The Art of War

1494

Late October

Rome was maddening.

Word of the French army had spread and the news was that the Borgia Pope was to be deposed. Not that dear Amara de' Medici had been informed of course and she hadn't wondered to ask. The cardinal had promised her own fair Florence safety from excommunication and she had heard no news that his promise was untrue. So, when Cesare Borgia informed her that she was to stay inside of the Borgia Villa not not to venture outside or even open a window without escort she had thought nothing of it.

Sometimes cities just went a little mad.

"It is a good morning, my lady." The chipper tone broke the silence of Amara's chamber.

She groaned. "It is?"

The maid insisted. "You should see."

Amara heard the rough scraping of the balcony doors as they began to open and sighed. All previous warnings from Cesare Borgia had been erased from her mind as she pushed her muscles out. That was until the heavy thud echoed around the room.

She froze for a moment and then very carefully started to peel herself from the bed. Soon Amara's heart started to pound suddenly awoken from its petrified state; shaking limbs appeared to have their own sense of reason as she slid slowly from the bed to assess the damage in her chambers. However, the moment of calm ended and the storm broke loose as the young girl saw her maid lying upon the ground. It wasn't until her eyes settled upon the blood gushing from her dented skull that Amara de' Medici lost the composure of a lady and began to scream.


Help came quickly after that.

The events to restore the Medici girl's chambers to their usual format came at the same pace. Someone removed the rock which stuck the maid, another sent for a doctor, two or three removed the body and one removed Amara until she came to be sitting in a velvet chair with wine in hand. Some of the blurs tried to speak to her but Amara couldn't make out one word from the next so she shook her head when they spoke.

Her maid was dead – and it was Amara's fault completely. She should have warned her that all windows and doors were to remain shut. A wave of nausea hit her once again – all her fault.

It wasn't until Micheletto Corella marched through the door that her spirit regained a little more consciousness.

"My Lady Medici." He bowed smoothly.

Amara remained silent. Micheletto would not venture far from his master unless he had been told to and a reason therefore demanded it. She could ignore the blurring maids and physicians but she couldn't ignore the orders of her own guardian, especially when that guardian was the Pope's son who decided her whole fate.

"My Lord, Cardinal Borgia would request your presence in his Father's quarters, My Lady." She noticed that his face had not changed in emotion the whole time he talked. A small part of her wondered if the man had it in him to feel pity or anything at all.

"Of course," She rose from her seated position evenly and the blurs took a firm step backwards. "If that is what, His Eminence requires." Her voice although small mustered more nobility than any other had the hope of doing in such circumstances.

The walk was silent and she was thankful for it. There was too much in Amara's mind for her to muster any small talk but Micheletto didn't appear to be one in favour of unneeded conversation.

The Pope's private rooms smelled heavily of incense and perfume. The odour hung in the air and attacked Amara's nostrils. Cesare was the only moving figure in the quiet room as he paced back and forth in repetitive steps. His neck snapped around as he heard the couple arrive at their destination and he did not stay in his repetitive steps for long but changed suit to charge towards them.

"Are you hurt?" He asked cupping Amara's face to examine her closer.

"No." She hadn't intended for her voice to be such a quiet murmur and yet it was. In a similar way, she could not stop the tiny smile gracing her features at the thought of his care.

"Good." He concluded catching the eye of his servant still standing, watching his master, watching his ward. "You may go, Micheletto."

"I will have them all dismissed." Cesare decided when he was done re-examining her body.

Amara's brow fell along with the smile in a confused fashion. "Why?"

"Why?" He let go of her at once. "Because they are incompetent fools."

"They are not." Amara defended. "I was one you told to be careful, not them." The Cardinal opened his mouth to speak but the daughter of Florence continued regardless. "They have suffered enough, don't you think?"

The Borgia pursed his lips. "And if the rock had past her head and hit yours?"

Amara paused, she had not thought of that. "But it was my fault; perhaps it would have been fairer if it had."

Cesare raced forward and took her face once more in his hands. "Do not say that." He held her gaze. "They should have known better."

Amara was perplexed for a moment. Why should a maid know better than a Lady? Yet, the answer was simple, just not to her. They knew more of Rome and why Rome was facing a sudden change. Why she saw the people in its walls slipping away every day. Why the Borgia household was dwindling. Everyone knew about Rome…everyone but her that was.

"You will stay here, in the Vatican, from now on." He soothed his thumb over her pale skin. "I would have you safe."

It was not until she peered up that Amara realised the Cardinal and herself had both been standing so close to one another. The two were watching each other waiting for the other to retreat or advance but neither did. So, Cesare stayed with his hands around her face while Amara puzzled herself unable to move. It was the Cardinal's head which almost began to dip until the sound of the Pope's booming voice drew them apart.

"We would review whatever forces we have at our disposal." He stormed into the room while Amara recoiled into the corner out of his sight. "Where's your brother?"

"I know not, Holy Father…" He began to wash his hands in the copper water bowl with a small smirk which belonged to only him. "But I suspect."

"Well then seek out the Gonfalonier of the Papal forces, and drag him from whatever whorehouse he has seen fit to rest his head and tell him that if Amara de'Medici," His voice was loud now and the Pope was pointing directly at Amara from her hiding place. "Can be here he can too!"

Her mouth hung open while he flung himself from the room before the startling sound of a shocked laugh began to protrude from it. "You appear to have a quest, My Lord Cardinal."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and accompanied her in escort from the room. "And you new chambers to enjoy."


There was more freedom in the Vatican or at least more space to move about.

Cesare, of course, had banned her from the leaving its wall and she could only move about them for certain reasons but there was still more happiness inside the Vatican's wall than outside of it. In addition to her new found freedom Amara noted that she received a larger party of maids to would follow her like sheep.

It was on her way to midday prayers that Amara met Cesare Borgia waiting outside the assembly of the College of Cardinals.

"Little Medici." He greeted with a proud smirk.

She drew herself a little taller and smiled. "Your Eminence."

"Tell me; are your new rooms sufficient?"

"Alas," she teased. "They could be a little bigger."

He sighed in jest. "I'm afraid you have taken our largest rooms."

"Oh," She faked a frustrated understanding. "Well, I suppose we cannot all be Florence."

"No, we cannot." He said slowly. "You may have noticed, Little Medici that I am about to enter the Assembly of Cardinals."

"I have." Amara nodded understanding that he was referring the pact they had to keep Florence out of harms way. "I suppose I had better pray for you then."

"And the College of Cardinals," He reminded her. "Do not forget them."

"Oh, yes." She nodded with a mock forgetfulness. "Them too I suppose."

The two laughed but were cut off once again by the Pope's voice. "The Lady Medici."

"Your Eminence." She received his ring when he offered it to her.

The pope gave a rough quick smile. "I am afraid that we are needed for matter of state."

"Of course, Holy Father." Amara was diplomatic; she spoke slowly and walked away with her maids following quickly behind her like ducklings.

It was only when Amara was in the distance that the Pope turned to urge his son once more to win the girl's unprecedented support onto their side no matter the cost. Of course, he never thought that the cost might be on the Borgia's side.


1494

Early December

Juan Borgia was going to save them all; the whole of Rome, and everyone in it.

At least, that's what people were whispering and Rome appeared to be happy to believe the new gossip. The streets were lined with cheering crowds to wish the Papal Forces on their perfect way to war. The pure bliss people found in the deaths of those they believed to be enemies was phenomenal. Of course, Amara de' Medici was no different. However, she did not think of death as she stood high above the crowds with her guardian watching his brother ride to war.

"It would appear," Cesare informed her gradually, "That you prayed for the wrong brother, my little Medici."

Amara threw her arm in the air to scatter more rose petals down onto those below. They rose gently in the wind but still they fell on the dusty floor to be were trampled by the masses below. "I did not pray for warfare."

"But we will be saved, don't you think Micheletto?" Cesare leaned forward to rest upon the stone wall, his eyes transfixed on his own brother's glowing armour. "Will the good Lord see justice in our cause?"

"Where warfare is concerned, Your Eminence," Amara had to stretch her ears to hear the words he spoke in that same soft tone as always. "Our good Lord will take a holiday."

She twisted her head to face the political men. "But he will know that it is our cause which is right."

"And what makes you think our cause is right?" Cesare's gaze moved with controlled precision to face her.

"The French kill without mercy." She explained imaging what they must have done in Lucca. She spat the next phrase like venom as the anger bubbled in her stomach. "They have disgraced my family and city, and they use cannon fire."

"You do not agree with the cannons, My Lady?" Micheletto did not move his own head to face her but continued to stare ahead as though he was not a part of the conversation at all.

"No, I do not." Amara answered deliberately. "With one match you have destroyed tens of lives and you could not describe even one of their faces."

Cesare watched the girl watching his brother and felt a rush to pray that Juan did not make it back from the battle.


"Out!"

Amara de' Medici's head whipped around to Cesare Borgia bounding into her new Vatican chambers.

"Now!" He found the new method of pushing her maids when they did not move fast enough for his liking. "Be gone!"

"Cardinal Borgia," Amara smiled calmly in the face of his storm. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Have you heard?" He demanded through the pants for breath.

Amara sighed still arranging the flowers on the table. "Evidently not."

"Juan has returned." The phrase commanded her attention.

Her whole body spun to face him now, ready to receive any extra information it needed. "What?"

"He has returned from war with nothing but a scattered trail of guts and tired men." Amara's body trembled at the words and she brought a hand to cover her shocked face. Cesare must have noticed her pale skin since he had stopped in his talking.

"What else?" She prompted trying to remove the smell of blood from her brain.

She had only smelt the red liquid on few occasions in her life and even less pieced her memory. There had been her first blood but the more harrowing had been the stench that surrounded her mother and father as their illness took a hold and the leaches came out. Even that had been too much for her weak heart, she could not imagine the stench that laced battlefield.

She forced her gaze onto Cesare's perched figure on her bed. There was something else that he wasn't telling her, something important.

"Tell me." She instructed. It was as much her right to know about these matters as it was anyone else's in Rome.

There was an apprehensive pain on his features. "They have Lucrezia held hostage." He reluctantly delivered the information.

"There must be some mistake," Amara pressed herself forward. "She was in Milan."

"She was collected by La Bella." The way Cesare spat her name made it sound unwanted. It was something that Amara may have found comfort in – the fact that Cesare disliked the Pope's mistress as much as she did – if the situation had been different that was.

"Then what's our next move?" His silence turns were starting to frustrate her. They were going to be attacked by France at any moment; these moments were needed for politics… something Amara knew alarmingly little about. "Your Eminence!"

He could hardly bring his lips to deliver the words. "You are to be sent away."

"Excuse me?" There must have been some mistake. She must have heard him wrong.

"You are to be sent away." He repeated a little louder this time.

"And where would you have me go?" The fear filled trembling was replaced at once with one of passionate exasperation.

"To my mother's villa, which is outside of Rome." Away from Rome, she would have begged to hear the words aloud even a few hours ago. Yet, the prospect of her dream coming true did not fill her with the bliss she desired. "You will be safe there."

"I will be safe here." Amara objected.

He shook his head. "I cannot guarantee that."

"Then you cannot guarantee I will be safe outside of Rome either." She retorted.

"It is more likely." Cesare placed his hands out in protest.

"Likely?" She aspirated with a low un-humorous laugh. "They have my cousin held hostage and you speak to me about the likelihood of my safety?"

"Then what do you suppose?" The Lord Cardinal did not have time to protest any further, his father needed him for more pressing matters and it was not his wish or that of his Holy Father's to drag her away in chains.

"That I stay here." She crossed the room from the sun streamed window into the shadows of the bed and dropped to her knees before him. Amara knew that he could see her tears, but the emotion could not be ignored. It was something darker than before, stronger than her love for Florence perhaps. Something that she could not explain. Nonetheless, she knew to be away from Rome meant that she would be away from him. And it was not something Amara would deem acceptable. "With you."

Cesare Borgia lifted her hands to his lips and whispered: "Little Medici."

She mistook his affection for a need of comfort and took the opportunity to soothe him with words. "Nothing is going to happen. No harm will befall me." She swore with a small smile. "I promise."

Cesare shut his eyes tight but the image of Amara de' Medic's tear stained face would not leave him. Eventually, he sighed with her hands still at his lips and whispered. "What have we done to you?"


A/N:

Hello, my lovely followers!

Have I told you how amazing you all our recently, especially those who are reviewing. I hope you all get a crazy amount of pizza and cake in your lives.

I know that this chapter is a bit shorter than usual but it was filled with a whole load of Cesare and Amara so hopefully you all forgive me :)

So... questions...questions...questions...

1) What do you think about the Cesare x Amara scenes? too much weird romance... too little?

2) Favourite moment? or least favourite...

3) What did you think of Amara going all I'm with you with Cesare and caring a little less about Florence maybe?

4) General feedback? You can literally review me anything...anything at all really!

I know that some of you wanted Amara to go and get Lucrezia with Guilia but I needed her in Rome for a future moment in the story...sorry about that. Anything else you really want to happen and I'll listen.

I honestly do love all of your reviews and read them like ten times over when I'm writing - which is why they are inspiring to me!

- Anna x