Fottuto bastardo sanguinario: Bloody fucking bastard
Excerpt of Fortuna's Drive, which is being published on my deviantArt account. Find me and my Assassin's Creed work there, under the name Lady-Achika.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, other than the summary.
In piedi: On your feet
Se sei qui per uccidermi, la mia donna: Are you here to kill me, my lady?
Merda: Italian curse word. ^^
Maledetto idiota: Damn idiot
The birth of a new day showered her in frustration.
She had witnessed enough wildfires to last a thousand lifetimes, living under a notorious brand. With her family's name engraved on her heart, she bore witness to the moon's reign. Night consumed all in the wake of time, even as the blackened sun rose over Italia. Cesare's iron-clad reign over Italia's children stirred flames deep within her heart, but she resigned herself to defeat. She believed herself to be helpless in the wake of bloodlust, seemingly doomed to follow her brother's footsteps.
Roma's devastated streets, grief-stricken people and barren establishments left scars on her heart. Cesare's daily executions of insubordinate soldiers dismantled her innards. Bending to her brother's every whim sickened her, but she dismissed the scorn as simple discomfort. She paid little heed to the contempt she sheltered towards her brother-
Until her brother stole Italia's pearl.
There was a limit to everything, as she discovered, and there was a limit to her patience. Spreading the Borgia name throughout Roma seemed to be an innocent enough cause, even though Cesare snuffed out the lives of all opponents-whether they were soldiers or civilians. She even turned her head when a party turned sour, resulting in her father's death. But when Rodrigo's black dragon captured Italia's precious, innocent pearl, her thin threads of patience snapped.
Yes, her brother had to do everything in his power to secure Borgia's immortality. But did her family's power have to come at the cost of a pearl's innocence?
Night after night, the lush treasures of her lifestyle lost their importance. Night after night, she listened to the weeping of a gentle moon-and found herself growing angrier, hotter than the black sun. Sumptuous dinners, ballgowns and rose bouquets weren't enough to charm her any longer. The taste of Roma's delights left sour ashes in her mouths, which lingered upon her lips as poisoned ash. Whenever she thought of escorts, vacations and midnight entertainment, her stomach churned with fresh batches of venom.
The cries of Cesare's prey were the final nails in her coffin.
The canary was cast into a cold, dank cell every night, either for the sake of punishment, or for the sake of Cesare's pleasure. Every night, she paid a visit to Leonardo's cell and winced, desperately wishing to provide even a little relief-but felt helpless against her brother's authority. On that particular night, though, she was pressed against her ropes. Cesare had tossed Leonardo into a cell of rotting, bloodied bodies, and the canary was weeping even louder than ever. Crying for freedom. Crying for release. Crying for-
Someone that deserved him far more than Cesare.
"Are you planning on releasing your toy anytime soon, bastardo, or do you wish to see him rot?"
As calm as a mortal possibly could be, her brother averted his eyes from documents. Both members of the Borgia line were inside their study, surrounded by ancient books and time-honored scrolls. One of the Papal soldiers expressed their wishes to reveal their studies to Cesare, for the sake of the army's progress. The soldier unearthed tales of bygone generals, and the past always paved the bridge for greater wisdom. "He shall be released eventually," the raven-haired general said, speaking as if his sister had merely mentioned a passing pidgeon.
"For now, he'll meditate on his disgusting ways. I do believe having him in my presence will soil my sanity."
"But you saw fit to ravage him tonight?"
"He is great fun, sorella. How could I pass up another opportunity to taste his boiling flesh?"
She had to will all of her veins to suppress anger. People frowned upon promiscuous men, flirty women and meaningless marriages, but in her eyes, the abuse of a particular pearl topped the cake. Balling her hands into fists, she had to bite her bottom lip in order to suppress increasing fury. "The night grows older, but my delight knows no bounds," the Borgia general went on, pawing at his documents lovingly. Ignoring his sister's obvious discomfort, he rose from his seat.
"It seems as if my joy will flourish, whether the sun is high, or the moon reigns over all. I'm learning more about the Azure Pearl, thanks to Leonardo's records, and our men unearth tremendous confidence."
It took everything in her to suppress growls. "The shards truly endow one with amazing power," her sibling said, speaking as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "As the days pass, I feel my stamina and courage increase. Power courses through my veins, carrying me to new heights. I might extend too much power in barreling through my canary's body, but I've never felt more alive in my life!"
"Fottuto bastardo sanguinario! This power you speak of-it is the same power you killed our father for!"
"Small loss," Cesare went on, unbothered by his sister's sudden outburst. "He interfered far too much with my plans. I am, after all, out for Italia's rejuvenation. He, on the other hand, was merely out for himself."
Bypassing the obvious arguments, she tilted her head in a show of frustration. "Must you extend any energy on Leonardo da Vinci?" she asked, her voice betraying inner thunderstorms. She was akin to a bristling porcupine, but her brother continued to sweep aside her feverish wrath.
"Of course, mi farfalla. He is, after all, wiser than any man in our league. We have a berth of knowledge at our hands-and Italia's greatest treasure. How could I not extend my deepest gratitude to him?"
She stood still for a moment, reflecting on her sibling's words. Wondering if she could possibly extend any more energy in an argument. A fleeting moment passed before she stormed out of the room, hands clenched into fists so tight, she bloodied her own palms.
Cesare allowed her to depart, unmoving even as the moon flickered.
_-
Nestled against bloodied silence, he succumbed to fierce spasms.
Shivers tormented him as he kept himself huddled into a ball, desperately wishing to defend himself against the night's eternal frost. The stench of lifeless, pillaged flesh tore at his nostrils, infusing dense waves of nausea into the pit of his stomach. He could do nothing but tremble, buried underneath lives that had been ripped apart. Weeping, weakened from epochs of crying out a name, he could do nothing but succumb to the ice around him.
And await the day that slept before him, a day that promised only greater torment.
The darkest bruises covered his body, mingling with wounds that were recently born. His head ached with a feverish demeanor, adding fuel to nausea. Although his heart cried out a certain name, he could only writhe in Hell's cold silence. The one of his dreams would not, could not hear him. His lover was too distant, too detached from the world he had been buried in-and so he was fated to live alone. He was fated to die alone, living in a world that reeked of blood.
He stiffened, hearing the door to his cell open. Whimpers flew out of him as a figure approached, and two others stationed themselves in the doorway. Was it Cesare? Was it another soldier, coming to poison him? Or perhaps whip him? Was another soldier going to-
"In piedi! In piedi!"
The canary's heart scorched his insides, then made a brave attempt at darting out of his chest. Hands lifted him to his feet, seemingly rough but truly gentle. "Have you come to kill me?" he asked, almost convulsive from horror and sorrow. "Se sei qui per uccidermi, la mia donna?"