Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed.

A/N: I see that there is an audience reading, (and I really appreciate the reviews) so I have decided to post this chapter. My chapters vary in length, and sadly this is a shorter one. But if I continue to get some feedback, positive or negative, I can promise there will be much more to come.

Two

Celia had managed to still make a fantastic dinner, despite her shopping being interrupted earlier that day. She'd gone through things they already had in the house and used them expertly; making anything that seemed just a tad bit old taste like new.

Alessa noted, with some curiosity, that neither her mother nor Illiana mentioned anything about the man in the white robes. It was strange for her mother not to bring something up, especially something like that. She thoroughly enjoyed conversation, no matter the topic. Alessa wondered if she, too, was expected to keep quiet about it, and why.

Dinner had been eaten in the villa, in the dining room. It'd been filled with laughter and animated small talk, and neither the former nor the latter had been too painful for Alessa to sit through. She saw, with some joy, that her parents were having a very nice time. They were now outside in the private courtyard, drinking with the investors, although the jokes were growing more and more inappropriate. Alessa wondered if they might have had a little too much to drink.

Although she usually never even had a sip of grappa or anything of the like, she felt the necessity of it in the moment. She sat upon a small stone bench, intricately carved with angels on the legs of it. It faced a small fountain her mother had had placed in the corner years ago, with a similar theme. An angel held its hands out, and water poured from them into a small stone tub, making a soothing plashing sound. During midday, birds could usually be found perched on the edges, drinking from it. Now that night was falling, there was just the lone fountain, the stone angel with eyes that looked terribly lonely. Beside Alessa sat Fulvio, gall and all. He'd shown up quite cockily just at the start of dinner, uttering some excuse of having to get home and tend to his sick mother, but that she was fine now.

Alessa felt grateful for her easily distracted mind. If she'd been expected to keep up a conversation with Fulvio, she pretended not to know. Her head kept returning to the man in the white robes—the way he'd wielding his sword with such purpose, in his strong stance. She'd never seen someone with so much drive.

"You look beautiful, Alessa," Fulvio murmured to her as he reached out to touch her hand. She kept her eyes on the scene in front of her. There was ivy growing around the angel fountain, creeping up the sides of it. Her mother had Illiana trim it back every so often so that it'd stay neat. Colorfully potted flowers were placed meticulously about on the stone that outlined the courtyard. The square cut of grass in the middle was a neat summer green.

Alessa's eyes could no longer find more to distract herself with. Reality broke into her head, unwelcome. His hand was warm on hers. She'd almost flinched away from his touch, but hadn't out of practice. If it pleased her mother to see some interaction between her and a man, she would allow this much to happen. She was tired of being such a disappointment all the time.

Alessa turned and regarded Fulvio, perhaps truly looking at his features for the first time. He was handsome—she'd admitted that to herself the first time she met him. He had high cheekbones and a strong jaw line, light green eyes with fair skin and slightly curled black hair, like hers but hers was straight. Her mother had even commented on what a 'perfect couple' they would have made, with their looks. He'd even been very charming when she'd first met him, and although she always saw through the charm, she'd actually wondered: was he her purpose? Would he be the one she'd finally decide to settle down with and marry? She'd even given a little thought at what their children would look like. But she saw the insides of people better than she did the outside. And his insides weren't nearly as handsome.

"Thank you," she said automatically. She was so used to suitors giving out compliment after compliment, with such eloquence of the tongue. Although Fulvio's compliments were much simpler than some men before—those who had been poets and writers—she still wasn't very fond of them. It was always 'You look beautiful,' or 'Your eyes are the most exquisite blue,' or some other petty thing that had to do with looks. She wanted to hear something about who she was as a person, not what she looked like. Even if someone pointed out a flaw or two, she wouldn't have minded in the least. It seemed that most people she came to know were all about seeing the outside of things, and were too uncaring to go further, to see deeper than that. She wondered what men would think of her if her hair and eyes were the opposite.

Fulvio had been studying Alessa, a frown on his face. It never seemed that he could keep her attention for very long. "Are you not having a good time?" He reached out to cup her cheek, an intimate look in his eyes.

Alessa brushed his hand away with the back of her own and bit her lip. But instead of taking that as a rejection, Fulvio bravely put a hand on her thigh, a little too high up for Alessa's comfort. She knew how hands-on he could get, and feared for the day when she wouldn't be able to stop him. She turned to him. "Fulvio—"

Fulvio removed his hand from her thigh, and for a moment, relief flooded through her chest. But then she froze in shock and horror, her mouth gaping open before she immediately clamped it shut. Fulvio took her face in both hands and pulled her towards him roughly. Everything happened in slow motion. She felt his hot breath on her face and neck before she saw his encroaching lips. Noting that they were wet, from him licking them, she assumed, she shuddered involuntarily. His eyes were closed, his lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. But the moment was anything but romantic. He mushed his lips onto her own, and she wanted to gag at the moistness of his. Her eyes were wide open, but she couldn't break free from his tight grasp. Even worse, she was facing away from her parents, so should they look over, they'd merely see Fulvio kissing her and her appearing to kiss him back. Anger rose up in Alessa's chest. Fulvio continued kissing her, he thought passionately, and began intertwining his fingers in her thick hair. It caused her pain, because of the tightly wound coil Illiana had helped her style it in earlier didn't really leave any room for his sausage-like fingers. Alessa put her hands on his chest, trying to push him away, but he took it as a sign of eagerness and wanting. His tongue slipped out and glided over her bottom lip, and she saw her only escape. She bit him, making him flinch and release her within a second.

As she finally pulled away from him, panting for air, she saw with disgust that even as he held a hand gingerly to his mouth, he was looking at her hungrily and smiling cockily. She wiped her own mouth with the back of her hand, wishing to wash it out immediately.

"Wanted it a little more rough, did you?" Fulvio asked, his voice husky, "I'm sure if we can escape from your parents' sight—"

"No," she said firmly, glaring at him. It was all she could bring herself to say, she was so appalled.

Fulvio's eyebrows scrunched together, but before he could say anything Egidio and Celia excused themselves from the investors and made their way over to them.

"I see you two are enjoying yourselves!" Celia said exuberantly, a broad smile on her face. She looked between the two as if they were already in love. But Egidio, Alessa's father, knew better. He was the more understanding parent.

"Perhaps you should call it a night, Alessa," Egidio suggested, much to her relief.

Celia cast a reproachful look at her husband. "I think Alessa is just fine. Aren't you dear?"

Any hope of getting out of spending more time with Fulvio fell away from Alessa like loose clay tiles falling from the roofs of houses and shattering on the cobblestone streets below. She frowned. "Yes, Mother," she said, against everything she wanted to say. It wasn't very often that she held her tongue. "I'm fine for a while longer, Father."

Egidio gave her a look that said he knew otherwise, but Celia grinned again. "Well," she said, "We must get back to the investors. But you two should feel free to leave at anytime! I know how often Egidio and I would take walks under the lamps of the city." Celia looked at Egidio reminiscently.

Alessa refrained from scowling and flicked her gaze back to a giddy Fulvio. This was just what he wanted. He stood from the bench and held out his hand expectantly. "Shall we, then?"

Alessa looked from his hand to her mother, and then took it. It was clear she had no choice in the matter. His hand was clammy and slippery, and she immediately wanted to yank her hand back but she ground her teeth together and let him pull her to her feet. He gave her parents a charming smile before he led her out of the back entrance of the courtyard, onto a dimly lit thoroughfare. There were still many people out and about, but not as much as there was during the day.

Fulvio kept his hand intertwined with Alessa's making small talk about how it was so great that the dinner went well, and he knew how big of a deal her father was in Roma, owning many of the shops, and how he looked forward to getting to know her parents better. She would nod and make sounds of approval so that he'd know she was listening, when really all she could think about was getting away from him, getting away from everything and just being free. She just wanted to be able to go out by herself and enjoy time alone; time to think, maybe to enjoy the stars like she used to when she was younger and her brothers would go out on the roof of the villa with her. She missed her brothers dearly, but knew it would be selfish of her to write to them, to ask them to come back. She wouldn't do that to them. But the next time she saw them, she'd appreciate the time she'd get to spend with them. She'd tell them of Fulvio and his touchy ways, and maybe they would do something about it. Maybe they would make Fulvio a more decent man.

They rounded onto a street that would lead her home. She could see the villa already—it was two floors and quite large for the District they lived in, even if it was one of the better Districts. She could see the high cast of the roof, the clay tiles covering it. Her bedroom window faced the back, where there was a roof below it, covering another entrance to the house from the courtyard. Beside her, Fulvio was speaking of the Borgia now, and how the amount of guards has increased since they took control of Roma. It was a subject Alessa didn't care to hear about, so she completely tuned him out. But she regretted it immediately. One moment, they were nearing the villa, and the next, he was moving to stand in front of her, grabbing her face to kiss her again.

This time, she pushed him away with as much force as she could. "No!" she shouted, causing several people heading home or to a local tavern to glance at them. "Fulvio do not."

Fulvio looked at Alessa, hurt. "Was it something I said, amore mio? Have I offended you?"

Alessa's stomach tightened. She hated this part. She hated what she had to say to finally get a man to understand. "No, Fulvio, it was not something you said. And I am not your love."

Fulvio's brows pulled together. "My sweet, then. I apologize for calling you my love—let me call you my sweet, then."

Alessa shook her head and sighed. But then she thought of something. She looked up at Fulvio, searching his eyes. "Tell me something."

Catching the urgency of the situation in her voice, Fulvio grabbed her hands, holding them tightly within his own damp ones. "Anything. Anything at all."

"What is it you like about me, Fulvio?"

The question hung in the air for a few moments. The only thing keeping a complete silence from passing over them was the chirping crickets in the gardens behind the tall wall beside them. Fulvio smiled at her gently for the first time, and she held her breath, biting her lip. He reached out to stroke her hair, and she let him, feeling the tenderness of it. Maybe he would finally understand. Maybe he would finally see her truly, see the way she was inside, not outside. She smiled at him, waiting eagerly.

"Well," he began, his voice soft, "I like that you're beautiful—"

Alessa's lips fell into a frown and she stepped away from him. "No more," she waved a hand in the air, cutting him off from going any further. Angry and upset tears stung her eyes, but she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"Alessa, my sweet, let me finish—"

"No," she said firmly, "No more."

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Alessa exhaled deeply. "Fulvio, I am tired."

"You truly do not look it," he said, and then smiled like it was the best compliment she'd ever heard.

She briefly wondered if any woman had ever turned down his advances, or if there was something not right in the way his head worked. But given his looks and his family's wealth, she doubted any woman would ever turn him down. Except for her, of course. "I think I am going to get some rest."

His shoulders slumped with disappointment. "Truly? I was hoping you might… be more open to other things, tonight."

"No, Fulvio. I'm going to rest," she stepped around him, heading toward the villa. He caught her arm gently and she shut her eyes momentarily, holding in a sigh.

"May I come by and see you tomorrow, Alessa?"

Alessa looked back at him steadily, removing his hand from her arm with two fingers, as if it were some slimy tentacle that'd risen out of the well by the tavern and clung to her. "I think I'll be resting tomorrow, too." She looked away from him and continued walking back to the villa. She knew what she'd see if she glanced back at him. She'd seen it so many times before. But he wasn't her purpose. He wasn't her anything. She'd find him someday, though. She hoped for it.

Please take a moment and review! It's much appreciated!