Fee spent that night in his room, looking out through the window to the twinkling stars above. So lost was he that he forgot time, his training the next morning, and he was content to just sit on his little bed beneath the large paned window, thinking about the father he had never known.
By the time the cold light of dawn washed the shadows away, Fiorentino had decided he was glad his mother had revealed the truth. It was a testament of how loyal he was to Leonardo. No longer was he a bastardo, or an Auditore, or an unwanted child of some courtesan – he was a Da Vinci, and an assassino despite his hatred of it.
Frederico, God rest his soul, was not a face Fiorentino knew.
Leonardo was downstairs early that morning, having not slept all night in case his son called for him. The artist was pouring over his work, so nearly finished, when there was a knock at his door, and weak sunlight appeared and disappeared as someone entered the dim, cool workshop.
"Leonardo!" came a familiar greeting; so familiar, in fact, that the artist's heart stuttered when he heard it; "I hope I haven't come at a bad time. I found another Codex page."
"Ezio – no, not at all. You're just the man I wanted to see."
"Truly? Why?" the assassin moved so he was in his friend's eyesight. So far, Leonardo had not looked at him, instead preferring to keep himself trained of the beautiful, unfinished painting before him. Ezio thought he caught sight of a familiar face, but the woman's hair was in the way and so he couldn't be sure.
"I…Fee and I came upon some news yesterday. It was quite the shock."
"Something to do with the assassins?"
"I wish it were that simple." Leonardo placed his supplies to one side; he needed to focus, and he doubted his twitching hands would resist the urge to paint. "No. A woman came to the workshop yesterday. She…well, what she said revealed some truths, and caused much distress. I thought you should know about it."
Ezio took the seat beside his friend. It was sturdier, he noted, and in the back of his mind he thought that was where Fee must have had his lessons. The boy was a talented writer. An accomplished reader, too. The assassin only hoped it would give him an outlet in life, before his deeds and duties consumed him.
"What is it, il mio amico?"
"Well-"
Before the artist could take the plunge, they heard the door to the staircase creaking open.
Both heads turned and saw Fiorentino walking out from the darkness, donning a pure white hood with one hand as the other worked with a blood red belt. His eyes were in shadow, but Leonardo mused he saw dark crescent moons under them, telling him his son had been tormenting himself throughout the night.
"Buongiorno, Ezio," the boy said, not stopping his stride as he approached the window. When he was in uniform, he rarely ever used the door.
"Hey, Fee. Are you coming to join us?"
"No, thank you. I have things to do."
"So early in the day?" the assassin glanced up at the sunlight still pouring through the window. It did nothing to penetrate the darkened corners, and Leonardo even kept a candle lit so he could properly see what he was doing, placed beside him on a brass candle holder.
Fee shrugged as he propped open the window above the kitchen counter; "Time waits for no man. Fate binds us. I have to go."
With that, the boy jumped on the counter and disappeared out the window, into a morning so bitter with frost that he almost regretted leaving.
"Is there something wrong?" Ezio asked after a few moments of silence. "Why was he so upset?"
The window was left ajar, too, which was unlike Fee, but Leonardo let that little detail slip his friend's notice. His son would come back to them in time; it was a case of getting over the shock, and if that meant he had to take a few days to himself, then so be it.
"Ezio…there's something you should know about Fee."
The assassin turned and was met by serious, bright blue eyes, so void of Leonardo's usual mirth that he found himself only able to nod. He was unused to this side of his friend. Perhaps it was a side that made even him uncomfortable?
"The woman who came to us yesterday – she claimed to be his mother."
"His mother?!" the assassin gaped; "And what did she want?"
Leonardo waved his hand; "She thought the son she abandoned would go with her willingly. Pretty, but a fool. That's not what this is about, though."
"There's more?" Ezio's mind reeled for his friend, who had no doubt been rocked by the news. He looked to be calm despite it all, with a steady gaze and steadier hands, and for a moment Ezio wondered if Leonardo's parenthood had made him more practical; a feat not easily accomplished, considering he was known for eccentricity.
"Much more. You should brace yourself – this may come as a shock."
So Leonardo told the story. He took care to omit Fee's violent outburst towards his mother, the threat to cut her throat, but everything else, from the shocking revelation to the end of the night, was said. Ezio watched in an unreadable silence as his friend went on, and after he was finished, the artist felt hot under his gaze.
A pregnant silence filled the room. For a moment, Leonardo thought his friend was going to erupt. Surely, the younger Ezio might have. But when he dared to look up at the man beside him, who he had helped and supported throughout his quest for vengeance, he saw that his face was lifted by a soft smile.
"Just when I thought you could not be a greater friend…"
"What?"
Ezio placed a heavy, jovial hand on Leonardo's shoulder, the smile becoming so wide it seemed to brighten the entire room; "I thought I was indebted to you only through the pages and your allegiance, but no. You raised my own flesh and blood without even knowing it, and endeavoured to give him the childhood you thought he deserved. You are truly the greatest friend an Auditore ever had."
The artist was stunned into silence. He had expected some anger, no matter how irrational, or at least a sense of mourning for the time lost with his nephew. But Ezio seemed to be content. He was happy, even, that Fiorentino had been given to someone so kind and willing, someone who had sacrificed much so he could raise him to the best of his abilities.
"This woman – the puttana – she gave him up in fear of her own life."
"She claimed otherwise."
"We all know what goes through people's heads. She cared little for my nephew. You took him in when it seemed the whole world wanted him dead. Leonardo…" the assassin shook his head, a sad, soft laugh escaping his lips; "Leonardo, I'm so glad that we met."
Further, in the city streets, Fiorentino kept his mind busy, training with Rosa and her own mentor Antonio. Out of the corner of his eye, he swore he kept seeing a pair of grey eyes watching him, a shock of blonde hair, but whenever he turned to look there was no one there.
"Dannazione, Fee; pay attention!" Rosa huffed from the shadows; "You will get yourself hurt if you don't."
But over Fee, there was a cold, dark cloud. It could be felt whenever he looked up or into someone's eyes. He kept his head low, hidden beneath the hood, so as not to alert the passing citizens of his place in their world.
More would come to torment him soon. This, he was fully aware. His only hope was that he would stay with Leonardo – the only person that had stayed in his life.
