Hey, ummm if you are one of my readers you are probably going to kill me because you got the notification of a story you might not even be interested on. I'm sorry SOO readers, I promise Ill get a ne chapter out as soon as I can! Also, check MY DA page if you haven't. More ART for Black Waters ofc.
So anyway, for those who are interested, you might have noticed this is my fist AS fic, hope you like this story! Well, if you like crude stories THEN YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE! Sit back and enjoy the ride!
I don't own Assassin´s Creed!
Assassin´s Creed Brotherhood:
War to Insolence
Prologue:
The sky had never look so dark before, even for a night sky in Roma. The clouds had engulfed the stars and the moon, but it was raining no more; I could barely see where I was going. Still, the sound of my boots clapping against the asperous roof tiles was almost comforting, a sign that I wouldn't fall off to my nearest death any time soon.
Yes, even in the worst of my predicaments I had learned that there was always something I had to be grateful of. But that night, vengeance was my only hunger.
I was hopping from roof to roof covered with awful gashes here and there. Wounds my own comrades had inflicted. My bleached out Assassin uniform was stained with blood, ink and mud.
I cursed Ezio under my breath, his family and his creed. The traitor had taken my most precious treasure away from me, ditching it six feet under, hoping to leave Roma and the Brotherhood as if nothing had happen. Fottuto bastardo.
His assassins' were on my heels; some of them were already waiting ahead, but I ignored them all, tucking away from their blades and running for dear life. Avoiding familiar faces, shame and pride.
Ezio was tailing me, he was nowhere to be seen on plain sight but I knew it, I just knew it. I was also aware I would never match the "old man's" strength and skill. He had far too much experience in the art of shipping coffins all over the place. And besides, a broken crossbow and two smoke bombs were not going to save my life.
I jumped to the next roof and risked a glance at my persecutors, to my surprise; the assassins were gone in a heartbeat, just like the stars and the moon.
"Get back to the hide out." His voice came from behind; an incisive tone that cut through silence. I spun around into a fighting stance, fists first due to the lack of murder equipment. There he stood, wearing his white robes, hood draped over his head as usual. "I'm a patient man Baldocci, at least with my brothers and sisters, but I'm already tired of your childish games. You are the only one to make me go this far..."
Anger and disbelief were building up inside me, yet, I couldn't hold the laughter.
"Wait a minute. So you - you told the others to fallback because you think THIS is a joke?" I dropped my stance, arms falling limply to my sides as I circled around him. "Well, guess what Maestro? I'm not going back to your stupid hideout. In fact, you can take all of those assassin ethics of yours and shove them up your-"
"Valentina, per l'amoredi dio, just give me the apple!" He snapped, even temper faltering.
"Oh, you want it back?" My body was trembling, not with fear. "Then, let's make a trade… give me back hat you took away, my life and dignity. Come on, put them all here." I gestured, opening my arms widely. "Oh wait… you can't can you?"
His lips twitched and his hands balled into fists, almost remorsefully… almost. There were many comebacks he could have used against me –l had never been a person of golden rules, or rules for any matter–, instead he said -
"You had none to begin with…"
Tears tried to gather in my eyes. I looked away –taking a deep breath to suck them in–, even when my hood was covering my face. Then, I stepped closer looking into the abyss inside his hood. I was greeted with an unfriendly pair of butterscotch eyes that could have burned through anything.
"I'll tell you what." I sniffed. "You'll take the apple… sul mio cadavere… Over my dead body." I repeated softly, before walking past him.
"Why can't you understand what I've done for you and the Brotherhood?" I ignored his question and pulled myself up to the next roof. "What do think you'll achieve with all of this?"
Out of pure insolence, I took out the apple from beneath my robe and showed it to him. The shiny sphere illuminated part of my face and the heavy, dull atmosphere around, sending stripes of light in all directions, warmth coming right from its core. "There are lots of stupid greedy leaders out in this world… One of them might be able to kill you."
"Is that what you really want…?"
"You know what I really want."
"Very well then… You service to the Brotherhood will always be remembered."
Ezio raised a fist and twisted his arm, my eyes widened. Before I could react, a knife –that came out of thin air– pierced right through the right side of my chest.
"Maledetto ! Are you out of your mind?" I snapped painfully, pressing a palm around the knife´s hilt. The only answer I got back was another knife, this one landed on my left thigh. Another pained shriek came out of my throat, forcing me to curl to find some strength. Fingers clenching miserably to my knees, despite the pain, I refused to drop the apple.
I looked up at him venomously; jaw tight as I gritted my teeth. A small part of me had been holding on to the silly possibilities of survival and mercy, the part of me that had always been afraid of Ezio´s priorities. But I wasn't about to start begging just because of that. Was Ezio even capable of-
He raised his hand again, this time, showing a palm to his assassins, wherever they were. Then, he turned to me. "This is your last chance." He sighed. "I don't want to do this."
I smirked, but the smile never reached my eyes –he would have noticed if I had pulled down my hood. "Make sure you do the dirty work yourself. Aim for the head, Mentor." I spat bitterly.
He scowled, flexing his fingers, brushing the tips on the knives hanging on his belt. Muscles tensed. The clouds had started to dissipate and the moon peeked out behind him, big and orange, it stole my attention for a few seconds. Even when my heart was drumming so hard I could feel it hanging down my throat.
His hands moved swiftly, I didn't even have the time to close my eyes or pray, well I wasn't the type of person that prayed anyway.
The knife cut through air with a dry sound. However, he ignored my suggestion and aimed for my right arm –the one holding the apple. I cried again and the sphere slipped away from my fingers.
Lacking the strength to keep my feet underneath my body, I teetered. Eyes struggling to keep focused; I had lost too much blood by then. I took a step back, trying to avoiding falling off the building head first. But it was all for nothing, I leaned too much and the rest was gravity`s fault, pulling down on one of my sides, landing over the cold, hard floor with my back.
Something crunched upon impact, and I cursed loudly. My right leg had shattered. I pressed my arm over my eyes and cursed again and again and again. The sound of something rolling over the cobbled floor reached my ears and then, the apple bumped onto one of my shoulders; there it was in all its glory, so close and yet… Ezio descended, picking it up.
He tucked it inside one of the hidden pockets of his robe and crouched beside me. I looked up at him, eyes half closed and panting; the sound of agony coming out from my lungs, a sound that called death. I had heard it for at least eight years.
He scooped an arm beneath my back and I whimpered, his sad eyes met my fearful ones. The hidden blade strapped to his arm glittering in the night as it peeked out from his sleeve, its menacing tip pointing at my throat. The scene playing before my eyes was too familiar to deny what was going to happen next, it all became predictable.
"Requiescat in pace." It made me thought of all the people we had killed, and my body tensed as many thoughts rushed through my head, too fast to catch up with all of them. Back in the years of the Brotherhood, whenever I felt unsafe, I would think of Ezio. He was the time of guy that could find a solution to anything. Whenever I was about to get killed, it was ok because I knew Ezio would show up. But now, was this the solution he had come up with?
Despite he was prepared to kill anyone that stood in his way; he kept the blade in place. Soon enough, he was frowning, doubting. Why did I steal the apple again? The answer came with a sudden rush of cold air. Ahh… that's right.
I lifted a trembling hand up to his waist; it felt heavy so I clawed my fingers to his robe even though they wouldn't stop jerking. It took him aback; giving me a pitiful look. He opened his mouth to say something, but I never gave him the opportunity to say anything.
I pulled out the poisoned knife I kept under my sleeve and dug it deep. Ezio hissed, staring down at me in disbelief.
"T-Together, brother." I gasped. He pulled away, jumping to his feet and teetering back to a wall for support. My vision started to blur, but I was able to distinguish how his assassins started to gather around him. A broken crossbow and two smoke bombs were not going to save my life, but a poisoned knife would surely steal his…
Chapter 1: Hunting the Fox
It all began eight years ago, when I was just a reckless and ambitious woman that lived her life stomping over other peoples´ back without caring about their age, gender or economic status. Still, you might have noticed I haven't changed that much, have I?
Anyhow, before starting with the story, I`ll warn you, every time I tell it people always find something to frown upon – specially about the stuff I used to do when I was younger. But whatever let us begin…
I was a young lady at that time, –a beautiful one, may I add but a fool. A twenty-two years old fool that spent her days taking advantage of people like the butcher`s boy, or the shy girl next door, a real bully. The Roman citizens were already suffering the Borgias´ abuse, their minds were weak and they had little confidence in themselves, and to make it even worst, I was among them, scum of scum.
You would see me walking through the darkest of alleyways –day or night; it did not matter–, light brown eyes sparkling with boldness, a brunette with messy, tangled hair put in a bun. Wearing the same dirty puff sleeved shirt, skirt and boots.
At my back, two of the biggest thugs of the city, Aldo and Mauro, living proof that people could be ugly and stupid at the same time. Whatever authority they thought I had was merely an illusion the Borgias created without noticing, a few coins and Cesare´s dogs were all yours to use at will.
Unfortunately, my little empire had been built over pillars of sand and I was kicked out of my stacked boxes throne from one day to another. Still, it all started like any other day.
"Antonio, my favorite twat!" I sang. Mauro grabbed the nineteen year old boy from the collar of his shirt and slammed his back against the brick wall. Antonio yelped at the impact and gave me a freaked out smile when I showed up from behind his aggressor.
"V-Va-Valentina, you look splendid today!" He lied with honey-coated tone.
"Oh, it must be the hat." I grinned, touching the pointy tip of the leather hat we had stolen from a steward a few days ago. "But that's not the point." I took off the hat and shoved it into Mauro´s hands. "It has been three weeks since we last saw each other, so, where is my money? Have you been avoiding me?"
"N-No! Of course not! I would never-" I pulled him from his shirt, forcing Mauro to let him go and pressing forehead against forehead.
"Now, now, don't you even think about lying to me you little rat." I threatened, digging my nails on one of his shoulders.
"P-Please, don't hurt me!" He stammered. "I'm still raising the money, it difficult with so many Borgias in sight."
"Listen to me; I want it for tomorrow… All of it." Those last three worst rolled off my tongue with sweet venom. "If you don't, I'll hang you from the tallest flagpole of the city with your underwear. That or my name isn't Valentina Baldocci. Capisci? "
"Ah, yes, yes, yes, yes. Grazie, Valentina, grazie, grazie!" His head bounced up and down stupidly.
I dusted off my hands with a scowl. "Aldo, show him the way out."
The man grunted and pulled Antonio off the floor, grabbing the back of his shirt and pants to throw him to a pile of boxes and flour sacks. The quetch of an angry cat reached my ears, and I saw particles of flour from the corner of my eye as we walked out of the alley. Blending with the crowd of the streets.
The sound of horses and chattering always made me feel better, Mauro and Aldo didn't talk that much, I always made most of the talking, but that was ok. At least I didn't have to hear their brainless comments all day.
A woman offered me a basket of apples for just a few jacks, but I faked a smile and refused politely. The best thing about my "business" was that only those people that looked for me knew who I really was. And man, if you knew me, then you were in some deep shit.
We kept walking down the steep cobbled street; it was the last troll around the city before lunch, after that, we would all depart to take care of our own business until sunset; it had always been that way. With no clients or motivations, there was nothing else to do.
Borgia soldiers riding their stallions looked at us as we passed by; I snorted and turned on my heel as soon one of their faces turned out to be a familiar one. That particular soldier gave me a sideway look and gestures us to follow them, we did –from a considerable distance of course.
We zigzagged around the city until reaching a deserted street. The soldier took a small leather pouch that jingled when he threw it at me; meanwhile, his companions waited ahead –not oblivious to what sort of deal was taking place.
I took a look inside the pouch, upon close inspection, 60 florins. I gestured Mauro to give him what he wanted with a tilt of my head, the thug took out an even smaller pouch and gave it to the soldier.
"Il migliore you´ll find in town. A mix of spices that would have any witch sucking the dick of their gods." I assured him with a grin. Then, I looked at his companions, "… Just make sure it's actually a god."
The soldier snorted, tipping his beret to me before trotting away on his horse, he became a silhouette in the distance. That same picture reminded me how important that day was.
"Aldo, what time is it?" I asked a little too harsh. The huge man took out a stolen pocket watch and flipped it open.
"One forty five." The man grumbled.
"Merda! I – Err- Have things to do! I`ll see you later!" I dithered. "Let's meet again at sunset, by the docks!" I said, waving an arm as I ran to the main quarter of the city.
Again, the streets were crowded with people. Younglings running around , chasing each other with wooden swords, minstrels singing songs of voyages to the end of the world, bums teetering from one side to another as they hugged and sang along, heralds prophesizing shit –as always– and stableboys brushing the mares.
I shouldered my way through the street. Knocking off one of the bums and making the harmonious melody coming out of the lute go out of tune when said bum, slumped over one of the singers. The cacophonic sound of the lute startled the mares and the stableboys did their best to calm them down while the younglings laughed at the sight.
Despite all being my fault I took no matter, I wasn't going to be late for THAT. I tucked one of my hands into my pocket while keeping the pace. When I pulled out my hand again; I couldn't help but grin at the engagement ring resting on the palm of my hand.
Marriage had never crossed my mind, especially with the type of life I was living. But then, I met Jacques Renard, a handsome twenty-four years old French trader whose beauty could kill a lesbian. Long jet black hair to his waist, green eyes, pale skin and the sharpest features I had ever seen, inhumanly sharp!
I had met the guy out of pure luck, having just stolen one of the finest dresses a mid-class girl could afford. I was curious about how I would look like as one of them, at least just once in my life; so I slipped into the dress and even combed my hair that day.
He was riding his impetuous black stallion near the central market when he saw me passing by, if I had been dressed the way I always did I would probably had caused him repulsion or pity.
But no, upon that day, I started to steal dresses more often and kept my life as a low life to myself. Jacques confessed being the prestigious owner of a vineyard in Lyon, his hometown, something I wasn't surprised to hear by the way he dressed, talked and the healthy shine of his hair. That sort of people was likely swimming around money.
Jacques had come to Roma only for business, but time flew and he would come and go whenever shipping the wine was impossible, well, that's what he would say. It was difficult to believe it when the "problem" persisted for a year and a half.
Upon his last visit he proposed to me and I accepted, however, it wasn't his charming personality neither his beauty that attracted me like any of the other girls. It was the money, the sweet, gorgeous pile of money he sat upon. I had the man wrapped around my little fingers.
Greedy, no? Perhaps it was my nature, perhaps it wasn't…
Once I go to the main quarter, I jumped over an empty casket of wine the neighbors kept near the wall and climbed over the roof –with difficulty, I was never an athlete– to sneak through Lucca the Madman´s window.
Lucca was my big brother, a twenty-five year old man that had been rightfully tagged as a nutcase by the people of the city. And to be honest, if there was someone – anyone I feared, that was Lucca.
It might sound cruel to say I liked him more when he thought he was a pirate riding the seas, looking for treasures while I was his loyal buccaneer. But the truth was the in his five sense, the man was cruel, vicious, egocentric – and certainly dangerous. He had kicked me out of the house about four months ago and almost beat me up to death, saying I had put poison in his food. Which is ridiculous, I would have found a more painful way if I wanted to kill him.
Anyhow, I had stolen a bunch of dresses and kept them in store inside one of the wooden, rotten, unused closets we had had home, but that was before Lucca kicked me out. Now every time I wanted to see Jacques, I had to sneak inside, snatch one of the dresses and run for dear life before he knew I was even there.
That or hope he was suffering one of his hallucinations while I was there, which made him friendlier than a gay, drunken bum under the effects of weed. I would have taken all the dresses with me if I had a place to sleep.
I quickly found the closet and threw one of the many dresses over my shoulder while taking a pair of slippers; I was looking for a hairbrush when I heard footsteps at the other side of the door. My first reaction was locking the door. In my head, I was wishing he would say something like, YOHO YOHO a pirates´ life for me! But instead-
"Sweet sister, is that you?" Venom leaking out from his voice. I pressed my lips together and gulped. Whenever Lucca used the words sweet and sister in that specific order it meant things were going to end pretty bad.
I didn't answer; actually, I bit my tongue just to make sure not even the slightest sound would leave my lips. At the other side of the door, it was the same, silent, silent as dea-
A dry sound of wood against metal made me yelp, and wood splinters flew around as the axe crushed the door a second time.
"I see you now, sweet sister!" Lucca laughed from the other side, his long golden locks peeking out from the hole as he shot a sinister look with his deadly blue eyes. Without thinking twice, I jumped out from the nearest window and onto the crowded streets again. I could have sworn hearing him curse in the distance.
I stopped running when my lungs and legs couldn't take it anymore; I plopped on an empty bench and rested my head on the wall, taking as much air as I could. My body was starting to relax, but my eyes locked on the solar clock at the other side of the park, my eyes narrowed. Two fifteen.
I jumped to my feet and trotted to a dark alley. Today, Jaqcues was going back to France; the wedding was in three months, which meant he had to do some arrangements back at Lyon. Then, he would come back and take me with him.
I would be out of this hideous city, out of my denigrating life. No more deals, no more threatening, no more Borgias, no more crazy relatives, no more idiotic thugs, no more Borgias, no more stealing, no more hunger, no more Borgias!
But of course, no one knew I was leaving or that I was in relationship in the first place, trust me, it was better that way. Lucca was too selfish; he would try to find a way to ruin everything just to anchor me to his own misery. Mauro and Aldo were idiots but I knew they wouldn't be happy if their leader disappeared from one day to another, who would run the business when they barely knew how to count?
I peeked out from the alley for an instant and looked around, a grin tugged from lips when three Borgia soldiers appeared around the corner. I tried calling their attention with a low whistle, one of them turned to me and I gestured him to get closer.
The soldier looked back at his companions and grinned while pointing me with a thumb; they exchanged a few words and laughed. I scowled; the guy had definitely misunderstood my action. Nonetheless, the soldier fixed his beret before sauntering towards me, wearing the most exaggerated, pathetic, and stupefied smile I had ever seen.
"Hey, darling." He raised a brow, pressing a palm on the wall. "What can I do for you?"'
I gave him a mocking smile before cupping my hand near his ear to whisper something. He looked at me with a combination of disbelief and disappointment.
"Are you serious?" His features hardened; proof that I had just smacked his ego pretty damn hard.
I took out a few florins from the pouch I had gotten earlier and threw the coins to the air before catching them back, giving him a reassuring nod.
"So? Who is it then?" He sighed, turning back to the crowded streets, eyes fixed on the fruit stall down at the corner with the bunch of costumers.
I leaned on my toes. "The guy with the brown waist coat." I chirped, the man had just bought a basket full with all sort of fruits, from grapes to oranges and berries. The solider snatched the coins from my hand pathetically and gestured his companions to follow the costumer before he could do the same.
I stepped back into the shadows of the alleyway once again, knocking off my boots and putting on the ocher slippers that had once belonged to Mother, while humming a song I had heard from a foreign minstrel once.
Making sure the alley was dark enough; I took off my clothes and slipped into the dress –ocher as well. By that point, someone was yelling at the opposite side of the alley, but I kept humming, humming and then singing.
Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi, le deluge, after me comes the flood
Then I started combing my hair with my fingers as the dry sound of flesh against flesh resounded in the darkness.
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, It's not my choice
I hid my old rags inside an abandoned cargo box, and then I skittered towards the darkness, dancing, singing towards the sobs and pleads that could be heard in the darkness.
I must go on stan-stan-ding-ding
You can't, can't break that, that
Which isn't, isn't yours, yours
I'm not, not my own, own
It's not, not my choice, choice
At the other side of the alley was the Borgia soldier I had just bribed, the fruit basket I had asked for resting in his hands while his friends dragged the unconscious citizen out of the way. I gave him a grateful, ravishing smile before snatching the basket from his hands and sauntering away like the middle class girl I never wanted to be until then.
I know, by now, you must be hating me, but don't worry, this story isn't about how I married a man I hardly even liked and lived happily ever after with all his money and luxuries as reward. It's even worst.
I was still humming the same song when I entered a street infested with merchants; it took me aback since I was supposed to be taking a shortcut to the Western Gate of the city, merda!
Taking a deep breath, I squeezed through the masses with a stern face. I had to remind myself several times that I was dressed as a "lady" and that I had to act as one as long as Jacques was in Roma. Ignoring a few brusque bumps from the careless merchants, I pressed my back on a wall to avoid a horseman, who –from the looks of it– was just as careless as the rest of the people.
I stood there like an idiot, until spotting a gap between a new wave of cheeky costumers. Upon slipping through, a girl stomped on my feet –two or three times at least– when the traffic stopped abruptly. Apparently, someone had pushed her neighbor, causing a catastrophic event of complains, whacks and unhappy people.
"Owww, for fuck´s sake…" I growled under my breath, squeezing my eyes painfully, I wanted to yell and backhand these people. However, I bit my lip and swallowed thickly, keeping my head high and a straight posture, like a damn. Fucking. Lady.
I tried moving swifter; it was getting hot being around so many people, the smell of sweat lingering, a real hellhole. I pushed my way through; I was so desperate that I barely noticed the white, tall figure pushing his way through, running full speed. One of his broad shoulders collided against mine as he passed by, almost knocking me off.
"IDIOTA! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" My face was flushing with a deep red, I was sick of acting all nicely with all the annoying costumers.
He kept running and even though there were more people ahead, he risked a glance to the back and a white smile appeared under his hood.
"IM SORRY, I´M IN A LITTLE BIT OF A HURRY!" He shouted, waving a hand in the air. In that same hand he was holding a bundle of grapes, I instinctively looked down at my basket. And I quickly confirmed my suspicious, those where my grapes.
"YOU LITTLE-" But when I looked up again, he had disappeared through the masses. Two or three seconds later, a group of –at least– twelve Borgia soldiers came from the opposite direction, striding on their horses and following the same direction the thief had taken. Some of them even stopped to ask the citizens if they had seen the mysterious man in white robes, nonetheless, I casually turned on my heel and walked away without saying a single word. I had wasted too much time already, and I couldn't afford losing any chances with Jacques; the man had my bright future between his hands, which is why I had preferred making him think I was an aspiring actress with no family.
Though I was curious, what had that man done to agitate a whole group of soldiers? Well, he obviously liked picking pockets but that wasn't enough to stir Cesare´s soldiers.
"Ah, mademoiselle!"I found Jacques standing near the Western Gate of the city when I was finally able to get out of the hellhole. He hopped off from his horse and leaned to kiss my left hand, exactly where the engagement ring adorned it. "I would have waited all my life to see you one last time."
"OH, Jacques! Don't be silly!" I laughed, looking away for a moment. I wasn't lying when I said I was an aspiring actress.
"But it's true Valentina." He wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my forehead. The hilt of his sheathed sword bumped into my hip. "Even if it's for only a few months, I can't stand leaving you."
"I know, but you have to go back. Isn't that what your father asked you?" I asked with a warm smile, not seeking an answer I looked down at the fruit basket. "I brought you something for the trip; my fiancée can't starve to death when we are so close to the wedding!"
He looked abashed but it was quickly replaced with a fond smile, he took my left hand again, eyes fixed on the ring. I had never seen any piece of jewel that could compare to it, gold twisted into the head of a lion, a beautiful ruby inside its mouth. Jacques had assured there were no replicas and that it had once belonged to his grandmother. "I've made the right choice." He said. "You are the person I've been looking for all this time. My pot of gold."
Our eyes locked, and I traced his jaws with my fingers before caressing his cheek. "Promise me you'll get there safely."
"I promise." He whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. "Father wants to meet you, but we will save that for the next trip. With or without his blessing, I'll take you to Lyon and make you my wife."
With nothing else to say, I kissed him on the lips, and he kissed back, holding my face. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing against his chest. When our lips finally parted, he stepped back to bow, I mirrored his move and he hopped back on his horse, taking the basket out of my hands with a grateful smile.
It made me frown for half a second, remembering how that thief had gingerly stolen the grapes from the basket the Borgia soldiers had stolen first; for some reason, it made me feel mocked. But I had to shove the memory to the back of my head and smile like a fool, which proved to be a challenge once the corner of my lips started to ache.
Jacques´ stallion trotted away, and the man threw a kiss at me before disappearing between the green hills rolling at the distance. As soon as he was out of sight, the lady-like semblance I had been putting up for Prince Charming was gone, I hunched my back with relief and clicked my tongue before tying my hair back to the usual messy bun.
I looked down at the ring once more, and chuckled. "A little bit more and that fool's wealth is all but mine."
But I was wrong. Things were far from being what I wanted; everything would have worked the way I had expected if I hadn't been so stupid, so full of myself, so hopeful.
That day, I spent hours thinking, daydreaming of a life that was still not in my reach, though I felt it that way. The thought reawaked old feelings, feelings I hadn't felt for years, feelings that I had long ago forgotten, like excitement and satisfaction. Even when I had reencountered those feelings in the sickest and treacherous of ways. Among those feelings, love was nothing –no, actually, love is still nothing.
I strolled aimlessly through the streets, and when I came back to reality the moon had taken the sun´s place. The streets looked haunted and lonely, but my bliss had not vanished yet, not until I returned to the spot where I had hidden my dirty clothes. I was quite surprised to find the wine casket empty, I closed and reopened the container just to make sure I wasn't imagining things, and unfortunately, I wasn't.
I looked for more containers, perhaps I had put them in another casket or maybe they had relocated it. I know, they were old clothes, but they were still mine. The situation was odd, but I decided that going back to Lucca´s place to get more clothes was the only thing I could do, and so I did.
I was ten feet away from his place when I noticed three silhouettes standing near the front door. Two of them were really tall while the third one was not that tall but not so short either; I instinctively tiptoed towards the large oak tree that stood in front of Lucca´s house and hid behind it. The branches swayed with the wind, leaves shivering in the dark.
"What do you mean she didn't show up?" An awfully familiar voice protested. "You said she would be by the dock." I tried to distinguish who they were but it was too dark, the only thing I was certain of was that they were all men.
"I know." Huffed another familiar voice, it came from one of the tall men. "That's what she told us, but she never showed up."
"Coppia di idioti! You lost her, what am I suppose to do know? The arrangements are already done!"
"Ehhh, but we found this near the market with the help of a few Borgias . We are sure they belong to her."
"Stupido, what good can they have for us now? Santiago will be here soon, he´ll be furious!"
Santiago? The only Santiago I knew was Santiago Ulissi, the man was the owner of a court house Lucca frequented. I also knew that somehow they had become friends, or so said the rumors. The truth was that I had never seen the man with my own eyes; I would never ask Lucca any sort of questions when he was in his five senses. Back when Lucca and I lived together, anything I said would made him angry and it would eventually lead to violence.
My eyes were not adjusting to the darkness, and even though I tried hard, I couldn't see the men's faces. Just when I was about to give up on guessing and walk towards them, a yellowish light appeared from the corner of my eye. I turned my attention to where the light came from, it lead me to another man, I could see this man´s face, however, the light of his oil lamp was not strong enough to illuminate his whole body.
His hoary mane and beard, his dark eyes and prominent nose, they were all easy to see through the warmth of the light. At his back, to more figures, both the same height and hooded with black robes, yet, something about how this two figures walked told me they couldn't be older than the man they were escorting.
I heard growls and barks coming from their direction, it took me a few seconds to spot the hounds fighting against their leashes. Leashes the hooded men where holding tight, the fur of said beasts was so dark they had turned invisible during the night, except for their bloody red eyes. One of their captors cursed when his arm was nearly bitten off, his partner laughed out loud but the elder they followed paid no attention to them.
"Ah, Santiago, you are here!" One of the first silhouettes –the one that wasn't tall or short– greeted the old man; the other two men he had been insulting stood behind him.
The Santiago showed him a palm in refusal. "Lucca, don't think of me as a fool. My spies have already told me what happened." The elder raised his lamp, and Lucca´s golden hair and pale skin came to view, I wasn't surprised until the faint light of the oil lamp reached the tall men standing behind him.
Mauro? Aldo? Wha- what's going on? I pressed my body against the tree, nails clawed to its dry, asperous husk. You see, Mauro and Aldo were supposed know Lucca only from my anecdotes and constant complains; tales of pros and cons of having a crazy brother. They had never spoken to him –well, that's what I thought. Could it mean that… the person they were talking about a while ago…?
"It-it's not my fault!" Lucca looked agitated; he turned his head and pointed the thugs with a menacing finger. "These brutes! They ruined it! I did MY part of the deal!"The hooded figures behind Santiago murmured at each other as Lucca´s face redden with exasperation, unfortunately I didn't catch what they said.
"Now, now, Lucca, calm down, me and my men saw this coming." Santiago reassured, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "I think I heard your men say they brought something that belongs to your sister. Is that true?"
"Aldo, show him what you found." The thug stepped forward, handing the old man what it seemed to be my dirty clothes, the ones I had hidden in the wine casket along with my boots. The old man inspected them and then returned my stuff to the thug, all except my puffed sleeved shirt.
"This will do to find her." Santiago said thickly. "Once we catch her, I'll take her to the brothel; clients are easily tempted by fresh meat. It will be until then that you will receive your payment."
I couldn't believe what the old bastard was saying; I tried finding any trace of guilt on my brother´s face, but found nothing but an arrogant smug. Even when I knew his nature, it never crossed my mind that he would sell me to a brothel with the help of my allies.
"No… Lucca…" My voice cracked; a soft whisper he would have never heard. Did he know I was going to run away? Eventually, my eyes fell upon the engagement ring for what it felt like the tenth time that day, but no there as fear. "This – this is not supposed to happen…"
The growl of one of the black furred beasts made me jolt; I looked up, back to where the men had reunited. A chill went down my spine when I caught one of the hounds sniffing at my shirt, one of the hooded men crouching beside him. I had to get out of there quick!
I started to run; it took the beast less than a few seconds to catch my sent.
"Look, there she is!"
"Don't let her escape!"
"Sweet sister~! Come back here!"
"The hounds! Set them free!"
"Aye Aye!"
My heart was pounding, the cold touch of the wind on my face brought atrocious thoughts to my head –the thought of death. Just like the barks of the beasts, the sound of their paws as they got closer. I dared not to look back, holding the ends of my dress – wearing one know felt stupid, the worst idea ever.
My lungs were begging me to stop but fear had taken over me. I turned left, then right, then left again, without really knowing were the streets would take me. There were no reasons to seek the Borgia´s help, those dogs were known as loyal customers of Santiago or just any other whorehouse. I was on my own…
My survival instincts kicked in, I had to think quick … Maybe… there could be a way to catch up with Jacques! He was the only one I could count on now. If I could get a horse and supplies then maybe-
My train of thoughts was interrupted when a peculiar sound reached my ears, roof tiles clicking, clicking, clicking, clicking rapidly, as if someone was following me from above. I looked up at my right, one of Santiago`s escorts was after me.
By the time I looked down again the other hooded man was already blocking the only way out, how could they be quicker than the hounds? I stopped, hoping I could go back and take another route but the red-eye beasts were following closely as well.
Then… I remember hearing a roof tile snap; I looked up again; hoping the man following me from above had fallen down. And indeed, I found him on midair. But falling down on me, knees bended, ready to strike. And just like that, everything turned black.
The song Valentina is singing: Après Moi - Regina Spektor (great song)
If you guys found any mistakes please let know, feedback will be appreciated. And if you are interest in my original story: Black Waters, there is a link in my profile. Anyway, here is the dictionary, you might find that some words don't match with google translator, that's because the meanings are not accurate sometimes.
French:
Après moi, le deluge: After me comes the flood
Mademoiselle: Miss
Italian:
Fottuto bastardo: Fucking bastard
Maestro: Teacher
per l'amoredi dio: For the love of God
sul mio cadáver: Over my dead body
Maledetto: Son of a bitch
Requiescat in pace: Rest in peace
Capisci?: Understood?
Il migliore: The best
Merda: Shit
Coppia di idioti: Bunch of idiots
Idiota: Idiot
Stupido: Stupid