Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
A/N: Sequel? Sequel.
If you have not read the first story, you will be awfully confused. Even I was confused since it's been a decent while since I wrote for this fandom.
Yes, I'm currently playing Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood. Yes, the entire time I was playing it all I could think about was how I could adapt it into a fic. Yes, I'll try to be a good little girl and update like I should.
Extended summary: When Margherita's language teacher told her that the French version of "and they lived happily ever after" roughly translated to "and they had lots of kids", Margherita had laughed, and laughed, and laughed. What she didn't know was that the Italian version of "and they lived happily ever after" meant, vaguely, "and they moved to Rome, fought like cats and dogs, got jealous of a ginger, lived in either a brothel or some renovated underground hideout depending on the season, threatened to go back to their ex-husbands, built some weapons, and were generally miserable… but, at least they had each other." The honeymoon is over.
Enjoy!
When in Rome
By: Ginny
"Hey, old lady! Get over here – the tailor needs to know whether you want silk trim on the collar or a string of accent pearls!"
"Shut your big fat mouth, Margherita! I'm younger than you!" Regardless of her indignation, Claudia still made her way over to the blonde woman and the tailor. Glancing between the two swatches of fabric, the young Auditore pointed to her selection and the tailor scurried away to oversee the work.
"Yeah, but it's not my birthday today – it's yours," Margherita joked. "And because it's your birthday, the lovely anniversary of your birth, I get to call you an old lady." The two young women left the little shop together, walking in sync, as they had been accustomed to doing over the years. It was a bright day, and everyone hoped the lovely weather would persist until the next day, for Claudia's sake. "On the bright side, I will also be waiting on you hand and foot, so I suppose you should be happy I'm here."
Claudia placed a hand on Margherita's arm and threw her head back with the kind of grace only a Florentine noblewoman could have. Margherita simply envied her sometimes. "I'm always happy you're here," Claudia said. "I can't imagine life without my beloved sister-in-law."
"Ah, ah, ah," Margherita tisked her tongue against the top of her mouth and linked her arm with Claudia's. "Not sister-in-law yet."
"Yes, Margherita, when will you be changing that?"
"Soon, Claudia, soon."
"Really?" the two took a turn and side-stepped the crowd on their way back to the Villa. Well, more like the crowd side-stepped them… the Auditore girl and Ezio's lover were recognizable on sight and people often went out of their way to make the girls comfortable. "Because I could have sworn that when Ezio left to go kill that bastard Pope – which he didn't actually do, unfortunately – he said that when he returned you two would be married. Granted, your annulment only just came through, but it's been a week since he's been back and you two haven't even mentioned it… It was like the two of you simply forgot that you were betrothed."
Scrunching her freckled nose a bit, Margherita replied, "Well, the conversation really hasn't come up organically and I don't want to force it… he remembers, I know he does. I think he is just pretty focused on you right now – it is your birthday after all and you are his favorite little sister."
"I'm his only sister."
"That, too."
"Well, I'd like to think that my birthday – while very, very important – isn't as important as my brother finally settling down. My God, Margherita! If you don't leash him now – trap him in a legally binding marriage, he's going to go sneaking off on another assassination mission."
"No," she protested. "That part of his life is over. From here on out, he's focusing on reinforcing the Villa and starting a family. I know he wants kids. I think being an assassin is the farthest thing from his mind."
Margherita didn't like the sympathetic expression Claudia was giving her. It was one thing for Margherita to have her own self-doubts about how willing Ezio would be to settle down into the boring family life so many men eventually rebelled against, it was another thing to have his own sister questioning their future together. Then again, Ezio was basically middle aged. Maybe this was his midlife crisis. And hopefully – if the Gods were nice – a few years down the road he still wouldn't want to climb on roofs and kill guards and fight against justice.
Finally, Claudia sighed and looked away. For some reason, Margherita could suddenly breathe a lot easier. "Well, for both of your sakes, I hope that no matter what happens you two are happy."
"Okay," Margherita responded awkwardly. "I hope you're happy too."
God, what a way to make a good day absolutely suck. Claudia needed to lay off the ominous warnings.
Thankfully, the conversation was able to quickly end because they had reached the stairs leading up to the Villa. They were just about to climb upwards when a messenger rushed passed them, nearly tripping over his feet before he realized that the flat ground had morphed into stairs. Before he could totally tumble though, Margherita reached out a hand to steady him – untangling herself from Claudia at the same time.
"What's wrong?" she asked, turning the boy (and it was a boy, she realized – one of many who was employed in town to run messages back and forth between businesses) to face her. His face was smudged with dirt.
When the kid caught sight of who had grabbed hold of him, he stopped short and quickly bowed his head in respect. "Milady," he mumbled to the dirt under his feet.
"What's the hurry?" she asked again, this time slipping the boy a coin for the information. She had always found that money helped grease the wheel of life.
"Caterina Sforza and her men are here!" he informed them, and then he turned around and continued up to the Villa at a break-neck pace.
The two women continued upwards at a much more leisurely pace.
"Caterina Sforza?" Claudia questioned. "The countess of Forli?"
"The one and only," Margherita replied.
Oh yes, she remembered the redheaded beauty – soft but dominant, powerful and strong… oh, and how could she forget – absolutely stunning. Margherita remembered quite vividly standing on that boat, looking down at the woman and watching the way that Ezio let his eyes travel over her. At the time she hadn't really cared about his attentions being paid to any other woman besides herself – in fact, at that point in time Ezio had been just another boy she flirted with and he had been definitely off-limits… as in, if he so much as looked at her lustfully Leonardo would have cut off his balls.
Speaking of the painter… Leonardo had left just a few days before. He had waited long enough to give her the good news that their annulment had come through and then he informed them that he needed to get back to his workshop in Venice. And just like that – he was gone. Over a decade of friendship packed up and sent back to Venice. Margherita recalled how she had assured Leonardo years before that even if/when Ezio asked her to marry him, she wouldn't leave her nearest and dearest friend. And yet here she was, abandoning him, replacing one family for another.
In fact, she hadn't seen Rosa since returning. Ten years had passed since they had last spoken.
When they reached the first landing, Claudia pointed, "Is that Ezio?"
And indeed, it was. In the middle of the fighting ring, clad only in his breeches and boots, Ezio was pounding on one of Mario's mercenaries.
Sighing, Margherita said, "I'll see you later, Claudia." With a teasing grin gifted on Margherita by Claudia, the two split up – Claudia heading to the Villa and Margherita pushing her way through the observers to lean against the fighting ring's wooden railing.
For a moment she admired his pulsing muscles as he took a swing at the bearded, hairy man he was fighting. Already his knuckles were bleeding and when his punch hit home right in the mercenaries mouth, Margherita knew why. While Ezio wasn't dirty or grimy (like the other man), he did have a nice layer of sweat oiling the contours of his body. It was a real turn on, Margherita decided. She would definitely need to remember this mental image tonight when she went to bed. And apparently, she wasn't the only one enjoying the view.
A flash of red drew Margherita's eye to the person would had come to stand next to her. Caterina Sforza. And the woman had no problem ogling Ezio as though he belonged to her. Unfortunately for her, he did not.
Ezio belonged to Margherita.
She didn't really understand why she was getting so jealous. Normally she could even accept when Ezio blatantly flirted with other women in front of Margherita. Having other woman appreciate the view had always only made Margherita more proud to be the one he had chosen to remain faithful to. And it wasn't like she ever doubted his faithfulness…
Part of it, she realized, was the fact that Caterina was so beautiful. And powerful. Sure, Margherita had the blonde coloring that women drenched their hair with nasty chemicals to get. But Caterina was a gorgeous, natural redhead. Sure, Margherita had the aristocratic pale skin – but so did Caterina. And Margherita had freckles, which just made her seem childish in comparison. Sure, Margherita was smart and had knowledge about the future that no one else was privy to… but Caterina had an army and a city-state and she was the ruler since she had had her husband killed. She was worldly and clever – not snarky, like Margherita. Basically, she was a threat and Margherita was certain Ezio had tasted her at least once. In fact, when they had been reunited it was in Forli – where Ezio had been staying as a guest ("Guest my ass," Margherita had thought when she had heard that) of the countess.
"I like the beard," Caterina commented. Sweet, merciful God in heaven – even her voice was cultured.
Like a halfwit, it took a second for Margherita to realize that the countess was talking to her. "Uh, yes," she replied. "He got too lazy to shave and so he just stopped."
Apparently Caterina didn't expect her to know his exact motives because her perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up and her red lips parted to form an "O". "Do you work here in the Villa?" she asked. The way her eyes drifted up and down along Margherita's body spoke volumes: the noblewoman was under the impression that Margherita was the kind of maid that earned a few extra florins by paying special attention to her master.
Margherita kept the scoff she oh, so, desperately wanted to release to herself and instead simply shook her head. Opening her mouth would have been like opening the gates of Hell and releasing the three headed dog that might just gobble Caterina up in one gulp.
Really? Really? A servant? Did she honestly look like a servant? Margherita had taken care to keep herself in doors to keep her skin pale. She spent time each morning lining her eyes with kohl and painting her lips a sultry red. Her long blonde hair was done up like the proper noblewoman she would become once she married Ezio. The ribbon laced in her updo matched the silk of her gown – one with a modest neckline and dyed a royal purple. Gold trimming outlined the neck and the wrists. Sapphire earrings – a present from Ezio years before – dangled just under her earlobes.
It was either a veiled insult or Caterina was so used to luxury that even her handmaids dressed richly.
"Are you a guest at the Villa Auditore?" she tried again.
"Well," Margherita paused, trying to think of something clever or shocking to say that would put Caterina in her place but apparently she just wasn't that witty. Luckily Ezio chose that moment to realize that his fiancée was watching in the sidelines.
"Margherita!" he called out and stalked over to her with a little pep in his step. He knew she thought he was frickin' smokin' hot all sweaty and fresh from a fight and had decided to prance around like the show-off peacock he probably had been in a past life. Bracing his hands on the wooden railing, he grinned at her wildly. She liked to believe that he was really, really happy to see her. It was probably the endorphins from the exercise. Either way, she got a particular happiness knowing that he had noticed her first and not Caterina, even though the redhead was standing right next to her.
"Hello," she nodded her greeting.
She was just about to open her mouth and continue when she noted something behind Ezio that made her mouth fly open again – this time to utter a warning. The mercenary that Ezio had been fighting was quick to get right back on his feet and he had stumbled right towards Ezio, still swinging. Once again, Ezio had predicted this. The mere look on her face had told him all he needed to know and he sidestepped, throwing his opponent over the railing – narrowly missing Caterina.
And then Ezio had to notice Caterina.
"Caterina!" he greeted, hopping over the railing so that Caterina could kiss him on the cheek in her own form of greeting.
Great – she gets a nod, Caterina gets a kiss. Thanks Ezio.
"Ezio, it's been too long," she smiled. "How are you, my friend?"
"Blissful, Caterina," he replied. "I have a fantastic retirement and a beautiful bride to look forward to."
"Bride?" Caterina's eyebrows shot up again and finally she looked over Ezio's shoulder to make eye-contact with Margherita. Then her eyebrows flashed downwards in comprehension. "And this must be her," Caterina brushed Ezio aside to glance Margherita up and down once again.
Way to make her feel like a piece of meat.
Regardless, Margherita tried to smile and stand up straighter under the scrutiny. Her mother's wise words rang through her head, Head high, chin up, tits out, stomach in, hips cocked, shoulders squared. Now you look like someone who ought to be respected and admired. Caterina found the blonde's eyes again and nodded. Apparently Margherita had met her standards. Suck on that, countess… Psh, servant my ass.
"I am Caterina Sforza, countess of Forli," she introduced herself.
"I am Margherita…" Hmm. She seemed to have a problem… Before marrying Leonardo, she had always gone by Recci – the name she had stolen from the old man who had helped her when she first arrived in the lovely land of the Renaissance. After marrying Leonardo… who had no last name… she simply went by her first name and then added on Leonardo's other identifying label, where he was born: da Vinci. Now that the marriage was annulled, she wasn't sure the exact protocol in this situation… Who exactly was she? "Recci," she finished. Surely Caterina knew Leonardo da Vinci. Why confuse her?
"Pleasure," Caterina gently inclined her head forward ever so slightly. Apparently countesses don't bow to common girls.
Well, Margherita didn't have titles. She didn't have land. She had very little money – what she had made from the hot air balloon had quickly been spent on rent when Leonardo was having a dry spell with his own work. Even the clothes on her back were paid for by Mario and Ezio. But, that was exactly what she did have – her trump card – was in fact, Ezio. She had the assassin. She hadn't meant to capture him – hadn't really meant to catch his eye. But she had. And that was one thing she had over Caterina.
So, she stepped closer to Ezio and allowed him to place an arm around her waist. Normally she didn't like it when she was all dressed up and he went ahead and ruined it by touching her with his sweaty body. But in this situation, she welcomed it.
"It's nice to meet you," Margherita gave a deeper nod that Caterina had given.
The countess seemed pleased by that, even if she did notice the way Margherita had slithered closer to Ezio.
Of course, the assassin was totally oblivious to the silent power struggle occurring between the two women, but really, men are just typically oblivious. Ezio glanced back and forth between the two ladies, a goofy smile still on his face. Quite frankly, he was probably thinking it was so great that his fiancée and his lady friend could get along so well. If only he knew. Men – so simple, so stupid, so hot.
"Are your men stationed outside the fortress walls?"
Caterina nodded.
"I will see to it that your men are taken care of. And I will see to it that you are taken care of, Caterina." Ezio flashed her the kind of smile that made it very obvious that his thoughts had passed propriety and ended up somewhere very, very sexual. Margherita tried not to feel offended. The assassin nodded to one of the mercenaries near the fighting ring, who in response, took off towards the Villa.
While they waited for the maid that the mercenary had gone to fetch, Caterina tried to make conversation. "So, how long have you two been betrothed?"
The blonde responded with a shrug and said, "A few months."
"And how long have you known each other?"
Ezio and Margherita glanced at each other, both thinking the same thing. Did those ten years apart when she was in the 21st century and he was here in the Renaissance count? Did all that time when he was off on his assassination missions count? For a moment, Margherita panicked. They were so in love and it seemed like they had been a part of each other's life for an eternity, but maybe it just felt like that – what if they actually were walking into this marriage totally unprepared?
She was saved from her ill-bringing thoughts by her knight-in-shining armor as Ezio explained, "We met about twenty years ago but our lives have not always managed to cross."
"Ah," Caterina let out, bringing her hand to her cheek as she tilted her head and gave Margherita yet another look up and down. "And was it love at first sight?"
With the goofy grin back in place, Ezio pulled Margherita closer and said, "Well, it was certainly lust at first sight! Margherita couldn't speak any Italian back then, but what I had in mind didn't require much talking."
Caterina's mouth dropped open slightly, and a frown made her graceful mouth curve downwards. She said, "Why Ezio, I had always assumed you were attracted to women."
"Huh?" the assassin was obviously confused. Margherita was not.
When Margherita had returned to her own world, she returned to her own seventeen year old body. There, she spent ten long years waiting to get back – not knowing whether she would but hoping against all hope. Thank whatever deities that may be, she found a way back in the form of the Staff. However, when she did return, ten years had also passed in that world but she returned to the body she had left – the body that was only in it's late twenties. Even though she had lived as many years as Ezio, her body was that of a thirty year old.
If they had met twenty years ago, Margherita would have been about ten years old. Ezio was many things…but a pedophile he was not.
That would also explain why Caterina seemed so displeased. When Margherita had gone back to the 21 century, she had moved from the United States to Rome. There, she had worked at the Vatican Museum as an art historian. As such, she spent hours upon hours researching the Renaissance – in fact, she was probably more familiar with the era than Ezio. So, she knew that Caterina had been married when she was only ten. Granted, it wasn't consummated until she was fourteen but being forced into that life so early had probably been difficult… probably similar to rape. The idea of Ezio partaking in such a brutal tradition of the nobility probably didn't sit well with her.
"I've always looked older than I really am – developed early, you know?" Margherita tried to smooth over. "He eventually figured it out and quickly lost interest. Actually, part of the reason it took us so long to finally get together was because he could only think of me like a sister. Apparently I had to reach thirty before he was willing to admit I was a woman and not a girl."
She glanced back at Ezio, who seemed to have realized his mistake. "Yeah," he agreed. "I finally stopped thinking of her as a sister."
Whether or not this satisfied Caterina, they would never know because before she could even change her facial expression, a maid from the Villa came prancing down the stairs. She bowed to Caterina and Ezio.
Now that is what a maid really looks like, Little Miss Priss. Please don't confuse the two ever again.
"Please see Caterina to the guest chambers," Ezio said. "She can rest there and recover from her long journey." Then he turned to Caterina. "We will discuss things tomorrow – probably in the morning. It is Claudia's birthday," he informed her.
"Ah, I will have to remember to wish her a happy birthday – perhaps get her a present…"
Ezio nodded, "Well, I need to go get cleaned up so I don't pollute all of Monteriggioni with my stench," the assassin joked.
The group made their way up to the Villa and Ezio was kind enough to let Margherita go so that she could walk on her own. She did walk close to him, though, in the way that only old couples can pull off – just close enough to maintain a private conversation, without being so close that the contact is inappropriate.
"I doubt you could pollute all of Monteriggioni," Margherita snarked. "Just the Villa."
"I always thought you liked it when I was all sweaty and manly," Ezio whined.
Caterina interrupted from her position a few steps a head of them – though Margherita hadn't been aware that they were talking loud enough for her to overhear. "All men seem more attractive when they are sweating – it is when that smell becomes stale that women are repulsed."
"Yup," Margherita agreed, turning to smile at Ezio.
"Then, let us hurry so that I don't become stale."
By that time, they had reached the main lobby of the Villa so Margherita and Ezio nodded their departure to Caterina and the maid, and they made their way up to Ezio's room. Ezio called for a maid to fill the tub with hot water.
In the meantime, Ezio pulled out a kit with linen to wrap up his hands. Margherita ached to help him bandage his bloody knuckles, but she knew that he had tons of experience with breaking himself, fixing himself and then breaking and fixing himself again. All she would do it slow him down. So, she sat and watched him diligently, hoping to pick something up.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Margherita knew that she had had some negative feelings regarding Ezio's lifestyle. As a young girl in the 21st century, she knew that being a dutiful housewife was not for her. She wanted a career. She wanted a life. Renaissance women weren't allowed careers. Margherita had been fortunate enough to have her experiments, her writings, the things that kept her busy throughout the years of her life. She couldn't imagine sitting at home any more, waiting for Ezio to return from a dangerous mission.
So yeah, she was glad that part of his life was over.
Her gladness was increased exponentially as she noticed the branding on the ring finger of his left hand. That was where the wedding ring would go – and yet it was permanently burned with the insignia of the assassins… the one thing in his life that would always come first, always come before Margherita, always leave her waiting by a window for her lover to come circling back down to Earth and home and hearth before leaving once again.
The marking was quickly covered with linen.
Ezio finished wrapping his hands and since he was almost already naked, Margherita made quick work of her outer robe, placing it gently on the bed so that it wouldn't wrinkle – okay, yeah, so the fact that Caterina had thought she was a servant still kind of stung – and then she ditched her slippers.
When strong, masculine arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against a hard chest, Margherita sighed. Ezio sprinkled her neck with butterfly kisses and let his fingers wander over the ties of her under robe. Quickly, the white fabric was loosened and fell around her ankles. Turning in his arms, Margherita pulled at the waistband of his breeches.
Ezio threw his head back in laughter, "Someone is hasty."
"Someone is becoming stale," she snarked back, finally loosening the laces to the point that she could yank his pants down… unfortunately, he had forgotten to remove his boots.
Margherita glared up at him, blaming him for the inconvenience. "Your problem," she huffed, and walked over to the filled tub. It was nice and hot, steam already swirling up from the surface of the water.
In his haste to get into the tub with his fiancée, Ezio simply threw his clothes into a corner of the room.
"Honestly, Ezio?" she complained, "If you treated your clothes the way you treat women, I would never have to sew again."
"I can sew," he protested. "I helped you sew the balloon!"
She simply blinked at him and crossed the room again, back to the bed. Dutifully, she picked up the clothes he had discarded and folded them gently before setting them on the bed. Ezio rolled his eyes, but the smile didn't leave his face. He hoped that another twenty years from now she would still huff and fold his clothes.
Ignoring the agitated woman, he lowered himself into the tub, groaning with deep satisfaction as the hot water soothed his aching muscles.
"From that sound, you'd think you enjoyed getting in a hot bath more than you enjoyed having sex," came Margherita's comment.
"I am getting too old, Margherita."
"You're only forty."
"Yes," Ezio leaned his head back. "And in assassin years, that's more like eighty."
"Hm," she made her way behind him and pushed his head forward gently to guide him forward. From this angle, she could run her hands over the hard muscles of his shoulders and neck. Deftly, she massaged over his trapezoid and deltoids.
Blinking up at Margherita through half-lidded eyes, enjoying his massage very much, Ezio gave her a crooked grin.
"I had forgotten that I had said you were like a sister to me," he said.
"I had, too."
"Ha!" the assassin scoffed. "Who were we kidding? Through all those years – of all the feelings we felt for each other, sisterly and brotherly love were certainly not one of them."
"I think we didn't want to feel anything for the other," she explained. Margherita leaned over to place a kiss on his hairline. "We were busy with our own little projects – trying to escape in our own way. I had my flirts, you had your whores. None of it was ever serious because we didn't want anything serious."
"But now we want something serious."
"Exactly."
Under her ministrations, his bones became like jelly and he flopped back. "Come in here," he purred.
After removing her breast band and bloomers (and making sure her hair wasn't going to get wet), Margherita climbed in, situating herself between Ezio's legs. As she leaned back against his chest, Ezio cupped some water and let it dribble down her shoulders. She sighed into his neck.
Her left hand found his underwater and she laced their fingers together gingerly, remembering his injuries. Pulling the appendage up, Margherita placed a kiss along his bandaged knuckles. In doing so, she caught sight of his ring finger.
"When are we going to get married?" Margherita finally blurted. She had really meant to save this topic for a better atmosphere and she really didn't want to ruin the mood, but all she could think about was that she wanted this moment to last forever. She wanted to be married to this man, at his side forever.
"Whenever you want," he replied easily. "As soon as you want, as late as you want."
Margherita paused to think for a moment. "We should focus on Claudia tomorrow and it will take some time to plan – and Claudia will probably be the one to plan it and she'll be focused on her own birthday tomorrow so…"
"Yes," he agreed, ignoring her mini-rambling. "What if we set the date for a week from tomorrow. That way we'll always know when our anniversary is – just seven days after Claudia's birthday."
"…are you implying that I will forget our anniversary?"
"My love, you would forget you had a head if it wasn't connected to your shoulders and I was there to occasionally remind you where you had left it."
Beneath the water, Margherita found his hairy thigh and pinched the skin just hard enough to give a warning. Ezio yelped and responded with a laugh and nip on her neck. It was probably less painful than he had intended because all it did was send a shiver down Margherita's spine. Lord, she loved that man.
"So it's set, then?"
She felt him nod behind her, "Yes, wife, it is set."
Like a little girl, Margherita giggled. She could get used to being called that. Sure, "whore" was something special since only Ezio called her that. But now Ezio would refer to only her as "wife". She decided to throw out her own term of endearment and see what Ezio thought.
"Husband, could you pass me the soap?"
"Here you go, wife."
"Why thank you, husband."
"We shouldn't be this sickly sweet."
"Oh please, we're nearly newlyweds; we're supposed to be sickly sweet."
"Well, let's just not be sickly sweet in front of Mario – he'll never let me live it down."
"Can we add Claudia to that list, too?"
"Definitely."
Margherita gave another sigh. The burden had been lifted off her shoulders and in a week she would be married. Life couldn't get better than that.