As with season three, Micheletto became my absolute favorite character of this show. I hadn't realized before there was so much in him besides being Cesare's closest servant – but wow, there is. Reviews are always very welcome.
He had killed babies in their bed before, if their parents had paid him to do it. Those hadn't been his proudest deeds, but pride had long ago abandoned him.
After thirteen days on the streets of Forlí, chased by dogs, freezing, hungry… so hungry, it had fled Micheletto. Something older, stronger had taken over his weak body: the unconditional will to survive. It made him able to get out of the city and into the woods. And from there on further… till he arrived at hell's entrance on earth, the house of demons, hidden as God's greatest temple. The irony of this was clear even to the assassin, but he could not care less. If God had even been, someone had certainly murdered him.
Death had become a close companion early in the assassin's life; his elder brother Paolo being killed by his wife's brother, his sister drowned in a flood, his parents choked to death on fever and poison… he had never found out who had paid for their death, nor what had happened to Paolo's little son.
The child had been of Giovanni's age when Micheletto had run for his life, leaving his name, his honor and his soul behind.
He had killed babies in their beds, and every time he did so, his nephew's face appeared before him. It was a nice alternation to look after Giovanni, to protect innocent life instead of killing it. The child did not know who he was nor how he earned his living. All he knew yet was that Micheletto was one of the people carrying him around and making him laugh; and that he sang for him when he wouldn't fall asleep without his mother.
He had turned to singing the children to sleep before he killed them. At least once in their life they should feel safe. Sometimes Micheletto even found comfort in his actions: whatever came after death, if anything, it could not be worse than being cast out and live the life he had lived.
What good was a beating heart if there was nobody to give it to?
Giovanni lazily opened one eye, spotted the familiar red beard, and squealed with tired satisfaction before he nestled deeper in Micheletto's arms and fell asleep again.
Innocent of his mother's, uncle's and grandfather's sins.
Unknowing poison, pain or loneliness.
Safe and sound, as a child should be.
As he almost shyly kissed the infant's forehead Micheletto swore to himself that it would stay that way.