My first foray into the AC universe. I'm a lazy author, but AC is effin' AWESOME, so maybe this will start a new trend. Any-who, these first couple of chapters will be a bit dark, so rated just to be safe. All the original AC material belongs to ubisoft. Enjoy and please make sure I don't get away with any glaring mistakes! P.S. if you make it to the end, Ezio might show up! wow, that was shameless...

Alessa put the finishing touch on the embellishment of the hilt of the sword her husband had recently completed. She sighed in satisfaction and sat back in her chair, systematically stretching the stiff muscles of her upper body. She rubbed her eyes and forehead, scrubbing away the weariness and strain built up from hours of concentrating on fine detail work. A rush of satisfaction made her forget her physical discomfort as her gaze followed the painstaking maze of scrollwork. There was no inlaid gold or precious metals to make the piece solely ornamental, but a Ricci weapon was always a functional work of art.

The local nobleman that had commissioned the piece had disappeared since the Borgia-controlled soldiers had taken over the district, but Vito had finished the sword anyway, and Alessa had not been able to resist the embellishing work once she had put her hands on it.

She carefully stowed the tools and magnifying lenses she used in her work, then swept her area clean, saving the minute bits of steel she had shaved from the sword to be reworked into a future commission. Picking up the sword, she balanced it carefully in her upturned palm. Perfect. Her knotwork had not affected her husband's painstaking skill. When she took hold of the grip, it sat comfortably in her fist; nothing pinched or poked.

With a small, self-congratulatory grin, she picked up an oiled cloth and began rubbing the sword down, from tip to tip, removing the fine dust from her tools. Lost in her work, she jumped a bit when the door to her workshop suddenly opened and she looked up. Her husband filled the doorway, his shorn dark hair disheveled in unkempt spikes and his face smudged with soot. His forge was a short distance from their home and showroom on the main thoroughfare in the district; fires were an immediate danger to nearby buildings. Also, as Vito doubled as a farrier, it made sense to have the forge closer to the stables, which were also often out of the main route through the district.

Alessa stood and went to her husband. Grimacing slightly, she went to her tiptoes to briefly brush her lips at the angle of his jaw.

"You stink, amore mio," she teased. He shrugged and put his arms around her, nuzzling her neck deliberately with his day old stubble as she shrieked and punched him just under his ribs. Laughing, he stepped away from her, clutching his stomach.

"Awww, that tickled," he said, protecting his flank from another blow. Of course, her threats were all to no avail, he was a big man, chest and arms thick from his work at the forge. Damn her little fists!

She watched him remove his shirt, scrubbing his face clean. As he lowered the cloth to toss it in a basket for cleaning, Alessa was enraptured anew, as she always was, at the startling eyes of her husband. The palest of blues, irises ringed in a diamond white starburst pattern, Vito Ricci's eyes were incongruous set in his somewhat plain, craggy face.

He cleaned his hands, forearms, and face at the wash basin and pulled a clean shirt on. The he came to her, one knuckle brushing her cheek before his hand reached down to span her lower belly. Leaning down, looking somewhat ridiculous, he put his mouth just below her bellybutton.

"Have you been behaving today, bambino?" He asked in a mock stern voice. Alessa rolled her eyes and chuckled. They had known she was expecting for all of a week and he had started including her still flat belly in conversations - once he had recovered from the dead faint the news had put him in. Yeah. That had been damn satisfying. Too bad no one else had been around to see it.

"I don't think she can hear you yet," Alessa said as she started untying her work apron. Vito scoffed,

"Oh, HE can hear me just fine!"

"Yeah, it must be a he, does nothing but nauseate me when I wake up in the morning," she brightened, considering him, "Quite a lot like you do, actually."

He growled and stalked her across the room. She eased away, grinning as he reached for her and missed. There was an unmistakale glint in his eyes.

"I finished the sword today," she said, ignoring him, a little out of breath. There was no time for that right now, she had not had a chance to start dinner yet. She picked up the sword and held it out to him. Vito made noises of approval as he ran scarred fingers reverently over the knotwork.

"Jesu Christo, bella," he breathed, "You are a master artist."

Alessa felt her cheeks flush with his admiration and grinned.

"Think we'll be able to sell it since Messer Mancini…" she cut off and steered the conversation away from the nobleman's mysterious disappearance; the Borgia soldiers had effectively shut the bustling little community down when they had moved into the area. Pack of damned bullies. So far she and her husband had been able to escape their notice, but that did not stop Vito from making sure he was home well before dusk each day. Nor did it stop him from keeping a weapon - a completed, functional weapon, beside him always. They were essentially living hand to mouth due to the halt in commerce, but they would get by.

Vito also deliberately avoided discussing the obvious.

"It is your best work yet, I would hate to part with it, yet… There are many who would pay a fortune for this sword. There are also many who would steal it."

He laid the sword down on her workbench, pulling a tarp over the whole thing, effectively hiding it from sight. Looking over at her, evidently noticing her expression, he moved back to her side to take her in his arms.

"No worries," he murmured, as she held him little too tightly "This will pass. We will just have to avoid the patrols, plan our days around them. The soldiers are entirely reactionary. They won't bother us if we don't give them a reason to bother them." He held her at arm's length, smiling, his incredible eyes shining.

"Now what's for dinner?"

It had just past the gloaming of dusk and into night. Alessa was still awake. Vito had made love to her rather passionately before falling asleep. Alessa, however, could not shake a feeling of unease. She drifted in and out of sleep, waking to watch the moonlight creep across the floor.

At one point Vito grumbled something in his sleep and rolled over, one of his legs trapping her as he flung his arms wide. Alessa sighed. The man truly was a bed hog. Shoving one of his arms off of her, she flipped his half of the blankets back over him, and rolled to her side. Just as she had settled comfortably and felt her eyelids grow heavy, a noise caught her attention and made her heart gallop.

Measured footsteps sounded in the street and she involuntarily tensed. At least one of them wore heavy plate; she could make out the distinctive rattle that beat in time to the thuds of the boots. An unusually large patrol by the sound of it.

Shaking, she reached out and shook her husband awake, unable to still the fine tremble that suffused her entire body.

"What –" he started, then cut off his question as he, too, heard the footsteps coming up the street in their direction. Swiftly, silently, he got out of bed, dressing quickly. Alessa followed, pulling her work gown over her head and buttoning it swiftly. Vito pulled his short sword out of it's sheath and disappeared into the showroom. The shutters of their showroom had a crack wide enough to see out of and no doubt he was going to keep watch to make sure they passed.

Alessa flitted into her workshop and silently pulled her own weapon out of a discreet drawer in her workbench.

Alessa's father had been a mercenary, most recently working for Bartolomeo d'Alviano before retiring. As his only child, Alessa had been trained by her father in hand to hand combat. She had never used any of the skills her father had taught her physically, but with the knowledge, she had developed a unique weapon that she still trained with.

Her right hand settled comfortably in the grip of the strange looking dagger. The metal of the blade was brushed, something her father had taught her. A way of keeping the sheen of the metal from reflecting the sun.

The hilt was very unusual. Four rings protruded from the grip, so that as Alessa held it in a fist, the metal rings fit in between her knuckles; expanding and reinforcing them. Punches thrown by females generally did not hurt big males. Punches thrown by females with reinforced knuckles hurt like hell and could break bones.

Alessa grabbed the sword on a whim as she left the workroom to join her husband in the front room of the shop. He gripped his short sword in his right hand and looked over at her as she entered the room, just as a booming knock pounded on the front door.

"Cazzo!" Vito spat quietly. He sheathed his sword, grabbed a dagger from a display rack and tucked that into his belt at the small of his back. Alessa stepped back into the darkness of her workshop at Vito's look. Then, feigning the appearance of a man who had just been roused from sleep, he opened the door, which had not stopped resounding with the booming knocks of an armored fist.

He had barely opened the door when the soldiers barged in and began ransacking the place. Grabbing the few weapons Vito still had available for sale and opening cabinets in their search for more, the soldiers filled the room with lantern light and weapons. Vito was outraged.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" Vito snarled.

One of the soldiers eyeballed him insolently as he handed a pouch of throwing daggers to one of his companions.

"We are commandeering the weapons for the cause," the man stated self-righteously and somewhat officiously.

"By God you will not!" Vito barked, his fist closing on the hilt of his sword. The soldier shrugged, ignored Vito, and turned his back to continue his search.

Alessa knew what Vito was going to do before he did it and she clenched her dagger and sword in anticipation.

Sure enough, with a silent snarl, Vito pulled his sword. They were good; even amidst the racket of their looting, the soldiers heard the sound of steel sliding past leather and snapped their full attention to Vito, who bared his teeth before engaging.

Alessa stayed hidden, knowing that she would be in the way if she tried to join the battle. The men were all quite large; she needed more open space to engage. She felt her own lips peel back from her teeth as she watched her husband in fierce pride while he held the more heavily armed and armored soldiers at bay.

Somehow, the fight moved out into the street. Alessa moved quickly and unerringly through her workroom and out the back door. Energy thrummed through her body as she moved silently around the back corner of her home into the alley, where she peered around the corner into the street.

Vito was surrounded. He was doing well, but he was not armored and outnumbered. Alessa could hear more soldiers running through the streets in the distance, responding to the noise. Unable to wait any longer, she kept to the wildly dancing shadows cast by the torch and lantern light. Coming up behind one of the soldiers ringing her husband, she punched hard just under his breastplate in the back, feeling the satisfying crunch' vibrate all the way up her arm into her shoulder. The man howled and went down. Swinging wildly, she chopped downwards with the sword, just like when she chopped wood. The man stopped writhing and fell still.

One of the soldiers had noticed her and moved toward her. Alessa crouched in a fighting stance, right dagger-hand waving in front of her, sword held back a bit in her non-dominant hand. They circled one another. The soldier was taking her entirely seriously, which was not good. Her father had always said that most men would not take a woman fighter seriously and she could use that to her advantage.

He swung, the steel of his sword catching the light. Alessa parried and the blade slid down her own, the ornate hand basket of his sword catching of the cross guard of hers, bringing them closer together. Instinctively, Alessa punched the man right in the face with her knuckle-dagger and he snarled in pain as blood sheeted down his face and his orbital bone collapsed.

Alessa felt a mighty jerk as he wrenched his sword out of the lock, then agonizing pain fisted from her hand up her arm and slammed into her skull. She let out a harsh cry and involuntarily dropped her sword. Her vision swam as she looked down at her left hand and it's mangled ring finger.

Panting with the pain and shock, she left the sword lie and looked around for another soldier to attack. Suddenly, she was struck from behind and fell heavily, the wind rushing out of her chest. She felt herself lifted and dragged out of the street as she tried to catch her breath. Doggedly gripping her dagger, Alessa struggled feebly to no avail as she was dumped on the grass behind her home.

Vito, she saw, had been disarmed and forced to his knees. Surrounded by taunting soldiers, he struggled mightily until one of them grabbed a handful of his hair and placed a dagger to his throat. Alessa wondered what the hell was happening until she felt herself roughly kicked so that she rolled onto her back.

Her left hand twitched spasmodically and she was lost in the pain, but not before she saw the eyes of the men ringing her and the anguished scream of her husband as one of the soldiers got down on his knees to begin ripping apart her gown.

"Luridi codardi!" she spat, swinging her right fist into her attackers face. He got the edge of the dagger and fell off of her, shrieking as half of his cheek fell away. It was a mistake, apparently, to fight back. She lurched after her attacker, intent on finishing the job of slicing his fucking face off. A booted foot smashed into her lower back. Then another into her stomach.

She was wrenched to her feet as one man fisted a handful of her hair and pulled her up. He backhanded her viciously and she felt the skin split over her cheekbone. Unable to hold herself up, she dropped once more to the ground, only to be hauled back up for another slap. The second time, she was not hauled up, but kicked mercilessly. Her body would not respond.

Through a pain filled haze, she watched a man slit Vito's throat as he fought mightily against those holding him. Her mouth opened reflexively, but she could not draw breath to scream. His heavenly eyes caught hers as he brought his hands up to his throat to ineffectually stem the flow. His eyes slowly lost their light. Oblivious to the impacts on her body, Alessa watched the world turn red-tinged. Then fade to nothing.

It was the silence that jarred her awake. Hell itself could not contain such a cacophony of noise such as what she had just been through. And now it was extinguished. The cool light of the moon softened the bodies surrounding her into shadowed mounds of what could be anything. It was quite lovely, the moonlight. She felt herself roll to stare up at it and wondered how she could find anything to be beautiful. How she could have an opinion at all. A shadow passed over the moon and she frowned, reaching up feebly to swipe at it.

"Try not to move, cara," a rich baritone voice soothed.

"Who - ?" then she could not say anything else as she groaned in pain.

"Don't worry about me, I'm a friend," the voice murmured. He was doing something to her injured hand and it was all she could do not to scream in agony as red filled her vision.

A big hand patted her cheek firmly.

"Don't go to sleep," warned the voice.

"Nrrrghhh," she replied.

"Good girl," He finished his remonstrations with her hand and swiftly ran gentle hands up her arms, down her ribs, and then over her legs. Maybe feeling for broken bones?

"Still with me?" the voice intoned. Alessa made a noise and the voice seemed satisfied. She could not see much of his face, it was obscured by a deep hood. She watched his mouth as he carefully lifted her in his arms, focusing on a single object seemed to help control the pain.

"My weapon – " she panted as the pain of being moved overtook her.

"It have it," the voice appeased. Alessa continued to focus on his mouth. Nicely formed lips ruined by a thin scar running vertically in one corner. His facial hair did not grow in the area, she noted. A few days worth of stubble covered his cheeks, while he must have nicely trimmed goatee at some point.

"We are going to have to ride," he warned her.

"Ride?" Alessa said, not really understanding what was happening. She wanted him to speak again. His voice was very soothing, rich and deep. Beautiful as polished mahogany. Distracting. Measured. Her heartbeats seemed to calm just a bit.

She watched his lips purse as he whistled - a single piercing note. Hoofbeats thumped closer and Alessa tensed. She was not ready to change positions.

She made another ugly noise of pain as he aided her, reeling, into the saddle.

"Merda!" he said. "You're bleeding again, but from where…" he cut off suddenly and she went cold. She did not know how much blood she was losing or from where, but his motions suddenly turned more brisk. He spat out a curse and jumped onto the horse behind her.

"Stay awake, cara," he murmured again. She felt him slap the reins and heel his horse, "I know where to take you."

Alessa did not take her eyes off of his mouth as the horse jolted into a gallop and she fought against the blackness.