It was only here where I felt alive. Running across rooftops, soaring from building to building, scrambling up or leaping down, it was the life I lived above ground was where I truly felt at home.

Ever since I first learned to walk, my father had shown me how to climb, how to leap, how to fall and how not to fall. Of course, a life as the daughter of a thief and a courtesan wasn't glamorous, but it was entertaining to say the least. While my father taught me the ways of the rooftops, my mother taught me the ways of the life below, having me follow her around the streets of Florence, keeping track of people, who they are, what they were doing and especially, as she always said, what clothes they wore. Every rich man showed off his vast wealth in his garments, displaying his power. Here, my mother would choose her targets.

"Hush, watch closely and stay put." She'd say as she'd amble over to the wealthy man, swaying her hips as she went.

She was so delicate and graceful in her movements, in her ridiculous flirting. Her slender hands stroked his shoulders, his cheeks, all attention on her eyes, her lips. As one hand delightfully played on his face, the other snaked its way to his purse, effortlessly, snatching it away into the hidden pockets of her skirts. Then, she left, leaving him hungry for more. She took my hand and watched him race away to the nearest brothel to spend what little florins my mother had let him keep.

Some nights I spent in the luxury of a brothel room, my mother laughing as I questioned the noises I heard from the other rooms. Other nights were spent on the rooftops, racing my father and his friends along buildings, never quite winning. But it was with my father that I felt at home, despite the less than satisfying sleeping accommodations.

However, I was the youngest in a group full of men and often felt alone, even with my fathers constant prompt of "you're one of us". And when the thieves guild went to visit the courtesans, my loneliness grew as a child of twelve watched my parents embrace before signalling for me to "run off and have fun".

So I did. And it was on one of those nights did I find my loneliness grow smaller.

The wind whistled as it rushed past me, my feet beating against the rooftops, scrambling to find purchase as I clambered up to a taller tower. I let out a breath as I pulled myself up, my young arms already stronger than some of the men I'd seen in Florence. I stood and surveyed the city at night.

Calm, peaceful. Sighing, I turned, to be hit smack bang in the face by someone leaping up from the ledge below. I didn't have time to scream before I stumbled back and fell off the tower.

As I snatched at a purchase, I let relief flood in and then anger roar out as I shouted vulgarities that I'd heard the thieves and courtesans use.

"BASTARDO!"

"Ah, Ezio, don't be like-"

"Uh, brother, I'm here."

"Then, who-"

"BASTARDO!" I cried again as I heard the two voices realise what had happened.

"Perdonatemi, (pardon me)" the first voice apologised and pulled me up as the other voice laughed, entertained that his brother had nearly killed someone thinking it was him.

"Are you okay?" The first voice belonged to a boy around my age, possibly thirteen, concern lining his face as he gripped my shoulder, helping me stand.

"BASTARDO!" I shouted again, angrily shooting daggers at the first boy and his brother, still laughing.

"Is that the only word you know?" the younger brother, Ezio, asked.

"Hush, brother, she's in shock. I'm sure you'd say all sorts of profanities if you were plunging to your death."

Big words, not sons of the thieves or courtesans, possibly someone of high status...?

"My name is Federico Auditore da Firenze," he smield smugly, "and this is my younger brother, Ezio."

"A pleasure," I replied sarcastically, dramatically dusting off my shoulders, "and I am- wait, Auditore? Oh no, oooh no..."

"What's wrong?" Federico asked as I backed away, my eyes searching for a hay bail below that I could make a quick escape.

"You'll have me hung for calling you a bastardo."

"Three times." Ezio chipped in.

"Nonsense, it was my fault." Federico insisted and stepped forward, causing me to step back.

It was with that step back that I lost my footing, again, and fell. That time, I had time to scream.

A hand darted out and snatched my collar, yanking my up, back to safety.

"Ah look, brother, you've saved her life. Now that makes up for nearly ending it." Ezio remarked.

"Shut up, stronzo." He barked. "Are you okay? And if you call me bastardo again, I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to report you. Four's the limit, you see."

Ignorant, my young eyes widened, fearful of the consequences. Maybe just blindly jumping off this tower would be a better fate.

Federico laughed. "I'm joking!"

I snarled. "Don't do that! I thought I really was going to be reported."

Ezio scoffed. "Thieves, eh? What can you do?"

Federico went to shove his brother but Ezio leapt off the tower, arms stretched, flying through the air, landing in a hay pile below.

"Bastardo." Federico said to the air as he watched the young boy scamper away into the night.

"You better follow him." I said, my anger cooled.

"Yes, I'd better. I'll see you around." He waved as he joined his brother, bounding into the air and disappearing from sight.