Things had always been bad, even since the day I was born. My mother and I barely made it through my birth, and then through my growing up. Two mouths were always harder to feed, especially when you were on the outskirts where it was even harder to cry for help when a soldier had had a bad day. It was only when we took a day off to the forest, where I was taught how to survive, that I was truly happy. It was also the first time I saw her truly smile. I guess our lot in life just left us too vulnerable. Perhaps it was inevitable; fate, and all that.
I was 14, but perfectly capable of hunting for myself. I remember coming home from a trip to the woods, weaving my way through a cluster of buildings and avoiding old Horace's place. The hard life had driven him insane, and he believed that anyone who walked on his property was trying to steal it. I wasn't too far from home- warm, sweet, cozy home- when I heard a wailing that I instantly recognized as my mother's.
Fleet feet could not have been fleet enough, and I stopped just around the corner of a neighboring house. Peeking with one eye, heart pounding, I saw three soldiers at the front of my house, standing guard. Inside, candles were lit, and I could hear a struggle, as well as muffled voices. There was my mother again, whimpering. My blood boiled, but I stayed still, a hunter's instinct making me bide my time.
Speaking of hunting. Carefully, quietly, I snuck my way with the shadows to get behind my house, to where a couple of barrels were resting inconspicuously. I tipped one of the tops and reached in. Hidden inside was my hunting knife. I already had my bow with me from the wilds, but I snuck a few arrows from my mother's quiver in the next barrel. Mother had made both bows, although I had tried many times to master the art, so I trusted mine to stay sturdy. An arrow was drawn quietly from the quiver that was slung over my shoulder, and I waited again, peeking around the corner.
I almost dropped everything. A powerful urge to run would have landed me squarely over a very loud barrel. However, what both urged me to run froze me in place. Cesare Borgia stepped out of my house, dragging Mother along with him, and two other soldiers followed. Now I could hear what was being said quite clearly.
"You could only expect this after your inability to pay." Cesare said reasonably. "Although, I could think of other ways you could pay your debt. You have a daughter, right?"
What was he doing here? A glance at the ground revealed there had been many others here. Perhaps he was just coming back to Rome and, like all the other guards, decided he needed entertainment. That's not to say it wasn't possible my mother hadn't paid some fee or another. Still, that didn't excuse his choice of stopping by just to try and cast my life into what I knew would become a living hell.
They were preoccupied with her, which suited me just fine. The fire that was consuming my mind moved me past the wall, and I embedded an arrow into two soldiers each before ducking back again and waiting for the sounds to indicate that my movements were noticed. They didn't disappoint. Two heavily armored bodies hit the ground, and Cesare became angry. He ordered the other soldiers to search around the area.
I fled from behind the house, finding another position to rest at. The bow was put away quietly, and the dagger drawn instead. A soldier went in each direction, and I waited until the middle one was out of sight of Cesare before making a stab at his throat, in between the plates. The soldier gurgled his death, and there was another sharp bark from Cesare. My mom made a noise, and I could tell she was being pulled along with Cesare, who was telling his soldiers to converge on my position. I peeked around the corner and saw a gun held to my mother's head. Pulling back, I decided that if I was going to have any chance of freeing my mother, I had to rid Cesare of his friends. Perhaps I could be theatrical about it. After all, Cesare was spooked.
I crept around the side that Cesare was not walking along. Bow out and arrow drawn, I spotted the soldier to my right, aimed, and hit him in the space through which he could see. There was only a heavy drop of his body to signal his death. I drew another arrow and, skirting along the edge of yet another building, glanced around for the third soldier. I couldn't find him, so it seemed best to scale a building for a vantage point, crouching to attract less attention.
Cesare was still walking around with my mother in hand, his new weapon held up against her head. It made the fire in me worse, but I just watched and waited. I couldn't hit him from here. In all honesty, my last shot was just luck. The distance between buildings should be easy enough to jump, but could I do it quietly?
A shadow seemed to move, and my attention was grabbed by it. I examined the ground and the roofs, focusing and unfocusing my eyes in case the shadow was camouflaged and I might only catch a flicker of movement. If someone was good enough to hide from me, then I had better finish this quickly, in case they were one of Cesare's friends. Problem was, when I turned back to Cesare I saw that his weapon was now pointed at me.
I got up, fingers still preoccupied with the bow and the fletching on the arrow. He smiled, triumph gleaming in his eyes- and was that relief I saw? It made me hate him more.
"Has mummy taught you something dangerous?" He mocked, pulling back the hammer. My response was to draw back the bow and aim for his head. "You've raised quite a strong young lady. She doesn't seem to realize that you're as good as a human shield, however."
I didn't have to think it over for too long. In the end, I would rather Mother die by my hand, as mercy, than by his, for torture. So I pulled back the string, making it even tighter and the soon-to-result arrow even faster. Then I carefully aimed. Cesare began to move the gun, but I had already let go of the arrow. It sped along to the target, but bounced off the armor on his shoulder. The resulting bullet was narrowly avoided as I threw myself off the side of the building.
My mother screamed for me to run. While I knew it best to run, I felt sorrow for my mother. Was it right to just leave her behind? To have her be punished however Cesare saw fit? I was toying with the idea of confronting Cesare head-on when the sound of many soldiers roused me, and I was forced into action. My bow was stationary in one hand while the other hand grasped my dagger and struck at a soldier who had just come around the corner. I cleared a path, soldiers falling by my blade and without it. There was no time to wonder why others fell, and I assumed they were being hit by poorly-aiming comrades. I fled into the woods, soldiers and bullets alike coming after me.
They would never find me here. The forest was as much my home as that hut used to be, and a bunch of armor wouldn't be able to navigate between the trees and through the brush. It didn't take long for the search to be called off. Safe in the trees, I wrestled with my own conscience for a good hour or two. Then hunger roused me, forced me to move, and it was business as usual.
In order to feed ourselves, my mother and I would make visits into the forest for game, and sometimes for medicinal plants or extra blankets. I was only 14, but the few years that I had gone out with Mother and hunted were enough for the experience to be both fresh and deeply ingrained in my being. The way to walk so that the carpet of leaves smothered any noise, how to draw the bow without startling the prey, how to notice prey without staring straight at it and therefore alerting it to my presence. All of this was strong and helpful, and a deer was brought down within the next hour.
As I fetched a small group of hidden cutlery and such, I found the thought of hiding these things strange. Yes, it was a little more difficult to take these things with us to the forest, but why was it my mother hid them? Perhaps things were worse than she had told me. After all, I had known nothing about her inability to pay debts. Still, it turned out handy as I set up a large pot and boiled some water over a fire.
After stripping the deer, I cut up pieces of the meat and threw them into the water to stew. With a few herbs gathered from nearby, I was content that the soup was going to at least be edible. If Mother were cooking, it would be ten times better, surely.
For some reason, I remember my senses being on edge. Every second passed twice as long, and even the normal rustlings of the wild made me nervous. I was comfortable out here, but I couldn't shake the feeling that my pursuers would somehow find me. I made a mess of those soldiers, so why wouldn't they just keep coming after me?
It wasn't until I was eating with a wooden bowl and spoon that I heard sounds that only came from human footsteps. I was still wary at this point, but one hand merely reached for the dagger that was resting next to me. It only sounded like one person, which wasn't too startling. I only hoped they weren't hostile or strong.
Surprisingly, a robed figure stepped into the fire light. It was dark by now, and the fire cast strange shadows over his form. Oddly, I didn't feel relief by seeing a cloaked figure instead of one covered in armor. Still, defiance caused me to act calm, to be contrary to what normal humans would be. My hand left the dagger, since he didn't seem to be immediately threatening, and I returned to the soup.
"If you're hungry, I'd test it first." was the only thing I could think to say while staying casual.
"Actually, that sounds good. You wouldn't mind?"
Italian. It was a nice language, already easy to roll off the tongue. Though Latin seemed to be the main language in Rome, there were many others about, and Italian was so common that I recognized, understood, and spoke it quite easily. Somehow, though, when spoken by this man, Italian just seemed that much more appealing. Was it his voice?
"Another bowl and spoon are in the pack."
He walked over to the bag in a way that reminded me of a big cat. He was limber and quiet, and I recognized a predator. It was something I was taught to be wary of, because big cats weren't like scared deer at all. They had weapons and the skills to force back any opponent. I noted the likeness in my mind, but otherwise tried not to react.
Why did I just offer a leopard some food? The thought leapt out at me from nowhere. It was preposterous to take back the offer, so I just stayed interested in my own bowl. The man tested out the soup, and he seemed to like it, so he ladled more out onto the bowl.
"This is good." He said after taking a few spoonfuls.
"It's alright. The herbs didn't exactly add much to it."
"You don't need much. You know how to hunt and provide for yourself. It makes sense then, how you were able to give those soldiers so much trouble."
The spoon hesitated on its way to my lips. I examined the hooded man for a little while. There was no threat in his voice, just an impression of a question. For some reason, examining him, in his odd attire, made something dawn upon me.
"You helped me."
"Yes, I did."
"I was wondering how I made it to the forest."
"Pity I didn't arrive earlier, but you seem able to handle yourself."
"I suppose. I'm still figuring that part out." I said quietly, staring at the stew.
"What do you mean?" the man frowned.
"I worry that I didn't help my mother at all. Perhaps my actions merely made things worse for her." I lowered my bowl entirely, not even pretending to think about having more to eat.
"I see. It is understandable. If it helps, I will do everything I can to save your mother."
My eyes went to seek his, giving him my full attention for the first time. I sensed no lie in his words, but still- dare I trust him? He was offering help now, but if he was such a warrior, why hadn't he freed my mother earlier?
"I understand what it's like to have your family taken away from you. I won't let it happen to you as well."
There it was again, that sincerity. I didn't fully understand why, but there was something other than his truth that made me believe him. He did understand, and he was going to do all he could. Finally, I nodded and took another spoonful, chewing on a tough piece of venison.
"Alright. I'll trust you."
"Thank you. I will come back here with your mother. Please stay out of trouble."
He finished the rest of his soup and left me to clean up camp. I finished taking care of the deer, and left both the rest of the carcass and the food to the wolves, who hovered just out of sight. I had no problem with waiting for the hooded man, except I had my own things to take care of and one of them was to not rely entirely on just a stranger.
I changed camp and slept there for the rest of the night, all my stuff perched delicately in the tree tops. When morning met me, my nerves were all jittery. Of course I was nervous. If my mother wasn't already dead, her execution would be today.
On my way to the most obvious hanging platforms, I paused to check on my house. No one was around. Not a single guard stood watch, so I snuck in and stuffed a few sets of clothes into a pack, as well as things I thought my mother and I would value when we fled. Surely, we couldn't stay here. A wolf tooth necklace, a small painting of our family, the ring she wore lately, and the few things we owned that were from other countries. Unsurprisingly, my pack was light when I left to go through the streets of Rome.
A roof seemed a more inviting place to watch a hanging, and a good vantage point to shoot the offenders. But the crowd's shouts suddenly pushed me into a frenzy, and I made it on top of the roof in time to see my mother being led up to the rope. I glanced around, searching both the roofs and the crowd. Where was he? Would the hooded man truly appear? Doubt snaked in me, and I made myself scarce while readying my bow.
Her crimes were listed out, and a few I had never even heard of turned up. Were they making up some charges? Regardless, the noose was placed around her neck. From here, I could see her clenching her jaw, holding her chin high in an attempt to show that she was unbroken. All it revealed to me were the bruises on her face. I pulled back my arrow as a man lifted his hand, ready to give the signal.
Then a shot rang out into the air, and it was the only thing I could hear. The crowd went quiet, as if the shot were fired right next to my ear and dulled them. Yet all I could see, from so far away, was the dark spot on my mother's forehead. My fingers went numb, the arrow almost loosed, and my arms dropped. My eyes searched the crowd, and they immediately spotted a Captain from the Borgia army. He looked up at me and smiled. I knew he had been waiting for me to show up, so that Cesare could get a little payback.
All in a rush, led by my roar of hatred, everything came back to me. It was the exact opposite of the funneling of my senses from before. Now my peripherals seemed wider, and I saw the soldiers on the roofs coming at me, but I had to loose my first arrow at the captain, the tip aiming for the gap in between his helmet and his chest plate. Then I stood to confront the first soldier who got to me. He swung wildly with his sword, but I spitefully stepped to the side and tripped him. His body went flying off the side of the building, and another one, with a crossbow, stood at my other side. This one told me to freeze, but my dagger found his eye.
I had to run to retrieve it because the soldiers on the streets were scaling the walls to get to me, the newest treasonous traitor to the kingdom. Under other circumstances, I would have attempted some sort of peacemaking. As far as I was concerned, all Borgia soldiers now deserved to die. I exchanged blows, but knew when I was outmatched. A new set of noises alerted me to the unmistakable form of the hooded man from the night before. I now fought to move away from him, guilt chewing at me.
Reaching the edge of a building, I turned away from the hoard of soldiers and jumped the scaffolding, propelling myself to another set of roofs. For a time, all I could do was run, but my hate kept making me stop and turn, loosing another set of arrows to decimate my enemies. I was smug, happy to see their bodies drop, shafts sticking out of their stomachs or throats.
Even when the mass of pursuers were no longer present, I kept running along the rooftops, avoiding all of the guards who were alerted up there. It was only when I was taking a rather long jump between rooftops that I noticed two sudden things: a body flying at me through the air, white robes blinding in the sun, and the Captain on the ground, a new gun pointed at my chest.
The robed man collided with me, and we were flung to the ground at the sound of a gunshot, meeting a scaffold and a group of flower pots on a window pane on the way down. A puff of straw greeted our landing. I tried to get up immediately, still in flight mode, but the man held me, forcing me to look at him.
"I thought I told you to stay out of trouble."
"Get off of me!" I shouted with venom, thrashing.
The man stood up, his glare informing me he wasn't over my disobedience. There was still the shuffle of more soldiers around the streets, so the man beckoned me follow, and we ran through the streets, eventually losing the Borgia soldiers altogether. I was glad to finally be free of their persistence, but that didn't mean I was free of the hooded man. He double-checked that the roofs and the streets nearby were free of suspicious soldiers- for the time being, anyways- and then came back to me.
"Are you alright?"
"I'll get there." I gasped. As my instincts and my adrenaline faded, I began to realize just how badly I was shaking.
"Okay. Now, explain to me what you were thinking."
"Entrusting the fate of my mother to a complete stranger doesn't sit well with me."
"So your plan was to go where Cesare's soldiers were waiting for you?" he demanded.
"I didn't know they'd be waiting for me. Not like that." My voice wavered, though I stared at him defiantly.
"You should have stayed in the forest and waited."
"Are you saying," I growled, voice suddenly threatening, "that you knew they were going to shoot her?"
"No." he admitted, eyes regretful. "I did not know they would shoot her when they were already preparing to string her up. Nothing could have warned me about that."
My hate told me he had no excuse. My compassion told me it was the only real explanation. I could not have guessed it, so how could I expect him to know?
"Some knight in shining armor you are." I muttered spitefully, glaring at the wall.
There were a few moments of silence. Eventually, the man motioned with his hand for me to follow him through the streets, and I did so without protesting. We weaved our way through the crowd for a time before anything called me to attention.
"I only know you by your hood and odd apparel. Who are you?"
"My name is Ezio Auditore." He said, turning around a corner, coming closer to a herald that was spouting goodness knows what.
"Ezio? I've heard of you."
"And what of you? What is your name?" He turned to look back at me for a moment before stopping at the corner of a building.
"Silvia." I said after hesitation.
"How fitting." He smiled. Then he held up a hand. "Wait here a moment."
I did so, although my nerves told me to flee. Ezio talked to the herald, and I heard the distinct clink of coins. When Ezio came around the corner, I found myself gazing at him rather curiously.
"That should help suppress your name in Rome."
"Thank you." I said as I followed him back down the street, and we turned to proceed down another. "But… I won't be staying for long."
Ezio glanced back at me, a form of surprise showing on what features I could see.
"You have already decided upon your next step?"
"I had it planned out before you met me at the campfire last night. Except… Well, I was hoping mother would flee with me. She said she had friends in Spain and England. I'll got to Spain first, and if things don't work out, England."
"And after that?"
"I won't go anywhere. I'll live my life out as a hermit in the forest, I suppose."
"Well, before you start exiling yourself from mankind, come back here, to Rome."
"What for?" I couldn't imagine ever wanting to come back, now that Rome held such unpleasant memories for me.
"If all else fails you, find me. I will give you a home."
"Ezio. I don't want your help." I affirmed a bit stubbornly.
"Silvia." Ezio said to mock me, and turned to view me. "You need it, no matter how much you deny it. I do not think your mother would have wanted you to run away just because life made things difficult for you."
What had become an alright mood plummeted, and I was back to glaring at Ezio. He frowned as well, noting his mistake.
"Wait. That came out wrong." He tried to amend himself.
"No, I think you said exactly what you wanted. Forgive me for running away from the resting place of my final family member, who was brutally murdered by a man who I strongly suspect was merely bored and required some damsel to put in distress."
"Silvia, what I meant-"
"Stop talking!" I exclaimed over him, unwilling to hear anything else from Ezio. "It won't do you any good."
I stormed away from him and continued to weave my way through the crowd. The man did not persist, though I suspect he stared after me, at a loss for proper words. What he had wanted to say, I did not care. I didn't want to know. All I knew was that he thought me a coward when I thought myself well mastered, considering all that had gone on recently.
My strides took me swiftly home, where I took the last of what I needed, and to the forest, where I fetched the rest of my things. Packing everything together and keeping my bow at the ready, I moved on, following the line of the road that would lead me to Spain. I would take rides when my pride would allow it, and I would rest when it was safe. Until I arrived at Spain, my destination was the only thing I allowed to invade my mind. And when no one was home in Spain, I went north, to England.
Mother, you have no idea what strange friends you have made.
Shieb: This was the first real AC fanfic I had written, and I think I did fairly well (though I had to go through and edit it several times). Unfortunately, the story here is very single-minded in this chapter, but rest assured the sense of character changes drastically next chapter.
Review if you can. I like improving upon myself.