WARNING!
This story contains: Headcanons, speculation, OCs, probably for the later chapters: angst, fight, blood

ATTENTION!
I will try to get a little bit of historical accuracy into this fanfiction. I can´t promise to keep it though all the way, but I will give my best. According to my researches about items and clothes the first generation used I came to the conclusion it has to be set in the late 19th century. Therefore I chose 25th January 1856 as Giottos birthday.
I will feature my version of how I think the first generation guardians had been and I will make use of a lot of OCs since I need them as supporters for the vongola, victims of crimes or criminals. Later I will introduce you some members of families we know from Tsunas time, but since I don´t like the idea of everything being the same as in tenth generation don´t expect them to be the same as the leaders we know.

SUMMARY:
Giotto is said to be the strongest mafia boss of all times, but he started off as nothing but a rather unpopular boy. This is the story of how he found the vongola, gathered his guardians, got the strongest and well-knownst 'mafiosi' and finally left his organisation behind. Follow him though his life and see what made him that special.

DEDICATION:
This first chapter is dedicated to every single fan of the vongola first generation.

„No doubt he's strange!"
Francesca was leaning closer to her neighbour in order to prevent a certain someone to follow their conversation.
„Look at him Paola! His hair, his eyes, everything's so … different."
Actually she wasn't fond of whispering since these rumours often were rather wage and so it wasn't worthy of being talked over anyway, but it was different in that case. Because the person they were talking about was Giotto Loredano, the probably most awkward boy on this earth. The colour of his hair was the colour of straw and his eyes were as blue as the cloudless sky and his skin was flawless almost like a marble figure although he was quite often in the sun. The other boys she knew were totally different. Their hair was as dark as wood as well as their eyes and their skin was tanned from the burning sun. They also were behaving differently since they were loud, happy and active while Giotto always seemed to be somewhere else in his mind. His blue eyes would then stare into the distance as if he was able to see something nobody else could see and his way of dealing with other people was rather strange. When he was looking at someone it almost seemed as if he was looking inside them, as if he knew everything about them. Not even the deepest secrets and the worst wishes could be hidden from him. Actually that was the part scaring Francesca the most. It awakened the feeling of him knowing even more about someone than the person itself which was rather unpleasant. Many of the other children were afraid that he knew their secrets or worse that he would tell them somebody else.

And then there were the stories people were telling about him. She didn't even knew who had started the rumours, but it had started to become a habit to share his strange behaviour with the own friends. And that was the reason why they were sitting on the bench right now, whispering while the boy was still in sight.

"Yesterday he stayed behind at church." Francesca told with a low voice. "Giulia saw him. But instead sitting still and praying he just sat there for a rather long time. Don Camillo then of course came to him and asked if there was something on his mind. He then just said that life was straining him. He didn't really want to talk about it and just said that he didn't trust the priest since he wasn't a honest man. Additionally he said that he had secrets, too, and that you only have to account to god. Imagine! He face to face told a priest he's a dishonest man!"

Paola looked at her with big unbelieving eyes. She had heard many stories about Giotto Loredano, but this exceeded everything. It was an effrontery and she could understand the rage of her friend.

"Did he really say that?" she asked, being shocked as well while Francesca nodded quickly.

"Giulia heard it herself! These were just his words!"

For a moment the blonde boy turned his view from the sky and seemed to look at them directly. Francesca' s heart seemed to miss a beat and she shivered slightly as she suddenly had the feeling he had heard them talking.. Of course this was impossible since they were sitting too far from him, talking rather silent. Giotto surely needed to have a good listening in order to even get a part from their conversation. Nevertheless she gasped of relief when he averted his eyes again.

Giotto was already used to it. He couldn't hear the girls talking, but the way they were whispering and glancing at him didn't need his special skills in order to know what they were talking about. For a moment his sad eyes lasted on them then he averted them and instead looked into the sky. The girls immediately had stopped talking once he had looked at them which was just the confirmation he didn't need.

Although this city was his place of birth and should be his home he didn't really feel bound to it. Everything was chaotic, fast, loud and everybody seemed to avoid him. All the people here had their secrets and this seemed to be the reason why he was met with refusal. He had realized quickly that an own opinion and wide knowledge wasn't requested all the time but unfortunately he had realized it too late. It wasn't as if he had had a chance here after all, he had always been different and even if he had tried harder he would have been abandoned because of his looks. He knew that many people discusses why he looked like that though the explanation was actually rather easy. His father was a merchant and his business had brought him to many different places and one of his travels had brought him to the north where he had met a woman. Giotto had heard that she had been very beautiful and as far as he knew his parents had married secretly. But since he hadn't been able to stay behind because of his business his father went on travelling and when he had returned from India one year later he was told that she had died during birth. The small boy, who had been given the name of an Italian artist by his mother, was taken to Italy by his father. Though his name was the only Italian thing about him after all, because in everything else he came after his Nordic mother. Just another reason for his stepmother to detest him, because Giotto knew that she couldn't accept at all that her husband had been married before he being the living proof.

He sighed lowly. Why all these people were just so angry and bitter? He could feel it. The mood of all these people he saw everyday. He could feel whether they were friendly towards him or whether they were prejudiced and he always realized when they were lying to him. All these emotions and moods were penetrating him and so far he hadn't found a possibility to stop it. He didn't like to feel all the displeasure of the people surrounding him although it wasn't any different to him than to hear to feel or to taste. Yet he was trying hard to keep the dimension of his skills a secret.

With a last view to the clouds, which were slowly moving across the sky, he got of the wall he had been leaning at and went home. Surely his father was already waiting for him, though he doubted his stepmother was since he sometime had the feeling that she was even disappointed when he returned home in the evening. It wasn't like he was angry at the woman but he had realized early that she wasn't that fond of him. Her own marriage not being blessed with own children just made everything worse. Giotto didn't blame her, she was just an ordinary woman with daily problems.

Quickly he slipped through the iron gate and walked the short path to the house. After a short knock the family's maid opened the door and let him in. He greeted her and she granted him a bright smile. Giotto knew that she girl only was nice to him because she was extremely curious and hoped that he would be of some use one day. But he didn't care.

As he went down the corridor he heard voices from his father's study and he suddenly had the impression it would be better to eavesdrop the conversation.

"He's only a burden." Were the first words he listened to.

It was his stepmother's voice and when he came closer, hiding in the shadow of the door frame, he could see her for a moment. She was a beautiful young Italian with raven locks and an energetic character.

"What should I do Sofia? He's only a child, I cannot just send him away." His father was trying to calm her down.

Giotto was trying to hide more in the shadow of the door. It wasn't that difficult to guess who they were talking about. His heart suddenly weight heavily and he started to shake slightly.

"He ruins your business! I heard your business partner talking about it and if this stays like that we won't find anyone else who wants to trade with us. Additionally ..." Giotto could hear her hesitating while a single tear already ran down his cheek. "I'm expecting a child."

"You … want me to send him away because of that?"

His father didn't seem to be very fond of the idea to send away his first born son.

"Yes, that's what I want!" I want that we have our own family, Pietro! But we never will as long as that boy is here! Whilst you'll keep thinking of her! And our child will be abandoned just like him!"

His stepmother's voice was almost hysterical. There was a short silence and Giotto could feel his father's agony as if it was his own.

"I … will send him to my parents." He finally responded softly. "Would that be fine with you?"

From one moment to the other the mood in the room changed and Giotto could feel the triumphant happiness of his stepmother once she had reached her goal. Quickly Giotto turned away and ran upstairs into his room while he was wiping away the tears, that didn't want to stop, with the hand of his back.

It was time to pack.

The travel had been long and Giotto was at his limits when they finally arrived at the mansion of his grandparents. His father had given him to an acquaintance who had to travel in the region because of business. Giotto had only needed seconds to understand that he wasn't allowed to speak or to make himself noticeable in any way. So he had spent the time with pretending not to be there and he was almost glad when he was dropped in front of the door together with his luggage. He couldn't have hoped for more because even his parents hadn't said their goodbyes in a gentle way. While his father at least had pretended to miss him his stepmother had showed how happy she was with him leaving. At least it hadn't been hard for him to leave because of that.

Thoughtfully Giotto observed the rural mansion and the surrounding. Somehow he just got the feeling that this place would be good for him. He examined the age-old trees and in some distance he could see a small village. The mansion was larger than he would have thought and it seemed to originate from a better time. He knew that Sicily had been hard-fought and that the French rule had just ended a couple of years ago. Since then situation had become more difficult. He could sense many people despairing and starving. If Giotto knew correctly only his grandparents and some subordinates lived here although the mansion offered enough space for several families and their subordinates.

Giotto sighed lowly and looked at his luggage. He hadn't taken much with him but the suitcase was too large and too heavy for him nevertheless. But all these thoughts didn't show any results and so he took all his strength and pulled the suitcase along the path to the heavy front door. He was out of breath when he finally arrived, knocking at the old door. It took a moment until the door was opened by an older woman who examined him for a moment and then smiled at.

"Good afternoon, you must be Giotto." she greeted him in such a friendly way that Giotto's heart jumped because of happiness and a bright smile appeared on his face.

"My name is Angelika. Come in and I'll show you your room. Your grandparents aren't at home right now, but I'm sure they'll be happy to meet you."

Giotto was just about to pull his suitcase over the doorstep when the housekeeper's eyes met the luggage in his hand. She smiled and eagerly shook her head.

"Leave your suitcase right here, Giotto. I'll ask Adriano to bring it upstairs later."

With a last short view on his suitcase the boy followed her as asked and left the luggage right next to the front door. To be honest he was rather glad he didn't had to carry it upstairs all by himself. He followed the housekeeper who brought him to a room at the end of the corridor in the second floor. It was rather solitary but it offered a fantastic view on the fields and meadows which surrounded the mansion. The high ceiling was white and the walls were coloured pastel green. The furniture was made of white wood and seemed to enlarge the room even more which already was done by the big windows. It was just wonderful.

"We actually awaited you for tomorrow, but I'll finish your room later on alright?" The older woman offered, meaning the not yet prepared bed.

Giotto quickly nodded while he was still looking around fascinated. He already felt comfortable here and although he first had been scared he now was looking forward to meet his grandparents.

While they were waiting for his grandparents return, Angelika showed the boy around the house, taking him to all the rooms from the kitchen across the library and even to every single room which were currently empty. Every single of them was interesting in its own way and yet Giotto was overly happy with his room. He got to know that besides the housekeeper there were also a young man named Adriano, a chubby middle-aged cook named Antonio and a young housemaid named Giorgia at the house.

So the huge estate was just inhabited by six people and from now on there would be seven. Additionally there were also two big watchdogs and a couple of horses on the ground.

Giotto just was on a new wandering through the house when he heard how the door downstairs got opened. He quickly hid behind the handrail in order to eavesdrop. He didn't know much about his grandparents and if he was honest he still was afraid to meet them although the hope they'd like him was still existent.

"Please, be to so kind and bring the boy to the parlour, Angelika. I'd really like to get to know him. Pietro didn't tell us much about him, just that he didn't seem to like the city. He most likely takes after his mother." A deep but pleasant voice could be heard from the entrance. It seemed to be his grandfather.

"I doubt this is the only reason, Signore. You will notice as soon as you see him he really is a fascinating boy and overly extraordinary." The firm but friendly voice of Angelika responded while Giotto still tried to get the current mood.

"Giorgia, please be so kind and bring some tea to the parlour."

This time he heard the voice of a woman who had to be his grandmother.

"Of course, Signora." The housemaid's polite voice could be heard and he heard to low clicking of her shoes on the flat ground.

Giotto felt the comforting warmth that started fill him up while he followed the discussion downstairs. He had been called interesting and extraordinary but not strange. He took a deep breath and then slowly got up and went downstairs to the foyer, a nervous smile on his face.

His grandfather noticed him quickly and examined him attentively while there was a small smile on his face. He was an older man with already white hair but flawless composure, radiating huge authority. His grandmother showed a similar composure, but her smile was much wider.

"Good evening Signore and Signora." He greeted politely, trying to show best manners.

"Good evening, Giotto." His grandmother greeted him with a gentle sound in her voice, examining him interested.

His grandfather on the other hand kept looking at him for another while until he nodded lightly.

"Come, my boy. There is much we need to talk about."

From this day on his life changed immediately. His grandparents were stern but friendly and very interested. His grandmother told him many stories and fairy-tales from far away countries and from time to time she read out to him while his grandfather started to teach him. He insisted on his grandchild to show the best manners and to attend different studies attentively. Giotto learned much about trade, politics and Sicily's history including the fight between Italy and France and the Sicily Revolution as well as the infinite connection to the Italian Kingdom in 1861. His grandfather hadn't been part of the fights but it wasn't hard to see that he wasn't a huge friend of France. Yes, sometimes it even seemed as if he almost hated all French. Giotto noticed this attitude but he didn't adopt it. He believed that not every citizen of a country could be blamed for its lead. Probably there were nice French as well as there were impolite Italians.

When he was nine years old they were visited by a by a business partner of his grandfather. He was from Japan and he had brought his fourteen years old son with him. Giotto had missed most of their negotiations but instead he had spent some time with the young Japanese and had showed him around. It had been hard for him to let his new friend return to his homeland, but they had promised each other to stay in contact.

About the issue of politics Giotto showed great talent besides his young age. It wasn't difficult for him to name the countless names, families and organizations which wielded power on the island. Sometimes Giotto was allowed to get to know some of his grandfather's partners that mainly were powerful personalities of the country and thanks to his good manners and his talent to understand other people he soon was treated with remarkable respect. Giotto early noticed that this issue would be important for him and he quickly started to develop own opinions, to advance his view and to think about countless problems.

Therefore he hadn't much contact to children of his age anymore, but he didn't care anyway. When the opportunity was afforded he played with the employees and if not he went for a walk on his own. Fate had been good to him and had finally given him a place where he could live in happiness.

He had a family and a home.

Not even the early death of his grandmother could disrupt this feeling of home.

_

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