I'm turning into one of those writers who never updates their story. Also, 20 chapters and no smut? Blasphemy! None in this chapter either. See, I got you all excited for nothing. I've written a scene between Cesare and Lucrezia, but I don't know if I'm going to put it in. If you're feeling deprived and want something, even if it is yucky Borgia incest please PM me and I'll see if I can add it in. If you're good with the way things are going…well you can still PM me cause I love talking to my readers and *gasp* you may even get a sneak preview of future chapters…but you don't have to.
Alessandra inhaled deeply, breathing in the scents and sounds and life of Rome. The sheer vitality of the city, already ancient and full of history, enlivened her, adding a flush to her previously pale cheeks and a smile to burst over her face. People shoved past the trio, vendors shouted at passersby, horses meandered slowly down the street. At the end of the street a patrol was breaking up an argument between two women over a rug. It was noisy, and smelly, and dirty, and it was home.
They were far enough from her previous house that these streets were new to Alessandra. Raphael had never allowed her far from home, not that she would have gone far anyway. Too many people and too much danger awaited in the streets. Her heart beat faster, both in excitement and slight fear and she pulled tight to Antonio, slipping her hand into his for comfort.
The young man's cheeks burned a ruddy crimson and he thought his heart was going to beat its way out of his chest. The fact that she turned to him for protection and comfort helped strengthen his confidence and he found himself speaking.
"The river isn't far from here; we shouldn't run into any trouble getting there."
Alessandra nodded enthusiastically and allowed Antonio to take the lead. With his free hand he pulled up his hood, not wanting to chance being recognized. He could see wanted posters tacked on walls for both himself and Ezio. They looked old and slightly worn from exposure to the elements, but the pictures and prices were still recognizable.
They moved slowly; Antonio didn't want to strain Alessandra by forcing her to keep a faster pace than she could manage. Horatio followed behind them, a dark blue hood of his own pulled up to hide his face. With the knife in his belt and rich clothes he looked like a mini version of Ezio, something Antonio was sure wasn't an accident.
They walked through the crowded streets, mid-afternoon sunlight streaming down to light the various stalls and shops. Alessandra looked at them with only mild curiosity, not really interested in their wares. Antonio's eyes scanned the crowd for possible threats, fingers drumming on the hilt of his sword. His new uniform didn't part crowds the way his old one had and he was forced to gently push his way through the packed throngs of people.
They passed through the streets in silence, groups of people thinning as they neared the water front. Alessandra turned her head to regard Antonio as they walked.
He was strong featured like Ezio, but less broad in the chest, his light armor allowing her a good estimation. His eyes were such a deep shade of brown that they appeared almost black, matching his dark hair. Unlike Ezio he was clean shaven, and no scars adorned his face. He didn't have the same rugged good looks as the older man, but more of a charming boyish look, like it would still be several years until he came into his full maturity. He was handsome to say the least and she was often amused by his sweet bumbling personality. He was nothing like her deadly protector, this feature lending its own charm.
The river came into sight and Alessandra stared out over it. The water was murky, but it reflected the sun in small rainbows and sparkles anyway, as if in defiance of the star's overwhelming power. She was amazed that something so dirty could shine so beautifully.
Antonio unclipped the white cape from his shoulder and settled it on the grass for Alessandra. She thanked him and settled, pulling her knees to her chest and staring over the water. Antonio stood beside her, his back to the river, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious. Alessandra rolled her eyes and whacked his leg with her fist.
"What was that for?" He asked, rubbing his leg.
"You're being stupid. Who do you think I am? Lucrezia Borgia? I don't need a body guard, sit down already." Antonio sighed and turned reluctantly. There was a splash further down the bank and Alessandra saw Horatio throwing stones into the water. He was close enough to hear them should they need to leave quickly.
The young man sat beside Alessandra, shoulders tense, hand griping his sword loosely.
"So Antonio, tell me about yourself." Alessandra requested.
He shrugged, " There's not much to tell, you wouldn't find it very interesting."
"Try me." She said in a challenging tone.
"uhh, alright." He swallowed nervously and spoke slowly so as not to stammer too much. "My father was a painter who fell in love with a noble woman." He said flatly. Alessandra's eyes bugged slightly and she scooted slightly closer, giving him her focused attention. He blushed and glanced down, playing with some of the ties on his outfit.
"My mother was a Spanish Countess. My father was an Italian painter. She commissioned several paintings from him and they ended up having an affair. She grew pregnant but was able to hide it from her husband. He was often away, trying to ingratiate himself with the noble family. Even after I was born she continued to see my father and treated me like her own legitimate son. My father and I lived in a little house in the village over which the Manor stood. I remember standing on the roof at sun down and staring at the Manor house on the hill. The windows would turn red and seem to be on fire in the light." He paused, voice sounding distant as bittersweet memories filled his mind. Those were some of the fondest memories of his childhood.
"We lived in that village in Spain until I was seven. To this day I don't know why we left and returned to Italy. Roma seemed so loud and dirty after that village, I hated it." He stopped again to assemble his thoughts.
"So, you're some kind of nobleman?" Alessandra asked. Antonio laughed and shook his head,
"I'm the bastard son of a painter, there's nothing noble about me." He continued after a short halt.
"When we returned to Italy my father married the daughter of a baker and my sister was born. He loved my stepmother very much, they were a good match, but I think part of him missed the Countess. I would see him sometimes staring out the window at nothing and I knew he was thinking about her. Lucia, my stepmother, loved me like her own child and tried to be a good mother. I cannot say I was the most cooperative son; I hated Rome and Italy. I wanted to go to my real home in Spain." He sighed.
Alessandra slid her hand over his where it was bracing him against the ground. His skin tingled at the touch his gut lurched with a swarm of butterflies. He resisted the urge to giggle nervously, instead clearing his throat hoarsely.
"Lucia was a frail woman, very much like my sister. She didn't survive her second childbirth and neither did the child."
"Oh Antonio I'm so sorry." Alessandra said, feeling guilty about making him dredge up painful memories. However, he continued like he hadn't heard her.
"My father was not long for this world after Lucia passed. I think…I think he died of a broken heart; leaving my real mother, then to have Lucia torn from him. It was too much for him to stand. My sister and I were left as orphans, the only money we could get from selling our possessions and a few paintings my father finished before his death. Most of it went to my sister's medicine, but it eventually ran out. I did the only thing I could that would pay well enough to take care of my sister. I became a soldier." He finished quietly.
Antonio finally looked at Alessandra to find her staring at him looking like she was going to cry.
"What? This was all a long time ago." He said.
"I know. It's just…." She trailed off, instead pulling Antonio into a hug, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder and neck. Her arms were wrapped around him and she was half lying on the ground, legs stretched out behind her. He sat frozen, not sure what to do.
"Be charming and funny." Said imaginary Ezio in his head. Antonio scrambled for something, anything, to lighten the mood.
"Uhhh…" Was all he managed. It dawned on Alessandra that she'd practically tackled the man and she pulled back sharply.
"I'm so sorry!" She said, sounding embarrassed.
"It's um…yeah…uh." He mumbled. His brain was on overload, squealing like a little girl.
"SHE HUGGED ME! SHE HUGGED ME! SHE HUGGED ME!" it cheered. It was only by the grace of some self control he didn't know he possessed that he didn't shake to pieces with happiness. Eventually he found his voice and asked jokingly,
"How slowly do you think Ezio would kill me if he knew we were here?"
"Very." Came a voice from behind him. "Very slow."
Did I mention I wrote this chapter while listening to Queen's Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy? It's more of an Ezio song to be honest, Antonio would be more along the lines of You're My Best Friend due to Alessandra's friendzoning...