The stone floor in here was unpleasantly cold and despite the situation, the only thing running through my mind was how funny the pin pricks of chill felt on my skin. The cell wasn't disgusting, but it wasn't pleasant either. The air was stale and heavy, the virtual silence was unnerving, and darkness within the cell strained my eyes, though it wasn't completely dark. There were scattered torches throughout all the passageways down here, but the actual cells were extremely dark, and I felt paranoia creeping in on me, filling in the absence created by the lack of any real manner of defending myself.

My violently bruised shoulder and wrist ached and the stitches up my side had long broken open, spilled blood, and become numb. The numbness should have worried me, but all I felt was relief. The beating from god-knows-how-long-ago had left it screaming at me, and I'd just curled up and tried to regulate my breathing to fend off the pain, but it slowly moved into my subconscious, like instead of an actual pain, it was just detached awareness. I shifted a little, shooing the fluttering sting away into my mind.

I wondered briefly if Gianpiero was trying to get me out. I didn't particularly want to stay in here. But, the thought dissolved away when there was a whisper. Just the slightest little breath of a name; my name. I frowned. I didn't really want to go insane, either, but clearly it was too late to save my mind. I shoved the voice away into my mind with the pain, but it came back, louder, which made the strange, deep twang on the words more obvious. I slowly lifted my head (as to not irritate the resting aggravations in various regions of my body) to search for the source of the voice and was startled when I saw the form of a tiny girl. A tiny girl that looked all too familiar.

"Bambina," I murmured to the little maid. She nodded, looking at me worriedly through the iron bars. "What are you doing down here? Aren't you going to get caught?"

She shuffled a little bit but then said quietly, "I want to help you get out." I smiled a little bit but shook my head at her, clutching my wound tentatively as I crawled up to her.

"You need to leave, now," I told her firmly. "Before you get in trouble."

I frowned when she pouted and shook her head.

"What exactly do you plan on doing?" At this she faltered and after a moment of glancing around, shrugged shyly. I sighed. She continued to search the dimness around her. Then, her eyes lit up and she flitted away. I pressed my face up against the bars, my cheek forcing one of my eyes to half-close as I tried to see her. For a moment, I actually thought she wouldn't come back, but she quickly zipped back into my view. I peered at her curiously as she started fiddling with the lock. After about probably a minute of her fiddling, she stopped, huffing and throwing what every little object she'd been using to the ground.

I began to wonder where the guards were, and taking a stab at it, I asked her. Her eyes widened a little bit at first, but then she giggled.

"Someone set fire to the tapestry outside." My own eyes snapped wide open. Did she just say she set a fire?

"You set the palazzo on fire?" I shout-whispered through the bars. She shrugged.

"It was an accident, and I ran because I was scared," she explained, though she made it obvious it was complete horse shit with the wide, mischievous grin and little giggles.

"Mio dio..." I breathed, quickly working out the situation in my mind, which I found was running a lot faster than before. If they found out the fire was this little girl's fault, she would get in huge trouble, no matter her accident excuse. More trouble than she would have if she'd simply wandered down here, probably. It became apparent that I needed to get us both out of here.

"Okay," I whispered to her. "We need to get out of here right now." She rolled her eyes at my statement of the obvious. This one was sassy. She turned around, now looking for a different plan. Her eyes locked on something in the corner that looked like a weapons' rack, though I was really stuck to making inferences because for some reason I was having problems focusing my eyes. She moved away from me and over to the rack, removing something from it and carrying it back over with far too much ease. The closer she got, the more disbelief flooded into my mind.

That was not natural. How could an eleven year old girl lift a hammer that size off the ground? Even I could not do that at her age and my uncle started my training when I was eight years old, right after padre died. Or was murdered. Oh well, that didn't matter anymore. At least, not right now.

"How.. did you, I mean," I stuttered, quieting when she just shook her head at me. There was something to this little girl, for sure. With a few moments exertion on her part, she managed to swing the hammer with a bit of force into the lock. All the swing did was make the lock a little less pretty. I chewed my lip and she pouted. With a grunt and fierce determination in her eyes, she began slowly working at the metal lock, each swing totalling about 30 second's time. Whatever, she'd done to keep the upstairs level in so much chaos that they still needed the guards that had left their posts, even after twelve, strenuous, completely exhausting-looking swings, I had to feel some respect for it. I imagined raging flames eating expensive carpets and tapestries and even unlucky guards and nobles as they tried desperately to quench the fire's hunger.

Then my respect was directed towards the little, arabian maid when I realized her true reason for being down here. She was defying them, in the most outrageous way she could. She was taking revenge on them for taking her liberty. I understood so deeply, that I almost found tears in my eyes. God, did I understand. This is what I was fighting for, was it not? I fought for Roma. I fought for her people. But I'd overlooked the tiny misgivings. I'd never thought about how many people still lie oppressed, overlooked by those who fight so mightily for freedom. The amount people who die with their wings clipped.

And here she was, so fiery in her need to defy, to taste the sky. Even if she may not fully understand how significant this was.

I was jarred from my revelation when the lock clattered to the floor heavily. We both kind of just stared at it for a moment before we jolted into action, and I jolted the pain from the back of my mind. I grasped my side with a breathy cry and she looked alarmed, but I gritted my teeth and kicked open the cell door.

"Give me the hammer," I rasped out to her, trying to push away the temptation to just collapse and be done with it. She pushed it into my grasp and I used it as a sort of support as we both struggled through the corridors. The only way out was the front door, and we both recognized that as a very large problem. As we were both preparing ourselves for failure, stepping out into the largely decorated hallway of the first floor and leaning me against a wall so I could actually breathe for a second, a mass of expensive fabric and luxurious robes came around the corner and we both started to hobble off the wall to make a sloppy run for it.

But then, I breathed a ragged sigh of relief, and the little maid looked up at me like I was insane, tugging on me to get me moving. I recognized that mass of robes, and I'd never been more thankful to see it. I assured the little girl into calmness and gave Gianpiero a relieved but slightly desperate look. He had something in his hands, some robes that matched his own in relative price and overwhelming fineness. I slumped slightly against the older man as he helped me into the hooded robe-like thing. He took the hammer, making me nearly lose myself to the impending threat of the ground, and stashed it off to the side.

"I'll meet you outside the gates," he said as he fastened the ties on the front, glancing nervously around. I nodded, trying to resist the urge to grasp my side, as I would look entirely too suspicious. He looked at the little maid.

"Walk a step behind her. Don't make any eye contact and prepare her a horse when you reach the stables." She nodded nervously. He looked back to me, but offered no more than a firmly reassuring nod before he gave me a gentle shove to leave.

Suprisingly enough, we got out with not much trouble. I'd been walking fast, with a slight limp, and twice, when guards had asked my business, I'd told them with annoyed obscurity that I needed to attend to signora Maria immediately and scuttled off, muttering minor indignities about the guards, with the little maid skittering after me. Once we were outside the gates and in a safe nook of stables, the girl began preparing a horse and I collapsed heavily against part of the fencing. I felt dizzy and light, which I knew was not a good sign. I needed a dottore immediately. The little girl looked concerned when she guided the horse over.

"You're really pale, signora," she said quietly. I swallowed and nodded. I figured as much. Gianpiero needed to get here fast, or we were leaving. The girl helped me mount the horse, thankfully without much trouble. I squeezed its sides gently, urging it into slowly moving out of stable. We both waited.

And waited.

And waited.

When I was at the point where I was unable to really sit upright on the horse, I nodded at the bambino and she took the reins and began guiding us to the nearest dottore at as quick a pace I could handle without falling.