The story of a boy whose existence has almost been forgotten by the passage of time.

Here lies the boy that you have known of, but never understood
Here lies the man, whose story is yet to be told.

Here lies Vieri de Pazzi, the tragic hero and victim of the infamous Pazzi family.

I now reveal to you: his beginning and end.

All characters introduced in this fanfiction belong to Ubisoft.

A/N: Of course I don't know the actual story. u_u

"Your wife has bore you a son, messere," a grey-skinned lady dressed in worn fabric whispered heavily, as if each word meant an additional weight to her pre-existing shackle of the tongue. "But the mistress... she has passed."

The man quietly observed the poor woman slowly succumb to her suppressed tears while making a rather sorry excuse of a mask over her face by cupping her hands together. She wept with pathetic whimpers escaping through her wall of slender fingers. Her master, Francesco de Pazzi, cracked the lump that had formed in his throat and croaked out a strained,

"Why do you weep, when a son of mine has been born?"

"Because, messere," the lady moaned with agitation, "The Lady Pazzi- your wife- is dead! Her, a kind woman with of good heart!"

"You make no sense. You are too upset," the raven-haired man responded with an air of absolute stillness about him, "Take the day off. Enjoy yourself."

"Enjoy myself, messere? After the horror I have witnessed?" the servant flinched when her master abruptly whistled his personal guards over.

"See her out. Only let her back in after the nightfall of today."

For he was a Pazzi, his words were law within his Florentine villa. The teary-eyed lady was dragged off by the armed men. Francesco, upon witnessing the woman be cast out the door, quickly scurried into the chambers where his deceased wife lay in her eternal slumber.

There, aside from his resting wife, was another servant. Her years of experience under the Pazzi household had taught her to briefly greet the master, hand the precious babe over, and immediately take her leave—and that was exactly what she did.

Francesco de Pazzi sat himself down onto the soft sheets and leaned down to kiss his beloved's forehead goodbye. He was angry and confused—at the sudden loss, the weeping slave, and the babe in his arms. He wanted to smash it against the floor, for it had taken the life of his loved one. He wanted to crush its fragile skull with the sole of his boots.

However, when his pale lips touched the rather warm skin of his beloved, all of these vehement emotions were sucked out of him and his soul was replenished with tender compassion for his son.

He pulled away and whispered to the body a puzzled, "Why?"

Her lips, in his silver eyes, seemed to curl up in content.

A single teardrop clawed itself out of the depth of his throbbing heart and squeezed out of the man's eyes. Then another followed, and another. The ebony-haired babe whined as the thick droplets splashed onto his tiny face, trickling down the side of his untouched cheek. He whined more as his father cradled him close.

Pressed against the giant's chest, he could feel the comforting drums— rhythmic thumps of the heart. The babe, soon to be honored with the name Vieri de Pazzi, clutched at the dark fabric of his father's shirt with his delicate fingers and inhaled deeply.

This was his father.

This was his family.

…

And this was the man he would die for, when the time came.

A/N: I'm trying very hard to upgrade my grammar/spelling/punctuation skills! Please leave critiques~

I'm sorry if this chapter's so short! This is supposed to be a quick prologue.