head in a sort of fondness. In his relatively few encounters with La Volpe he had learned that it was simpler to accept that the thief knew everything of his movements and to move on.
“You know of my meeting with The Spaniard as I went to kill Jacopo de’ Pazzi?” La Volpe gave Ezio a mocking, side-eye and did not answer. Ezio rolled his own eyes in response. “There was another man there. A Venetian with the name Barbarigo. I need to know who he is and where to find him. Do you know anything?”
La Volpe finally turned to face him; his hands tucked beneath his cloak behind his back. “There are quite few Venetians with the last name Barbarigo, so I cannot tell you which is the one you specifically seek. I will send word to Antonio de Magianis; he is the leader of the Venetian thieves’ guild. He may be able to find out more.”
“Bene. I had planned on heading to Venezia soon enough. I should be able to meet him to find out what he knows. Thank you, La Volpe. Your help is always welcomed.” La Volpe gave him a small nod of acknowledgement and Ezio turned away from him to begin his journey along the rooftops.
“You may wish to ask your artist friend, Leonardo, of his itinerary. It would seem he sets off for Venezia himself soon as he has been invited on a commission.”
Ezio turned back to ask the Guild Leader for more information, but all he found was an empty, wide-open space.
Dusk was creeping up on him as he finally made his way to the San Giovanni district. He had spent the past few hours visiting the local markets to replenish his supplies. The Dottore he saw had been able to sell him the amount of poison he needed for his blade, while the first Fabbro [Smith] he went to had tried to charge him more for a few smoke bombs than they were worth. Ezio had soon taken his business elsewhere and found the next Smith much more reasonable. He had even found a small painting for his mother, as well as some new fabric that he hoped Claudia would like.
Now, he could feel his exhaustion tugging at him. It had been a long day and his morning ride from San Gimignano had not helped. He had one more place to stop at before he rested tonight, however.
As he took his time strolling over the rooftops of Firenze, Ezio made a conscious effort to go nowhere near their old Palazzo. Lorenzo had told him that he had taken over the ownership of the property and it was ready for him whenever he wished, but Ezio could not bring himself to go back there. He had not laid eyes on his old home since he had gone back to get the documents his father asked him to, and he had no plans to do so. The memories of the happy life they had had there were too much for him to bear. It was the nostalgia for those blessed days that tugged at his heart, but Ezio knew that it would not do to dwell on what could never again be.
He was glad when his feet finally led him to a familiar courtyard. With a few nimble drops he was back at street level and strode forward to knock on the door of Leonardo’s workshop.
There was a pause as the clattering within stopped for a moment before a faint voice called out “Who is there?”
“An old friend,” Ezio answered with a smile. The smile grew larger as something was dropped to the floor and hurried footsteps sounded closer.
The door flew open and before him stood Leonardo.
His clothes were rumpled; his hose had smears of oil paint on them, his grey doublet lay open with the laces undone, showing the pale camicia [shirt] underneath. He had forgone his usual maroon cap, and his hair was mussed as though he had been running his fingers through it.
Leonardo’s look of bemusement soon turned to joyful surprise as he realised who was at his door.
“Ezio, amico mio [my friend]! Come in, come in!” Leonardo stepped back and as soon as Ezio crossed the threshold the painter threw his arms around him. With a fond chuckle, Ezio returned the hug and patted his friend’s back. He had missed the casual warmth and affection Leonardo was prone to show.
“It is good to see you too. I am only sorry it has taken so long.” Leonardo waved away his words, but Ezio still felt the small pangs of guilt.
It had been a long time since he had last visited. Almost two years, in truth. The way that Leonardo welcomed him back with – quite literal – open arms, as though no time had passed, meant a lot to the young Assassin. More than Ezio would ever be able to express.
Not that Leonardo would be content to listen to such words. Leonardo was very much the person to let things such as long absences go. He seemed to be of the disposition that, sometimes, life took precedence, and so long as there was to be a reunion at some point in the future, then he could live with that. It was just one of the many things that set Leonardo apart from any other Ezio had ever met.
“I apologise for the mess,” Leonardo was saying as he led Ezio further into the bottega, “I am currently in the midst of organising and packing.”
“Yes, I had heard that you are to go to Venezia?” Ezio questioned as he looked around the workshop with no small amount of amusement.
Leonardo was not the neatest man in Firenze, but the space was more cluttered than usual. Half-finished and blank canvases lay propped up against walls and furniture, some of his tools and paints were scattered on every available surface while others were packed away in crates. There seemed to be creative detritus strewn about in piles all over the room, and some wooden chests were piled up in the corner.
Leonardo shifted some brushes and a bundle of beige fabric from a table and placed them in a nearby crate. “Si. A Venetian noble, Andrea Capello, has commissioned me to do a portrait of his wife and some other works. He is paying quite well; has even located me a new bottega in the city!”
“Well done. It sounds like a good opportunity. When do you need to leave? And where are your assistants? Surely, they can help you pack up all of this… equipment.”
Leonardo huffed and waved his hands dismissively. “Bah! I sent them away, they only make a mess and put things where they do not belong! It is easier to do it myself. I do not need to leave Firenze for a little while yet, perhaps a month, so there is plenty of time.”
Ezio’s lips twitched into a smile; he could only imagine how flustered the assistants got in the face of a frazzled and irate Leonardo before he dismissed them for the day.
But if Leonardo did not need to set off for Venezia for a month, then Ezio could work with that. He had been thinking since his meeting with La Volpe about his possible next moves; with the news that Leonardo would be travelling to the floating city soon, that could give him a way to slip into Venezia incognito. If he travelled with Leonardo, as an assistant, or an extra pair of hands to move his equipment, then he was likely to be missed entering the city by any Templars who could be watching. He could go back to Monteriggioni for a week or two to see his mother and sister, update his uncle, and handle any business, before heading back to Firenze to travel with Leonardo. Unless…
“Why don’t you come and visit Monteriggioni just before you set off for Venezia? You would not need to stay in a packed-up workshop as we will host you. I have business in Venezia myself, so I could accompany you if you wish?”
The suggestion was impulsive of Ezio, but he did not wish to take it back. Leonardo staying in Monteriggioni would mean less back and forth for Ezio. He also could not help the thrill of excitement at the thought of hosting his friend and showing him the town he now lived. Perhaps his mother would even like a visit from the painter, though it was more likely that she would not even notice his presence - she had always been fond of Leonardo.
Leonardo’s brows raised in surprise. “Are you sure, Ezio? I would not want to impose…”
“You would not. We have the room, and I am inviting you stay with us for a few days before we travel together. You would be welcome.”
Leonardo stared at him for a few moments. No doubt he was making sure Ezio was serious, before he nodded with a small smile. “Then I shall take you up on your offer. Thank you, Ezio.”
Ezio’s responding smile was bigger than any he had had for a while. He was thrilled, the almost foreign feeling beginning to bubble in his stomach. He had missed Leonardo and his easy companionship. The unassuming man had always been welcoming and friendly, his general demeaner easy-going and usually unflappable. It was a gentle balm on Ezio’s somewhat ragged soul.
“Bene. I will need to head there tomorrow, but I will have everything ready for you to arrive in a few weeks.”
After Leonardo confirmed the plan, he went to the kitchen to grab some late supper for the pair of them. Ezio made his way over to one of the least cluttered work surfaces with a chair nearby and settled himself. His muscles seemed to groan with relief as he finally took the load off them and relaxed. Though he was yet young and rather fit, riding briskly all morning, then traipsing up and down rooftops all over the city for the rest of the day had done him no favours. He was exhausted.
Leonardo bustled back with a platter of cheese, cut meat, and bread. Ezio began to clear the papers on the table when one caught his eye.
It was a scrap piece of parchment with a small sketch on it. The drawing was of a finely dressed man, hanging from a noose with his hands restrained behind his back. The vague shape of the face looked somewhat familiar to Ezio. Beside the drawing was a description of the clothing the man wore in Leonardo’s distinct hand, but it was the name below it that gave him pause.
Bernardo di Bandino Baroncelli.
“What is this?” Ezio asked with a lightly curious voice. He handed the parchment to Leonardo.
“It is a sketch I drew of when they hanged Bernardo Baroncelli for his part in the Pazzi Conspiracy. A little morbid, I know, but at the time it seemed important to note it. Why do you ask?”
Ezio kept briefly quiet. He had never given much thought to what had happened to Baroncelli’s body after he had killed him. Had someone taken his corpse and transported it to Firenze?
“That is not how he died.” Was all he could respond. Leonardo looked at him sharply.
“How could you-” the artist abruptly cut himself off. His amber eyes narrowed knowingly at Ezio. It took him a brief instance before he began to speak again, moving on from his question. “Officially, Baroncelli fled Firenze and ended up in Constantinople, where he was arrested by Sultan Mehmet II. Diplomacy and politics happened, then Baroncelli was delivered back to Firenze, where Lorenzo de’ Medici had him hung over the side of the Bargello. It drew quite a crowd.”
Ezio processed this quickly. Baroncelli had been found in Constantinople and brought back into the custody of the Medici, but he had managed to escape and hide out in San Gimignano for a day or so. He had been spotted, Ezio had been informed, then he had assassinated the noble.
Ezio had left his body in San Gimignano’s market square as he had needed to bid a hasty exit. At some point, either the city’s guards or even Lorenzo’s own men had most likely retrieved it and then brought it back to Firenze.
It was strange that Lorenzo had then had the already-dead Baroncelli hung over the side of the Bargello. Was it done to cover up the assassination? Or was it more for a public show of Lorenzo’s might? To show that even if you flee persecution in his city, he will find you and bring you to justice? Either way it no longer mattered.
“I see. It is a rather good sketch, Leonardo.” Ezio decided to just breeze past the topic, and it seemed Leonardo was content to let him do so as he served them both some food and wine.
That was another thing that Ezio appreciated about his friend: he was discreet enough to know when not to ask questions.
It had never been explicitly talked about between them, this new career Ezio had taken. Of course, Leonardo had seen Ezio kill a guard who had been beating him before, and he no doubt heard that it was Ezio who killed Alberti at his old mentor’s art show. Leonardo had even thanked him for keeping the city safe after the attempt to destroy the Medici at high mass. Yet, it was never expressly said that Ezio had become an Assassin.
Leonardo never questioned, never made note, but seemed to know regardless. He treated Ezio no differently than when he had first met him. Leonardo had even helped him with his hidden blade and had adjusted it for him! His title of Assassin was an unspoken truth between them, a truth that Leonardo did not judge nor condemn him for. It was a great relief for Ezio, and something that made him feel very lucky to call the brilliant man his best friend.
“While I appreciate your visit and company, my friend, is there anything you need from me?” Leonardo’s voice brought him back from his thoughts. Ezio leaned forward and took a sip of his wine, savouring the rich taste that hit his tongue. Satisfied, he reached into a hidden pocket tucked on the inside of his robe and brought out some papers.
“I do have some more codex pages for you. It would be great if you could decode them for me.” Ezio knew he did not even have to ask Leonardo. He held back a chuckle as the painter lit up and eagerly reached for the old parchment in his hands.
“How exciting!” he exclaimed, his eyes already rapidly moving across the pages. It was probably a good thing that Leonardo had almost finished his food, as no doubt it would be forgotten in place of a new puzzle.
It was as Leonardo was reaching for a pencil and parchment that Ezio remembered he had something else to show him.
Reaching back into his pocket, Ezio pulled out the unusual feather he had picked up. It looked the same as it had before, a pearly white with gold accents. Ezio had never seen a bird before that had such plumage. Perhaps Leonardo may have heard of one?
“There is also this,” he interrupted his friend who slowly looked up from the pages and blinked at him. Ezio could almost see the frantic thoughts come to a halt as Leonardo focused back on him and his hands.
“What is that?” the astonishment in his voice did not bode well for finding out what kind of feather it was. Ezio handed it over anyway when Leonardo reached out for it. He immediately brought it directly in front of his eyes to inspect it closely.
“I found it on the rooftop of one of the towers in San Gimignano. There were no birds nearby, so I could not identify where it came from. I was hoping you would perhaps know.”
Leonardo slowly shook his head. “I have never seen such a feather. I do not recall of any birds with such intricate and decorative plumage. In fact,…”
Leonardo had trailed off and began to mutter to himself under his breath. He still twirled the feather this way and that, his long fingers stroking the edges of it. Ezio tried to be patient. He knew that Leonardo would fill him in soon.
“I am almost certain, Ezio, that this feather did not come from a bird at all.”
“What do you mean? From where else could it have come from?”
“I do not know. Look here,” he leaned over and placed the feather down on the table, “you see the gold colour of the cadmus? And how it stretches outwards throughout the rest? There are not really any birds that I know of that have such an usual pattern and colouring. But that is not all. The gold parts of the feather are heavier than the rest. It is entirely too dense - a bird would not be able to take flight if it was covered in such feathers! Feel it, it even feels more like metal compared to the white parts of the vane.”
Ezio followed instruction and carefully stroked it with his forefinger. The white felt silky and soft, as you would expect a feather to feel. The gold, however, did have that almost cold thickness associated with metal. It was strange.
“If it is metal, perhaps that is why it shimmers as well?” he asked his friend. Leonardo cocked his head at him, looking almost birdlike himself.
“Shimmers? You see it shimmering?”
Ezio frowned at him. Could he not also see it? The questioning curiosity in his eyes made it seem so.
“Yes…? It almost seems to glow, even when no light touches it. You cannot see it too?” Leonardo shook his head as he peered closely once more.
“Fascinating!” Leonardo ran the feather between his fingers and twirled it before a candle flame, all the while muttering under his breath. Before too long he passed it back to his friend. “I would guess that this is similar to a feather from a large bird of prey, given the size and shape, but I could not begin to guess why it is threaded through with gold.” Ezio gave him a reassuring smile.
“I did not expect you to, it was merely a curiosity. I have to say that I was more eager to hear what you found within the pages…”
Leonardo was soon engrossed once more in the ancient pieces of parchment. Ezio could only watch in amusement as his friend made happy exclamations to himself, his hands and face twitching whenever he decoded a new passage. He poured them both some more wine before relaxing back in his chair. The happy mutterings and the barest hints of life from the city that came through the open windows soon lured the spent Assassin into a rare and peaceful sleep.
Giovanni Auditore ~ 6th January 1480, Monteriggioni
The day following their arrival in Monteriggioni passed in a surreal haze.
He had watched Maria wake up in tears after a night of clutching Petruccio to her breast. Claudia had kept rather quiet as they broke their fast, so far from the chatty young girl he had known seemingly from a few days ago. The fact that years had passed still seemed to have not registered within himself, nor it would seem with the others. The only one who seemed particularly unperturbed was Petruccio.
Things got easier the longer they spent around one another.
Maria listened alongside them as Mario and Claudia talked about the everyday happenings of the town. His daughter’s extensive knowledge on the financial ledgers and inner workings of the town’s trade impressed him greatly. It made him smile to see her cheeks pink up bashfully when he complimented her on her expertise. Federico joked that he seemed to finally have a child willing to follow him as a banker and received a throw pillow to the face from his sister. He seemed unusually delighted about the assault.
Petruccio’s health showed him a good day, though he did settle for a nap after lunch. Giovanni distracted his wife by taking her outside for a stroll around the garden. They enjoyed their time in silence, pausing to admire the statues of the gods and smell the flowers. Giovanni did not comment on the fact that Maria held his arm in a death grip the entire time.
He did not get much of a chance to speak with Mario, much to his dismay. His older brother though seemed content to chat with his nephews and learn of them between disappearing to attend to his usual duties. Mario had always been someone who did coped better by keeping himself busy.
By the time supper came, everyone seemed to have settled more and conversation flowed easier. The tension that had clung to the air around them had dissipated since the morning, making their laughter brighter and their words warmer.
It was as the dishes were being taken away that one of the mercenaries rushed into the dining room and bowed.
“Ser Mario, Ser Ezio has been spotted on the road. He seems unharmed and should be back here within half an hour.”
Mario’s eyes flickered to him briefly before he addressed the soldier. “Thank you, Emiliano. Please have someone tell Ezio to meet me in the armoury when he arrives.”
The mercenary bowed again, his beady eyes looking around at the Auditore’s with interest. The return of Giovanni and his sons had not been told to anyone yet, nor were any details on their presence given. They had mainly stayed within the Villa and the only servant around was Annetta so there hadn’t been any need yet. Giovanni knew that some sort of explanation would need to be given soon enough, however. With no further instructions or conversation, the mercenary swiftly exited.
“Come Petruccio, Claudia, we shall wait in the family room,” Mario said as she stood and ushered her son to do the same.
“But Mother, I wish to see Ezio!” Petruccio complained. He did not protest further though when his mother herded him out of the room, reassuring him all the while, as Claudia followed them.
“The weapon room is attached to the armoury; it might be best if you wait there until I have explained your return to him.” Mario commented. Neither Giovanni nor Federico had any protests and simply followed him to the other side of the Villa.
They huddled on either side of the doorway separating the weapons room from the armoury. From the angle of the other door, Ezio wouldn’t happen to catch a glimpse of them from where they were standing. The last thing they wished to do was to startle or scare Ezio – who knew how a fully armed Assassin would react to being surprised with his previously ‘dead’ father and brother.
Giovanni struggled to keep himself still and wait patiently. He felt as though his blood contained ants; his nerves were buzzing beneath his skin. A quick glance at his eldest showed that he too was nervous as he fiddled with the sleeve of his jerkin and shifted from one foot to the other. Even Mario showed his apprehension as he paced back and forth in the other room.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, they heard the soft clanking of a pair of greaves as someone approached. Giovanni clutched at the doorframe as Ezio finally walked into the room.
Seeing his son stride confidently into a room while wearing his own assassin garb was enough to have Giovanni’s heart stutter in his chest. It was almost as if looking into a mirror of the past – Ezio looked so much like himself when he was younger – yet it was also like watching a stranger.
Ezio seemed broader, taller, with whatever muscles he had pack on filled out his clothing to create an imposing figure. With the hood down, he could see that his hair was pulled more securely back than it had ever been when he was simply a noble. His face was leaner than before; he had lost his baby fat over the years and his handsome face seemed carved from sharper angles. His brow sat heavier above serious eyes that used to perpetually sparkle with mischief. The small grin he sent Mario was still full of boyish charm, however.
Giovanni heard a hitched breath and turned to see Federico peering around his side of the doorway, tears streaming down his face. It was only then that Giovanni realised his own vision was starting to blur.
“Nipote! Welcome home.” Mario greeted him warmly with an embrace.
“It is good to be back, Uncle.”
Giovanni startled. Ezio no longer spoke like a burgeoning teen, now his voice was deeper like the man he had become.
“I have heard your travels to San Gimignano finished successfully.” Ezio turned away from his uncle and began loosening the buckles of his spaulders as he began his report.
“Si. Jacopo finally emerged from hiding to make his way to the latest Templar meeting. I followed him through the city and the outskirts to the Antico Teatro Romano where Jacopo met up with the Spaniard, Rodrigo Borgia, and another man, a Venetian by the name of Barbarigo. He pleaded for another chance to prove himself, to ‘make things right’, but Borgia refused him by stabbing him in the chest. The other man got in a few blows as well.”
Federico grimaced at that but Giovanni was not surprised that de’ Pazzi’s life had ended in such a way. Neither was Mario.
“I suppose that is to be expected, after the unsuccessful conspiracy and the eradication of the others in on the plan. If not at the end of Borgia’s blade, then he would have died at the end of de’ Medici’s rope.”
Ezio nodded in agreement, now moving on to removing his chest plate. “Borgia called me out by name. He knew I was there, watching, though I know I was not followed.”
“Logically it was likely you were around – you had assassinated the other players involved and Jacopo had finally emerged. He would not have needed to see you coming to know you were there.”
“He had guards waiting to catch me unawares. They were hidden when I arrived at the meeting and brought me to him.”
Giovanni almost left his cover then. The thought of soldiers dragging Ezio in front of Borgia like his other sons were dragged to the gallows caused his stomach to spasm in horror.
Mario gripped Ezio’s shoulders and gave him a once over, “You are unhurt?” Ezio shook his head and Giovanni’s shoulders sagged.
“No. Borgia gloated a little before he gave orders to kill me as he and the other man left. I broke free from the soldiers and managed to escape from them and lay low in the city for a while.”
“Good. Well done, Ezio.” Mario clapped his hand on his back in congratulations while Ezio gave a small smile. “We will have to find out who this venetian is.”
“I have already met with La Volpe; he says he will get in contact with Antonio in Venezia and have him ferret out his identity. I’ll meet up with him in a couple of months and find out what he has learned.”
“Bene. Is that why you went back to Firenze?”
“Partly. I also spoke with Lorenzo, who expressed his gratitude, before meeting up with Leonardo. I had found some more Codex pages and thought I may as well get him to look at them while I was around.”
Codex pages? Awe filled Giovanni as he listened. Mario and Giovanni had thoughts and plans to find the lost pages of Altaïr’s Codex when they were younger, as all Auditore have done. They had managed to salvage a couple of them, but it was exciting to hear that Ezio had managed to find some as well. The confusion on his eldest son’s face reminded him that he had yet to fill Federico in on all parts of their family history. It was something that he needed to rectify soon, though Ezio had given him a great way to do so.
“Leonardo is also moving to Venezia for a while, so I offered for us to host him here for a week before he heads there. I thought to go with him, as an assistant perhaps, would be the best way to get into the city with the least eyes on me.”
“Nessun problema [No problem], we have enough space to host him even with-” Mario cut himself off abruptly. Ezio’s eyes immediately narrowed with concern. Federico and Giovanni shared a look as they waited rigidly behind the doorway.
“’Even with’? Do we have guests?”
Mario sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face. He quickly glanced towards where they were lingering. Ezio did not miss the movement and stood more guardedly as he waited for an answer.
“Ezio, Nipote,” Mario began with a softer tone than before. It seemed to make his son more suspicious, “what I am about to say will seem impossible, but I need you to listen to me.”
“What is going on?” Ezio held himself taut, his muscles bunched readily for action. Giovanni hoped he would stay calm and not lash out.
“We do not know how, or why, we do not even know how to start trying to find out what caused it… but… it is your father and brothers, Ezio.”
There was a moment of tense silence. None of them moved. Giovanni barely dared to breath. Federico’s fingertips dug into the wooden doorframe.
“I do not understand.” Ezio finally said hesitantly. He looked very confused, the bewilderment on his face making him seem younger, like he had been during the whole events leading up to their ‘execution’.
“Giovanni arrived last night with Federico and Petruccio beside him. To them, it is as if someone saved them at the last minute and brought them straight here. No time seemed to have passed, even though it has been years for us. We do not know how, or why.”
Ezio staggered back a step. His tanned skin was several shades paler as he stared at his uncle.
“No. That is impossible. You are mistaken. That… That cannot be…”
Giovanni decided that it was time. With a signal to Federico, he quietly stepped fully in to the room and approached them. Ezio registered the movement and his eyes immediately flitted to him. Giovanni could only watch as his son wavered on his feet for a moment. His mouth was agape, and the air whooshed from his lungs as though he had been punched.
“My son,” Giovanni whispered. He gave a tremulous smile in hopes it would set him at ease.
Ezio’s gaze flickered from him to Federico. His eyes wide. He did not seem to breath, stuck in a monumental moment of sheer disbelief.
After a few long, agonising seconds Ezio sprung forward. His arms latched firmly around Giovanni’s waist, his grip ironclad, as he buried his face into his father’s chest. The silence was split with the gurgle of sobs as his son’s shoulders shook and his tunic began to grow damp. None of this mattered to Giovanni though. He simply wrapped Ezio up in his arms and began to cry with him.
Notes:
*Note on travel:- The most commonly used way to travel long distances was usually horse in the 15th century. I looked up the average mph for an average horse for walking, trotting, cantering, and galloping. I also looked up the distances in miles between Monteriggioni, San Gimignano, and Florence. Looking at the standard maps with the modern day roads of 2024 (they will be different from 500 years ago, but I was not going down that rabbit hole!), San Gimignano is 37.5 miles from Florence. If Ezio took a horse and kept it going at a trot with it’s average speed of 10mph (and it needing to take a break after going 20 miles), then it would take around 4 hours for him to travel from San Gimignano to Florence (depending on how long he rests the horse for). This would give him time to travel, do his business around Florence, and meet up with Leonardo in a day. It would take him nearer to 5 hours to go from Florence to Monteriggioni (Distance: 38.9 miles @ 10mph (including break) = 4 < 5 hours).
*If the parts on Ezio’s introspection about how he is feeling about the Creed and his shifting thoughts on his responsibilities as an Assassin seem muddled and a bit confused, just remember that Ezio is still a young man who has not really had time to process everything that has happened to him. He has spent the past few years running from one assassination to another. Our boy is also still learning and growing as an Assassin. It has nothing to do with my inability to be fully articulate with my own thoughts on the matter and how to put them to paper. None at all.
*The consequences of the Pazzi Conspiracy mentioned by Volpe are historically accurate. Pope Sixtus spent 2 years trying to go to war with the Medici (mainly - on paper - over the fact that Archbishop Salviati had been killed, but the Pope had previously unofficially given his support to the entire coup and really wanted the Medici gone), and all mentions of the Pazzi were basically obliterated from Florence (including in any official ledgers and even street names).
*La Volpe is said to be called Gilberto in the AC Renaissance and Brotherhood novelisations, written by Oliver Bowden. I’m not sure how I personally feel about that.
* Andrea Capello was a real Venetian noble during the renaissance. He and his brothers established their own bank in 1480, so he would have been wealthy enough to commission a painter such as Leonardo at the time. He was also married to Marina Barbarigo, the daughter of Marco Barbarigo, whom Ezio canonically assassinates during the private party at Carnevale. I thought this would be a good random noble to slot in because of his ties to the Barbarigos. As of right now, however, he won’t feature in this story apart from being named as Leonardo’s venetian patron.
* Leonardo da Vinci is said to have only travelled to Venice in the year 1500 where he worked on an erotic version of Leda and the Swan (the painting is now lost, but early sketches survive). He was there for a short time before he was commissioned to work for Cesare Borgia in 1502. In real life, Leonardo only left Florence in 1482 to travel to Milan on commission, where he then lived for the next 16 years. My best guess as to why in the games they had him move to Venice in 1481 was simply because they were more set on having Venice as a destination in the game rather than Milan. The discrepancy in years is a side note – the whole timeline they made for Ezio’s trilogy gives me a headache to be frank.
*The sketch Leonardo made of Bernardo Baroncelli being hanged is also historically accurate. The drawing now resides in the Musee Bonnat in France; on it, Leonardo even took the time to describe the clothing the man wore when he was hanged. The ‘rumours’ Leonardo spoke of surrounding his death are the real-life circumstances of Baroncelli’s death. I thought it was interesting, so I tied it in as a ploy Lorenzo made to show his own power in apprehending the conspirator. More information can be found here: https://www.executedtoday.com/2010/12/29/1479-bernardo-di-bandino-baroncelli-sketched-by-leonardo-da-vinci/
* Might seem obvious, but we only get a limited view of what the Villa in Monteriggioni looks like on the inside. The layout in the game is purely for what is needed mechanics wise, and it is not conducive of a Villa that houses a family. Therefore, I have taken creative liberty in describing the layout. Surely a Villa that is lived in has a kichen, servants quarters, dining room, family room, parlour, etc...
NEXT CHAPTER:- We finally see some sort of action as the truth of the feathers left to Ezio and Petruccio is discovered, and the Fratello Auditore work together to find an important artifact hidden in Monteriggioni.
Chapter 5: Gift
Summary:
The purpose of the feathers are explained, and the oldest Auditore Brothers are given a task.
Notes:
Hello initiates!
I am very sorry it has taken me over a year to update this fic! This past years has been hard on me as I've struggled with a lot of physical and mental health issues. To sort these out, we tried to jiggle around with my meds which.... did not work out well! But I am now feeling much better, and I was able to finish this chapter.
I do want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read/commented/left kudos/ bookmarked this work! It has been a great motivation and I appreciate you all!
This chapter has been a pain in my backside! It just did not want to be written, every time I tried it came out clunky and awful. I am still not entirely happy with the ending, but it is the best it is going to get!
QUESTION: Who would you possibly like to see Federico paired up with? I haven't decided on anyone for him yet. I had thought about Rosa, or Sofia, or even Kassandra? Any recommendations?
No warnings needed for this chapter.
As usual, looooooong note at the end of the chapter with my research. It can be skipped if you wish. (Are you guys even interested in these? Should I leave it all out?)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Maria Auditore ~ 7th January 1480, Monteriggioni
Waking up clear minded still felt like a novelty to Maria. She was unused to not drifting almost without notice from a dream/nightmare to the haze of daytime. Instead, a new day now seemed to brightly assault her senses and bring her hope. Even more surreal to her was looking over and seeing her husband already up and dressing for the day.
As she sat up in bed, Giovanni gave her a soft smile. He came over and placed a gentle, loving kiss to her lips before muttering “Buongiorno, amore,” against them. Maria could not help the contented sigh that left her before she returned the sentiment. She rose from the sheets and began to dress herself for the day. When Giovanni moved behind her to help lace up the bodice of her camurra, Maria’s eyes teared up at the domestic routine that they had always shared. The one she thought she had once lost.
Both ready for the day, Giovanni moved to go downstairs while Maria went to the room next door. She gently knocked before quietly entering. Petruccio lay curled up in his bed with the covers pulled tightly over his head. She sat next to him and lay a soft hand where she thought his head was.
“It is time to start the day, Uccellino [Little Bird],” she cooed as she stroked the lump through the sheets. Petruccio groaned and squirmed for a moment before pulling the covers down. His hair was in disarray, and he squinted at her through one eye while the other remained shut. “How are you this morning?” He swallowed thickly as he thought about it.
“My head hurts this morning, Mama,” he croaked. Maria ran her fingers through his hair and tried to flatten it down.
“I’ll see if Annetta can steep some lavender for you to have while you break your fast. Do you need help dressing this morning, or do you feel well enough?”
Petruccio threw back the sheets and pulled himself upright, grimacing a little as he stretched. “I can do it. Nothing hurts too much today.” He sent her a sweet smile that reassured her he was being truthful. She gave him a soft kiss on his head before leaving him to ready himself.
Maria stopped by the kitchen to ask Annetta to make some lavender tea before she joined the others in the dining room.
Giovanni and Mario sat huddled at one end, papers between them as they discussed what had been uncovered from the codex pages Ezio had brought with him yesterday. Federico seemed to be listening with half an ear to their discussion as Claudia sleepily chewed some stewed apple. Petruccio soon joined and nursed his tea while she plated him up some toasted bread and eggs.
When they were halfway through their meal Ezio joined them, bringing with him the cool, fresh smell of the outdoors. Clearly, he had been wandering around the town after waking early. Maria remembered all too well the many mornings she used to have to badger her indolent son to get out of bed before the sun hit its peak in the sky; for him to now wake daily before the dawn was just one of the many aspects about her son that had changed in the past few gruelling years.
The way he hesitated in the doorway, scepticism in his eyes as he eagerly gazed at them all, was another change. Maria could empathise with his sheer disbelief – she felt herself that she must be lost in a new dream. However, this one was far more pleasant than the other and she did not long to wake from it.
Ezio finally made his way to the table and greeted each of them. Claudia passed him the fruit platter, which he denied, while Maria passed him the carafe of fresh water that had been brought from the newly restored well.
Before anyone could attempt to make any conversation with Ezio, Petruccio seemed to perk up in his seat and almost lunged across the table towards his brother.
“Ezio! Do you have your feather?”
Ezio seemed as bewildered and startled as the rest of them in the face of Petruccio’s eagerness. “My feather?”
“Petruccio, sit back in your seat, please,” Maria admonished him at almost the same time. Her youngest gave a grimace of apology while he slowly sat himself back down. He never looked away from Ezio.
“Yes, your feather! The one left on the tower for you!” Ezio went rigid in his seat and looked even more discomforted. His eyes narrowed confusedly and with a slight hint of suspicion.
“How do you know-”
“Desmond told me he’d left it there for you. Where is it?” Petruccio huffed in frustration. He seemed to be increasingly impatient.
By comparison, Ezio became even more guarded and alert. The tension in the room was steadily increasing, pressing down on Maria and leaving her feeling uncertain as to how to diffuse it. She looked across the table to her husband, who placed his utensils down with a frown. Besides him, Mario too had his face set into a stern line.
“Who is this ‘Desmond’, brother?” Ezio asked carefully. Before her youngest could answer, Giovanni spoke up.
“When we were brought here, Son, a voice briefly spoke to us, explaining that were being taken somewhere safe. The same voice spoke to your mother in a dream. Federico, your mother, and I were unable to see him properly, but Petruccio told us his name was Desmond.” Giovanni turned expectantly to Petruccio, “Are you able to explain to us what you know of this Desmond now, Petruccio? Now that Ezio is here?”
Petruccio’s enthusiasm faded to a more nervous energy. He bit his lip gently and fidgeted in his seat. Maria had to stop the urge to go to him, not willing to be the one who delayed his explanation. Federico and Claudia too stayed silent.
“When we were taken away from….” His voice broke slightly before trailing off. Maria grabbed his hand as he swallowed heavily. “When we were taken away, everything was white for a moment before a bright light appeared.”
“The same happened for me,” Federico commented gently. Maria could feel herself nod in agreement. Ezio’s gaze flittered briefly to them all before focusing once more on Petruccio.
“It frightened me. I was so confused, and scared. The light faded away and there was a man stood in front of me. He smiled at me. Said his name was Desmond. That he had watched us all for a while and wanted to help us.”
Someone had been watching them.
Maria had to swallow a gasp as her heart lurched. Her eyes met Giovanni’s. She saw the same alarmed concern in his gaze. Her husband was tense in his seat, just like his two eldest children. All three of them sat perfectly still with their muscles bunched up tight beneath their linen shirts, like predators coiled to attack.
Seeing her husband subtly shift to become more ‘Assassin’ than ‘Banker’ was not a new thing for her to experience; seeing two of her children do the exact same thing, however, was rather disconcerting.
“What did Desmond look like, Petruccio?” Giovanni remained gentle and calm, but the controlled steel in his voice was clearly audible. Petruccio fidgeted more as he thought for a moment before he looked to his father.
“He was tall, like Ezio, but not as bulky as Federico,” he began. Maria saw Federico scowl before muttering an offended ‘bulky?!’ under his breath. Without even looking, Claudia aimed a well-placed elbow at her brother’s ribs. Petruccio did not seem to notice.
“He was very skinny and a bit rumpled, like he hadn’t eaten for a while. He had very short, brown hair. His eyes were strange…”
“Strange how, Nipote?” Mario asked. His eyes were calculating.
“They were brown, but the longer he was there the more they seemed to change to amber, like Ezio’s, before going back to brown again.” Petruccio looked towards his brother then, searching, before his own eyes widened. “He had a scar on his lip, just like Ezio’s!”
That caught them all by surprise as they all turned to stare at Ezio’s lips and the scar that bisected them on the right side. Ezio seemed uncomfortable beneath the scrutiny.
“Exactly like Ezio’s, Petruccio?” Maria asked him. Her youngest nodded his head vigorously.
“Yes! In the exact same place.”
That is very unusual, Maria thought. Many people had distinctive marks on their faces – Mario being a close example with the scar that dragged down his face – but for someone to have an identical scar to one of her sons… in the exact same place… when they had been watching her family, and seemed capable of unimaginable feats… it made Maria’s stomach churn and knot.
Was such an identical mark coincidence?
Or purposeful?
Unless they somehow found Desmond they would never know. It was a worrying thought.
“Can you remember anything else about Desmond that was unusual?” Giovanni questioned.
Petruccio wrinkled his nose as he remembered. “When he passed me the feather, one of his hands was black and cracked, charred like meat left to cook for too long.”
“Such a burn would be extremely painful. But it will also make it easier for us to find him. Not many people would have such an injury.” Mario commented.
Giovanni murmured in agreement. His face was thoughtful. “I need you to tell us everything Desmond said, son. As much as you can remember.”
Petruccio pulled a face and rubbed a hand wearily across his forehead. Maria reached for the pot of tea nearby and poured him a fresh cup. She pressed it into his hands, urging him to sip it, as she ran a soothing hand through his hair. Sometimes too much excitement worsened his state, and Maria wished they could drop the questioning and leave him to rest. As much as she felt the urge to send him off to lie down, she knew they needed answers, and it seemed that Petruccio was the only one with them.
No one interrupted her fussing or pushed him. They were all acquainted with his illnesses and the need to go at his pace (except for Mario who had never experienced it but knew how to read the room).
After a few minutes, Petruccio set his cup down.
“He told me he was sorry about what happened to us, but that he was there to take us to some place safe and reunite us with you all. Then he asked me if I would look after something for him, and he passed me the feather,” Petruccio reached into his tunic and pulled out the strange plume. Ezio, being the only one around the table who had yet to see it, could only stare at it. He shocked them all when he soon produced a feather of his own and placed it down near his brother’s.
“They are the same,” Claudia said with wonder.
She was right; the size, shape, and pattern in colouring for the feathers was equal and matching.
“Desmond told me that he was going to leave one for Ezio on top of a tower where he would find it, and that it was very important I give him this one. He said that together they would unlock a message, but that only Ezio would be able to make them reveal their secrets.”
“Why me?” Ezio asked. Petruccio could only shrug helplessly in response.
They fell into silence. Maria passed Petruccio his cup back and gave him a stern look when he grumbled under his breath.
She looked at the feathers. Strange items, the sort of which she had never seen before. How they could unlock a message she did not understand. Perhaps they were keys to something? But then surely Ezio would know of a chest or door that they would unlock. Did they need to be slotted in somewhere?
As if he had heard her ruminating, Petruccio spoke again.
“Desmond told me that you needed to hold them and look upon them with your second vision. That would get them to work.”
That answers the question of ‘why Ezio’, then, Maria thought.
‘Eagle Vision’ was a rare trait that ran through some Assassin bloodlines. It was not clear where the ability came from, and no previous Auditore had been known to have it. The knowledge of a possible sixth sense and how it supposedly worked was passed down through the Brotherhood. The last known Assassin to have ‘Eagle Vision’ (that they knew of) was Altair himself.
Maria remembers clearly when Ezio first showed he was manifesting this rare trait.
He had been very young, barely five years old. He had come to her after one of Giovanni’s meetings with an unusually serious face and asked if the “red man” was going to come back to the palazzo, even though he was a “bad man”. When pressed, Ezio had told her and a concerned Giovanni that the man had glowed red when all the others had been blue.
The man Ezio had pointed out had been one of the Medici’s trusted bankers who had come for a monthly meeting at their home. Giovanni had discreetly investigated and found that the man had been extorting his clients and then murdering them when he had wrung enough money from them. He had informed Lorenzo, then dispatched the threat.
They had then sat Ezio down and told him he had a special gift from his ancestors, and that he must practise at it. They hid objects around the Palazzo and the district for him to find, asked him to keep his Vision on for longer and longer periods, and tested him on trusted allies to see what he could see. When Ezio had cultivated the gift well enough, they left him to use it at will and trusted him to come to them if anything else appeared. Luckily, nothing of issue had risen over the years.
Now, it seemed that this Desmond was aware of their son’s gift. Even worse, he knew of a way to hide information so that only those with the gift would be able to find it and use it. A clever way of concealment, she had to admit. But did that mean that Desmond also had the gift? He seemed capable of incredible feats, so it was not out of the realm of possibility.
Ezio reached across the table for the feathers and carefully lay one on top of the other. Staring at them intently, he took a deep breath. Maria noticed the colour of his eyes subtly lightened; a sure sign he was using his Eagle Vision.
Between one moment and the next, the occupants of the room changed from being frozen in anticipation to being bathed in a gentle, golden shine. Rays of bright light beamed out from the feathers. They pulsed gently while iridescent shapes and symbols painted every surface.
It was beautiful.
They had all collectively flinched backwards at the first few rays, but when no harm came to them their curiosity grew. The family’s awe was interrupted by a familiar (to some) voice calling out.
“Find a gift for health in the Crypt below.
Secure an Apple, there is more to know.”
The voice repeated the words twice more, before the feathers abruptly stopped glowing and the room returned to normal.
Maria blinked the spots out of her eyes, somewhat dazed.
“A riddle? Is Desmond unable to give straight forward answers, or does he just prefer to play games with us?” Claudia huffed as she scowled. She had never been one for much patience, but Maria could easily agree with her on this point.
Nobody bothered to answer her as they instead all turned to gaze at Mario and Giovanni. Mario had a thunderous look on his face while her love looked wearier.
“He could only mean the Auditore Crypts below the Villa, but how he knows of them is anyone’s guess. I do not like the knowledge he seems to have on us, Giovanni.” Mario’s jaw was tense, and his eyes glinted determinedly. Maria guessed he was already thinking of ways he could improve security around the town and Villa to ward off anyone who could spy on them.
“Nor do I, Brother,” Giovanni replied, “though more pressingly, it may be that he has somehow gained access to the Crypts himself at some point.”
“What do you mean, Padre?” Federico asked. His entire demeanour was grim and waiting.
“The only things that should be down in the Crypts is the tombs of our kin and a few of their favoured trinkets. If there is a ‘gift for health’ to be found there, then it must have been placed recently. The Crypts are not often visited.”
Mario nodded in agreement, “The last time someone was there was around fifteen years ago when I had the doors remodelled after the last ones were riddled with rot.”
“The Crypts are only accessible to our family?” Ezio checked. Mario answered with a firm confirmation.
“What kind of ‘gift’ could it be? Healing herbs? A tincture of some kind?” Claudia questioned. At some point she had produced a quill and parchment and written down the words from the feathers. Maria could see from her seat that her daughter had also jotted down some key points that they had discussed already. It surprised her a little. She was not used to seeing her headstrong girl be quite so productive.
“It is possible.” Giovanni hedged but did not look certain.
Mario leaned forward in his seat, his posture looming and his expression showing the seriousness of the Mentore.
“Ezio and Federico, you two will go down there and retrieve this ‘gift’. It is time you both saw the Family Crypt, and it will be a good chance for you both to practice your skills.” He ordered. Ezio nodded, readily accepting the task, while Federico hesitated as he looked to his father. Giovanni did not look enthused at the thought but did not contradict his elder brother, his Mentore.
Maria’s heart fluttered with worry. She did not speak up to protest. Instead, she turned back to Petruccio and quietly encouraged him to eat some of his breakfast.
Her youngest gave her a grimace but still pulled his plate towards himself. His eyes never left his two brothers as they rose and left the room.
Ezio Auditore ~ Same Day, Auditore Crypt, Monterriggioni.
The doors to the Auditore Crypt were at the end of a small alleyway to the left of the Villa. A few barred entryways interrupted the brickwork on both sides, but the alley was empty of townsfolk except for Ezio and his brother. The doors before them stood tall, the familiar crest of their family emblazed on the middle of the surface.
Federico seemed nervous. Ezio could tell by the subtle shifting of his weight. The two had not spoken yet as they began their assignment. Ezio, for his part, did not know what to say. His beloved brother now seemed almost a stranger to him; the weight of years of grief and anger, and the impossibility of Federico’s presence had become a wall between them. Ezio did not know how to breach the wall, and it seemed Federico did not either.
With a last look around himself - a now habitual habit - Ezio pushed open the right-hand door. A cloying waft of cool, musty air accompanied the movement as it swung open on silent hinges. Federico slipped in beside him and produced flint from his pocket to light the torches just inside the doorway.
The corridor they found themselves in was wide enough for them to walk in stride with each other, but did not take them far. It was not long before their torches revealed a ledge at the edge of a stretch of darkness.
“Had our ancestors never heard of stairs?” Federico sighed after crouching down. He held his light over the edge to show it was a shaft that opened into another room. Ezio shrugged at him, remembering his trips to several other tombs.
“It seems Assassin’s like to keep things interesting,” he commented. Stepping into the drop, he braced his knees for the impact and landed smoothly with a grunt and a small cloud of silt and earth. His brother followed a second later with a similar grace.
The room was large and made entirely from grey stone. A few sections were carved out to make space for coffins, but they only contained a thick layer of dust. There was a partially opened stone tomb on the floor where Ezio caught a brief glance of bone and cloth before he looked away. Not far from it was a plaque engraved onto the wall. Ezio’s fingers brushed against the rough edges of the words as he looked.
“’Messer Marco Polo’?” he read with a disbelieving huff. Ezio was slightly surprised that the ancestor who had built this tomb was originally from Venice; he had always assumed that the Auditore’s heralded from Monteriggioni and Firenze. That this ancestor had worked for the Marco Polo was also news to him.
The rattle of metal brought his attention away from the wall. Federico had explored the other half of the room and was shaking an iron door that was refusing to budge with a frown on his face. He released it and turned to a hole in the adjoining wall that only appeared when he moved closer to it with his light.
“Looks like we will need to climb up and over,” Federico explained as he clambered into the gap and looked up. “Though that may be tricky, especially with the torches.”
Ezio joined his brother and looked around. It would be awkward but not as much as Federico seemed to think so.
“Hold this,” he said as he passed his torch to Federico. His older (was he still his older sibling if they were now the same age?) brother took it with another frown. Ezio ignored him as he backed up a pace before running at the wall in front of him. He ran up it a few steps, before using the wall to jump up and to his left. It was enough to boost his height up enough that he could catch the open ledge with his hands. Ezio then pulled himself up with little difficulty and turned back to look down at Federico.
“Well, you certainly made that look easy.” Federico commented with a raised brow.
Ezio chuckled, “You should try it with full armour on, brother. Now, throw me both torches.” Federico threw the first torch upwards, taking care that the handle did not flip over itself, and Ezio snatched it out of the air. The second one was also thrown before Federico followed Ezio’s example and climbed up. They turned a corner and dropped down onto a smaller dirt ledge below them, the wooden beams jutting out of the wall making it even easier for them to drop down onto the other side of the gates.
Another inscription was on the wall depicting the tale of a sailor falling in love.
“Our ancestor seems to be telling his story as you go through the crypt,” Ezio said. It was interesting that the time had been taken to carve the words onto the stone walls, and he wondered what else would be revealed.
They rounded another corner and travelled up some stairs before they came across another carving and a mechanism on the opposite side.
“’A strange marking on his finger’?” Ezio asked as he turned to his brother. Federico nodded.
“Yes. When an Assassin is initiated fully into the Brotherhood they are branded around their left ring finger during the ceremony. It is a symbol of their commitment to the Assassin Order.” He explained. Federico held up his left hand to show his unblemished fingers. “I have yet to kill and remain an Apprentice, so I have not gone through the ceremony yet. Father has a brand though, under his wedding band. Uncle Mario will as well.”
Ezio frowned and looked at his own hand that was littered only with scars, “I have assassinated many targets and completed several missions, yet I have not gone through the ceremony yet.” Federico simply shrugged.
“I do not yet know all that has happened over the years we were… away. Perhaps it would be best to discuss it with Zio Mario.”
“I did not even know there was a ceremony to be initiated. There is still a lot about the Brotherhood that I do not know or understand.” Ezio could not help the discouragement that now flooded his chest. While he had done so much for the Brotherhood, he felt that there were secrets and knowledge he was not privy to. His days were filled with hiding, running and blood; with gaining vengeance for the murders of his family. The family that was now, somehow, inexplicably alive. Where did that leave him? How did he integrate himself back into the familiar tapestry of his family when he himself was fundamentally changed from the carefree boy he once was? What was it all for? What was he to do now? He did not know, and the longer these questions dwelt within his mind, the more he despaired.
Federico sighed sadly and reached out to grasp his shoulder. He gave it a comforting squeeze and left the weight of it there as he slowly began to speak.
“I was told just after my seventeenth birthday. Father called me into his study and took me into the hidden room. He showed me his robes and blade and told me he was an Assassin. I could not believe it at first! Father was just a banker; how could he possibly be able to sneak out and kill people in the night?” Federico gave him a wry grin and Ezio’s lips quirked in response, “He told me of the Creed, and that it was our sacred duty to protect mankind from those that would subjugate and control it. He said that from that moment on I was to be an Apprentice of the Italian Brotherhood, and he began to teach me how to fight, how not to be seen, how to climb and traverse rooftops swiftly, and how to kill.”
“I remember that you would disappear for hours with Father, and you would come back limping and dirty. Our parents said that he was trying to keep an eye on you by having you follow Father as he does his duties, but it did not seem right to me.”
“That must have been when you began to follow me, yes? My nosy little brother, trying his best to keep up.” Federico grinned cheekily and jostled him. Ezio simply rolled his eyes and batted Federico’s arm away from him.
“I soon got better than you once you decided to teach me! Sempre così lento, Federico. [Always so slow, Federico]” Ezio teased. Federico flicked his ear.
“Giovane diavoletto maleducato! [Rude young imp!] When you began to follow me, I informed Father. He told me to begin teaching you some of what I had learned, but that it was not time to tell you of the Brotherhood.”
Ezio huffed. “Things would have been easier if you had told me then.”
“Perhaps. Father did plan to tell you, Ezio. He was going to do it in the new year, but…” Federico trailed off. None of them wished to say what followed next. Ezio conceded to let the subject drop and turned back to the inscription.
“Dante Alighieri was an Assassin?!” he could not help but exclaim. Their father had insisted on ‘La Divina Commedia’ [The Divine Comedy] being part of their reading and education growing up. It was strange to hear that the exiled Florentine writer had once been part of their Order.
“I never knew! Amazing!”
The brothers stared at the name carved into the wall for a moment, before they turned away to the wooden mechanism behind them.
A long piece of wood connected to a wheel on top of a small dais. Ezio had seen similar mechanisms when he was below the Santa Maria Novella. Looking to his left he saw a long wooden beam connected to an archway that hung over a small drop.
“I suppose to reach an Assassin’s tomb, you must be able to move like an Assassin,” Federico commented. Ezio could only agree.
“Ready for some exercise?” Ezio asked as he stepped on to the dais and grasped the lever. Federico nodded and walked towards the edge. Ezio pushed the wood upwards, and the sound of a chain being lifted instantly filled the space.
Ezio left the mechanism and followed his brother in leaping onto the wooden beam. Through the archway they went before they ran and leapt to grab hold of a metal pole. Ezio swung his legs for momentum before letting go of the pole and landing on a small wooden platform before him. Federico was just ahead of him, and the small platform shuddered slightly under their combined weight. The dull clunking of a cog was echoing around them, like the ticking of a clock. Ezio straightened himself and glanced below to find they were in a cavern flooded with water. He grimaced at the thought of falling into it.
With Federico leading the way, the two brothers swiftly moved along the thin walkway in a crouch before leaping one after another onto a column of stone. Another narrow ledge of stone led them to the right and to another column, before they turned forwards once more and traversed with leaping bounds across several wooden beams before reaching another solid stretch of stone. They had barely caught their breath when behind them slammed down a portcullis that blocked their way backwards. The brothers shared a look before moving on.
Down a surprisingly sturdy ladder they came across yet another engraved tablet and an accompanying mechanism. The room beyond that was huge. It too was flooded with stagnant water and filled with crumbling walls and platforms made from stone and beams of rotting wood.
“Do you think this refers to Altair’s Codex? Father mentioned it a few times to me.” Federico asked as he studied the wall.
“It must be. It is the only such Codex of its kind from what I know.” Ezio replied after reading the words. “I’m going to activate the mechanism. Can you go to the balcony and see what it moves?”
Federico left with a nod while Ezio once again lifted the lever. The sound of a chain being lifted echoed, but Ezio also heard a muffled curse come from Federico. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Federico hesitate slightly just before leaping over the banister and diving into the water below.
Ezio sprinted to the handrail in time to see Federico come up spluttering and gagging. He cringed in sympathy at the thought of having to go into the water below that had been stagnating for however long. Federico swam toward the opening the mechanism had created. As he got closer, the iron portcullis began to descend. Federico threw himself under water with a large intake of air, and Ezio could only watch as he popped up on the other side as the large gate moved back in place with a muffled thunk.
“Are you okay Federico?” Ezio called across to him, “You are looking a little wet!”
The bars of the iron portcullis were not enough to block the rude hand gesture Federico sent back to him. Ezio’s chuckle echoed slightly around the cavernous room, garnering him a further dark look while Federico shook his limbs to try to get rid of some excess water once he had climbed onto the platform.
“The lever is here, and it looks like I will need to climb up there to get back out again.” Federico said as he pointed to Ezio’s right. Ezio paced the balcony to see the cavernous room from all angles.
“There is a ledge above me here, it should be where you will come out,” he pointed first the same way as Federico and then to the left. “There is another gate that way. It must be the way forward.”
Federico nodded. He turned back to the mechanism, “I shall see you there,”
Ezio grimaced to himself when the ticking began again. He reluctantly moved to the left side of the balcony, took a deep breath, and dove into the liquid below.
The frigid temperature of the water nearly took his held breath away. Ezio swam to the surface as soon as he could and took in another lungful of air. He regretted it instantly.
The smell. It was foul. It was rotten. It was also very pungent. The almost slimy feel of the water made him sure that it was trying to ooze its way into his skin. Cursing any deity he could think of, and especially his Uncle Mario, he swam quickly to the sill and pulled himself up with a grunt. As he reached the top of the stairs near the gate, he heard the splash of Federico diving into the water. A dozen seconds later and both Auditore brothers were on the other side of the gate.
The smell became worse when they were stood together. Ezio’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he plucked his soaked linen shirt, trying in vain to stop it from clinging so closely to his skin. His hair stuck thickly to the back of his neck, sending the odd freezing droplet down his back.
Beside him Federico ran his hand through his hair, plastering it back away from his face. They shared a dismayed look before continuing.
After some quick leaps onto more wooden beams and they came across another engraved slab.
“So, Dante Alighieri did not die from disease,” Ezio commented. Federico shrugged at him.
“There were always rumours that he had been poisoned by his enemies. This just confirms it.”
“Another one,” Ezio sighed as they found a wooden mechanism in the next room.
Without further complaining, they activated it and traversed the next pathway. They hopped lithely from beam to beam, flung themselves gracefully from pole to pole, and wall jumped to pass the latest portcullis. As they had come to expect, a plaque awaited them.
“That explains why the Codex pages have been scattered. A good way to keep it from enemy hands, but a harder way for us to recover it.” Ezio commented.
“That poor woman,” Federico muttered as he read the fate of their ancestor’s wife. “Such brutality…”
“It is rarely those who deserve it that suffer so,” Ezio replied. He clenched his fists, unable to stop the image of his own mother’s barbaric treatment on the night his brothers and father were arrested. He felt sorrow and sympathy for the man who had built this crypt – to watch someone you love to suffer and die while you remain helpless to save them was an experience that has rested heavily within him for the past few years.
Federico must have noticed something in his features. He turned Ezio to face him and cupped his face between his hands. It was a gesture that he had always done when he wished Ezio to see and recognise the seriousness of his words. His stomach tightened at the feel of the forgotten gesture.
“Brother, what you experienced and went through… I am sorrier than I can say. You - and Claudia - never should have gone through such a thing. I am sorry you both had to witness what you did; I am sorry you have had to endure.” Federico’s normally laughing eyes were piercing with the weight of his words. His thumbs brushed his younger brother’s cheeks in comfort. Ezio’s nostrils flared as he tried to maintain steady breaths. He ignored the stinging in his eyes.
“You had to go through it, Federico-” he began, but his brother shook his head.
“I went through a short time of uncertainty and fear before it stopped. Whether it was through death, or my being brought here now, my pain was brief. You, however, have had to carry it for years. You have had to pick up the mantle and protect our mother and sister. I wish you had never gone through that, but I am proud of the man you have become.”
Ezio’s gaze dropped, and he shrugged sheepishly. He did not see Federico’s frown, but he did feel the jostle that encouraged him to look back up.
“I have seen the changes in you, Fratellino [Little Brother]. I have seen the pain in your eyes, the weight on your shoulders, the hardness you have had to forge yourself into. I hope that one day you will tell me it all. But I am here now, Ezio. You no longer need to bear it alone.”
Ezio could say nothing. His eyes welled. His breath stuttered in his chest. He went willingly as Federico pulled him into his arms and wrapped them tightly around him, just like he had always done when they were children. Despite the smell left over from their swim, Ezio could still detect the familiar scent of his brother. It brought him a sense of home and peace he had been missing for three years. The stiffness in his shoulders eased and Ezio melted into the hug.
If tears were shed from his eyes no one would notice them in the already damp fabric of his brother’s shirt.
They pulled away from one another after a while and gave each other tremulous smiles. Ignoring each other’s red eyes, they turned to one more lever.
“Let’s go,” Ezio said gruffly. He pulled the wooden arm up and followed Federico.
The wooden and brick beams took them up and around in a spiral, until they reached a landing with an archway that had its stone door lifted. Walking through it took them into a long hallway.
“We must nearly be there, at last!” Federico sounded a bit winded as he investigated an alcove to see the statue of an assassin encase in it.
“It is strange, to think that we were never nobles until we came to Firenze. Even our family name did not exist until then!” Ezio read the last engraved wall, the words of his predecessor striking his core.
‘…You are one of the people. Avenge us!’
The sentiment was one that he thought resonated with the Creed. It was the purpose behind the life he now led.
At the end of the hallway he came to a small arch of stone that had the recognisable skull mechanism from the few Assassin’s Tombs he had been to. If his forebearer had built this tomb and locked it with the skull, Ezio was sure that he was also the one who had built the tombs across Italy. Federico joined him as he placed his fingers in the eye sockets of the skull and pulled.
The stone doorway lifted out of their way to reveal a rounded room with chests around the edges. They were surely filled with a few treasures. Ezio’s eyes though were locked onto the two sarcophagi on the raised dais. One of them had a box atop of it.
He first went to the sarcophagus without the box. On the lid the fading engraved letters read ‘Renato Auditore. Nulla é reale. Tutto é lecito.’ [Renato Auditore. Nothing is true. Everything is permitted*]
Renato was their father and uncle Mario’s grandfather, so Ezio knew that he had not built this tomb. He trailed over the other stone casket that was named as containing Domenico Auditore.
Ezio pressed his hand to his predecessor’s last resting place and said a silent prayer for him. Federico was paying his respects to Renato.
Once he was done, his brother came to stand between the two sarcophagi and stared at the box with Ezio.
“Should we open it?” Federico looked suspiciously at the wooden box. It took Ezio off guard for a moment, seeing his brother defer to him to make the final decision. He shook the thoughts out of his head and focused.
“It is supposed to be a gift,” he quipped. Though his words were glib Ezio very carefully reached for the lid of the box. He hesitated a moment then slowly lifted it.
Both brothers could only stare in amazement at what was contained inside.
Inside was a dazzling gold, ornate cloth made from fabric that neither Ezio nor Federico could recognise. It shimmered in an otherworldly way, with silver geometric shapes contrasting with the material. A slight glow emanated from it in a way that reminded Ezio vividly of the feathers left to Petruccio and himself.
“What is it?” Ezio could not help but whisper. It was beautiful and intricate; unlike anything he had ever seen. Despite that, a small part of his brain could not help but feel cautious when looking at it.
“I do not know. Father may know.” Federico answered, his voice equally as quiet.
They stared at it for a moment more before Ezio carefully replaced the lid and picked up the box. Federico lifted the trap door beyond the dais and jumped down into it.
Ezio gave one last look around the room, saying a silent farewell, before he carefully followed his brother into the darkness below.
Notes:
** The gamurra dress was a very popular Italian-styled dress in the 15th and early 16th centuries, that consisted of a fitted bodice, high waist, full skirt (usually with split sides), and detachable sleeves that was worn over a woman’s chemise. It had many different names, depending on where in Italy you were from, and Florentine women called this style of dress a Camurra/Camora. Simply google imaging ‘Renaissance gamurra dress’ comes up with so many pretty examples if you wish to picture it!
** Lavender was really used as a popular remedy for headaches during the renaissance era. It was typically used in sachets, oils, and teas for treatment, much as it is today!
**The description of Desmond Petruccio gives is mostly canon accurate. His eye colour apparently did change several times over the games (this is mentioned on his AC wiki page), so I went with his eyes shifting colour slightly between brown and Ezio’s eye colour. Petruccio describes Desmond’s arm as being burnt because he appears to him in the grey looking how he did when he died. I also described him as slightly emaciated – he was in a coma state during AC Revelations, and then seemed to spend most of his time in the Animus trying to find the key in AC3 as they were on a time crunch, so he probably was starved. Also, his character model in AC3 is noticeably more gaunt looking when compared to AC2.
** Ezio is named as one of the few renaissance characters to have Eagle Vision. Giovanni Borgia (Lucrezia’s son with an Assassin) also had it, and it is heavily hinted that La Volpe has the ability as well, though it has not been definitively confirmed. The last Assassin listed as having Eagle Vision before Ezio is Altair. Also, while it is known now that Eagle Vision comes from having a high level of Isu DNA, the Auditore’s and Italian Brotherhood are not aware of that at this moment in time. The story of how Ezio showed he has Eagle Vision is completely made up.
** Mario Auditore is never actually referred to as the title “Mentor”, only ever as the “Leader of the Italian Brotherhood”. Even on the list of members of the Brotherhood during the Renaissance, Ezio, Niccolo Machiavelli, and Lodovico Ariosto (Ezio’s successor) are labelled as Mentors with the dates they lead the Brotherhood besides their names. I have no idea why he is not labelled as such, but for the purpose of this fic I am labelling Mario as the current Mentor.
** Any quotes from them reading off the inscriptions in the tomb are taken from the game. They can be found on the Auditore Crypt Wikia page.
** It is not known when Federico was informed of the brotherhood, or when he began his training. The only information we have about his training is that he was subtly introducing Ezio to combat and freerunning on the orders of his father Giovanni. As Giovanni had initially decided he was going to tell Ezio about the Brotherhood in the new year (he was killed just before he could) when Ezio was 17 years old, I decided to go with that for when Federico was informed. The story he tells Ezio in the crypt about his own introduction to the order was made up by myself.
** Dante Alighieri died in 1321 in Ravenna, Italy. It is said that he most likely died from Malaria, or a similar disease, or even malnutrition. There was the occasional rumour he was killed by his enemies, but there is not evidence for that. However, that theory obviously works in the cannon of Assassin’s Creed.
** On Renato’s sarcophagus, I said it was enscribed with the words “Nulla é reale. Tutto é lecito” – these words are said in the Italian versions of the game of “Nothing is true; everything is permitted”. These words are not a direct translation, and I am pretty sure Ezio says them in the English version of the game as well, though I cannot find where. Either way, they seemed appropriate to out on an assassin’s tomb.
Pages Navigation
SoftLead on Chapter 1 Fri 01 Mar 2024 03:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
WinMin_Trash on Chapter 1 Mon 08 Sep 2025 09:18PM UTC
Comment Actions
Yvhiy on Chapter 2 Sun 24 Mar 2024 09:15AM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 2 Wed 24 Apr 2024 10:14PM UTC
Comment Actions
FallenAJ_2475 on Chapter 2 Fri 29 Mar 2024 09:18PM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 2 Wed 24 Apr 2024 10:16PM UTC
Comment Actions
Sigrid_haggins1020 on Chapter 2 Wed 24 Apr 2024 09:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 2 Wed 24 Apr 2024 10:14PM UTC
Comment Actions
Sigrid_haggins1020 on Chapter 2 Wed 24 Apr 2024 10:53PM UTC
Last Edited Thu 25 Apr 2024 08:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
jayswing96 on Chapter 3 Tue 23 Apr 2024 11:11PM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 3 Wed 24 Apr 2024 10:24PM UTC
Comment Actions
jayswing96 on Chapter 3 Thu 25 Apr 2024 12:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
BabyGin on Chapter 3 Wed 24 Apr 2024 04:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 3 Wed 24 Apr 2024 10:25PM UTC
Comment Actions
Yvhiy on Chapter 3 Wed 24 Apr 2024 07:23AM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 3 Wed 24 Apr 2024 10:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
FallenAJ_2475 on Chapter 3 Fri 26 Apr 2024 07:09PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 26 Apr 2024 07:10PM UTC
Comment Actions
M3lody on Chapter 3 Mon 29 Apr 2024 10:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
Eatares8 on Chapter 4 Sat 22 Jun 2024 11:01PM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 4 Sun 23 Jun 2024 12:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
jayswing96 on Chapter 4 Sun 23 Jun 2024 02:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 4 Sun 23 Jun 2024 12:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
Yvhiy on Chapter 4 Sun 23 Jun 2024 07:08AM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 4 Sun 23 Jun 2024 12:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
Sigrid_haggins1020 on Chapter 4 Mon 24 Jun 2024 02:38AM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 4 Mon 24 Jun 2024 07:32AM UTC
Comment Actions
Sigrid_haggins1020 on Chapter 4 Mon 24 Jun 2024 08:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 4 Wed 26 Jun 2024 10:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
a_little_buggy on Chapter 4 Wed 26 Jun 2024 06:39PM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 4 Wed 26 Jun 2024 10:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
Danoneone on Chapter 4 Thu 27 Jun 2024 10:33PM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 4 Fri 28 Jun 2024 11:04AM UTC
Comment Actions
TheDragonQueen1998 on Chapter 4 Fri 28 Jun 2024 05:01AM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 4 Fri 28 Jun 2024 11:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
TheDragonQueen1998 on Chapter 4 Fri 28 Jun 2024 12:35PM UTC
Comment Actions
Merilindir on Chapter 4 Fri 05 Jul 2024 07:55PM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 4 Sat 03 Aug 2024 11:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
CADEL on Chapter 4 Sun 07 Jul 2024 01:08AM UTC
Comment Actions
See_You_Very_Spoonie on Chapter 4 Sat 03 Aug 2024 11:30AM UTC
Comment Actions
Death_in_the_night on Chapter 4 Tue 23 Jul 2024 09:07AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation