.
The Constantinople air is cold at night, even in his armor, his gray hood that feels too heavy for his skin, too much fabric on his body; the blades and his hook blade feel sharp in his hands.
He looks up and takes a breath; the stars are wonderful tonight, making drawings and figures around the sky as if it was a canvas.
The keys of Masyaf fell heavy in his pocket, like pounds of memories which do not belong to him but somehow still feel as if they were a part of him.
He isn't Altair, he will never be the wise master Altair was and he knows that. He's Ezio Auditore, ruthless, vengeful, cunning, charming but not wise. Never as wise at Altair.
And he is fine with that.
.
Another night under the Constantinople sky.
Yusuf has offered him a rather humble yet comfortable room for him to reside in, she declined.
"My friend, I rather enjoy lying under the stars, on a bale of hay."
He closes his golden eyes and dreams of a better life.
Yet he still sees his.
.
Another night, another key fells heavy in his pocket.
She asked him to bring her flowers, white tulips, specifically white tulips, and it felt nice. It was a warm experience to not kill anyone, at least for a couple of moments. To not have anyone's blood on his sword and to simply spend a relaxing afternoon with a beautiful woman.
She would laugh with him, she would tease him every time he would try his Italian charm towards her.
Women always fell for him first; he's never fallen for someone so fast and so deep before.
.
He sits on night on his desk, by ink and paper he takes and writes.
Dear Sister Claudia:
Sofia Sorto is unlike any woman I have ever encountered, for she is a charming and intelligent, graceful and beautiful. She has hair red as passion, red as blood and her eyes are as green as the Italian grass you and I once walked on. I cannot risk her faith in me, sister, for she has none idea of my true identity. Of my purposes of the keys, of the books and of the texts she has uncovered for me. Sweet sister, whatever shall I do? Is it not enough that I once lost Cristina because of my faith? But no, Sofia is not Cristina. And will never be, for she is much more. For Sofia is bringing passion back into my life, filling the hollow vast in my body that once left. I have never been more worried for a woman in my life, sister. You and mother were never in danger because father was always there. I need to protect her, at all costs.
Your brother, Ezio Auditore.
He rips the paper to pieces then burns them.
He will not be subsided to a weaker Ezio, to his sister; he will always be Ezio, the brave. Not Ezio, the love stricken man. What a preposterous idea. Absolutely absurd.
So he watches as letters of love turn into ashes and dust.
.
He closes his eyes and hears her voice, speaking about how the stars form constellations and how they form beautiful pictures in the sky.
But with a fingers he traces her name;
S for stunning,
o for optimistic,
f for fearless,
i for intelligent and
a for amazing.
And then he wonders what has made a number of men settle down and start a family.
If only.
.
Opening his eyes, it's still dark, the stars are still bright and he wonders what life could have been if he wasn't an assassin.
But he takes it back, because he would have never become the person he is today without the lessons he's learned over the years. He would have never made it to beautiful Constantinople and he would have never met the redheaded beauty that was invading his mind.
.