A/N: I wrote this a few weeks back, really not sure what I wanted done and though I'm generally content with its outcome, it's not one of my favourite pieces. But I didn't want it to rot on my computer like all my other stories; so here's another early fan fiction about the mysterious Ezio. I couldn't help it; I've been so excited about Assassin's Creed II! This is all speculation on my part as (to any future readers) the game isn't out yet so we don't really know anything about him or his family. So I felt like coming up with something, but was too lazy to try to do it in Ezio's point of view. And this is the outcome.
And if you're wondering, I also posted this on my devientArt page under my username Ellfie, so if you see it there that's why. (you can find a link to my DA on my profile).
Summary: We Auditores had a comfortable life, as any noble family should. Though I would learn just how hard a simple death could affect our family and how much it would change my brothers and I.
Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed II does not belong to me. Ezio belongs to Ubisoft and Leonardo belongs to himself I guess. Everything else, however, (including Dario, Adalina, and Alfonso) is mine.
La Morte di una Famiglia
Hedwig the MillenniumOwl
.X.
We Auditores had a comfortable life, as any noble family should. We were as happy as the next people, and were very close. My older brother, Ezio, was always getting into trouble, and always pulling me and our younger brother, Dario, into his games. Granted, we ran with Ezio's flamboyant plans happily, always ready to drive our nanny a little insane and have some fun.
I remember skipping lessons and playing pranks on the servants with my brothers, as well as getting in trouble for each trick and having to face the consequences together. We played together, looked out for each other, and were never too far away from each other in our early years, at least as much as we could help it.
That all changed the day our father died.
The murder took place in the middle of the day; more scary than it taking place at night. Now we were faced with no monsters in the night, but plagued by constant thoughts of death happening right under our noses in broad daylight. My brothers and I were not allowed to go into the room where he died, our nanny thought it would make things worse. Even so, the simple thought of our father being murdered affected us very hard.
None of our family talked to each other for several days after the murder. Our nanny tried to make everything seem normal; continuing our lessons, not talking about our father. But at times when she thought we weren't around, I saw her crying into her apron. I tried to see our mother but before I could peak into her room I would be hurried away by nanny or some of our family guards. I still, however, heard her muffle cries as well.
Being a girl struggling with puberty, I cried a lot too. But I took it upon myself to take care of Dario. He couldn't quite comprehend what happened, as he had only just turned ten, but there were times I found him by himself simply thinking and I wondered whether I was wrong about him. He cried a lot at first, but he soon hardened up after a row with Ezio.
It wasn't a nice scene. Ezio had been avoiding everyone, no longer talking about new pranks to pull or even about the girls in our area he had taking a liking to. He would only answer questions if forced and even then he did his best to use a least words as he could, as if he couldn't trust himself to speak. I never saw him cry, even when trying to spy on him, only sadness mixed in with fury burned in his eyes. His anger made itself known more than his sadness; I heard him throwing anything when he got upset, and if he wasn't stone-faced, he was red with anger and yelled at anyone who gave him a wrong glance.
Little Dario didn't understand that Ezio's emotions were as such, and got into an argument with him after Ezio stepped on his little toy soldiers.
"What did you do that for!" Dario had shouted, staring at his downed men by his brother's feet.
"They were in the way," Ezio growled in a voice I rarely heard from him, "you shouldn't set them up where I walk."
"You could have walked around them!" Dario's eyes had started swelling up with big wet tears. I hurried over to him to help, but stopped when I saw Ezio's face. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing and lips curled down in a nasty snarl at the sight of Dario's tears.
"Don't cry!" Ezio barked, causing me to flinch at Dario's side and little Dario to whimper. "It's weak!"
Dario sniffed and moved his small fists over his eyes, "No it's not, nanny said it's okay--"
"Nanny is wrong." Ezio advanced on him and I found myself shaking, "Never show your weakness. Look was happened to Papa when he did!"
"Ezio," I said sharply, but found my voice much quieter than I thought it was. Dario started crying again, but he glared at Ezio.
"You don't know what happened, we weren't allowed in--"
"Isn't it obvious? He was weak so he was killed." Ezio snarled, eyes fierce. "He couldn't even live for us. It was probably all his fault he died!"
Dario shook his head angrily, his voice cracking from tears, "You're wrong! Mean people killed him. He fought for us so they wouldn't hurt us!"
"And who told you that?" Ezio finally shouted, but Dario didn't answer. I felt my lips start to quiver and tears form, though I tried to hide them. "It's a lie! He was weak! You're all weak, breaking down into tears, none of you can do anything. So stop crying!"
"Ezio," I tried to step in, attempting to keep my voice firm and stern like nanny's when she was reprimanding us, but I heard it quiver and break, "Don't yell at Dario, he's only ten—"
"All the more reason he needs to stop." Ezio retorted, straightening up to look more important, "Papa's not here so I'm the man of the house now. Dario has to grow up to be a man too."
"He doesn't need to now—"
"Yes he does!" Ezio turned fully to me, infuriated at my argument. I quickly tried to wipe my tears away but he noticed before I could. "There will be no crying in my house!" He commanded, raising his hand to strike me. I gasped and shut my eyes, heard Dario suddenly yell and Ezio grunt. I opened my eyes to see little Dario trying to throw punches towards Ezio who was now on the ground. It would have been a very funny scene, little Dario flinging wild punches on top of his much bigger brother who looked momentarily stunned. But no one felt like laughing. I screamed for them to stop before either of them got hurt. I knew Ezio could pummel Dario to death if he was angry enough.
Dario shouted between his punches, "Don't—hit—Adalina!"
It took Ezio a few seconds, but once he realized what happened he face darkened even more and he growled, grabbing Dario by the back of the shirt and yanking him off, getting to his feet as he did so. Dario flailed and aimed more kicks and punches his way, but Ezio didn't seem to feel a thing. He flung his little brother to the floor, not nicely but not violently either. Everyone went silent as Dario and I looked at Ezio uneasily, tears streaked on both our faces. Ezio glared at the ground, glanced at me then Dario before stalking out of the room.
Dario did not cry after that. He started to stay with me more and glare or shout at anyone who came to close to us and I soon realized that I no longer had to care for Dario, Dario started protecting me. Ezio never apologized, but neither did we. It was a silent agreement, so we never brought up the fight again, though it didn't matter much because after that Ezio didn't talk to us much. I still heard him shouting at times, or throwing anything he felt like, constantly finding broken objects around the house, but still I never heard him cry. I didn't think it was healthy, thinking that getting angry about things would make it worse, but I did not have the guts to go up to him and tell him he needed to cry. Not after his and Dario's fight.
Things started to change again after father's funeral. I sat by Dario, our nanny near by sitting near our mother, and Ezio sitting several feet away. Dario and Ezio were quiet through it all, I cried quietly to myself though, and I heard mother's sobs and hiccups accompanied by soft cries of nanny. As the service ended the other nobles, friends and family who were there passed on their condolences, but I noticed most of them focused towards Ezio. They mumbled half caring words and patted his shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice. He was hunched over slightly, his black clothes making his skin look almost sickly pale. He stared towards the ground, eyes focused but obviously not seeing what was in front of him. His face was like a statue's; hard and emotionless. But his hands betrayed his feelings. They clenched to each other with enough force to make his knuckles and anywhere his fingers touched bloodless white. And though he tried to hide it, his hands shook violently.
People started talking in no time about our family and the "terrible tragedy" as they said. I noticed, however, that their favourite subject seemed to be Ezio. I heard everyone whispering things like "poor Ezio". They spoke with lazy solace of how terrible it must be to loose a father and be forced to continue his father's work at a young age. I got upset, feeling angry and jealous that people seemed more interested in "poor Ezio" and forgot about the rest of the family. I started to hate Ezio, for the attention he got and lack of attention he gave us. It took me several months to realize that it wasn't that I hated Ezio, but that I missed my old playful, mischievous brother and hated the man who took his place.
Ezio started to get quiet, no longer yelling out his anger and got better at not breaking things in frustration. Instead, he seemed to retreat into himself. He continued to not speak to us unless needed, and even then it was in a commanding voice that sounded frighteningly like Papa's. But he was forced to talk to other people; mostly nobles and political people, so he built up a front. I suppose he used our father as his model, because each day he got more and more like him: quiet, firm, commanding, and very no-nonsense. He talked more seriously; though always like he was obviously better than whoever he was speaking to. He was respectful and polite when needed, but no one was able to sway him from any of his opinions and if he didn't like what a person was talking about or the person himself, Ezio would simply walk away.
I kept to myself, continued all my lessons quietly and rarely talked fun with any of my once friends. Dario seemed the same, though tried more to walk immediately behind Ezio's footsteps. He held himself higher, attempted to walk more confidently, and looked down on boyish things he used to enjoy. I think at times he would do this to get Ezio to notice and praise him, but it took quite some time and my intervention for this to happen. Overall, we were not much of a happy family anymore.
About a year after Papa's death, I noticed Leonardo, a family friend, coming to visit more frequently. I didn't know why he was there, as that was men's business and I had to know my place, but I was curious. For a while I thought my mother was dishonoring my father, but then I realized Leonardo would talk to Ezio more and more. Eventually he even took Ezio with him to his workshop.
My stomach twisted at this. I was insanely jealous and had a hard time focusing on my lessons. Leonardo's work was sometimes odd, but always interesting and I had always wanted to work with him, see his work shop, and even discuss the sciences and his inventions with him. But I knew that would be foolish, as a woman's place was in the home, not in the sciences, so I refused to follow through with my desires. Yet here was Ezio, getting everything I wanted handed to him on a silver platter. Leonardo even acted as if Ezio was some special apprentice he always wanted, and like that he and Ezio knew things that I didn't and never would. A few times I swore I must've looked sick with the amount of frustration and jealousy I held.
Leonardo's visits only got more frequent, making me feel worse until one day I boldly decided to establish a conversation. I passed Leonardo in the large hall while he was on his way to the room he and Ezio frequently met and purposefully stood in his way.
"Hello Leonardo." I said brightly, curtsying slightly.
"Oh," He seemed surprised but not unpleased, "good afternoon Adalina. My, how you've grown. Found a suitor yet?" Leonardo smiled politely.
I beamed; glad he continued a conversation, "Not one of good taste yet, unfortunately."
"Ah that's too bad." He nodded understandingly, "Do not fret though, a beautiful young lady like yourself will have no trouble finding a fine man."
I giggled quietly. "Thank you very much. I can certainly hope so." I paused, watching him wait patiently for me to finish, though noticed his glances towards the door. "Sir," I started as politely as I could, "May I ask why you are so interested in my brother?" I never was very good at subtly.
Leonardo blinked, looking surprised at my question, "Well," He faltered slightly, "He is the man of the house now. He must uphold the family name. Everyone's taken some interest."
"I noticed," I muttered, wrinkling my nose unhappily, though he didn't seem to notice.
"I'm just here to help continue his studies," Leonardo continued levelly, but there was something in his face that made me not fully believe him.
"Is that what you do with him? Talk about philosophy and beliefs, science and math? Find out how the world works?" I spoke dreamily, "Have you taught him how to paint? Or sculpt? Oh how lovely that must be… Have you discussed your inventions? They always seem so brilliant and intriguing and I've always wanted to try…" I trailed off uneasily.
"My my, you're a curious one," Leonardo chuckled, "But you better keep that cute little head of yours where it belongs. Don't get upset over our work, you need to focus on finding the right noble to wed. Now," He took my hand gently and pressed a kiss to it, a normal gesture, "you run off now, I have to get to Ezio." He patted my head affectionately before striding off towards the meeting room. I was glad he didn't look at me as he left. My face burned red, features twisted up in a terrible, unladylike scowl. I stomped my foot immaturely and gave a loud, aggravated sigh that sounded more like a growl.
I attempted to get more information out of Leonardo about his dealings with Ezio; practically interrogating nanny, Dario, even mother, but it never got me anywhere. I received scoldings for sticking my nose in matters that didn't concern me, or got completely ignored. My mother quickly got upset with my curiousness and seemed much less patient with me once I mentioned anything on the subject.
"Ezio's the man of the house now," She would recite what I heard so many times before, "He is simply continuing on your father's legacy. Leonardo is helping him deal with… family matters."
When I asked her to elaborate, mother would suddenly have something to do and usher me away, or simply yell that it was not my place and I'd get scared out of the room. I continued to confront Leonardo on the matter as well, but that never worked either.
"Only politics," Leonardo explained—though it sounded more like an excuse to me—when I asked him about the "family matters" mother spoke of, "Nothing of interest to a lady like yourself."
I thought about asking Ezio about what he did, maybe even suggest that he teach me as well like he used to when we were children. While I learned to sew, embroider, and other rather dull things to become a good wife, Ezio would learn about languages and math, and occasionally taught me some of what he knew, though we made sure to do it behind our nanny's back. I remember nights he would sneak into my bed with a candle (something nanny would never approve of just because of the fire-hazard) and a book. We hid under the covers, making a tent with our heads bent over a book as he explained concepts. Thinking back, we probably never needed to hide under the covers, but we enjoyed the feeling of secrecy it gave us.
Being on only-speak-to-when-needed terms now, however, I did not quite like my idea and tried many times to ask Ezio, only to chicken out at the last minute and slink away with my head low in defeat. When I did manage to gather enough boldness to face him, it didn't go quite as I hoped it to.
"What do you two do all these hours you lock yourselves away?" I asked, hoping I sounded casual but firm enough to get an answer, though I was disappointed as my voice came out meek and pathetic. I stood in the doorway of the room Leonardo just exited, Ezio still inside messing with something on the table in front of him, his back to me. I waited for Leonardo to get out of ear shot before taking a deep breath and finally speaking. Ezio ignored me for several long moments, continuing to fiddle with the contraption in front of him.
Enough time passed to make me try to bring attention to myself again. "Ezio," I inched forwards into the room. He finally turned his body slightly in my direction, sparing me a glance.
"Go back to your lessons," He replied calmly, his tone even but firm and uninterested in my presence.
Just like father's.
"Lessons are over," I countered in a louder voice, hoping to keep his attention.
"Then go play with Dario." His back was towards me again, tone unchanged.
I snorted despite myself. "Dario doesn't play anymore. Maybe you haven't noticed, but he's too busy trying to be like you to fool around." This seemed to disarm him, as his fiddling momentarily stopped.
"Oh," was all he said for a few moments. I watched him carefully as he seemed to mull over this information, slowly starting to fidget with the object in front of him again. Surprised at his reaction, I wondered if he really hadn't noticed the change in Dario.
When I didn't leave despite the silence he gave me, I finally heard him sigh and put down what he was holding with a loud metallic 'clunk'. "I'm busy Adalina." He turned fully towards me and though this was obvious body language to retreat, I came closer. I saw his frown and smiled myself. My smile faltered as I realized he had grown in the time we hadn't seen much of each other. His height and confident stance were much more intimidating than it had been a year ago. I had to remind myself he was still only seventeen, though my mind betrayed me and pointed out I was a much smaller, weaker sixteen year old.
"I asked a question," I lifted my head up, standing as straight as I could, hoping I looked half as confident as he felt.
"And I told you I'm busy," Ezio replied tersely, his patience obviously thinning.
"That's my point. With what?"
He did not answer, so I inched closer—though was still several feet away from him—and tried to get a look at the object on the table. I managed to see something that looked like a leather gauntlet, but detached from it was some metal object along with smaller parts. It looked as if he was trying to make some contraption and hook it up to the gauntlet. Before I glanced anything more, Ezio strode up to me and grabbed my shoulders. He spun me around and effortlessly pushed me back out into the hall. His strength was amazing, though he was careful not to grab me roughly. I took some comfort in that. The moment Ezio released my shoulders I spun around crossly but he already seized both doors. He paused once his body blocked all view into the room and looked down at me carefully. I faced him squarely with an indignant frown.
"Do not stick your nose in things that do not concern you." Ezio stated sternly. "As I said, I'm busy. You will leave me alone." He began to shut the doors.
He spoke just like father. He acted just like him too. I felt tears pricking my eyes, "You're always busy!" I shouted while stomping my foot, feeling like a five year old. He paused while I continued. "You don't have time for us anymore, you barely even talk to us! How could you not even notice your little brother striving to be just like you? You didn't notice how much he changed? And he's not the only one! Ezio," I stared at him pleadingly, "what happened?"
Ezio returned my stare levelly, hiding his emotions well, if he was feeling anything at all. "Do not cry. It is weak." Was all he said. He spoke coldly, firmly, but turned his eyes to the ground before shutting the doors. Maybe it was in shame that made him turn his eyes, but I was probably just fooling myself.
My lips quivered and throat burned as I sniffed back tears. "The Ezio who was my brother is dead." I whispered harshly at him while there was still a crack in the door. "All that's left is some boy pretending to be his father."
I heard his hands clench the doors harder than needed. And for one terrible moment, I thought he would throw open the doors and beat me until I could never speak again. But some of the old Ezio was still there and instead he slammed the doors shut with a foreboding bang that echoed into the hall, bouncing off the painted walls and straight into my heart.
I stayed in front of the doors for several minutes, body racked with tears and fear of something that never happened. I know he heard me, because he made sure to make very loud clanking and banging sounds.
I had gone too far and I knew it. But I would pay the price.
Some may say it was lucky that my price was not physical. He never touched me, he even avoided all contact with me whatsoever, going as far as to sit the farthest seat away from me during dinners the entire family attended. I think what he did to me was far worse. We hadn't talked much since father died, but now he never talked to me period. He never touched me, not a brush of shoulders as we passed; he did his best to not even look at me. If I was the subject of some conversation, he would ignore the comments or quickly change subjects, even if I stood not three feet away. If people asked of his family, he never mentioned having a sister.
If mother noticed she did a good job hiding it. Nanny did notice, but I never heard her confronting anyone about it. Sometimes I hated her for that, but I really didn't blame her for not doing anything. Ezio frightened anyone of opposing opinions. I did notice Ezio taking more notice in Dario though, something I took some comfort in, which made Dario infinitely happy. Too happy to notice my problems.
I couldn't believe Ezio's complete rejection of me, and I found myself crying even more than I did when father died. I threw myself into anything I did; completed scores of fancy embroidery, stealing charcoal from the fire place and drawing elaborate designs on my walls, learned how to balance a household perfectly in any scenario nanny came up with. Each step I took became deliberate, something I put all my concentration onto. I constantly focused every fiber of my being into something other than my feelings or Ezio. Nanny was impressed. In fact, everyone was. Nanny told me how I finally started attracting some noble suitors, people who were previously uninterested in me once they realized how much I talked and my spirit for learning and dream to be my own person. I wasn't happy, but I became successful in what a woman should be.
Ezio did not have to spend long attempting to ignore my existence though because soon Leonardo started taking him away days, weeks at a time until finally he was practically living with the genius. I still never found out what they were doing, though I found Ezio growing increasingly stronger, more agile, and even quieter. He continuously snuck up on people, making no sound what so ever, causing them to jump when they noticed him and drop whatever they were holding. He would deftly catch the object before it shattered and continue walking with a growing smirk.
His absences lengthened each time, and I could not help but wonder if it was because of me. I saw even less of my once brother when potential suitors started courting me. Again, I threw myself into the task and tried to represent my family the best I could, showing how good a wife I could be. It wasn't long until my mother had to choose between several noble men who asked for my hand in marriage. I had no choice in the matter, but the man my mother finally choose was a polite, pleasant man only about eight years older than me. I was lucky my family wasn't in a financial problem; else mother most likely would have wed me to the rich, odious fifty year old man.
Before I knew it I was in my wedding procession to be officially handed off to my new husband, Alfonso. It was one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life. Traditionally, I should have been handed off to Alfonso by my father, but Ezio now had to represent him as—like everyone consistently reminded me—Ezio was the man of the house now. He did not look me in the eye, though I thought I saw him glance regretfully at my fancy attire, as if not wanting any of this to happen, but he said nothing. He only held my arm as much as was customary, and simply gave a curt nod to Alfonso once we reached him under the loud happy and sad cries of the crowd. He melted back into the crowd after that. He either stayed out of my sight, or left the premise completely. Either way, my wedding day was not as happy as my female acquaintances had told me it would be.
I joined my husband in his household several cities away from my own, so needless to say I saw no more of Ezio. Sometimes I thought I saw his tall, confident form in a crowd with his distinct stride, but I was never sure and he would soon disappear within the masses. My other family members would occasionally visit, or I'd go to see them, or we would meet again at some get together. Dario tried to visit more as the years went on, but he was growing up and got continuously busier until he finally started a family himself.
Years passed by, some feeling like days and others like centuries. I continued living with Alfonso and am lucky to say I was content. He was a kind man who knew how to handle himself as well as others as the situation called for. He never hit me past the norm, and he stayed usually pleased with me as I continued with throwing myself into my task. He was even more pleased when our first child was a beautiful boy. My family came to visit a year after his birth, as he was gratefully still alive, and congratulated me and fawned over him as seemed fit.
Ezio did not come.
Alfonso and I continued a content life as I continued to produce children. Our first child, Aldo, surprisingly lived with good enough health as the years passed, though our second and third children never saw their first birthday. My family came to me again during the losses, reminding me to not get attached to a child until he was at least five, but comforted me anyway.
Ezio never showed.
Our fourth child, to Alfonso's pleasure, was another son. He was shaky in the beginning, contracting sicknesses continuously, but ultimately continued to live like his brother. I was proud of myself, and rightfully so, because I not only produced the sons my husband wanted, but continued to run the household with great ease. I was a very good wife, and people told me so, though my childhood ambitions still lingered. I wished to learn, but never could. Sometimes I was happy, but most of my married life I settled for being content, something most of my acquaintances couldn't say.
I had a fifth child, but she died in birth, almost taking me with her. Luckily I had a wonderful nurse maid and though I was sick for weeks, I did recover. Some of my strength never came back, and my body became much weaker much more easily, but I was alive. The experience was frightening; first seeing my small, blue, unmoving child slide from my body, never hearing a cry, and then the fevers, hallucinations, fainting and vomiting that lasted weeks. It was awful; I swore I was going to die if I wasn't already dead. I couldn't move, sometimes I could barely speak, and other times I stopped breathing. Those weeks are only hazy memories now, but I think Leonardo came to visit and helped me recover.
As far as I remember, Ezio still never came.
I thought for sure he would come when everyone thought I was on my death bed. I thought that much of my brother was still there, but apparently I was wrong. Sometimes I gave him the benefit of the doubt: he may have been away and never got the news. Other times I wondered if my brother still existed.
I thought about trying to find him. I even asked my mother about him, but she would only reply that he rarely visited her and other than those visits, she had no idea where he went. Dario said the same. They did wonder what he did and where he went, but they seemed much more at ease with it than I was. Then again, they were still speaking to him, so they had nothing to worry about.
So I let it go. It took some time, but I finally accepted I would die without hearing from him again. I tried to make sure I held no grudge, for that felt wrong, but my emotions never fully let go.
I, however, would see him again. Under the worst circumstances possible.
It was late in the evening. I visited the children's room to help their nanny tuck them in, and was then headed to meet my husband to sleep. I walked slowly down the halls, my back aching and tired, my ankles swollen and barely bending, for I was once more swollen with child. We did not need another, but things happen when you don't expect them to. I would learn that again tonight.
I toddled pathetically towards our room, but paused. I heard a light thump and low talking, muffled by the walls. I continued towards our room, where the noise seemed to be coming from. The talking got louder and I recognized Alfonso's voice, though it was more frenzied than normal. I toddled faster. There was another voice, one I couldn't quite place. I couldn't make out the words, which only scared me more. Suddenly there was a clatter, then silence, then a heart stopping thump.
Gasping from fear and exertion of attempting to run to the room now, I wrenched the doors open so hard they bounced off the wall and smacked back into place. It didn't occur to me to hide, or call the guards, who were taking off downstairs anyway. I barged loudly in but took in the scene in silence. A strange man in white and red clothing snapped his head up towards me in surprise, still hunched over my husband, who laid on the floor with blood pouring from his neck, eyes rolling unfocusedly in their sockets. He made terrible gurgling sounds, coughed and sputtered out blood. A shriek caught in my throat, not completely able to come out as I started to make similar sounds. I hurried over to Alfonso, pain forgotten, and fell heavily to the floor beside him, completely ignoring the strange man. I barely noticed him step away from my poor husband's body and move slowly towards the window.
"Alfonso," I found my voice, though it was a throaty, cracking whisper. "Alfonso, sweety, it'll be fine, just stay with me, stay with me, I'm right here—" I babbled breathlessly, taking his head in one hand while trying to stop the bleeding of his neck with the other. Alfonso's eyes rolled painfully in my direction though they still looked unfocused. He opened his mouth, only managing to sputter more blood out.
"Don't—don't! Shh, it'll be fine," I blinked back tears, Alfonso's hand reaching uneasily towards mine. He gripped it weakly. "Alfonso, Alfonso, no—stay with me, you can do it—" He blood covered lips formed an uneasy but knowing smile. I felt my tears starting as I stared at him, lips quivering. "Damn it! Alfonso--!"
"Adalina," He whispered after coughing more blood from his mouth. His grip loosened, and though he looked like he had more to say, his hand suddenly went limp. I caught it before it fell, watching his eyes go blank and roll into the back of his head. I started babbling again through my cries, pulling his hand to my face while patting his, as if doing so would bring him back. I gasped and sobbed, staring down at him, at the blood, and continued to stutter incoherently.
I abruptly sucked back all my tears and spun around, suddenly remembering the other man. He stood near a window, as if ready to jump but suddenly uncertain. I didn't understand why he didn't run while he could, but I didn't care. I clambered to my feet and advanced on him. "You!" I hissed, "You killed him. He was a good man! He has children! He didn't need to die!" My voice rose as I continued, but the man simply stood there, turned slightly more towards me. I seized a vase, the only thing in arms reach, and glared at him hysterically through my tears. "He didn't need to die!" I repeated using all my strength to swing the vase at his face, but he caught my wrists before I made contact. He held them in one, large, calloused hand, and though I struggled with both my arms his grip never faltered. He lifted his arm slightly higher so I couldn't struggle as well, so instead I shot a kick at his shins, but it was pathetic in my pregnant state and I only accomplished throwing myself off balance. He grip tightened and he righted me effortlessly with one hand. I continued to fight, sobbing and grunting between high pitched growls of anger and frustration, but nothing worked.
The man suddenly grabbed my chin with his free hand and lifted it up. I felt his eyes on mine, though I couldn't see his because of a white hood pulled over his face and the shadows of the dimly lit room. Even so, I did my best to make my fury filled eyes pierce through the shadows, wanting him to feel all the anger, frustration and devastation I felt. To my annoyance, he didn't seem to see as all he did was turn my head this way and that, as if getting a good look at me. He released my chin gently after a moment, and tentatively pushed the hair from my face. I wrenched my head back and shook it in defiance, fear not registering amidst everything else. He pulled his hand back, paused, then reached up towards his hood. His large hand hovered centimeters from grabbing the white material I wished to rip off his head, but he suddenly stopped, as if deciding against it, and let his hand fall back down.
His eyes must have followed, because his hand stopped to reach over at my bulging stomach. "Don't touch her!" I suddenly shrieked, thrashing away from his touch. I don't know why I said "her", though I secretly did wish to have a daughter. But I knew I didn't want him touching anywhere near my unborn baby; he would kill her too. "You killed him," I repeated, tears streaming down my face, "You killed him…" My strength started to leave me as I sobbed, my head bent low. I felt his hand on my face again, gently guiding it up and I didn't protest. I shut my eyes in disgust as I felt his thumb brush across my face, wiping away a tear.
"Do not cry. It is weak."
For a moment I cried harder simply because he said not to, until his words sunk in. I suddenly went quiet, knowing where I heard those words before. The last words my brother spoke to me willingly. I looked slowly up at him, searching for emotion in his lower face as the rest was hidden. His jaw was clenched nervously, lips in a thin, unforgiving line. As I stared up at him, eyes wide in realization I didn't want, a small, abashed smile formed on his lips. Less of a smile really, and more of a twitch of the lip.
My mouth formed the word several times before I actually spoke it. "E-Ezio…?" His head inclined slightly and the twitch grew more abashed. I felt my legs wobble as my hands loosened around the vase I still held near his face. "No," I whispered, shaking my head. He simply nodded. Fresh tears came to my eyes as he loosened his grip on my wrists. The vase fell from my hands and, in almost slow motion, came crashing to the ground, shattering into thousands of piece. I felt myself doing the same.
He released my wrists only to catch me by the shoulders as my legs threatened to give out. His twitch of a smile quickly left to be replaced by a guilty frown, jaw still tightly clenched. Neither of us cared about the shards of porcelain scattered haphazardly around us, as I was preoccupied with trying to not suffocate on my sobs. I babbled quietly but pathetically between uncontrolled breaths, muttering about not understanding, not believing. Ezio stayed silent, awkwardly supporting me by the shoulders as my own hands went between rubbing at my face and hitting his chest and shoulders weakly. Though I meant to pound on him and beat all my anger out on him, my confused, weak state caused my hands to do little more than flick around him as if attempting to scare a bug away.
Ezio took a small, cautious step towards me to close the gap between us and when I gave no response he tentatively wrapped his arms around my small shoulders. I leaned in against him, grabbing the rough material of his vest. For a moment, I was happy to have someone supporting me as I sobbed, glad that it was my brother who seemed to have forgiven me. Then the next moment I abhorred the thought. He may have forgiven me for whatever words I said that may have offended him all those years ago, but I had no reason to forgive him for killing my husband. I managed enough strength to curl my hands into fists and pound his chest before roughly pushing away and shooting him a glare.
I suspected he was waiting for such a response, as he let me push through his arms before raising them up in what was supposed to be a comforting and harmless way. I took several steps back, never letting my glare waver from where his eyes should have been. "Get out." I hissed, fury getting the best of me, "go crawling back to wherever you've been hiding all these years and never show your filthy, murderous face here again!" When he did not move I shrieked at him, "Leave!" To make my point, I turned my back to him and kneeled gracelessly on the floor by my husband's corpse. I looked once more into Alfonso's blank eyes before almost wishing I hadn't and ran my hand across his eyes bringing his eyelids with it. I tenderly moved his arms so his hands lay folded peacefully on his chest.
"Adalina," I never heard him approach but Ezio's voice hung awkwardly in the air just behind me. My stomach flipped as he spoke my name, something I hadn't heard in a while, though my chest tightened as I also wanted to make him never be able to say it again. "I did not kno—"
"It figures," I interrupted him, happy that he immediately stopped, "that the only time you've come to see me is to murder your brother-in-law." I continued to stare at the body, hearing a slight, uncomfortable shuffle behind me. Silence fell thickly, and though I was more than happy to continue it, Ezio broke it in his deep voice of a full grown man I never met, though even now he reminded me of our father.
"Why were we even fighting, Adalina?" His voice was soft, and I couldn't figure out if he meant it as a test or if he really didn't remember.
"I was not the one fighting." I replied swiftly, still not looking at him, "You simply ignored me, all because of a few words." His silence made me decide that he remembered exactly what I had said once I refreshed his memory.
"That was so long ago," He finally replied after another long pause.
"And you haven't spoken to me since." I snapped.
"But I am now. Certainly we can start again—"
" 'Start again'?" I almost laughed, this time turning to look at him, "If you had asked me that yesterday I would more than happily agree, but what do you expect from me after this!"
I saw his jaw clench and mouth form a hard line before he inclined his head down in what I hoped was guilt. I clambered to my feet once more, watching him uncertainly.
"What do you want from me, Ezio?" I whispered dejectedly, "You don't know how long I have been waiting for you to stop hating me—"
"I never hated you!" His head suddenly shot up, sounding offended.
"You have a funny way of showing it!" I shot back, before sighing and rubbing my eyes which now itched from tears. "You can't think everything will be okay now. Maybe if it was just from our fight… but murdering my husband will never be okay."
I watched as he opened his mouth as if to explain, but he soon shut it once more and instead nodded sorrowfully. "We will never be okay." It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway. He sighed, "I understand." After a moment, he added quietly, "I do not blame you."
"I wish it were different." I replied, turning away from him once more and feeling more tears threaten my eyes. I wiped irritably at them, waiting to hear some sign of Ezio's leave but was surprised as his arms quickly wrapped around me. For a moment, I thought he would kill me too and I could almost feel the cold blade cutting through my warm skin.
Instead, he pressed his lips into my hair. He had no difficulty with this, as his height set his head well above mine. I decided not to move, wanting to keep my unforgivable fury at him obvious, hoping guilt would follow him for the rest of his days. My angry resolve melted as he whispered with both care and sorrow, "I love you." It sounded so final, like the slam of a coffin lid, I couldn't stand it. I twisted around in his loosened arms and grabbed him around the neck, hugging him tightly.
I felt his cheek on my head as I replied barely loud enough to hear, "I loved you too." I wasn't quiet sure why I used past tense, but it felt right and I felt no need to correct myself. I think it hurt Ezio, for at once his arms loosened and I felt more than heard him sigh. I pulled back slightly to move my hands so they held the back of his head, thumbs sliding gently across his cheeks, just as I would do to my children. I stared up at him, unsure how I felt or what I expected, though I still could see nothing except a slight glint of his eyes and his sadly frowning lips. I pulled him down to brush a kiss across his cheek, wetting his cheek with my tears, before giving him one last hug. I quickly let go of him and he did the same though a bit more reluctantly. Once free, he set silently out towards the window, stepping out of it effortlessly before turning himself so as to start his climb back down. He paused with one last glance at me and with the lights of the city and moon, I finally saw his eyes. Despite the hardened appearance I was surprised but ultimately glad that they still seemed to be the eyes of my brother. I gave him a slight smile despite myself, which he returned in more of a quirk of the lips, before I turned to face my husband's body. I heard Ezio's boots scuffing against the wall quietly and did not move until the sound faded completely. I fell to my knees, hands covering my eyes in a fresh wave of tears. Now I had lost both Ezio as well as Alfonso.
Although my mind did not register it then, it was not long before someone finally came in to inspect the noise. It had been my children's nanny, who had (as I found out later) assumed I was only arguing with Alfonso and she hadn't wanted to get in the way. She was mortified at what she found, though I did not tell her, nor anyone after, about Ezio.
But life went on. Mourning came and went, though I kept an eye on my children in hopes I could stop anything from happening between them like what had happened to my siblings. True to our implications, Ezio disappeared from my life once more as I finally let it drop. I never did meet him again fully, though at times I felt piercing eyes watching me, and my children told me stories of catching glimpses of what they could only describe as a solid looking ghost watching over them. My sixth child did turn out to be a girl, and I received gifts and congratulations with her as with all my other children. Unlike the other children's gifts, I found a particularly odd one. A small dagger specifically made for a woman's use that came with the note: 'For when spirit and stubbornness aren't enough.' followed by an elaborately written:
E
finito
.X.