In and out. Her chest moved in time with his heartbeat. Cesare watched as she silently slept, peaceful and sweet. For as long as he could remember her would quietly slip into her room and watch her sleeping whenever he himself could not. Always one to carry the burdens of his father's expectations, and more importantly all the things he expected of himself on his shoulders. Not her. A few years younger, and lifetimes more innocent, sleep came to her effortlessly it seemed. The goals that Cesare had set for himself were lofty. He wanted to be a great soldier, a leader of armies. To show his father, to show everyone what he was capable of. First and foremost, however, was Lucrezia. She was the light to his darkness. The innocence to balance the evil he carried. Lucrezia was his religion. He worshipped her and lived to see her happiness. When they were children, Cesare had been able to protect her from everything. The boy who had frightened her with his devil's mask found himself with a broken jaw and blackened eyes. The cook who served her soup too hot, returned the next day with bandages over his burned hands. Always Lucrezia saw the "justice" he carried out when he had perceived anyone mistreating her. Cesare saw the way she looked at the broken, bruised boy or the burned cook. Never with horror, never with shock. Always with wide eyes, that showed she was both surprised and pleased at the lengths her brother would go. Cesare waited for those looks. He wanted her to know that she could always come to him. That while she was his precious queen, he was her devoted knight. As they grew older, times came when he was unable to protect his sweet sister. Lucrezia's first marriage was to a horribly abusive pig of a man. Cesare could recall their wedding night, how he had never felt more disgusted in all his life. He remembered the last of the wedding party carrying on, drinking, laughing. His Lucrezia fast asleep with her head in his lap. He remembered the lustful gaze of the husband three times her age. Panic had set in, for once in his life Cesare felt powerless. What he wanted and what he could do were two entirely different things. He wanted to kill Sforza then and there. Leave him to drown in his own blood. Sweep his sister away. Lucrezia would wake up and they would already be in a far away place. Where they could be anyone, where they could be anything together.

The nauseous feeling in his stomach reminded him that this was but a mere fantasy. Through gritted teeth, he told Sforza he would be taking Lucrezia up to their room, that they could act as husband and wife the next night, when she wasn't so exhausted. With the gentleness a mother holds her newborn baby, he scooped his sister into his arms. The memory of walking up the stairs made him sick to this very day. With each step it became more difficult. Feet turned to lead. Stomach churning like it was full of acid. Cesare was carrying a lamb to the sacrificial alter of the wolf. Where he knew with certainly she would be devoured. The thought of that man's, or any man's for that matter, hands on her porcelain skin. What if he was rough with her? What if he scared her? The questions spun through his mind making him sicker. She represented his innocence all that was pure and good. Softly fallen snow that has never been walked on. Yet here he was laying her in a bed where it would be ripped away from her. From both of them. Careful not to wake her, he lie her down on the bed. Cesare kissed her forehead. It took every ounce of the strength he had in him to walk out of that room. For the first time he was failing to protect her.

"Have you forgotten how to sleep dear brother?" Lucrezia's teasing words startled him. Those horrid memories had consumed him so that he had lost sense of what was going on around him . Crossing the short distance to her bed he kneeled down beside it. "I did not mean to wake you sis. I will go." Cesare kissed her hand that nearly glowed in the soft moonlight. Running his thumb softly across her knuckles he prepared himself to leave. Being in her presence calmed him, filling his entire body with warmth. Leaving her was jarring like diving in a lake on the coldest winter night. He was nearly to the door when he heard her soft laugh. It was the most magnificent sound in the world to him. So much so that there was not a thing in the entire world he would not do to make sure she kept laughing. "What do you find so amusing?" He asked her playfully. "Nothing Cessa. Come tell me a story like you used to." In seconds he was lying down amongst her ornate pillows with her golden head on his chest. Their fingers intertwined in the familiar dance that occurs between two people that share two halves of the same soul.