Niccolò remembered the day he had lost Vittoria's love. He had gone to meet La Volpe at the Thieves Guild to discuss a mission. When he arrived, she had intercepted him before he could knock on the door. Before he could speak, she motioned for him to be quiet as she desperately pulled him around back and into the kitchen. There, with barely a breath left in her lungs, she despairingly told him of the marriage her father had arranged for her. Its purpose was to join her family and the Thieves Guild in Venezia. The news was shocking to Niccolò.
From what he had observed, La Volpe's relationship with his daughter had been defined by distance. Her two brothers, Luca and Paolo, received the bulk of his attentions, being trained in the tools of the trade, while Vittoria was mainly left to her own devices. For whatever reason, La Volpe was never close with Vittoria, and unlike the Order of Assassins, women were not accepted in the Thieves Guild in Firenze. Therefore, La Volpe did not know what to do with her other than copy what other fathers did with their daughters. Marriage was the next logical step.
"Did you know?" Vittoria asked, fighting to maintain her breath. Niccolò held so many secrets, she only prayed he had not been keeping her father's plans from her. She didn't know what she would do upon learning such a betrayal from someone she held so close to her heart.
"No, this is the first time I'm hearing of it," he told her, shocked by the news.
"Graze dio," she sighed a wave of relief washing over her as she leaned her hands against the large kitchen table.
Niccolò watched in concern as she tried to calm herself down. She was like an animal in a trap- panicking and terrified of what was to come next. It infuriated him to see her like this. If La Volpe were there at that moment, he did not know if he could keep his composure.
"Why would he do this?" He asked, his tone nothing short of demanding.
Niccolò needn't even have asked that question, however. He already knew the answer. Vittoria was never going to be left alone to her life of books and poetry. The idyllic world she built for herself, writing by the Il Porcellino and grabbing snatches of wisdom from the books he loaned to her, was temporary and existed only as long as her father allowed it. Eventually, she would have to fall in line with what was expected of her. Still, his heart ached for Vittoria. He wished, very selfishly, that she could remain as she was forever.
"What would you do if you were in my position?" She asked him, turning her amber gaze to his.
Niccolò regarded her for a moment and sighed before he took up a decanter of wine from the counter and poured her a drink.
"I was in your position," he told her solemnly before he filled up a glass for himself and set the decanter on the table. "Married too soon and without a choice. It happens to most everyone."
Vittoria frowned at his pragmatic answer. It was not helpful in the least. She knew he was married and that fact always played a part in the friendly distance she put between them, but he never mentioned his wife. Perhaps he did not wish to risk the fragile nature of their own relationship.
"You never told me what happened to her," she murmured, uncertain she wanted to hear his answer.
"I can only assume she is fine," Niccolò shrugged. A wry expression crossed his sharp features as he took a sip of wine. "When I told her about my life as an Assassin, she left Firenze to live with her family in Toscana."
"She abandoned you." Vittoria stated angrily.
"Not many women are willing to be the wife of an Assassin. Besides, it's safer for everyone this way." He told her, pointing out the simplicity of the arrangement.
"I know I shouldn't be mad at her, but I am," She told him. They deserved so much more; she thought bitterly as she dug her nails into the waxed surface of the table. "We're all just chattel to be sold off to strangers- to marry them and bare them children." Her last words were spoken with an edge of revulsion.
The thought of her being used in such a way set Niccolò's teeth on edge. It was sickening. What if her husband turned out to be a brute? Did La Volpe even bother to learn a thing about him? He knew these were Vittoria's exact concerns as well. Even if her husband wasn't ungallant, the thought of anyone touching her felt like a blade being punched between his ribs.
Vexed by his prolonged silence, Vittoria cried out to him. "Do you not realize I'll be sent off to live in Venezia? Does this not upset you?" she demanded.
"Of course it does!" He snapped, shocked she would even imagine it wouldn't.
The two drew quiet then, wrestling with their troubled thoughts. He had not meant to react so harshly. But the revelation of her marriage, the fact that she was to be torn from him and their beloved Firenze was unthinkable. Finally, after taking a moment to calm himself, Niccolò spoke.
"Let's say you were free to choose in life, what would you want?" He asked, clasping his hands behind his back. It was all he could do to maintain composure.
Vittoria quietly ran her finger down a deep knife gouge in the table, her amber eyes glistening with tears she did not wish him to see as she battled with herself to tell him the truth. Her feelings had gone unspoken for so long; only written down on pages she didn't dare allow him to see. Saying them aloud was nearly impossible.
"There are so many things I want, Niccolò. But wanting is so dangerous." She explained, her eyes locked on the table for fear if she looked at him, he might see the truth in her eyes. "The way I feel scares me."
"Why should you be afraid?" He asked, stepping towards her until they were standing merely a breath away. "Because I have always wanted the impossible," she told him, her voice barely above a whisper. He could see the tear tracks on her cheeks she was trying to hide and before he could say a word about them, Vittoria threw her arms around him and buried her face in his black robes. Niccolò responded without thought as he immediately enfolded her in his arms. She was warm from her exertions and smelled of rosewater and fresh basil. He held onto her tightly, trying to make up for years of having never held her. There were so many times he imagined doing just this but held back out of propriety, not-to-mention respect for her father. Now that she was in his arms, he could not imagine what could have been so important that he ever denied himself this. Taken by the moment, he pressed a longing kiss into her copper hair as she buried her face in his chest. It was then he heard her whimper her confession.
"I love you."
Niccolò pulled back to look into those amber eyes, glassy with tears and filled with years of unspoken yearning. He was certain his own gaze reflected that same desire as he placed his hand on her cheek and captured her lips in a soft kiss. It began as the ghost of a touch until Vittoria wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, making every caress undeniably real. Niccolò buried his fingers in her unbound copper locks, savoring the divine feel of her body against his and the sweet taste of her lips.
Niccolò wanted to take her from that kitchen and away from the people that would attempt to steal the fire from her eyes. The thought was so tempting and he would have done it if it were not for the sharp stab of warning he felt in his chest. Suddenly, his mind flooded with a thousand sobering thoughts as the rational side of him took over. This moment they shared could never be their reality. Realizing this, he broke away from her lips.
"Niccolò…" Vittotia called to him, concerned by his darkened expression. However, he could not be pulled back under the spell of the moment. Not now that he realized how this would end for them.
Niccolò knew nothing could sever his marriage. Even if Vittoria were willing to become his mistress, and that he did not want to put upon her, it would mean breaking her engagement and creating a rift between her and her family. The two of them would make an enemy of La Volpe, turning the relationship between the Order of Assassins and the Thieves Guild upside-down. Even if all of this was done, he could not offer her anything but the promise of his loyalty. She would have it of course, but as an Assassin, there was always the risk he could be discovered or killed and then she would be ruined. In the end, their affair would leave her with nothing.
"I love you Vittoria. But we cannot do this," he told her, regretting the words as soon as he spoke them.
Vittoria grew deathly pale as she slipped her arms from around his neck.
"Please don't say that," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper as those amber eyes pleaded with him.
"Think of what our choices will do to those around us," he told her, trying to get her to understand. "We would be destroying alliances not just within the Thieves Guild but between the Guild and the Assassins. Not only that, Your family would be torn apart."
Vittoria shook her head. Even if he was right, she did not want to listen to him. She couldn't give him up- not now. "There has to be a way. My father cannot expect me to marry if he knows I love another."
"He can and he will," Niccolò told her sternly.
"Will you not fight for me?" She cried, her eyes glassy with tears. She wanted to scream, to pound her fists against his chest but all she could utter was, "Where is your heart?"
Niccolò frowned as he took her hands in his. His heart was with her. It always would be. But he could not tell her this. He had a duty to the Assassins- he swore an oath. She had to understand this. Still, it did not hurt any less.
"Vittoria, I will always be married and you will always be La Volpe's daughter. We can never be together," he told her before letting go of her hands.
It felt as if he had just torn his own heart from his chest.
Vittoria felt her own heart free-fall into nothingness as she realized Niccolò would not change his mind.
"Then I am ashes," she whispered before she abruptly stormed out of the kitchen.
It took every ounce of steel in his bones not follow her. He knew he would regret this choice every day that followed, but it was imperative he see it through.
The next time Niccolò saw Vittoria it was at a bookstall on the Ponte Vecchio. She had looked right through him and gone straight to Lorenzo. She had no more reservations, no more self-doubt or fear- and she had struck her mark better than any veteran assassin. It nearly killed him to witness it. But even after Lorenzo had taken her to his bed, he could not allow himself to be angry with her because this was the world they lived in. This was the life that the men who ruled her would allow her. Her freedom was hard won and it certainly was not without sacrifice. La Volpe no longer talked to her, her brothers soon followed in their father's example, and those in the Thieves Guild all but pretended she never existed. That day she snatched her future from Fortuna's hands was the day Niccolò promised himself he would not interfere in her happiness again.

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