Chapter I

Enter Fia

Sleep was truly her favourite thing in the world. A place where she could fall into the darkest and farthest regions of her mind and simply wade in water that glistened with the whimsical pieces of old memories and old faces. Fia rarely had foul dreams, and the teen more often than not woke with a smile on her face.

Yet, upon realizing she had woken from a dream, the smile would fade, and a stoic expression would replace it.

This morning was no different from the others. Gabriella, the servant who had been with her as long as she had lived, knocked upon her door three times and called out in a sweet voice: "Wake up, mio bella!"

The older woman was tan and short and with wrinkles that smiled every time she did. She would waddle into the room, her shoes softly thumping on the rich colored carpet, place a dress on the foot of her bed, and smile at her once before drawing the ivory curtains from the closed window.

Outside, the warm April air sprung to life as the markets did. Birds of all kinds made their sounds, and men and women cried out on the streets. Pickpockets, injuries, broken crates, stolen goods. All of the sounds, each one different, awoke the rest of Florence into the same routine as the day before.

The smell of freshly cooked bread followed Gabriella as she passed Fia's large oak bed.

"Ay! Fratelli Auditore are at it again! Oi! Boys! Get down from there!" Gabriella shouted, waving her hands out the window as a sickly warm heat seeped in. "Those boys are going to kill themselves!"

Fia felt a smile tug at her chapped lips and she stretched ever so slightly before padding to the window and watching as the eldest Auditore brother vaulted over a windowsill and blew a kiss to the crows below, who watched with awe.

"They're odd, those two," Fia mumbled, fixing her eyes upon Gabriella's smile. "Complaints only fuel them in their desire to dance on the rooftops, Lora."

The name, meaning Mother Hen, had been given to Gabriella when Fia was only the age of six. It had apparently stuck, since the woman had not protested and accepted the name with warm smiles and gentle hugs.

A calloused hand massaged her bare shoulder, and Fia sighed. Closing the window and retreating away from the heat of the suns rays, Fia held the rather colorful clothing item to her chest.

Gabriella chuckled, watching as the crowd below dispersed. "Spoken like a true poet, mio cara."

"If only I was in a poem and not here, Lora," Fia breathed, feeling the pit of her stomach fall even lower as she realized today was the day she had learned to dread more than any other. "I did not want today to come."

Gabriella's smile faltered as she approached the frowning teenager. The dress, gripped between two clenched fists, had been sewn by the finest hands in Florence. These women, all of whom had been paid by Fia ever so gracious mother, were told to make the most impressive piece of cloth they could and make the most eye catching dress possible. And of course, the coral pink bodice to the gown was certainly eye catching. But, Fia was not sure if it was in the good way.

The thought of the events that were to take place in the later evening made Fia sick to her stomach, and her heart cease to beat. It truly was going to break her heart to go through with this...

"I do not want to wear it," Fia pleaded. She spun around, gripping the maid's hands and shaking her head. "Tell Papa I am ill, please, Gabriella."

"Fia, mio cara, your families have planned this for seven years now..."

"I did not want it planned!" Fia scowled. "They expect me to be happy... That man... He is nothing but evil. His entire family as well, Gabriella."

"Fia, I am sure Vei—"

"Do not even dare to finish that sentence, Lora," Fia warned, her voice low. Her dark brown eyes glowed with a sense of anger, and Gabriella knew all too well to let the young woman calm herself down.

Kissing both of Fia's cheeks, Gabriella retreated to the door. "Breakfast is ready for you, mio cara."

When the door shut, Fia let out a frustrated cry before throwing the window open. Fighting tears, she watched as two men exchanged conversation over a painting. Fia wished hard and quick, clamping her eyes shut, that she would become that painting, plastered to the canvas and smiling forever.

Opening her eyes, she growled when she realize she was still skin and bones and muscles and anger.

Tossing the dress back down to the bed, Fia shook her head. In a rather rebellious tone, the woman stood full height, placing both hands on her hips. "Vieri de Pazzi is not an honorable man in the slightest, and... and I am going to... —I refuse to marry him."


The Auditore family sat in silence, their heads bowed into the gracious breakfast Annetta had cooked earlier before the sun had even began rising. Giovanni sat at the head of the table, his eyes scrutinizing Maria Auditore at the other end of the table. She looked up from her bread, quirking a brow at her husband.

"Fia Rizzola di Firenze," Giovanni breathed, causing both Claudia and Ezio to raise their heads. Federico, however, spoke up.

"What of her?"

"Has something happened?" Claudia asked, worried for her older friend. The two had met at school, and had become close friends. Taking a strong liking to writing and the arts, the two had helped one another blossom Fia, known for her frizzy dark curls, had earned the nickname of Riccio among the Auditore Brothers.. It meant curly, and the name seemed to fit, though the only time they call her that was to anger her.

"She is set to marry Ezio's close friend, Vieri in late Augusto."

Everyone fell silent, except Ezio, who laughed loudly. The seventeen-year-old had a piece of bread in his mouth. Not bothering to wait until he was done chewing, Ezio shook his head, waving the other half of his slice about. "Stai scherzando con noi, padre. (You are kidding with us, father.)"

"I wish I was, mio figlio," Giovanni sighed, swallowing "I wish I was."

"That... That cannot be true," Claudia muttered, "Fia hates their family, Papa..."

"Some families wish for a steady amount of support, rather than the happiness of their daughter, mio cara."

"By support, you mean denaro (gold)."

"Si, Federico," Giovanni mumbled, dropping his napkin into his lap. "That was what I meant."

The rest of breakfast was finished in silence, each one of the family members dreading the party that was to be held for the young woman's seventeenth birthday later that evening where the announcement was to be made.


A/N:

Okay, okay. I said this would be a re-write. And it kind of is. But not really. At all. But too bad.

For the sake of Ezio's pretty face, we can all get over it.