A/N: I received a review, and thus I decided to post another scene before my end-of-term exams catch me and I'm unable to do so. Anyway, here it is. Consider this inspired by Campbell's Monomyth. I still don't really know what's going on, so let's all take this journey together. Warning: This hasn't been beta'd. Cause I have no patience, mostly.

Apples and Second Chances

2 – Remembrance

6 September 1492, Roma

It all started with a dream.

{xXxXx}

Lucrezia Borgia started dreaming with the spirit not 26 days after her father had been named pope.

The figure was female, of that much she was sure. From what little she could remember about the dreams once she was recalled to consciousness, the woman held a glowing orb on her right hand, and even if the woman herself had never spoken a word, her whole posture seemed to call her.

'Come and see, little girl,' it seemed to say. 'Come, see, learn...'

And the girl, the foolish girl that had been carefully kept from harm all her life, loved and cherished, innocent, saw not the danger in such a calling. For she, Lucrezia–whom her siblings lovingly called she who walks on clouds, a ray of pure, innocent light in a family so tied up by intrigue and the relentless, senseless hatred from those who could never accept that bastards and Spaniards had managed to reach such high positions in the very heart of Rome–, had never quite understood the dangers of knowing too much.

'He who increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow,' had her mother once told her.

By the time Lucrezia truly understood the warning, it was already too late.

{xXxXx}

It would have been easier to convince Cesare.

It would have been easier to convince her oldest brother, but as much as she knew that, Lucrezia was also well aware that hiding anything from him would prove impossible. As much as she loved him, as much as she trusted him with her life, the young girl was also well aware that her eldest brother would do all he could to protect her, up to and including hiding information from her. And even if she knew that one day she would be able to draw any truth from him, regardless of how he tried to divert her questions, she also knew that that day had yet to arrive.

So she had not gone to Cesare, who would have easily agreed to her wishes, if getting far more information than she was willing to share in the process.

No. The one she went to was her second older brother. Giovanni Borgia, better known as Juan–if only to tell him apart from the many Giovannis that seemed to habit their beloved Italian Peninsula–, would have never been her first option. She had always preferred Cesare over him, maybe because quite early on she had realized that their father had always seemed to favour Juan instead.

Why else would he have burdened Cesare with the cloth, when he was his first-born (of Vannozza, at the very least), especially when taking into account how much her brother yearned for freedom from it? Why else would her father continuously praise Juan, regardless of his many, many faults, over Cesare?

'Focus, Lucrezia.'

Ah, indeed. It would have been easier to convince Cesare to do as she wished, but if there was one brother she could already and quite effectively obtain information from without giving anything away, it was Juan.

It wasn't as if she had many options, either. Gioffre, her only younger brother, and the most easily talked into anything from them all, was too young to be able to help her, and she dared not to go to her father. Something in her dreams had thoroughly assured her that that would not end well. And anyway, as much as her father loved and favoured her, he was prone to babying her even more than Cesare. So Juan it was.

She was still a child, too. But she was twelve, and she believed she knew far more than she actually did, as usually happens at her age. For she may have been born a Borgia, but Lucrezia had lived her life free from the tales of Templars and Assassins, free from the true dangers that awaited those poor innocents that dared to go in search of knowledge, unaware of how painful truth can be.

Unprepared.

Clueless.

Had Cesare–who himself had been introduced into the Templar Order not too long ago–had even an inkling of what she had set herself to do, he would have most certainly tried to warn her. But alas, he didn't, too busy keeping his family safe from all those who wanted to see them dead to realise that his most beloved had slipped right between his fingers.

Now, Juan Borgia could be easily found in any Roman whorehouse, never quite bothering to appear around their mother's villa until well past midday, unless their father had seen fit to send Cesare to get him before. Lucrezia, though, could not simply wander into the whorehouses in search of him, like Cesare most certainly did, so she had to improvise.

With a beaming smile here and some gold there, one of her mother's servants went to get Juan for her. Goal set and soul brimming with determination, Lucrezia mentally revised her intended speech one last time.

{xXxXx}

"Brother!" She exclaimed happily as she offered him some grapes, as if he hadn't taken almost two hours to get to the villa.

Juan patted her head lovingly, and she endured it even if he still smelled like sex and liquor, for as awful as he could be, he loved her too. Not as much as their eldest brother–no one could ever love her like Cesare did–but he did feel affection towards her. She was still his little sister, after all. As much animosity as he could show towards Cesare–and she had to admit that such an attitude was most of what kept her from truly loving Juan–, the worst thing Juan had ever done to her was breaking her toys when he felt like lashing out due to her obvious favour towards their eldest brother, and that had been many years ago.

"So, sis, I heard you wanted to see me?" He said, picking a small bunch of grapes and sitting by her side at the table, charming smile on as his hazel eyes focused on her.

A part of her hated what she was about to do, knowing that if Cesare ever heard about how she had chosen Juan to protect her over him–and he would certainly hear about it, from Micheletto Corella if not from Juan himself, which taking into account her brother's tendency to gloat whenever he thought he had won something over their eldest brother, could very well happen–, it would hurt him deeply.

She beamed at her brother, dismissing her dark musing by telling herself that she would surely get to explain the whole situation to her most beloved family member–the one she almost considered her soul twin, regardless of the 5 years that separated them–, once she reached the Temple the woman of her dreams had shown her, once she learned whatever her spirit wanted to tell her.

'Well, Lu, let's see how this goes...'

(She would later wish Juan had ever agreed to anything. To never have gone searching for that woman's knowledge. It would be far too late for that.)

{xXxXx}

Juan and Lucrezia parted that very night, with the full moon illuminating their way.

They had only taken one horse, and so Lucrezia had to hold on tightly to her brother's waist as they galloped towards Santa Maria Nova, and il Tempio di Venere e Roma that lied both by the church and under it.

Convincing her brother had been difficult, mostly due to everything that going to Juan and not Cesare implied. That she had had to weave her words carefully–to keep Juan from feeling like the second option he truly was–had added to the difficulty, but at least she was good enough to appeal to Juan's ego and his rarely called upon 'duties' as her older brother. Had she gone to Cesare, merely expressing a wish to visit the church and the temple would have been enough, but alas...

When they arrived, when she stood on the temple's grounds for the very first time, her sight changed, the world turning a monotone shade of grey, in which her brother seemed to shine blue. She gasped, delighted, when she saw her spirit in the distance. The answers to all her questions were painfully close, and so she beamed a smile towards Juan, who seemed to have resigned himself to watch her dawdle around with the amusedly baffled expression of those who take are of adorable but clearly airheaded loved ones.

A part of her felt insulted, but he had taken her to her destiny without many questions, apparently content enough knowing that for once, at least, she had chosen him instead of their elder brother. He had his sword read by his side, and as much as she at times wished he could hit his head against a wall–for Juan could truly unnerve her at times–, she knew that he would do his best to protect her.

'Were you a different man, Joan. If only you hadn't set yourself as Cesare's rival so thoroughly... Maybe, just maybe, we could have been close too.'

She let him tie his horse by the church, before taking his hand and leading him towards the woman of her dreams, who shone gold even through the walls that still separated them.

Lucrezia followed the indications, mere whispers brought by the winds to her ears alone, and found a secret passage from Santa Maria Nova towards the underground parts of il Tempio di Venere e Roma the church had been built on, Juan following swiftly, if not as stealthily or with as much grace as Cesare would have had.

And as they got to the temple, she mused about the woman in her dreams, as well as the dread that for some reason had started to pool inside of her. Standing right in front of the last door, the one she knew was all that remained between her and her price, all her excitement seemed to have turned to ashes in her mouth.

'Why had I wanted so much to reach this place?'

The dread had turned into an increasingly horrifying realisation, as the whispers–that mere seconds ago had seemed like the loving guidance of a mother–turned into awful voices promising woe and pain to those who dared to go through the door. What had seemed like a golden glow around the woman of her dreams was now merely golden light, almost painful in its intensity, as the world around her remained grey. As Juan, behind her, still shone blue.

"I'm scared, brother," she said, voice trembling. For her life, she could not understand how her brother still seemed so utterly nonchalant when the atmosphere around them had turned into...

"What for, Lucrècia? I'm here. Didn't you want to reach... whatever is behind that door? Don't worry, sis. I won't let any harm come upon you..."

He kept talking, and Lucrezia guessed that he was trying to reassure her, but she had turned him out quite quickly. The voices he didn't seem to hear were far louder, and her brother's voice had long been drowned under them.

Behind the door, something awful awaited.

Behind the door, something magnificent awaited.

'Come forth, child. Come forth, come forth, come forth...'

Her doubts vanished. She took the final step towards the door, and set her trembling hand on the shining space that called her.

A flash of a man, long ago, and a family that had extended all the way from western Asia, through the Mediterranean Sea.

White robes and hidden blades. Red crosses and swords.

A legacy that would prevail in shadows.

Her own bloodline, Assassin and Templar both.

Two names.

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

Maria Thorpe.

She woke up–although maybe it should be said that she regained awareness of some of her surroundings, because no more than a second had passed–to the door sliding open, and the moment her eyes caught the glowing orb that lied calmly in the middle of the room, she ran towards it.

'Altaïr's Apple of Eden...'

It shouldn't be there, in Rome. Something told her that the Apple should be far away, hidden, and yet it was undeniable that it was there, right in front of her.

She heard, as if from a great distance, Juan calling her name, and she only had a second or so to wonder why he had sounded so suddenly terrified, before her hands reached the Apple and its golden glow seemed to devour her whole.

A/N: As you can see with this chapter, I meant it when I said this would be non-linear. More or less. What I mean with this is, flashback chapters. Like this one. Also, this looked like a perfect place to cut it. Again, this story will be Ezio/Lucrezia. Just... It will be slow-burn, okay? And there will be no Sofia Sartor. Also, yes. I went there. I made the Borgias descendants of Altaïr. This may or may not have to do with the fact that i just discovered that my great grandmother on my mother's side was a Borja. Which, you know, just happens to be the actual surname of the Borgias. Please do bear with me.