Brotherhood: The Recruits
Author: name-me-regret

AN: This took longer to write than most chapters. The reason was that my muses were arguing on whether to post this character or another one which will come out in chapter nine. Both of these characters are very interesting, and thus I can't blame my muses for fighting. I barely read it over once before posting it, so forgive any mistakes. I'm my own beta. Finally, without further ado, I give you chapter seven.

Chapter Seven: Annetta Abete

Roma, 1493

The sound of the knife cutting through the air alerted him of the danger long before he saw the glint of moonlight against the razor's edge of the weapon out of the corner of his eye. He ducked and turned in his crouch, flicking his own dagger back the way it had come and received no satisfaction as he heard it meet flesh, and it was followed by a gurgling death rattle.

He straightened with a sigh as he flexed his fingers before moving across the rooftop to recover his weapon, and to make sure the corpse didn't fall to the street below and alert the patrol of his presence. Of course they'd find the body sooner or later, but he preferred to be long gone by that time. A curse left his mouth as he came to the prone figure and saw that it was a guard, a crossbowman to be precise. While he was thief, he had done his share of killing, but only when there was no other choice. However, the one thing he didn't do if he could avoid it, was killing the guards. The sons of bitches were vengeful when they found the culprit of such a crime, and really, it was more trouble than it was worth.

"Damage done," he muttered dejectedly, yanking the dagger out of the man's throat. He used the man's uniform to clean the blood before sheathing it at his side once again. As he continued across the roof of the Abete's lavish house, he proceeded with more caution. If the family had enough influence to have a Borgia guard on their rooftop, then he shuddered to think what lay within.

Usually, he stuck with pick-pocketing since he was the best on the streets and mingling within the crowd. His situation was beginning to become more strained as the guards punished the thief almost as harshly as the murderer. Now, a pick-pocket was likely to be executed instead of getting his hand cut off. Ciro wouldn't want to get his hand cut off either, but it was a better choice than getting hanged at the gallows.

Ciro shook off such thoughts as he swung down onto a balcony so he could enter the quiet house. He paused to think that it was almost too quiet, but quickly shook the thought off. If the place was quiet than that meant his presence had as of yet to be discovered, and that was a good thing.

~o~

Annetta's eyes fluttered open; her vision blurred a moment before finally clearing so she could see her arm. There was a nasty cut bisecting the length of her once unblemished skin, and it was oozing blood down onto the grimy floor she was lying on. She still wore the night gown she'd gone to bed in; made of white silk, but now ruined as it was peppered with dirt and blood. It took a moment of contemplation to remember where she was, and when that realization hit her, she jerked up onto her hands and knees.

A wave of nausea washed over her as her head pounded painfully, reminiscent of someone slamming a blunt object against her temple. Her stomach heaved and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Annetta took in several deep breaths to calm her queasy stomach, and when she was sure she wouldn't puke, she opened her eyes as she sat up. The thirteen year old girl immediately wished she hadn't.

The once lavish dining room was ransacked and left bare of anything valuable. If she were to look around the house, then she was sure the whole place was stripped. However, she hadn't moved from her spot, and was frozen in place. In front of her lay her father's broken body, and the blood around his caved-in skull was like a macabre halo. The air was rank with the stench of hour's old blood, and flies already buzzed around his bloated corpse.

Annetta crawled forward like a meek child; too stunned to do anything else, and reached a shaking hand to his pale, blood-stained face. It looked to have been bruised and cut while he'd still been alive, and in death they had taken on a sickly, grayish color. She was vaguely aware of tears snaking down her face to fall and mingle with the blood.

Her slender fingers had just become stained with the cold blood when she felt a warm, merciful hand slip over her eyes to shield her from the image that was already burned into her retinas. "Don't look, piccola," a gentle voice muttered.

She only gave a whimper in response before she felt herself get lifted into this stranger's arms, face pressed against his shoulder as he held her like a small child. "I'm not a child. I'm thirteen," she protested weakly, but she buried her face closer to his warmth. She didn't know who this man was or why he was here on the worst day of her life, but for now she didn't care and allowed herself to fall into a restless slumber.

~o~

Ciro grunted as he hopped down through the opening in the ceiling, landing almost soundlessly in a crouched position and lifting his head to survey the room for any sign that it had been disturbed. He released the breath he'd been holding before straightening and silently striding into the dim room as he untied the pouch tied to his belt and let it plop onto the nearest surface. It made a slight clinking sound that made his lips twist in distaste, since he hadn't done well that day. It was getting harder for an honest thief to make a living these days.

He chuckled as he moved further inside, passing by the doorway that led to the only room with something resembling a bed, and glanced momentarily at the motionless figure that was hidden underneath the covers. The girl had been in a delicate state for the past few days, since one of her more serious injuries had gotten infected and had been ravaged by a fever. He had no idea how to care for a child and much less a girl, so he had done the only thing he could do. He'd taken some of the money he had stolen and desperately needed, to pay a doctor to attend to her.

He had cleaned the wound and used leeches to suck out the tainted blood, and then bandaged that one as well as any other cut serious enough to need to be covered up. Ciro had refused to let him cauterized the wounds unless it was absolutely necessary, since he didn't want her to suffer more than she already was at the moment.

After making sure she was still asleep and that her fever hadn't returned while he'd been out, he went in search of some food. He was glad that the cheese hadn't spoiled yet, and while the bread was stale he ate it regardless. As he chewed on the hard bread, he wondered what to do with the girl. Ciro hadn't really planned on taking on such a heavy responsibility, but had felt pity for her.

It was known that the Abete house was lavish, and while not too well known, they had enough money to get by. Also, it had been rumored that the Borgia was seizing fortunes and property from falsely accused wealthy families. Ciro had been skeptical at first at hearing such things, but it was clear what had happened to the widowed merchant and his young daughter. However, no one had done a thing to stop it because they were terrified that it would happen to them. Ciro on the other hand, took stupid risks and fought battles that he had no business being in simply because they were a lost cause. This was the reason he was suffering as it was, since he always wanted to help the less fortunate than him when he was poor himself.

~o~

Ciro paused after he let himself fall through the opening in the ceiling, since he never bothered removing the board keeping the door firmly in place. The girl; whose name he still didn't know, was awake and standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Of course she had regained consciousness a few days ago, but her moment of lucidity were far and few in between. Also, she hadn't spoken a single word since awakening. As he walked toward her with the intension of checking over her bandages, she stepped away from him as she watched him with wary eyes. "The bed is uncomfortable," she said before he could try to step toward her again.

The lone thief gazed back at her with eyes heavy with annoyance. It was just his luck that the first words to leave her mouth after being mute for almost four days, was to complain. "Is it?" he inquired tonelessly, stepping closer to the table and depositing his money pouch on top of it. "You'll have to deal with it, since this isn't a luxury Inn." After all, if anyone had a right to complain, it was Ciro. He had given up his bed to her, and she didn't even look the least bit thankful.

Her head tilted like a sparrow observing a rather tasty worm that it was about to devour. "I will not sleep on such a lumpy mattress." Her eyes flickered around the thief's safe-house now. "Nor will I spend another night in such poor conditions."

Ciro's fist ground into the table beneath his knuckles as he reigned in his ire. "There is nothing left for you out there, girl. You sleep where I tell you and stay quiet like an obedient child."

The young girl's lips curled in distaste. "I am nobody's obedient child," she answered haughtily. Her eyes were as black as midnight and while before they had seemed gentle, but now they weren't anything of the sort. "My name is Annetta Abete. Do you have any idea who my father is?"

Her question left him bemused for a moment, and he wondered if in her delicate mental state, she had blocked out that her father was dead. After all, Ciro was pretty sure he'd been bludgeoned to death before her eyes. He grit his teeth with the thought of having to reveal to her that her father was dead, and thus lashed out. "I know who he is, and this is why I've stolen you," he snapped. He turned a glare in her direction as he moved closer to her, but this time she held her ground. "Stolen property should listen to its master." His annoyed expression morphed into pain when she'd kicked him in the shin and stormed off. "I'm going to make you sleep on the hay like a mutt," he snarled. She only flashed him a rude gesture Ciro was sure she hadn't learned from her hoity-toity tutors, but other wise kept on walking.

Although Ciro threatened her to do so, he would allow her to keep sleeping in his bed. The man was tempted to send her back to where he'd recovered her, there was no possibility of doing so. The house had been confiscated by the Borgia and her father had been murdered in cold blood while being falsely accused of heresy and attempting to conspire against the church. So, there was nowhere Ciro could send her to. Perhaps he could deliver her back into the hands of the guards that had wanted to carry her off after her father had been killed. Annetta was much too young to marry, but that would not have stopped them from defiling her.

However, for all his misgivings, Ciro had grudgingly started to get use to her presence in the four days she'd been there. Granted, he would have preferred her to continue being mute, but he had never had such good luck. While, he had decided that he had to continue to care for the girl, but that it didn't make him any less aggravated when she opened her haughty mouth and flashed him a defiant eye.

Ciro only had himself to rely upon as far back as he could remember, and had always thought it was better that way. He only had to steal enough to feed himself through-out the week. At rare times he managed to find honest work, and he felt it was much better than stealing. In the end, it never lasted in these tough times and always ended up returning to it. At one point he'd managed to buy this house with honest earned money, but it was old and during cold nights the wind passed under the doors far too easily.

The one thing he couldn't get use to her having her around, was the interruption of his solitude. Ciro had never been one to openly seek out the company of others, since he knew from personal experience that people were selfish and didn't understand him. Of course, that lead those that he encountered to think he thought he was superior, but that wasn't the case. Ciro just didn't want to bother with other people. This was one of the reasons he never joined the infamous Thieve's Guild which was allegedly run by La Volpe; although he doubted it was little more than fantastical rumor. Ciro never dared go near the Cento Occhi gang that grew stronger day by day, since they served the Borgia; namely Cesare.

The bedroom door being slammed brought him back to the present dilemma with the obstinate woman-child he'd saved that refused to sleep on the "uncomfortable bed". Ciro wondered what horrible thing he'd done to have the misfortune of being saddled with a spoiled, insolent adolescent. Well, she would have to learn to cope sooner rather than later, since he was a humble thief, and she had nothing left.

~o~

Annetta growled in annoyance as her wrist was caught when she swung at Ciro. "You leave yourself too open for an attack," he chastised, indicating where he could get a hit on her body. He smirked as she scowled but knew that after a few more attacks, she'd shift her stance to cover the gap in her defense. She did this so he wouldn't notice that she was taking his advice. Ciro figured her ploy almost at once, but allowed her to keep her pride in tact; for now. Ciro was sure that he'd eventually break her out of her stubborn pride, but it was better to do it gradually and at the same time, gain her trust. At least, that's what one of the courtesans had told him he ought to do when he went begging for advice one day when he had been at his wits ends. After all, the lone thief didn't know anything about raising a teenage girl.

"Alright, that's enough for today," he informed her. He thought she was going to argue as she was prone to do at every opportunity, but was pleasantly surprised when she conceded after a moment's hesitation. Perhaps she was finally starting to trust in his judgment.

"Yes, enough practice already," she huffed, and Ciro had a sinking feeling at her tone of voice. "I want to use it in a real fight." Annetta straightened as she tried to look as confident as her tone.

Ciro frowned at the young girl. "No, you are not ready for actual combat yet." There was that defiant look again. "These skills are only necessary in case you get caught stealing and have to face down a guard." When she snorted at his words, he sighed in frustration. Over the past few months she had to fight him on everything. When he bought food, she turned her nose at the poor quality so she was weakened and almost fell off the rooftops while free-running. She was obstinate and refused to listen to reason. Ciro could be just as stubborn, and while he knew how to out-wit her when it came to common-sense; she was book smart and thus had a better vocabulary at her disposal. So, while he could out-wit her, the girl usually used that smooth tongue of hers to refute everything he tried to teach her or tell her.

When she continued to give him that defiant look, he glared at her, but after a moment she shrugged and walked to the other side of their make-shift training area. "If you say so, Ciro," she agreed to easily to make him suspicious. The man wasn't fooled and eyed her skeptically. Annetta still believed she was the same spoiled girl from a rich family that would give into her every whim. Ciro would gladly give her anything she desired provided she was obedient, and properly learned the tricks of the trade. He could steal enough to get him by, but with another set of eyes they'd be able to get twice, or even three times more.

The thief could say with no arrogance that he was good at what he did, but even he wasn't infallible and had a few close calls with the guards. So, an extra pair of eyes could help him avoid unwanted confrontations with the corrupt guards, and the ability to locate more than one target at a time. A second person watching, say from the rooftops, could create a diversion to escape unnecessary trouble. Although, at the moment he couldn't trust her to behave herself, much less with something so delicate such as watching his back. As it were, he was likely to end up with a sword between his shoulders.

Thus he eyed her suspiciously now. "If you get yourself into trouble, I will not be there to rescue you," he lied, since he could never leave her alone. Even so, he turned his back as she whirled to glare at him and make her think he meant business.

He heard her scoff indignantly. "You're not my father, Ciro," she spat, not being able to stop the slight flinch that coursed through him. "I'm not a child so I don't need your protection."

Ciro had come to a stop at the door at her first statement as his hands clenched at his sides. Maybe he was past annoyed, or he just wanted to be cruel so she'd wake up to the reality that her previous life was over and done with. "God forbid I ever be your father," he snarled, hearing her gasp at his tone since he'd never spoken to her in such a way. "Then again, your father is dead, and there are worse things than having me as one." He heard her make a distressed sound that might have been a sob, but he retreated inside so he wouldn't know and face the guilt he felt at saying those words.

"It's for her own good," he muttered to himself as he removed a throwing knife and savagely threw it at the wall so it lodged half-way down into the wood. However, the action nor the words did anything to alleviate his self-loathing. Ciro wondered when he'd developed a conscience, and figured it might have started around the time he'd tried to shield a thirteen year old girl from the horror of her father's corpse. He had been trying to salvage some scrap of her innocence even when he knew wasn't possible, but he'd felt an inexplicable desire to try.

He paced restlessly inside their safe-house for several minutes as he tried to decided what to do now. Ciro knew she wouldn't come inside after what he'd said, and was likely to run off in distress. Even knowing this, he refused to follow her as if...as if he were her father.

Ciro cursed vehemently and viciously kicked a chair so it snapped in two, but it wasn't enough and destroyed anything within reach. After several minutes he was left panting in the middle of his destruction with only his thoughts. He had been caring for the girl almost a year now, and while he didn't suffer any illusions about being anything resembling a parent to her, he'd at least hoped to have gained her trust by this point. As it turned out, he was at the same point as when they'd first met, and he'd be lying if he said her words hadn't stung. They'd hurt like hell.

The lone thief reached into his pouch and pulled out a light pink ribbon. It had once been silky and soft, but had grown coarse over the years and stained with a drop of what could only be blood. He started to run it through his fingers for a moment before he clenched his hand around it, turned and bolted through the door.

~o~

The sun had already set a long time ago, the sky having been painted a red-orange that no painter could ever hope to recreate. The torches had been lit so the streets wouldn't be too dark, and thus some people still braved going outside to run last minute errands before turning in for the night. While it was true that these days Roma was a perilous place even during the day, but at night is when one was more than likely to fall prey to the scum of the streets.

A lone figure moved recklessly through these very streets, and the boyish clothes would have fooled anyone if not for the slender body that couldn't be mistaken for any man or boy. Thus it was clearly a young girl. It was dangerous at night because of the desperate thief, the blood-thirty mercenary and heartless courtesans. While it was true that most of the mercenaries followed Bartolomeo d'Alviano, but those that didn't, were not to be trifled with. Even the courtesans were likely to slit a man's throat before ever pleasuring him. Also, the thieves of the Cento Occhi were ruthless, and the few lone ones weren't as honorable as Ciro.

Annetta shook the thought off, since she didn't want to think of the man whom she was currently fuming over. "How dare he," she growled as she stalked down the darkening street, angrily wiping at her eyes. Her anger was only a mask for the hurt his words had caused her, but supposed that it was in part her fault. It was just so difficult to look at Ciro at times because he reminded her of that day; the worst day. He hadn't seen him at the time and only remembered a gentle voice at her ear, a merciful hand over her eyes, and strong arms wrapping around her. It had felt like being held by her father and the thought brought a small sob to her throat even now. Her father was dead, and she felt guilty when she compared Ciro to her beloved father. She felt guilty when she found herself listening raptly to his lessons as she'd once done when her father had taught her.

The young girl was biting her lip so hard to stifle her sobs that her teeth pierced the supple flesh and tasted blood. Annetta made a disgusted sound at the back of her throat at her weakness, since she was behaving like the child she was always trying to prove she wasn't.

Once she managed a degree of calm for her to think straight did she finally slow down and take her surroundings into account. The fourteen year old frowned when she didn't recognize the street she was on, nor the buildings that surrounded her. Annetta finally came to a stop as she glanced back the way she'd come. However, she knew that she'd been far too distressed to remember what turns she had taken or how far she had walked before calming down. She felt a flash of fear at realizing she was lost, but paused to take a deep breath before she panicked. When that was accomplished, she focused her mind on a rationally thinking of what she wanted to do next.

'First of all, you must not give into panic,' Ciro's voice came to her, remembering a lesson he had taught her just last week. While she had rolled her eyes and pretended not to listen, Annetta's ears had never allowed herself to miss a single word that fell from his lips. 'If you are being chased then getting out of sight and hiding is the first course of action. Don't lose your way or you could end up in an alley with no way, and then you're dead. Take to the rooftops if you can't get your bearings.' Annetta nodded and moved to peer into a nearby alley, looking for a ladder that sometimes seemed conveniently placed at times. Her search turned up results on the third try and easily climbed up to the roof of the building, and then another until she was as high as she could reach.

'If you're lost, then you get to the tallest building and look around for any familiar landmarks. You're not that well trained with free-running over rooftops yet, so don't try to outrun pursuers on the rooftops.' The young girl glanced around and her eyebrows went up when she saw that she was close to the Piazza della Rotonda, since the Pantheon was unmistakable even in the darkness due to the torches at the entrances. Annetta wondered how upset she'd been that she hadn't noticed that she had walked that far. Their safe-house was located in the Campagna district, close to the Terme di Diocleziano. Now that she paid closer attention, it was near midnight or already past it.

She cursed herself now for her defiant temper, since he always warned her not to venture out at night. It was much too dangerous to risk going outside as Roma plunged into an age of darkness overseen by the tyrant known as Alexander XI.

Annetta inhaled for a moment before deciding to forget the man responsible for her current situation, and instead concentrated on leaving the roof and getting back to the safe-house. If she went toward the Pantheon and kept moving south-east, than she'd eventually reach Campagna District.

She lifted her face against the wind so it caressed her flushed features, and Annetta felt free so high up with no walls to cage her in. Annetta wasn't afraid of enclosed spaces, but she also didn't like to feel trapped. After several minutes she hopped down from her perch on top of the roof garden. As soon as her feet touched the ground once again, she was moving as quickly as possible and trying not to draw any attention to herself. However, her footsteps were not as silent as her mentor and they echoed in the too silent night. A chill raced up her spine as she moved toward the Pantheon, and chanted a useless prayer under her breath that her mother had often used while putting her to bed.

The sound of movement behind her was the only warning she got before she was grabbed and slammed against the wall. Annetta was shamed as a whimper of pain escaped her lips as a pair of large hands held her to the wall so her feet almost dangled. "Mmm, look what I caught all alone in the dead of night," he voice whispered into her ear. A shudder of fear crawled up her spine as she lifted her gaze to look at her attacker. Annetta's blood ran cold at recognizing the man as part of the Cento Occhi gang.

Annetta didn't have any money to rob, but she was no fool. Ciro was wary of the gang for a reason, and seeing the look he was pinning her with caused her to recoil in disgust. "Let...me...go!" she panted, struggling to shove him away from her. However, the man was like the wall at her back, unmovable.

He leaned more heavily against her and felt a cold terror overtake her senses as the man's hand took hold of her vest. Annetta shifted and used all the strength she could muster to drive her knee into the bastard's groin. A strangled cry indicated that she had managed to cause some serious damage, and broke away from him when his hold faltered. "Puttana!" he snarled after her as she darted out of the alleyway. "I'll kill you!"

She didn't bother to turn around to see if he was following, and instead ran in what she hoped was the direction of the Pantheon. Annetta didn't know she was crying until her vision became blurred with tears, but she angrily wiped them away and kept moving. The sound of pounding footsteps reached her ears and she turned the corner into the piazza, and desperately threw herself into a cart of pink flowers that was located close to the fountain. She went rigid and tried to slow her breath as she heard the man coming closer. The air in her lungs seemed to freeze as he passed dangerously close and suddenly stopped, and for a moment feared she'd been found.

"Cazzo!" she heard him curse, kick the cart she was in and them storm away in anger. Annetta felt a relief so sharply it hurt and could barely bite back a sob. She buried her head deeper into the petals as she was surrounded by their heady scent.

Annetta must have cried herself to sleep because when she stirred and lifted herself out of the cart, she saw that dawn was approaching. She stumbled out of the flowers and plopped tiredly on a nearby beach as a yawn cracked her features. Annetta wondered if Ciro was worried and after a moment decided that he was probably glad she was gone. She started sobbing again, unable to help the grief she felt at that thought, and covered her face with her hands. Without her noticing, dawn arrived and with its light came a rain of pink flower petals.

Annetta choked back a sob when she felt the touch of them on her head and lifted her tear-stained face to a magnificent sight. The piazza was bathed in morning light as the water in the near-by fountain sparkled, and the velvety petals caught and danced upon the wind. She lifted a shaking hand to catch one within her palm, gently closing her fingers around it and inhaled a shaky breath.

"ANNETTA!"

He head snapped up as she heard someone shout her name and saw Ciro at the other side of the piazza. The man looked exhausted and ragged, as if he hadn't slept all night...

The young girl shot to her feet as he rushed across the square and she felt more tears flow down her face. She was so relieved to see him and to know that he'd been looking for her. The fourteen year old ran to meet him and threw herself into his arms. "Ciro! I-I'm s-sorry," she sobbed. His strong arms crushed her to him and she felt her feet leave the ground.

Annetta could hear him whispering something over and over again that sound like 'Thank you, God'. Ciro was not a religious man so she could have heard wrong, but she didn't care. All Annetta cared about was that she felt safe; she felt like she'd come home at last.-