Alejo was anxious to return to his family. He missed his daughters, Claudia who was ten years of age and Elina who was seven. Then there was his son, Alesio who was six. His poor wife was always home with them while he went away on missions. He missed the births of his daughters, but not his son.

Isabella, Alejo's wife, always asked him why he chose the names for their children. He believed they were self explanatory. Claudia was named after his grandfather's sister. She was a strong woman, having to watch after her ailing mother after her husband was executed. She ran a business for her uncle and helped Ezio rebuild Monteriggioni in the late to early 1480s and 1490s. It was a shame that the Borgia attacked the city and ruined it. Elina was named after Elena Maria. Another strong woman of the Auditore bloodline. Though Alejo had his reservations about women assassins working in the field, he could not degrade her intelligence nor ambition. When she found something to look into or was tasked with a mission, she saw four different angles about the situation. Over, under, around and straight through. Alejo may habe died many years ago had it not been for the little Merlo woman.

Then there was Alesio. Named after his father, Alesio was already growing into his fathers shoes. Young, strong willed and constantly voulenteering his services to his sisters and mother. Accompanying her into the market to pick up fresh vegetables and eggs for the meals for the day, carrying home flowers she purchased or carrying an empty crate just so he felt like he was helping his mother. Alesio's sisters were tutored at the home all day long while Alesio preferred to play games or help his mother.

Alejo rode into Firenze around noon. He slowed the horse down from a gallop to walking. As he rode through the town he looked at the crowd of people. Children playing in the brick stone courtyards, couples walking with each other talking among themselves, women purchasing different wares, and men yelling into the air selling their goods. Alejo smirked as he waved in and out of the path of civilians. Maybe he would treat the next couple of days as a wind down, allowing himself to be the family man he wishes to be.

He was envious, though he would never admit it. Other men were able to go home and be with their families almost everyday. Alejo was quietly protecting humanity from Templar control. Juggling the two life styles was near impossible. Take his grandfather for instance. Ezio Auditore did not have his first legitimate child until he was in his late fifties. He did not watch them grow up and start families of their own due to his death less than ten years after his retirement from the order. Alejo did not and would not continue to work as an active assassin for that long. The question was, how long is too long?

The man rode through his hometown for almost an hour before approaching his home, The Villa Auditore da Firenze. He dismounted the horse before leaving the animal to graze on grass and hay. His hood rested on his shoulders, robes slightly dirty from the dirt and soil that was kicked up by his animal companion. An odd sense of anticipation and nervousness coursed through his veins. The sensation is one he felt many times, but dared not to become familiar with it. Many things could happen while he is gone. A death in the family, an attack on the homestead, or Isabella could pack up the children and leave one day without a trace.

He took in a deep breath, stopping short of the door as he looked down, eyes closed. He needed to focus himself. Remain vigilant even when relaxed. Yet another con of being an assassin is having to be ready to fight at any time of the day. He has to be prepared for allies to turn into enemies, family becoming foe.

He looked back up before knocking on the door then opening it up. The smells of fire, candle wax and flowers filled his nose. The sun shed through the light draping on the windows. The echoes of humming pierced his focus. The absent sounds of children's laughter and voices led him to believe that his offspring were playing somewhere outside the walls of the home. Alejo removed his bracers and utility belt, setting it down on a chair in the main living room. Making sure he was quiet, Alejo entered the kitchen area. He leaned against the threshold as he watched his wife humming a song to herself.

Isabella had been cutting the bottom stems off of some roses she had brought home from the market. Her light brown hair was pulled up in a bun, several braids wrapping around the ribbon holding his hair together. Isabella was an educated young woman. Her father sought only the best tutors for his children. Isabella was the only child to not enter a career. She preferred the lifestyle of a housewife. She had a loving husband, wonderful children and a home. What more could she ask for?

Well besides having Alejo home more so than what he was. Was he just going to be an assassin and a father on his down time? The days and nights spent alone killed her on the inside. She wrote letters daily to him, keeping them in a box hidden in the kitchen. They were loving, filled with memories the two shared, and the memories he had missed out on. The moments where she doubted the life span of their marriage, the sinful thoughts of leaving him alone to find someone who would always be there for her. But then she remembered the how she felt when he would come home. He made her feel not only special and unique, but as if she was the only other person that existed in the world.

Isabella was lost in her own world. When she turned around she saw the man in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. She set the bowl down on the table before ripping off her dirty apron. She rounded the corner as Alejo stood up straight, entering the kitchen. He reached his arms out as Isabella walked right into him, a childish smile on her face. Alejo held the back of her head with on hand, the other wrapping around the frame of her body. He towered over her, the top of her head barley touching his shoulders. Her arms wrapped tightly around him.

Benvenuti a casa. Isabella spoke looking up at her husband. Her grip on him loosened up some, her arms now resting on his sides.

Alejo nodded. Felice di essere tornato. He looked at her smiling brightly. He loved Isabella so much. She was everything to him. How are you, amore mio?

Everything is well. The children missed you. She told him. Alejo walked them back a few steps so his back was resting against a wall. Tell me, how was the trip to London?

Alejo pursed his lips, looking down. He knew her too well. She can tell when he did not tell the whole story. We completed our mission, however there may have been a slight accident. Zio Marcello will be not be happy.

Isabella turned her head to the side, confused by his statement. Zio Marcello? Why?

Our dearest cousin was injured during a small scrimmage. She was shot in the shoulder with an arrow. He spoke. Alejo was born to Ezio's son, Marcello, while Elena Maria was born to Ezio's daughter, Flavia. He thought it fitting. Alejo, Marcello and Ezio shared near identical characteristics. Raven hair, tall, medium builds, and excellent with the ladies. Elena Maria, Flavia and Sofia were intelligent, strong willed red haired women who did not need a man to protect them. How long would that cycle last?

Isabella looked at him shocked. Is she better now? The poor girl. All scared up and rigid. Non c'รจ da stupirsi che suo padre ha dovuto organizzare il suo matrimonio.

Alejo shook his head. She is very smart and has in impeccable amount of wit. She could find herself a husband if she wished. He told her before letting go of his wife. Though I do not approve of female assassins, I do pay them the respect for their work.

Isabella opened her mouth to speak until she heard the sounds of her children's feet pounding the floor running into the kitchen yelling out as they saw their father. Alejo opened up his arms wide hold all of his children, then rising to stand up as they held onto their father. There was plenty of time for this discussion later, and some words. For now, the Auditore's would welcome home their hero and love him while he was home. Who knew when he would be gone again?