What If?

His flawless white cowl gleams in the perfect sunlight, his glimmering, intricately designed armor reflects the light in such a way that I have to close my eyes or risk blinding myself. He looks over his shoulder at me and our hazel eyes meet. The scar crossing his mouth from an old enemy's thrown rock stretches as his otherwise flawless lips pull into a smirk.

"Are you frightened?" he asks me.

I grin ferociously and creep forward across the top of the building, my new boots feeling odd and unfamiliar across the terracotta roof tiles; I wish he'd let me keep my old boots. But a new outfit is needed I guess when you become a recruit.

"Of course not," I say confidently. "I'm an assassin! Just like you! Nothing scares me."

He smiles and reaches forward to ruffle my hair. "Pretty to think so," he said, "but in truth, we all get scared sometimes. Now come here. Come stand here on this. Eagles often perch on them to rest, and they provide a great escape should guards try to chase you. The Brotherhood also uses them to test the commitment of our recruits. It is called a Leap of Faith. All assassins must perform one. You will jump off the ledge, and land neatly in the haystack below."

I frown and look over the building with my hands on the terracotta edge. "You make it sound so easy," I say grumpily. Then I look over at him and smile nervously. "Remember how I said I'm not afraid of anything? Jumping off a three story building into an eight-by-eight hay-filled wagon doesn't fall under the category of 'anything.' "

"Anastasia," he says almost mockingly, "it's only a little jump. When you can jump off the Pope's Castello, use a contraption made by a crazy-man and float down to the ground with only a piece of cloth to aid you, then you can say you're afraid of heights."

"I didn't say I was afraid of heights," I mutter reproachfully as I take my position on the small ledge that looks out over Florence. "Well...here I go." My heart leaps into my throat as I inch forward, close my eyes and start to lean forward—only to hear a familiar voice.

"Ezio! Ezio Auditore! Is that you way high up there?"

Ezio leaned out over the edge of the building from behind me and grinned like a fool, his hazel eyes lighting up. "Leonardo!" He looked at me then and ushered me forward. "Are you going to go?" he asked.

I glanced from him down to the beaming man standing beside the wagon of hay so far down below us, and I shake my head. "Maybe next time," I say.

He smiles, shakes his head and stands, helping me back from the side of the building. "Allow me," he said before turning to face me, his heels on the very edge of the roof. He smirked, waved to me and then fell backwards.

"Papà!" I shout, rushing to the edge of the building. When I didn't see him, I panicked and looked left to right, trying to seek the fastest way to the ground. Where had he gone? Was he hurt? Could my father actually be dead? No. Nothing so simple as a fall from a building could kill the great Ezio Auditore! Nothing could kill him! Not even the Borgia.

In a desperate fit of...well, I guess you could call it insanity...I fling myself off the building and tuck my limbs into my body, clamping my jaws shut to silence the scream bubbling in my chest. When I land, it feels like I've been hit by a horse running at full gallop, but I didn't feel any damage that could be fatal—the hay cushioned my fall. It was shocking, but not painful—terrifying all around, though.

I sit up, frantically clawing at my hair to clear the hay out of my eyes and look around, breathing hard. "Papà!" I practically scream. Many of the passing townspeople who hadn't already stopped to stare turned to look at me; I must have looked like quite a spectacle what with my panicked expression and being in a hay wagon.

And someone had the audacity to clap at me? At a time like this? I'd kill the bastard! I leap clumsily from the wagon and stalk forward, turning the corner to find the source of the applause. Instantly, I regret my aforementioned threat.

"Very impressive," Leonardo says with a smile.

My cheeks burn and I brush my long, tangled, hay-highlighted mass of auburn hair back from by shoulders. "Not really," I say shamefully. "I-I know I could do better. Uh...where's my father?"

"Right here," Ezio's familiar, deep voice whispers, inches from my ear.

I squeal and leap forward, turning to face him with my fists up, a snarl on my lips.

"Good thing you didn't give this one a weapon, Ezio. She could do some damage," Leonardo chuckled, placing a hand on my shoulder. I look up at him and lower my hands to my sides, feeling ashamed of myself for raising my fists to my father.

But then I remember what had happened not five minutes ago and feel anger surge up in my chest. "That was a mean trick!" I growl, stepping forward and jabbing an accusing finger in Ezio's breastplate. "I thought you were hurt! Or dead! Or worse!"

Ezio chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. "What could be worse than dead?"

Faithful Leonardo steps up to the plate to help me make my point. "Oh, plenty of things, amico mio. You could be scewered by a passing soldier, shot by a wayward arrow from a crossbow, trampled by a horse, imprisoned for liberating a minstral's instrument just to shut him up—"

Ezio's bland expression ends Da Vinci's tyrade, which the artist seems to really be enjoying.

"Thank you for that lovely rendition of everything I should avoid. Would you like to hold the key to my cell? Or just drop it down a well?"

Leonardo grins at Ezio and says cheekily, "I might make a poet of you yet!"

Ezio rolls his eyes and sighs. "Why are you here, Leonardo?"

"Can't an old friend drop by every once in a while to say hello?"

"Leonardo—"

"All right, all right. I have an idea for a new invention—"

"Oh no, not another one," Ezio and I groan.

"Hold on, hold on," Leonardo says, waving us down with both hands. "This one I think will actually work the first time around. It is a weapon. A type of crossbow that shoots pellets instead of arrows—like a small cannon."

Ezio raises one thin, black brow and shifts his weight to the opposite foot. "And I suppose you want me to test it out?"

"Well, normally yes, but in light of the circumstances of you finding your daughter..." Ezio steps forward, looking less than pleased at the direction the conversation is headed. "I-I would like Anastasia to try it out instead."

"Me?" I squeak. "Why me?"

"Because Ezio's gauntlet wasn't designed for so many modifications as far as I can tell—and without more Codex pages, I couldn't make the adjustments anyway. But if I attach the new weapon to another gauntlet, it might very well work. And besides, you're like family! I give all my best inventions to close friends. Don't I, Ezio?"

Papa shakes his head and chuckles in response. He and Leonardo have known each other for years according to my grandmother. She doesn't talk much, but when she does, she tells the most wonderful stories about when Papa was a boy. When I ask about grandpa, though, she gets all quiet and weepy. Papa takes me home then, so I don't get to see her much.

"So will you do it?" Leonardo asks eagerly.

"Leonardo," Ezio warns, stepping forward.

"I'll do it!"

"Anastasia, you should think more carefully about this. Taking on the responsibility of a weapon is a huge step. You are still having trouble with the leap. Stay with your hidden blade for now—"

"Papà, it's fine. Really. I can handle it." I turn to Leonardo with a smile on my face and he gestures for me to follow.

Finally, a weapon I can be proud of using! I fiddle with the new device and smile, anticipating many victories with my new weapon.

"Now, Anastasia," Leonardo cautioned, "this weapon can be very dangerous. Never point it at anyone you do not intend to kill. And under no circumstances should you point it at yourself. Am I understood?"

I sigh and nod. "Yes, Messer da Vinci."

"Bene," the artist says with a prideful smile. "Now go on with your father and practice. You can't very well use it if you don't know how."

My eyes widen and I look up to Papa. "We're going to kill someone?" I ask nervously.

"Of course not, Anastasia," he says dissapprovingly. "We will be using dummies stuffed with hay."

He leads me from Leonardo's workshop, and I follow confidently, eager to try out my new weapon.

However, as soon as we leave, we are surrounded by guards. It seems like there are hundreds of them, but there can only be six or so.

"You are under arrest," one of them says. He is a bear of a man, towering even over my Papa, and he iss dressed in a full suit of armor with a large battle ax in his hand. "Come quietly, and we might give you a merciful death."

Papa's hand touches my elbow, and he pulls me back behind him. "Gentlemen," Papa says calmly, "I believe you have me mistaken for someone else. Please, go about your business."

The guard comes forward and strikes Papa on his chest with the butt of his ax, and I step forward, growling, "Don't hurt him!"

I see the guard's deep set eyes blink behind his helm, and he laughs at me, the other guards laughing as well. "This bambina thinks she is tough!" he howls, much to my embarrassment. I step forward and try to stomp on his foot, but Papa's hand on my shoulder stops me. He leans down and whispers, "I am going to distract them. I want you to run away; I will meet you on Tiber Island. Do you know the way?"

Nodding, I step back behind Papa again, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Gentlemen. I will not ask again for you to leave us be. On whose authority do you claim to arrest us, anyway?" Papa asks, his right hand rubbing the spot on his chest where he'd been hit.

"My authority," the guard in the suit of armor snarls, his voice ringing metallically in his helm. "Get him!"

The guards surge forward with grunts and snarls, raising their swords and war hammers to strike at Papa. I shout for Papa to run, but my voice is lost in the sounds of the fight. Pain shoots up my arm as the edge of a sword slashes my forearm. I grip my arm and let out a frightened squeal when I feel another hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of the throng of writhing bodies.

"Anastasia, Anastasia! Stop hitting me! It's me, Leonardo. Your father suspected the guards would try something, so he asked me to follow the two of you. Come, bambina, we have to leave!"

I follow Leonardo, frightened and in pain. He leads me to the Bureau on Tiber Island, and sits me in a chair at one of the tables where scrolls and maps are sprawled. "Leonardo, what about Papa? I have to help him! There are too many guards! They'll kill him!" I exclaim.

"Anastasia," Leonardo chides, "your father is strong. He can watch after himself. He will meet us here when he can."

Leonardo's words do nothing to soothe my nerves, bt I allow him to see to the wound on my arm. It isn't deep, but it hurts like a wound much worse than it is. Once Leonardo bandages my arm, I sit staring up at the door at the top of the stairs which I hope Papa will come through.

A door high up in the Bureau slams shut, and I jump to my feet. "Papa!" I shout. He must have come in through the entrance on the roof. "Papa! Are you okay?" I run to the stairs that lead up to the second floor and meet him in the middle of the room.

"Anastasia," he says, pulling me into his arms. I hide my face in his shoulder and he holds me for a moment before holding me at arms length. "Anastasia, you're hurt!" He takes the hand of my injured arm and looks at the bandages.

"I'm fine, Papa. It's just a scratch. Leonardo took care of it," I assure him. He gives me a critical look, and then sighs.

"You worry me so much," he says affectionately, pulling me into a hug again. "I'll lock you up in a tower somewhere so you can never be hurt again."

"Papa," I chuckle, "I'm safer with you than anywhere else."

"I only wish that was true."