Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed.
Unwinding Secrets: Alessa Cappello grew up in a wealthy, prestigious family, always feeling out of place and misunderstood. Soon, though, she makes a new acquaintance in a strange place, and after that, all of her family's secret begin to unravel.
A/N: This is something I just started to write. I have a very good idea where it's going and such, but I'm not certain that there's an audience out there that wants to read on or not. Give me a review and tell me what you thought and if you want the next chapter!
One
Alessa Cappello despised dresses. She despised the time of day in the morning when her maid, Illiana, came in to help her find a dress to wear. It wasn't truly the dresses themselves she despised—she found them to be quite beautiful, even exquisitely so—but it was the stark distinction they made between men and women.
Men, who could wear anything from homespun tunics to business suits to vests and shirts and pants, diverse to women in the way they had expectations to go out of the home, to make something of themselves in some sort of manner, whether it be banking, selling merchandise, taking up the study of healing and so many other things, whereas women were expected to do quite the opposite. Women were supposed to find good husbands, to marry and have children. To learn to sew and cook and clean and tend to the children. They weren't supposed to go out of the home for anything purposeful. The only purpose they had to leave was to go to the market, or to visit a family. Alessa didn't feel imprisoned at home—just caught in a place where she didn't want to be. And she knew, with her age, that she wasn't making it very easy on her parents.
Alessa was twenty-two years old, and unmarried. Truly an anomaly, given her beauty, her family's well known prestige, and really her intelligence. But it wasn't that she was unwanted. She was in fact wanted, very much. Man after man had courted her since she was twelve, and man after man she had turned down till this day, much to her parents' disappointment, and sometimes, she thought, even her brothers'. But she knew what they wanted her for—to display her on their arm as a trophy, a piece of décor they could show off to family and friends. They didn't understand her—the way she worked on the inside—or did they ever care to.
She wasn't like the other women. Physically speaking, she was in most ways. She was beautiful like her friends were, and friends of friends were. But she wasn't quite as robust or short as they were; she was more lean and tall, a trait detested every so often by a suitor who hadn't quite been blessed with her height. She was taller than most women, and yet shorter than most men. The way her mind worked was how she was most unlike other women. She was very educated, having the best tutors teaching her since she was a little girl. She no longer had need of tutors—she'd learned much, and when she yearned to learn more, she would read. She kept up with the latest scientific or medical theories; she liked to know what was going on out there in the world. She liked to have knowledge that emulated her beauty, so that others would see her as intelligent instead of beautiful. So that she may be seen as equivalent to a man.
Fondly, she remembered the days when her parents had permitted her to wear some of her brothers' clothes. Ettore and Giacobbe had never minded, especially not when they were all out playing. She'd been accepted as one of the boys back then, treated as their equal, even picking up some of the traits the boys had—clenching her fists when she was angry, speaking her mind freely, not quite as fearful of the world as most women were. Ettore and Giacobbe had taught her many things—how to climb, how to be strong, how to get up off the ground when she'd fall and hurt herself. And most importantly, how to be herself. But now Ettore and Giacobbe were gone, off on an apprenticeship of carpentry—making boats, she knew—visiting her only on occasion. The occasions didn't come quite often enough to sate her need of feeling like she had a purpose.
She stood in her room, facing the mirror that was tucked into the corner. Light from the window behind her shone brightly on it, outlining her in gold, like an angel. She studied herself—the red dress she wore was elegant, with a gold belt tied around her waist and the arms of it cuffed in gold as well. Her mother always made sure all of her dresses had sleeves reaching to her wrist—to hide the scar they both had, even if Alessa's was higher up on her forearm and not on her wrist. The hem of the dress had a large v-dip in it, exposing her small curves in just the right way to attract a man. It was what her mother wanted, but it always made her feel too exposed to show so much of her skin. Had she been wearing Ettore's childhood leather pants and light tunic, she would have felt much better. Her long dark hair had been coiled at the back of her head with a net of gold wire covering it. Her lips, full and glossy, were turned into a frown. Bright blue eyes stared back at her, broken as if the mirror itself was shattered. She hoped her gloomy feeling would quell soon, before she had to present herself to her mother.
Illiana had left several minutes ago, and Alessa was still pouting. But she smiled at herself in the mirror, trying to break out of the mood. The thought that she had no purpose stuck in the back of her mind, as it seemed to everyday, and made her smile diminish.
Alessa sighed lightly, her shoulders drooping ever so slightly. She knew one day she would have to relinquish her daydreams of a more fulfilling life, something exciting and new, and focus on the reality in front of her, the duties she would surely be given as soon as she found a man suitable enough for her to marry. If she would ever find one. Briefly, she wondered if her parents would just promise her to a man, forcing her into marriage. The mere thought sent shudders of fear down her spine. She couldn't imagine being forced into a marriage with a complete stranger, having to live with them and love them. It wouldn't be right.
Her mother had always said she daydreamed too much. She played with the boys too much. She didn't spend enough time trying to find a fitting, wealthy husband. But she didn't want a 'fitting' or 'wealthy' husband. She wanted love—a loving husband. Love had a purpose. It gave someone the want to get up in the morning and face the day, rather than the need. It meant happiness and belonging. If she couldn't be purposeful, she at least wanted the purpose of love. But it seemed love would never find her. At least, he hadn't courted her yet.
"Alessa!" she heard her mother, Celia, call out from downstairs, "Alessa, are you ready yet? Hurry along!"
Alessa glanced back at the dress that said: I am woman, I am wealthy, and I am unmarried. Then without hesitating she exited her room and made her way down the stairs and into the dining area, where her mother was waiting for her.
Celia was beautiful. She had the same dark hair and bright blue eyes that Alessa had, but the angles to Celia's face were much sharper than those of Alessa's. However, her glossy lips were pulled into a scowl, and her bright eyes were narrowed at Alessa. Her arms were crossed over her chest. Illiana stood behind her mother, giving Alessa a warning look.
"Mother—"
"Alessa, I told you to be down here and ready to leave by noon!" Celia uncrossed her arms and planted her hands on her hips. "I would like to make it to the market and back to start dinner early—you know your father is having very important investors over tonight!"
Alessa looked at the ground. "Yes, Mother, I know. I apologize for being so late. But it is now just noon, and I am ready."
Celia nodded briskly. Alessa noticed that her mother was wearing a grand beige dress, one with sleeves also covering her wrists, as usual. "Good. Then let us be on our way." She pushed through the door of the house and walked out onto the street, followed by Illiana and Alessa. Illiana gave Alessa an apologetic look—something she always did when she understood how Alessa was feeling when even her own mother didn't. Alessa offered her devoted maid a small smile, saying without words that it was all right.
The streets outside the Cappello villa were filled with others who wore clothes just as fancy as theirs, fancier, or humbler. It was those who were more humble that Celia always stayed blatantly away from, giving them wide berths en route to their destination. Alessa always felt ashamed of her mother when she did this, but she could never speak up and say so. She wasn't exactly sure how that would end, but she knew it wouldn't go well. Ettore had once voiced how he felt that those with more humility showed better character—yet another thing Alessa idolized her brother for—and her mother had refused to speak to Ettore for a week.
But they lived in the richer part of Roma, the Centro District. Although all of Roma was in disrepair, the Centro District was in far better shape than the other three Districts. From her window in her room, Alessa could see the towering edifice of the Castello. It was a dreadful sight, to her. The rounded stone of the building with the fortress around it emanated the preponderance the Borgia had over Roma. The large abundance of guards always reminded her of just how much power the family had, just how careful they were, and deceiving and sly.
She knew better than most people did in Roma, because of her father. It sickened her to know that the Borgia had managed to pinch their claws into her father, to twist him from being a steadfast and loyal man to a spy on his neighbors and friends. Of course, she wasn't meant to know. She'd overheard her mother disputing it when her father weeks ago, and lived in fear ever since. Her family didn't need the extra money the Borgia paid them—not at all. But she knew it was just another thing that could be used against them, should her father choose to deny helping them. With as much fear it filled her with, it also put her at ease to know they had ties to the Borgia. The thought, however ashamed she was to think it, was logical. Spies wouldn't be spied on, themselves.
The glowing sun cast warmth over Alessa, soaking into her clothes radiantly. She loved being outside, even if they were only heading to the market. Just being away from home felt like some kind of burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
Every so often they'd pass under an overhead structure, sending them into shadows. A few minutes later, the tall buildings that were unique to the Centro District began to block out the sun, casting longer lasting shadows on the ground. It raised bumps on Alessa's covered arms, and she shivered. She was thankful she didn't see anyone they knew on the way—whether they be old suitors who've long since given up or had been sent away, humbler investors of her fathers, or friends of her mothers. Having to greet and make polite small talk would just slow them down, and Alessa was eager to get back into the sun, to be surrounded by people she didn't know.
Thicker crowds of people were a telltale sign that they were nearing the market, and right on time. The sun was just beginning its fall from high noon, the sky was cloudless and a beautiful blue. Alessa hoped her mother wouldn't take too long to shop. She wanted to get home, finish her chores, and go back out to enjoy the day on her own. However she knew from previous experience that it was likely they'd be there until the sun was just to the horizon. Her mother wanted to cook a wonderful meal to impress the investors, and Alessa didn't really think badly of her for it. They were important investors—the investors were what kept her father in a job. He owned a number of shops throughout the District, and in some of the others as well, so not only sales determined how well he did profit-wise.
"Alessa," Celia spoke, bringing Alessa out of her reverie, "I asked what you would think if I made lamb to serve tonight?"
Alessa focused her eyes on the merchant's stand in front of her, displaying a large variety of meats and fish. She wasn't certain how long they had been standing there for. "I think it sounds wonderful. The investors would surely love it."
Celia smiled brightly at Alessa, and then turned the smile on the merchant. As it did to anyone who was graced with her mother's smile, the man just stared a moment before realizing that Celia had ordered. After her mother paid the merchant a few fiorini, they moved on to the next stand.
"You seem more distracted than usual," Illiana commented quietly to Alessa as she put the lamb meat in the basket she always brought when they shopped. Illiana's accent was much more pronounced than Celia's or Alessa's. Both Alessa and her mother had very thin accents compared to most of their friends and family, and Alessa assumed it was because her mother had been the one to teach her to speak. But it was always startling to her to hear how different they sounded compared to Illiana or her father, Egidio.
"I am just lost inside my head, as mother would say," Alessa told Illiana with a small smile, "It's nothing to worry over."
Illiana watched Alessa another moment, and then nodded. She moved to stand next to Celia, helping her choose between different types of soup they could make.
Alessa toyed idly with her dress, wishing she were wearing anything but. People would stop and stare at her, men would smile at her, and the like. She'd thought being in a market full of people she didn't know would be better, not worse. But she paid them no mind. The market was a large square, complete with a tricking fountain in the center. She stared at the water a moment, watching as it spouted lithely from four different angles. But it continued on forever in that way, never changing paths, nor height or amount. Just thin rivulets of water that spouted from the same stream, repeating the path through the intricate system within the fountain. Would be that way? Would she remain forever intricate on the inside, and yet the same and repeating in her ways on the outside, never finding a purpose? These days, it seemed that way.
She looked around the square for a distraction. Her chest tightened as she held in a groan. There, coming this way from a thoroughfare on the other side of the market, was Fulvio, her most recent and perverted suitor. He smiled widely at Alessa when he saw that he'd caught her eye and waved eagerly. She quelled the urge to not acknowledge him, and managed to offer the smallest of smiles in return.
"Alessa!" Fulvio greeted her enthusiastically, placing a kiss on each cheek. Alessa tried not to shiver in disgust. She knew her mother was watching with hope. "You look just lovely. It has been but days since I have last seen you, and still it is too long. And Madonna! You, too, look wonderful!" Fulvio greeted Celia as well. "Is that lamb your maid is carrying? Tell me, what great occasion calls for such a food?"
Alessa cringed when he said 'your maid'. Fulvio was the type to treat maids like servants, like they weren't apart of the family. Illiana had helped raise Alessa—she would never treat Illiana that way.
"Illiana," Alessa spoke before her mother could, "Is indeed carrying lamb." She gave Fulvio a reproachful look, with which he returned a bemused one. She looked away, frowning, and Illiana caught her eye. Her look said that she was grateful for Alessa speaking up on her behalf, but it was unnecessary.
"Yes," Celia spoke up quickly, blushing at her daughter's brashness, "We are having some investors over for dinner tonight."
"Ah," Fulvio said, as if it were all so very clear to him now, "That's wonderful!"
Celia smiled broadly, looking between Alessa and Fulvio. "Actually," she said, "Perhaps you would like to join us? We have room at the table for another seat, and I'm sure Alessa would like your company. Isn't that so, Alessa?"
Alessa opened her mouth to speak, but Celia purposefully cut her off, giving Fulvio a bright smile. "She'd love it if you came."
"I would be honored, signorina," Fulvio beamed at Alessa, who was frowning.
"Delightful!" Celia clasped her hands together happily. "Then it's set. Come by at dinnertime and . . ."
Alessa, her hands clenched together, walked away to another stand, trying to stay calm. Fulvio was a perverted bastard that always let his hands wander when he was around. What would Mother think of him if she knew that? Her knuckles were white, she realized. She remembered what Ettore used to do to stay calm when Father would try and convince him to stay in the family business. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out. Although the stench of people filled her nostrils, she was desensitized to it. She just breathed, and then opened her eyes, feeling a little better. It was one evening, she told herself. One evening, and then she could be free and on her own.
She looked down at the merchant stand in front of her as a distraction. This one was selling masks for Carnival. She was admiring a gold and plum colored mask when she heard a woman shriek.
Turning to see what the commotion was, she saw that several other people on the other side of the market were dashing to get out of the way of something. Her eyebrows scrunched together. Had a horse bucked or gotten loose from where it was tethered? It wouldn't be the first time, she knew.
A moment later, she saw the real disturbance. There was a man running, faster than she'd ever seen anyone run before. He wore a white robe with armor over it and a hood covering his head, concealing his face. On his back, there was a cape and a crossbow—a weapon that could easily be bought at one of the stores her father owned. The hilt of a sword gleamed at his side, catching the sunlight. Guards were chasing him, just a few paces behind him. She watched in awe as he ran faster, shoving through the crowds of people near the center of the square to get through. She didn't even have the good sense not to be bothered by it. Then she saw with a pang of panic that there were other guards coming straight at him, blocking him off. He was cornered.
Why would he be running from guards in the first place? Had he stolen something? As she listened, she heard the guards shouting vulgar comments at the man, and something about a Borgia captain. She knew very little about Borgia captains—only that there were several stationed in a District, and that they were there to keep the Borgia's power and influence over the area tightly controlled.
The man stopped on the spot, glancing quickly around. Alessa assumed he was searching for an escape, but she gasped when she saw him draw out his sword, brandishing it in the air as he crouched down into a fighting stance. He shouted something back at the guards, but she couldn't hear it. More people moved to dart out of the market, shoving her aside as they did. She barely noticed. Her eyes were glued onto the scene in front of her.
Alessa couldn't possibly begin to understand what would make this man rebel against the guards, or do whatever he did to the Borgia captain, but she thought him to be absolutely insane if he actually was going to fend off the guards. She'd seen other citizens get into trouble with them over small things, and get killed over it—now everyone avoided the guards because they knew they were corrupted. But this man obviously hadn't done something small to provoke them so much. The guards were pissed off and looked to be out for his blood.
A heavily armored guard with an axe-like weapon made to lunge forward and lash out at the man. Alessa pinched her eyes shut in fear—she didn't want to see him killed. Her hands shook at the idea of it. But a moment later, she heard the clashing of metal on metal and opened her eyes. Her mouth dropped open. With a flick of his wrist, the man in robes had deflected the oncoming weapon, forcing it to the side as he reached out and stabbed the guard in the throat with something under his sleeve. The guard cried out in pain, dropping the axe as both hands went to his throat where blood spewed between his fingers. He fell to his knees, dying.
"Alessa!"
She flinched when she finally recognized her name being called and felt a hard tug on her arm. Looking to see who had a hold on her, she realized with some surprise that it was her mother. Alessa had never realized how strong she was before; she pulled Alessa away from the scene and into a narrow thoroughfare that would lead them home. But Alessa spared one last glance back at the man in the white robes, still awed by the fluidness of his movements, the purpose within them. Celia tugged on her arm painfully once more.
"We must leave now!" Celia shouted, and with Illiana by their side once more, they gathered up their skirts and made to run back to the villa. A crowd of people ran alongside them, all headed in different directions. Alessa noted that Fulvio hadn't seemed to care enough for her to stick around. She wondered, briefly, if he would have the gall to show up later on.
The screaming of another guard reached her ears even as they were almost home. She didn't feel any fear from it. She didn't feel bothered by it. And she wasn't quite sure why.
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