Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed.

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews so far! They really do help me.(-:

Four

The first thing Alessa noticed when she woke was that it was still in the midst of night. Beside her bed, through the window she could see the moon and the stars shining brightly, casting a grey glow into her room. The second thing she noticed was what had wakened her. There were people talking in hushed tones, somewhere in the villa. The voices sounded distant, like hearing underwater. Alessa knew firsthand what it was like, after she'd almost drowned at age thirteen when Giacobbe had accidently knocked her off a ledge and into the Tiber River.

She rubbed at her eyes, her brows pulling together. Who would be awake so late into the night? Her mother and father had gone to bed hours ago, and she knew it wasn't Giacobbe and Ettore returning for a visit—they wouldn't come at this hour, and she could hear a distinctly female voice, along with a man's.

Rolling out of bed, she decided to investigate. She knew she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep otherwise. Alessa crept to the door of her room, the moonlight guiding her. She pulled it open slowly so that it wouldn't creak, and then slid out of it, her toes just barely padding the floor. She naturally walked in silence, something her mother had always chastised her for. Several times had Alessa walked into a room unnoticed, and then surprised Celia, earning herself a tirade of scolding's for several minutes afterwards.

Now, as she silently walked down a hallway, heading in the direction of stairs, she saw patches of moonlight here and there were a window allowed them through, and the voices grew louder. She'd passed her parents room already, and turned to her right, down another hallway. This time she could just make out the first step of the stairs that would lead down into the common room, where the front door of the house was located. She was certain whoever was awake was down there—she could hear them even better now.

Alessa stopped in her tracks when she realized the female's voice belonged to her mother. She closed her eyes and listened hard, wondering if maybe she and Father were fighting about the Borgia again. Only, the man her mother was talking to wasn't her father. Alessa had no clue who it was. She listened closely.

"What are you doing here?" her mother asked, clearly appalled at whoever had shown up for reasons Alessa didn't understand. "You shouldn't be here now. My family—they're asleep. They might wake if they hear us speaking."

"I apologize for the intrusion," came a deep voice, a man's, "I must speak with you now. I would have waited until they weren't here, but it's very important—"

"No. No, I cannot do this now. I cannot," her mother said, and Alessa could hear by her tone how upset she was.

"But Celia—Celia Moretti, it has been long since—"

"No," Celia said, "No, you must leave. You must leave now."

Alessa stumbled back when she heard the front door close. She turned and headed to her room as fast as she could, her head swimming with terrible thoughts. She'd heard her friends speaking of things like this—the gossip that they would all eat up because of its scandalous nature. Bile rose in the back of Alessa's throat, bitter with the taste of betrayal. An affair. Her mother was having an affair with another man. And he came to her tonight, but she turned him away because of her family.

Tears stung Alessa's eyes. How could she call them family if she wasn't even faithful? How could Alessa truly believe in anything now, anything like finding love, true love, after having believed that her mother and father had had true love? She wanted to sob, to cry out. But she couldn't—not here. So quickly she threw a cloak on over her nightdress, pulling it close around her body, and went to the window. Hastily, she climbed out of it, nicking and tearing the dress a little on the wood. But she didn't care.

She was careful to find footing as she quickly walked down the side of the roof, heading towards the walled in courtyard. Once there, she dropped down onto the ledge, her feet dangling in the air, and fell to the ground. She bent her knees, absorbing the impact, and then gathered her bearings.

Minutes later, she found herself on an unfamiliar street, illuminated here and there by torches kept on in the night. It was cold out—colder than the night before—and she shivered under her cloak. She hadn't yet come across anyone else, and she was thankful for it. Tears streamed down her face like endless rivers, dripping off her chin and landing on the cobblestone street below. Her black hair, loose in waves from sleeping, was tucked behind her ears, falling down her back. She wandered, not caring where she was going as she was lost inside her thoughts.

How could Mother do this? How could she betray her family like this—her father? It was so unlike her mother—her mother who had always been loving and caring, even if she'd been a little harder on Alessa than her brothers at some points. Her mother, who had been Alessa's idol for finding true love, since she had left her own family behind to marry her father. And the man she was secretly with—who was he? Who was he to come and ruin their family—to steal Celia away? But then why did Celia turn him away? For their family? The man had said it'd been long—but long since what? Since they'd last seen each other?

Alessa's mind flitted from thought to thought, a rant of questions running through her mind, but not once did she stop to realize where she was, or what was around her. One moment, she was hurriedly rushing through the streets with no particular destination in mind, and the next she felt a firm hand get a grip on her arm. Another covered her mouth before she could cry out.

Instantly, she was pulled into an alley and shoved up against a wall. Her back had connected with it, and she cried out, but it came out muffled. She was slapped in the face because of this, but it only made her cry out more.

"Shut up, cagna," a rough voice hissed at her before shoving her up against the wall again, pinning her there with his body.

She could feel the heat of his rapid breathing on his neck. Her back ached where she'd hit it, and her face throbbed in pain. The alley was dark, dark enough that she couldn't see her attacker. By his voice, she knew it wasn't one of her suitors, trying to get revenge for her turning them away. It wasn't anyone she recognized.

"Get your hands off of me!" she shouted as soon as his hand left her mouth. She immediately regretted it, as he hit her face one more. Tears streamed down her face more rapidly than before.

"Now you are going to be a nice little girl and cooperate, or I swear," The man said darkly, and the gleam of a dagger shone in his hands through the darkness, "you will regret it."

It took only a moment for Alessa to think of a retort. She'd rather die than be raped—anything was better than to be forced upon. And after knowing what her mother had been doing behind her back all along, she didn't care what happened to herself. She didn't care about anything.

"I would regret it either way, you dirty piece of merda!" she cried out. Her cloak was gone—she didn't know if she'd dropped it when he'd grabbed her—but she was shaking even more in the cold, and now in fear.

Something that sounded feral, like a growl, came from the man's throat. She saw the gleaming dagger shift from hand to hand playfully, like she was just a toy. At the thought, she cringed. She knew this death would not be a pleasant one, but anything would be better than being raped. She knew of a girl who'd been caught at night and raped, and ever since she hadn't left her home. Not once.

"Say one more thing," the man said darkly, "and I will slit your throat."

"Go. To. Hell," she enunciated each word, very clearly, and then spat on him.

The dagger was pulled back, high into the air—it seemed he'd rather stab her with rage than slit her throat—and just as it was descending upon her, the man cried out. Blood spurted from his mouth—she knew this because she could feel it being coughed onto her dress—and he dropped the dagger, gripping at his own throat. Alessa squinted and saw it—a blade had pierced all the way through his throat, sticking out in the front before it was yanked back. Her attacker fell to the ground, gurgling as he choked on his own blood. Alessa looked up, wide-eyed, seeing only a hooded figure in front of her.

"My God," she said slowly, looking at Ezio Auditore in awe, "How did you—why did you—"she stopped, unable to form even a complete thought. Her mind was numbly in shock, and she was having a hard time processing the fact that she'd nearly died.

His silvery eyes shone on her through the dark, and he pulled her back onto the street, where she could once more see. A hand flew to her mouth the moment she saw the crimson blood over her white nightdress, and she thought in a panic that the man had stabbed her.

"That is his blood," Ezio said, reading her thoughts in her eyes, "Not yours."

Alessa, still staring at it with wide eyes, nodded. "It is still blood."

Ezio sighed, his shoulders falling a little lower than their normal, confident tautness. "Yes," he said, "It is. Are you all right?"

Alessa nodded her head vigorously, still staring at the blood. She outwardly cringed when she felt a tender spot in her back give a jolt of pain. The shivering returned to her, as it was a cold night for it still being springtime.

"Here," Ezio said upon noticing her trembling. He pulled the strings that attached the cape to his robes up over his head and wrapped her in it. It was a heavy material, enough to give some warmth. "What are you doing out here?" he asked the moment he saw her trembling quell to small shudders.

Alessa shook her head and wiped at her tear-stained face gently, looking away from Ezio so he couldn't see. Her face was sore from when her attacker had hit her. "I just needed to be out of the house."

Ezio narrowed his eyes in a patient disbelief. "And I suppose you need to be out of the house nearly every night, then?"

Alessa laughed humorlessly, shaking her head once more. She pulled his cape around her body tightly, finding that it was much warmer than her cloak had been. "No. It is a coincidence that I've gotten away two nights in a row, now. I had not planned to tonight, but—I just needed to."

Ezio stared at her silently. Finally, "But you do realize that you could have died, just now, don't you?"

Alessa frowned and looked over to where she could just barely see the crumpled body of a bloodied man in the alley. Surely the guards canvassing this area in the morning wouldn't be very happy to find him. Or maybe they would be. She wasn't sure how the Borgia brainwashed them.

"Yes," she answered without inflection, "I know. But dying would have been better than what he'd wanted."

Ezio looked from her to the man, perplexed. "You are unwise to be out here, so late at night, but brave nonetheless."

Alessa looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "Thank you," she said genuinely. It was the first time a man had complimented her on a characteristic. The very first time—excluding her brothers and father, of course. Her eyebrows pulled together a moment later. "What are you doing out here? How did you know what was happening? I did not think I'd ever see you again."

Ezio's mouth set into a grim line. "I was heading back… to where I am living, for the time being. I heard you cry out. It seems danger draws you close, these days. I had thought it to be another woman, though. Not you."

Alessa nodded, however skeptically. He'd have to have very good hearing, then. And the part about danger drawing her close—was she really giving this stranger that impression? Her cheeks flushed, and she looked to the ground. That was when she noticed his right sleeve was bloody. It dripped crimson onto the cobblestone near his feat, staining it a darker charcoal color.

"I see no weapon," she said, looking at his sleeve, "though you do have one, do you not?" She knew that he knew she wasn't talking about the sword and dagger sheathed at his side, nor the crossbow upon his back.

He shook his sleeve out, splattering the rest of the saturated blood out of his stained robes and onto the street. The spot was no longer dripping. Then he let the blade slide out, revealing it to her. "Yes," he said slowly, watching the emotions in her eyes carefully, "It's hidden for convenience."

She nodded, unsure of what else to do. "I can see that."

The blade retracted, hidden once more. "I will walk you home," he said briskly, "So that another mishap doesn't occur on your way back."

Alessa frowned. "I don't want to go home."

"And why not?"

She sighed deeply, closing her eyes to prevent herself from crying again. "A family matter, I suppose. My mother—she has been keeping secrets."

Ezio's eyebrows shot up, he was entirely surprised. "You know, then?"

Alessa returned his look with confusion. "I know what?"

"I mean—do you know, then? The secrets you say your mother has kept," Ezio recovered quickly.

Alessa felt a pang of betrayal in her heart once more. "Yes. Yes I do. And I—" she stopped holding in a sob, and then in a strained voice, "I never thought my mother to be unfaithful."

"Unfaithful? Why is it you think she is unfaithful?"

"Because," Alessa began in a burst of rage, "I heard her! I heard her talking to whoever her lover is. He was at the house tonight—just minutes ago. That was why I left. I only just found out."

Ezio stared at her steadily, quiet for a few moments. "Did you confront your mother about it?"

She shook her head, pulling the cape tighter around her. "No. No, I don't think I can even face her right now."

"But," Ezio began gently, "How could you possibly know that she was truly unfaithful without confronting her about it? There are many things I had assumed in the past, and I regret having immediately made the assumption. You can never know without being given the knowledge. You should give your mother the chance to explain herself."

Alessa regarded him strangely. "Do you really think so? That there is a chance she really hasn't been unfaithful, I mean."

Ezio crossed his arms, his usual confident stance returning to him. "Yes. Will you give her the chance, then?"

She bit her lip, not meeting his eyes. Could he be right? Could it just be some misunderstanding—was she wrong to simply assume? She supposed things couldn't get any worse if she confronted her mother, but if it wasn't true, then things could surely get much better. With a soft sigh, she met his eyes once more. "I will," she said quietly, "You may walk me home."

Ezio nodded and gestured for her to begin walking. Alessa turned around, starting home. They walked in silence for a few minutes—a silence that was tranquil and nice, not awkward and unwanted. It was very new to Alessa, having a male companion who she could just feel like herself around. If seeing a man twice made him a companion, that is. Three times, if she counted the time she saw him in the market. A sudden flash back to when he'd been wielding his sword shone in her mind's eye, the way he'd so easily fought the guards. And then it flashed to when her attacker's blade was nearly going to strike her, but then the man stopped and there was a blade stuck in his throat. Ezio was a killer. And she wasn't afraid of him—he even comforted her, in some strange way.

"Ezio," Alessa began, breaking the comfortable silence between the two, "Why do you do what you do?"

Ezio looked at her sidelong. "What do you mean, exactly?"

Alessa laughed, "I suppose I wasn't very specific. I mean, why do you… well, why do you kill? Twice, now, I have seen you kill. But you seem to have purpose. What is your purpose with killing?"

Ezio looked straight ahead now, at a tavern that was still open. Men stumbled in and out of it, either drunk or planning to get drunk. Courtesans went from man to man, trying to make a living. Beside him, Alessa was staring at him expectantly. He knew it. But he knew there were so many things he couldn't tell her.

"I kill to bring peace to Roma in the future," he said carefully, "Because there are people who need protecting, who cannot protect themselves."

Alessa frowned slightly. "Like me," she said quietly, self-loathingly.

"No," Ezio said, "Not like you. You… you can protect yourself. You are braver than you realize, I think. You just… you haven't been given the proper knowledge."

"And what knowledge might that be?"

Ezio shook his head. A frown appeared on his face. "How far until we reach your villa?"

Alessa looked back ahead, disappointed. She'd hoped to finally know something about this Ezio Auditore, something that she couldn't just observe. She wanted to know what he knew, to obtain that knowledge. But he just wanted to get her home. Maybe, she thought, she was bringing him out of his way; bothering him. It'd be a first, for her.

"Ezio, if you do not want to walk me home, you don't have to. I can find my way just fine."

"No," Ezio objected, "I will walk you. It's no trouble, and I'd like to see to it that you get back safely."

Alessa nodded. "All right."

Suddenly the sides of Ezio's lips quirked up, and he glanced over at Alessa. "I see that tonight, you chose not to wear men's clothing. Why the change of heart?"

Alessa smiled, too. "Not a change of heart. If I could, I would be wearing them." Her smile fell into a frown. "But if Mother and Father saw me in them… they'd disown me. They'd promise me to some man I don't love and be rid of me."

"Is that why you're waiting for marriage? Because you want a man who loves you?"

She nodded, her eyes glued to the ground as she blushed. Never before had she admitted it to a man she wasn't related to. "Why should one marry otherwise? A loveless marriage is surely not a happy one. What's the purpose of it?"

Ezio regarded her. "You speak of purpose often. Is that what you were searching for, last night?"

Alessa's eyebrows crinkled together. "What?"

"Last night," Ezio said, "You said you were searching for something."

"Oh." Alessa blushed even more. He'd remembered that? "Yes. Purpose… it's life. Love. Happiness."

Ezio shook his head. "You forget the other half of it. Pain. Sorrow. Regret. Just because one has purpose, does not mean that they don't have terrible things to go along with it."

Alessa regarded him sadly. "You say that as if you've known it."

"I have."

"Have you ever been in love, Ezio?" Alessa asked quietly.

For a few silent moments, Alessa wondered if she'd asked the wrong thing—offended him somehow. But then he spoke up, equally as quiet.

"Yes," he said, "and since, I often wonder if the love remains, or if it has left me."

The villa came into view. Alessa didn't stop the conversation. "Love never leaves unless you let it. And it'll always stay strong, as long as you want it to be strong."

"Such meaningful words from someone who claims to have never known love, itself," Ezio observed with a ghost of a smile.

"My parents," Alessa said with a wistfulness that quickly diminished when she thought of her mother, "They've always seemed so in love to me. My mother even left her family to marry my father."

"You see," Ezio said, "You only need to let her explain herself."

"You sound so sure of yourself," Alessa said, deflated. She wasn't sure what to think—a nervous feeling erupted in her stomach at the thought of being wrong, that her mother really did have a lover.

Ezio shrugged. "Soon enough, you will see."

Alessa came to a stop in front of the main door of the villa, pulling the cape even tighter around her and biting her lip.

Ezio looked up at the large villa, and then back at Alessa, "This is it?"

She nodded, and then gasped in shock. The front door opened quickly, her mother appearing on the front step equally as quick.

Celia held a hand to her heart, her mouth gaping open and her wide eyes staring between Alessa and Ezio.

"Alessa—what—you—"Celia stammered, pointing fingers between her and Ezio. Her face was white with rage. "What are you doing?"

"Mother!" Alessa said immediately, "I—I snuck out. I'm sorry—I just needed to think. This," she turned to Ezio, "Is Ezio. He saved my life."

"Ezio," her mother spoke through clenched teeth, glaring at the man next to Alessa, "Saved your life?"

Alessa nodded briskly, realizing her mother was angry. She'd been like this before—when Alessa had told a suitor no, and the next day there was a new one. Mother was probably feeling the same anger at her as that time. "Yes, Mother. I was almost—almost raped. He saved me. Please don't be angry, Mother, I promise this has nothing to do with Fulvio."

Celia closed her eyes, trying to remain calm. "Right. Of course it doesn't. Alessa, get inside. Now."

Alessa spared an apologetic glance back at Ezio before obeying her mother, knowing that it was the only way they'd be on good ground when she confronted her. She slipped through the door, and stood behind Celia.

"You," Celia pointed a trembling finger at Ezio, "Leave. Now."

"Mother—"

"Shush, Alessa," Celia said, her anger just barely contained.

Ezio, outside, bowed at Alessa and her mother, and a moment later was gone. He'd walked out of sight so quickly; Alessa was left blinking at the spot he'd stood.

As soon as she pulled the door shut, Celia rounded on Alessa, her mouth open and ready to yell. But then she stopped herself, caught in Alessa's scared wide-eyed gaze, and her mouth clamped shut. Her usual pallor returned to her face, and she now looked upon Alessa with worry. She pulled her daughter close, hugging her tightly and kissing the top of her head.

"Is it true?" Celia asked as she pulled away to look at Alessa, all anger that had once been erupting from her diminished, "Were you almost… raped?

Tears stung Alessa's eyes as remembered the fear she'd felt, the panic, and then the surety that death was certainly better than rape. "Yes. Yes, it's true. But Ezio—Mother he saved me."

Celia's mouth tightened into a grim line. Maybe not all the anger had vanished. "Alessa, this Ezio—I do not want you feeling as if you owe him anything, just because he has saved your life. Do you understand me?" Celia's blue eyes locked with Alessa's mirrored color intently.

"You mean, 'Do not feel that the man is worthy of your attentions, just because he has saved your life,'" Alessa translated without inflection.

Celia sighed, her shoulders drooping. Alessa could see dark circles under her eyes, bleak signs of tiredness on her face against her fair skin. Her mother must have been waiting up for her for quite some time.

"You cannot trust a man like him. You think I do not recognize him, from the market the other day? The man shed blood as easily as one might breathe, Alessa. What kind of man is that?"

"A man with a purpose," Alessa said quietly, "With something he believes in."

Celia threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. "So he has gotten to you already! Tell me, what things has he told you to get you to see his ways to be good?"

Alessa felt a nervous feeling suffuse through her stomach. "Mother," she said very clearly, "He gave me some very good advice. He said—well he said I must hear you out. I must not make assumptions."

Celia's expression turned from one of exasperation to puzzlement. "And what must you not make assumptions about?"

Sucking in a breath, to give her courage, Alessa continued on swiftly before she could back out of it. "Mother, are you being unfaithful to father? Are you seeing another man?"

The color drained from Celia's face again, only this time in dismay. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. "How could you even think such a thing? What has even planted that idea in your head?"

Alessa stuttered. "I—you—oh, Mother!" She looked down, ashamed. "That is why I left earlier—I had woken up, and I heard people speaking quietly. When I got up to see who it was, I heard you speaking to a man. The conversation—the way it sounded! I had thought immediately that you had a lover!" Alessa held a hand to her face, discomfited.

"Oh dear," Celia murmured, holding a hand to her heart and looking upon Alessa ruefully. "Alessa, I am not unfaithful to your father. I love him very much—you know this! The man that had been here, this night…" she trailed off, biting her lip and casting her eyes to the floor, "he had been an old friend of my family's. But I have cut off all ties to them."

"Mother—I can't apologize enough—"

Celia held up a hand, halting Alessa's words. "You have no need to apologize. I understand how it had been confusing. I'm just grateful that you are all right, dear. If anything had happened to you—"Celia choked off, closing her eyes and clenching the fist at her heart. She shook her head slowly, breathing in and out. "I do not know what I would have done."

Alessa hugged her mother tightly again, guilt suffusing through her. "Nothing happened. Ezio saved me, mother. I'm fine."

Celia brushed Alessa's soft black hair with her hand. "Yes," she said quietly, "And I am thankful for that."

A/N: Please take a moment to review and give me your thoughts, good or bad!(-: