-Natale Tarantella-

They perched on Florentine rooftops with bloodstained hands. She grinned when the guards turned around the wrong corner trying to find her and Ezio; instead they targeted an elderly man who was ready to stroke.

"Va bene. There goes another conspirator," Alba whispered softly to her partner assassin as she brushed her dark bangs from her eyes.

With a fixed gaze still on the scene they escaped, Ezio answered, "Ci sono ancora di più. There are still more."

"I know, I know. But don't you think we can…put that on halt for two days?" Ezio shot her an indignant look as if to say for him, 'Are you crazy?'

"Please? We've been at this for more than five years," Alba clasped her hands together in a prayer-like fashion. She habitually did this when she meant something urgent. "Just one Christmas? I would not ask for another."

She listened for some type of answer—anything, even if it was no—because he would take forever to think about things that delayed exacting revenge. Was it even revenge now? Or was it killing to cripple the Templars' numbers? Alba knew it wasn't the latter; she was in the same position. Her entire gypsy tribe had been slaughtered by the Templars while they were docking in Andalusia. His brothers and father were hung when he was seventeen. They both had to grow up and learn to survive as assassins without the proper training their predecessors had. Alba then remembered how long it took to outrun them—two years—and how she screwed it up by running into Ezio and helping him escape from the guards when he killed Gonfaloniere Uberto Alberti. Rather sloppily, she added in her head.

No matter, though. She has followed Ezio to all corners of Italy to fulfill his Kal'enendral, or avengement as the Romani called it. Along the way they shared good times, bad times, and times so hilarious or perverted they should never be repeated again. Like the time when she entered his room to ask him something and he had just got out of the tub. Ezio had no towel, and to make it even more awkward he asked her if she wanted something and Alba just stared. When she finally left, she did so wordlessly, face the color of a ripe tomato.

Then there was the time they passed a couple at Carnevale who were kissing. She blurts that she had never been kissed before. Suddenly amused at this fact, Skirtchaser—her name for Ezio because he was a skirtchaser every now and then—took her to a quiet rooftop and kissed Alba. The result made him smirk and her flush. She could not help she was purer than he!

That one moment in 1479 when Alba was reminiscing in her dreams about her kumpa'nia or clan, then woke up to realize that they weren't there. She tried to keep her crying from waking up Ezio, asleep beside her in the stable hay, but she could not contain herself. The sympathetic man chose to roll over on his other side, murmur coaxing words to help ease her grief, and raked his fingers through her long hair until she fell into a quieted sleep.

Ezio was a good man. He made Alba laugh. He made her think about things that she would often forget or overlook. But sometimes Alba thought he worked too tediously. There were often times after a mission that Ezio would collapse from exhaustion or sleep deprivation. Once in Monteriggioni he fell asleep during dinner. His mother, sister, and uncle were at the table with them. All of a sudden Ezio face planted in his Sienese torta. For a moment the Auditores swore he had died because he wouldn't move a muscle. It turned out Ezio just wanted to sleep. Mario and Alba dragged him to his bed where he slept for two or three days. Though Ezio was okay, it was moments like that, that made Alba wish he would relax every once in a while.

So again, she awaited his answer with fixed tawny orbs. He finally looked up at her and in a low tone asked, "Do you still have that red dress? If we hurry, we can make Leonardo's party." Ezio's expression afterward surprised her. He smiled. And this time it reached his eyes.

"Naturalmente devo fare! Of course I do! You were the one who bought it for me!"

"I also helped you out of it that same night," Ezio joked, chuckling at Alba when her face flushed another noticeable hue of red. She couldn't help but laugh at Ezio. For tonight, she knew he would be his old self.

Even if just for a few hours.

-End-

Authoress' Note:

The title is kind of wrong. The Tarantella was more popular in southern Italy, BUT the Assassin's Creed II soundtrack has a song called the Florence Tarantella. And since this one-shot was based on Christmas, I thought I would call it the Christmas Tarantella. Anyway, I haven't come out with Kal'enendral yet. It's my EzioxOC story, with the OC being Alba, the girl mentioned above. I can assure you that it will be canon and non-Mary Sue. xD Anyway, some of the lingo above was Italian, elsewhere Romani, the language of the Roma (gypsies). I thought it would be cute to have a little fluff moment here for Christmas/Yule. Happy Holidays everyone. (Don't forget to spread holiday cheer to yours truly by reviewing! xDDD ).