A/N: Best viewed in a story width of 1/2.

Ezio thought he could do this. He thought he could defeat Rodrigo, even when the man was armed the pieces of Eden that they both had sought so long for. But no, as the Auditore was engulfed in golden light emanating from the staff, his doubts also swept over him. It was crushing him. Ezio felt not only the pain from the forces of the enchanted items, but the pressure in his chest from the overwhelming sadness and regret, knowing that he had lost. The Italian's voice was cracked as he muttered to Rodrigo, who was standing over him with the malicious grin Ezio had grown to hate.

"You may win this battle, bastardo, but," Ezio coughed, distinctly having to force himself to take in another breath, "My allies will be persistent. They won't – They won't let you win the war."

Rodrigo's grin only widened as Ezio's vision began to go dark, and the last thing he heard was the Spaniard's voice, cold against even the bitter darkness surrounding him, "You let yourself think that, assassino. Die a death thinking that your side will prevail, but die knowing this: I defeated you."

There was light, and birds chirping. Ezio was not sure where he was at first, assuming that if there were any afterlife, he'd get punishment for the people he killed, not peace and serenity.

Upon trying to sit up, Ezio felt a rush of pain, and decided that no, he wasn't in the afterlife. What afterlife had pain? Glancing down, the Italian realised that he was covered in the sheets that resembled the ones back in his bedroom in Florence. Had his mother made new sheets for him? Was she speaking once more, as well?

This thought lifted Ezio's heart and he rubbed at his eyes in an effort to wake himself up, groaning at the sunshine in the room. As he stretched, he ignored the pain in his back and sides, letting out a sigh as his muscles moved and joints popped. Someone heard him, he realised, as there was movement outside his door. A knock, then the door creaked its way open, revealing a face that made Ezio recoil in fear.

A deep voice laughed at his sudden movement as the door was opened all the way and lo and behold – Giovanni Auditore made his way inside the room. "Ezio," there was chuckling, "Thought you'd never wake up. You scared your mother and I both. You took a very long fall a couple days ago, do you recall?"

Unable to do anything else, Ezio simply shook his head, no. He didn't recall any falling aside from in battle at the hands of a certain Templar.

"A couple days?" Ezio asked, and upon hearing his own voice, he realised that it wasn't as deep as before. Upon further inspection of himself (mentally, not physically), he confirmed that his muscles were not as honed, nor were his senses. Younger, then. He thanked the heavens above that his Eagle Vision still worked – however, his head was still pounding and he could only activate it for a brief moment.

Giovanni's gaze flicked to his son's face quickly as he sat next to the bed, and after a moment of contemplation, he nodded. "Yes. You climbed the chapel in a race against your brother. You won, but you fell in your excitement." Ezio's father flashed a smile, "Much like myself and Mario. Which, by the way, he's visiting in a few days."

"Uncle Mario?" Ezio repeated the name, mind reeling back to the memories in Monteriggioni with his uncle, sparring and learning to properly fight. "What's he visiting for?"

"He's got some business with the Order to take care of." Giovanni explained, leaning forward to adjust his son's blankets as he stood, "I think you'll be up and about by the time he gets back, so don't worry about not being able to spend time with him."

Ezio watched as his father left the room, curious. As his stomach churned with uneasiness, his instincts told him to activate his second sight, and the world went darker. Ezio glanced to his father, who held no glow whatsoever – Strange, Ezio thought, Shouldn't he be blue? Or white, in the very least.

Giovanni spared his son one last glance before he left and headed down the hallway.

Several days passed and Ezio's condition improved. Soon he was up and walking again, and after that, climbing up on rooftops with his brother. He was happy to have Federico and Giovanni back, but something bothered him.

Petruccio.

Where was the youngest Auditore? Ezio knew he must exist in this alternate reality (for that is what he assumed it was, and that was what it in fact was), for his bedroom was there and Petruccio was in the family portrait hanging above the mantle.

It would be another day before he got the answer.

"He has the Sight," Giovanni's voice was low as he spoke to his brother, and Mario took a long sip from a wine glass. There was a palpable silence between the two before the elder of the two spoke.

"How can you tell?" Mario's hand occupied itself with swishing the wine in his glass around, his one good eye watching the red liquid. It was as deep a red as blood.

"His eyes," Giovanni continued, leaning back in his chair. "When he awoke, we spoke. I saw his eyes flash blue." His face contorted into one of disgust.

"Are you sure it was not a trick of the light?" Mario's eye flicked to Giovanni's face, watching his brother carefully as the younger man nodded.

"His eyes are the same colour as mine. There is no way they could seem blue because of different lighting – this I am positive of. Mario, he is the one that we heard about. The Prophet." The last word was hushed, as though a sin was being committed. The word left a bitter taste on Giovanni's tongue. Mario's face was grim.

"We have to tread carefully." There was a moment of silence as the brothers thought, and Mario set his wine glass aside, having emptied it of its contents. "Initiate him."

Giovanni took a glance at his brother in surprise. "Now? He has half a year until he's eighteen."

"Yes, but the sooner we do it, the sooner he will learn of our ways. Not theirs." Mario spat, as though speaking of an abomination.

"You have a very good point." Giovanni sighed. "At the end of this week, then. That will give us time to get everyone gathered."

Ezio ran into his younger brother during a day out of the house – he knew it was Petruccio. He could recognise that boy anywhere, even if he was wearing clothes that befit a merchant's son rather than a noble. He wondered if his family knew of his brother's location.

"Petruccio!" Ezio called out, careful not to be too loud. The boy jumped, arms full with boxes and canvases. They were much like the ones that Ezio had carried for Leonardo so many years ago in his home, where he was an assassin and his family was missing from his life.

"Ezio?" The boy said, his voice hushed, "Why are you here? How did you – how did you find me?" His brown eyes were wide with fear, and Ezio had to pause, to take a moment and look his brother over.

"I- I was passing through the area." Ezio shrugged his shoulders and offered to help carry the things in Petruccio's arms, surprised when the younger boy recoiled and began walking off without him. "Hey," Ezio huffed, "Come on, help me out here, I'm confused."

Petruccio rolled his eyes as he walked in the direction of Leonardo's workshop. "What's there to be confused about?"

"Everything, honestly." Petruccio raised an eyebrow at that, and in a moment of silence, it looked as though a realisation hit him.

"Well, come on. You know where Leonardo works, right?"

It was several streets away, but Ezio walked with his younger brother in silence, wishing that he could be properly enjoying the sunshine on his back and spending his day having fun with his family, not being at a loss for words at dinners and confused about what exactly was going on.

When the two Auditores arrived at the workshop, Ezio opened the door at Petruccio's request, noticing almost immediately that in this world of strange, new things, Leonardo's workshop was the same mess of art supplies and engineering devices as it was before. And the artist himself was the same, arriving downstairs in his work shirt covered in paint and wood shavings, rushing to help Petruccio with the things.

"Petruccio, thank you." Leonardo chuckled and waved the boy over to the table, bringing a bowl of fruit down from the cupboard for him. "Here, I was trying to keep this cool for you. It's rather hot out today, isn't it?"

It wasn't until that moment that Leonardo chose to acknowledge Ezio's arrival with narrowed eyes and hands on his hips. "Why is your brother here, Petruccio? I thought he was one of..."

Petruccio intervened there, mouth full of fruit. "No, remember what my father said? About Ezio. It has to be true, otherwise he wouldn't have known where your shop was." Now it was Ezio's turn to ask questions, butting in the conversation in his growing curiosity.

"What was said about me? Come on now, I'm right here."

Leonardo ignored him. "How can we be sure? He could be trying to get on our good sides," He shook his head slowly, turning his gaze to Ezio, who raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Ezio? In what way do you know me?"

"I'm not sure," Ezio's eyes trailed to Leonardo slowly, inspecting him. There wasn't much difference from his friend back home. "I remember we were friends. You helped me out all the time. But.." There was a long pause, a sigh, and Ezio shook his head. "I woke up here in Firenze and I'm at a loss. I'm not sure what's going on."

Petruccio watched the two men as he nibbled on an orange slice. Perhaps what he'd heard of – the legend of the Prophet and Ezio being such an important person – perhaps it was true.

"You fell from the chapel, didn't you? Or do you remember it differently?" The artist leaned back against the table Petruccio was sitting at, eyes still narrowed to watch Ezio's reactions.

"No. I remember fighting against a man named Rodrigo Borgia. I remember magic items and somehow... Death." Ezio said.

"Petruccio," Leonardo said, "Go get the codexes."

The young boy stood and rushed off as quickly as he could, leaving Ezio and Leonardo alone. There was a long silence and cold stares from the elder, who simply waited until Ezio spoke. It took what felt like ages for Ezio to piece together a question, the entirety of the situation one big mystery to him.

"How do you have the codexes?" Ezio said. The question in itself was simple enough, but the answer, Ezio knew, must have been more complicated.
"I had Petruccio find them for me. He's actually quite skilled at sneaking around, even for a boy with an illness."

"Why do you have them? Are they for my father?" Ezio's tone was accusing, offended. He remembered Leonardo being his help, not anyone else's. Was he being selfish of his best friend?

"No, Ezio." The answer came as a shock to the dark-haired man, watching as Petruccio returned with rolls of paper. Leonardo took one and unravelled it, smoothing the paper onto the table. He motioned for Ezio to come look, and what he saw was unexpected. He page was illustrated with an image resembling his sight, dark colours with shades of blue and white and red indicating people. Foreign lettering scrawled across the bottom was a mystery for Ezio, and as he pointed it out, Leonardo nodded.

"I translated these a long while ago." He said, "They speak of you."

"Of me?" Ezio asked, "Why of me? Why do you have these?"

"We're not sure why they're of you just yet, Ezio." Leonardo began to roll the paper back up. "However, they say that you will have a second sight and that you are a Prophet. That you will help all of Italia overcome the power of the Templars. You have to do it – and you have to promise not to tell your father. There's a reason we're keeping these away from him."

"And what reasoning is that?"

Silence.

"Ezio," There was an uncharacteristic seriousness to Leonardo's tone. "Your father is a Templar."