Disclaimer: I own nothing from Assassins Creed, not the games, movies, or books. Nothing! No Ezio. No Altair. I own nothing. This is purely for amusement, nothing else! I just write to better myself as a writer, and learn and develop my style. And for the readers enjoyment, after all.
Summary: Will you live or will you die? That is the question that Olivia Steel faces as her life is on a collision course with danger and a reunion with the man, Ezio Auditore—the man she loved and left behind three years ago. With more secrets than she can carry, will Olivia be able to change the tide in the never ending battle of Assassins versus Templars? Or will she be the one to seal their fates?
Pairings: Olivia(OC)/Ezio, sort of established romance
Author's Note: This is a sequel to "Life, Death and a Choice". You don't necessarily need to read that to enjoy this story, but if you don't want to feel lost at times, I suggest going to read that before this one. (*Also note that Life, Death, and a Choice is currently be edited! Chapter 12 and up have yet to be edited and updated!) This story will definitely have a different tone than the last one, but will not feel too separate from it I hope. Anyways, I hope that you all enjoy it and come to love it.
Assassins Creed Renaissance: This books helped me a lot with Ezio's point of view as well as the game, so I wanted to throw in a disclaimer here. It's not word for word what's in the book, but some parts may seem familiar.
I want to thank DannyPhantom619, Jadestone112, LaPersphone, LovelyThorn, Randomfox77, Shadow Operative, Sheity Williams, Sketchninja7, The Chaos of the Stars, c8499145, justme2134, Antyto-sama, Tyvot, unconditionally-infinite, dovakinrules, Shy911, Cho Tamazaki, ohnodddd, DarkDust27, Jade Celandine, girl falcona, Ashalenn, Yuuki Tsukiyomi, Dragon'sMaw, North Moonlight, Gen0cideRun, RachluvsMerlin, mute-by-choice, Pr1me Gurl, TwilightMelodic, swishyla, Bellamy49, acliecasket, Wickara, WinterChild7 for all the favs. :D
I want to thank Azminara, Delphine Pryde, Fredegar, Jadestone112, LaPersephone, Randomfox77, Sheity Williams, Shketchninja7, Special Agent Author, The Chaos of the Stars, ThisIsHope, c8499145, justme2134, Antyto-sama, Lilith67, ShioriOokami, Tyvot, unconditionally-infinite, Kementari689, relena soulheart, Shy911, Assassinwonderer, DannyPhantom619, DarkDust27, Yuuki Tsukiyomi, Dragon'sMaw, North Moonlight, Dance FLY, Gen0cideRun, DayDreaminGirl, Adamantia13, RachluvsMerlin, mute-by-choice, Kira-Katashi, Pr1me Gurl, ArtemisFullmoon, TwilightMelodic, ToaKage, masterdude94, swishyla, Bellamy49, alicecasket, salinagriego, Wickara, WinterChild7 for the follows! :D
I want to thank Shy 911, DannyPhantom619, Delphine Pryde, swishyla, Just a reader and Guest for the reviews!
Guest Reviews:
Just a reader: Thank you so much reading it! I am glad that everyone has enjoyed it so much. Yeah, things for Olivia are going to get dark before they get better. Olivia and Ezio will get there time, there's going to angst, longing and of course fluff to balance it out. I won't abandon it, promise! Even if my updates aren't every other week, I will always come back to this story and series. :D
Guest: I'm glad that you enjoyed both stories so much that you decided to review, and no review is insignificant. Your review actually made me realize I need to get another chapter of this out for everyone so it was a wonderful reminder. Thank you for reading my stories, I'm glad that you've enjoyed it all.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am still editing Life, Death and a Choice. I have chapters 12 and up to edit and update, so any inconsistency will hammered up by the time the whole of LDaaC is edited and will flow with The Lie of Purgatory!
Songs that Inspired this Chapter:
Olivia's Main Theme Song: "Rise" by State of Mine
"Blood on My Name" by the Brothers Bright
"Lovers Eyes" by Mumford and Sons
Chapter Three
"One Step Closer"
Naples, Italy
31st July 1482
"It's just that…I've seen that symbol before."
Olivia felt her heart thump wildly in her chest, feeling like the whole world stilled for a few heartbeats. "Where have you seen this symbol before?" And then she cursed her brisk tone because it made Juliette startle, the child looking up at her half-afraid she was in trouble. "Juilette, where have you seen this symbol before? I promise you aren't in any trouble," she whispered, knelt down to the young girl's eye level to make the child feel more comfortable. Her tone was far more calm and gentle than it had been previously. Her emotions had overcame her—eager and hopeful—that Juilette had truly seen this symbol before. If she had, then that meant Assassins could be here in Naples and Olivia could use any allies in her effort to return to her home, Monteriggioni. "I just need to know where you've seen this before. It is really important."
Juilette looked hesitant, shifting nervously on the balls of her feet before she gestured with her tiny hand for Olivia to lean forward. The child said in a tone so quiet that it was almost lost beneath the nearby crashing waves, "Ferrante, the King of Naples," she answered, nervously. "He has one of these, too."
Olivia's eyes went wide. "Ferrante? You mean Ferdinard I?" She questioned, her brows furrowed at the information. Before she had been sent back in time all those years ago, Livvy had only a passing knowledge of Italy and its history for all her love of the place. When she became the Red Hood, Olivia dedicated herself to studying the political climate with far more scrutiny seeing how words out of a history book had become her reality and could affect her immediate future, (and the future of the Assassins in Desmond's time.) "He is an ally of Lorenzo de Medici," she recalled, thoughtfully. While Lorenzo himself was only an ally to the Brotherhood and no an assassin, it wasn't impossible for more of his allies to be assassins like La Volpe and Machiavelli and the others. It actually made a great deal of sense now that she thought it over, and the bit of hope she held tight in her heart started to burn brightly. "Is this King of Naples here?"
Juliette nodded. "Arrived weeks ago. Mama says he is having peace talks and ne-negotiations with Pope Sixtus IV and Cesare Borgia to prevent a war," she spoke, stubbornly over a few big words with a little pout of her cherub face. The carless way she spoke about things like peace talks and war was so naïve and sheltered that it was clear that the child had no true knowledge of just what those things were. "Mama says it won't end well."
"Cesare Borgia?" Olivia sucked in a deep breath, a shaft of fear stabbing her viciously in her gut.
Juilette nodded.
Olivia felt her mouth tremble, knowing the horrors that Cesare was capable. Things just got a great deal more complicated when she didn't need them to be, and she managed to play like nothing was bothering her for the child's sake. As they walked back up the beach, she made the decision that she would leave Naples with haste.
Venice, Italy
1st August, 1482
Ezio had fined tuned the skills he had learned from Paola all those years ago, and put them into practice on the Venice streets not only to garner the loyalty from the local Thieves Guild, but to rob the rich burghers of Venice that allied with the treacherous Emilio. He had brought in nearly two thousands ducati that Antonio needed to relaunch his operations and had been formerly given the title of Honorary Member of the Guild by Rosa. However, the coin maybe covered for now, the manpower was severely lacking. A great deal of Antonio's men were still captured and imprison awaiting their fates, which decreed by Emilio Barbarigo that they were to be made an example out of come this Sunday.
He had them placed on public display in cramped iron cages around the district he controlled. If he'd kept them in the dungeons of his palazzo, then it would have been nigh impossible to get them out. His arrogance to show them off, deprived of food and water, beaten when they dared to fall asleep put the circumstances for a rescue firmly in Ezio's favor. The Assassin knew he must work fast to see the men freed, for it only took days for a person to die from starvation and dehydration and the thieves had already been imprisoned for two days as it was. He had tasked Ugo to observe the secret comings and goings of the Watch. From one cage to the next like a row of duckling, the guards would pass through the area without falter. A crowd jeered and tossed rotten food at the caged men, and Ezio would not doubt that Barbarigo spies lingered amongst the civilians.
When night fell upon the city, the observers' numbers dwindled down so when the guards headed towards the second cage is when Ezio and the group struck. With deft hands, the assassin used his lock picks to spring the locks and the door swung open, the poor souls lifted by the cheer that arose from the bystanders who cared little for what was going on so long as they were entertained. They were some of the civilians that Ezio liked the least, but as long as they did not get in his way, he did not care about them. His golden gaze swept across the streets, and his heart hammered in his throat knowing they only had a limited window of time before the guards came back around.
It wouldn't be impossible to fend off their numbers, but Ezio was looking to avoid a fight. He'd rather slip in and out, soundless as a ghost to leave a greater impression upon them than a fist ever could. The men and women liberated were nearly thirty in total by the time Ezio unlocked the third cage, and all of them were worse for wear. He was grateful that they had not been individuality manacled; for that would have made the situation more complicated and conflicted with the guards would have been unavoidable.
The first priority was leading the group to a nearby well to sate their thirst. A person could go more days without food as opposed to water, and by the time they had reached the Thieves Guild, dawn split across the horizon and the rooster's crow could be heard for miles. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Ezio surveyed the men and women reunited who went teary eyed with gratitude with the food put in their hands and relaxed in the safety of familiar walls.
"This…what you've done," Ugo said, turning to the assassin. There was great respect shining in his dark eyes. "It has gone beyond charity. The Guild owes you an undying debt of gratitude for rescuing our brothers and sisters from a slow and gruesome death."
"There is no debt that needs to be repaid. The Guilds help with the Templars is more than enough to settle any debt," Ezio assured him, with a half-smile.
"Ah! The hero of the hour!" Antonio spotted him, making his way through the throng. "I cannot begin to tell you how much I—and the Guild—appreciate what you have done for us. Whatever aid we can offer you is yours. You have proven your loyal twice over to us."
"How is Rosa?" Ezio asked, lightly.
"Better, but she was hurt worse than we thought, and she tries to run before she can walk!" Antonio laughed, jovially.
"Sounds like her," Ugo huffed, shaking his head.
"It's typical," Antonio paused. "She wants to see you."
"Oh? What about?" Ezio arched a charcoal brow.
"You'll just have to ask her about that, now won't you?"
Some hours later, Ezio found the every impatient recovering Rosa with her damaged leg swathed in bandages and dependent on a can to get around. "Salute, Rosa," he said, waving his hand in greeting to the aggravated woman. "How are things? I see your leg is healing."
Rosa snorted, nose wrinkled. "It's taking too damn long, but I am getting there. And you? How are you finding our little town? I've heard all manner of things that you've been up to," the female thief inquired, taking a seat on a nearby bench to rest her leg. Ezio took the spot beside her, and the two of them looked out across the canal.
"It is a great city…full of exciting adventures," Ezio shrugged, with a small smile. "But how do you cope with the smell of the canals?"
"We're used to it. We wouldn't like the dust and filth of Florence." She paused. "So I imagine that you wonder why I called you here."
"The thought did cross my mind, once or twice."
"If you want to scale the Palazzo Seta, you are going to need to learn to climb as I do."
"As useful as that would be, you aren't—"
"I know what condition I am in, thank you very much." Rosa gave him a gimlet eyed stare, and muttered unflattering things about his lineage underneath her breath. She raised her voice, and called across the yard to one of the thieves practicing on targets, "Franco!"
A lissome, dark haired youth immediately came when beckoned. He was a fresh face young man who to Ezio's private embarrassment seemed to take great pleasure in looking assassin over brazenly. "What is that you require of me now, Rosa?" He asked, intrigued.
"Nothing too strenuous, just to show Ezio some of our tricks. He has to be able to climb the Palazzo Seta," Rosa informed him, with a knowing smirk.
"Is that all he wants to learn?" Franco asked.
Ezio felt his cheeks turn warm. "Yes, it is. Thank you."
Franco looked slightly crestfallen, for all of a second before he bounced back from the subtle rejection. "Very well. Whenever you want to get started, I shall be over by the scaffolding."
"You are his type," she told him, when Franco cleared off the
"That is all good and well, but he is not my type," Ezio commented, his smile a little strained. It wasn't because the male had flirted with him. It had not been the first time he had been flirted by or with a man, but he had no desire for sexual liaisons with anyone regardless of their gender. The only person in the world that he could see himself in that way was gone, and no fresh face could replace her in his eyes.
The woman laughed. "Franco likes to flirt, though he hardly means anything by it. I daresay that you would have a hard time prying him from his beloved," Rosa stated, with a good-natured grin.
Ezio chuckled. "Perhaps in another life."
Ezio spent the rest of the morning—three hours—chasing after Franco, under Rosa's vocal direction. By the end, he could clamber up to heights with almost all the speed of his current mentor, and learned how to jump upwards from one handhold to the next, though he doubted he would ever reach such skill level to earn Rosa's full approval. She was a harsh task master, sparing him any praise until he managed to climb up a tall tower and back down before she counted to three hundred. He had failed twice, but on the third try when he was so physically exhausted that he was ready to smash his face against a brick wall, Rosa smiled at him. "Two hundred and sixty-seven. Well done," she said, with a lop-sided smile. "You'll just about do."
Ezio had never been so relieved to be released from training and find a soft bed to fall into oblivion. His dreams were restless though, filled with images of Olivia who was just out of his reach and calling out to him. Anytime he would get close, she would disappear and he would jolt awake his heart thundering in his chest. With a harsh curse, Ezio rested his head against his pillow dampen with sweat and pressed his hands against his face.
He shoved himself off of the bed, throwing off the blanket and dragging his hands down his face with a ragged sigh. He padded across the old, creaking wooden floor to the cracked vanity—the mirror splintered outward in a broken circle from where his fist had smashed against it on one of his worst days—and he bent his head forward, his gaze down on his clenched fists braced on the wood instead of the reflection of the man in the mirror. His broad shoulder rose with aggravated breaths, and emotions swirled like jagged blades inside of him, cutting deep.
Ezio stood there, motionless save for the rise and fall of his chest and then finally he moved to pull on his clothing and armor. He would find no peace in sleep tonight, and so he would outrun his demons and memories out on the rooftop with the moonlight and wind as his company.
Naples, Italy
3rd August, 1482
It had been so painfully easy to slip into the large villa that towered over the town below, with a sea of people churning in and out of the building at any given second. The peace talks had alit the city's curiosity and fear in equal measure, sprouting rumors abundant. Olivia had left the home of Enrico and Cecelia, thanking them for their hospitality and all they had done for her. Juilette had been so upset, but Olivia feared so greatly that if Cesare Borgia were to learn of her existence here in Naples that the small family would be caught up in it all. She had no desire to have innocent blood on her hands when she could prevent it.
The atmosphere of the entire was so stifling in its contradiction. A party was thrown by the nobility to dine and wine, before the peace talks began in the days that would follow yet the threaten of war hung over the grand ballroom like the plague. The more vapid nobles went about with smiles, almost deliberately unaware of the minefield that they were tiptoeing around caught between two forces that could declare war over the smallest slight with tension already so high. Olivia recalled growing up in a minefield reminiscent to the one she was observing now beneath her porcelain mask, and silk ball gown that she "borrowed" from a local shop that had closed up early. The tailor would not notice it missing until this affair was all over and hopefully, she would be gone with the wind by that time. Gossips, back stabbers, drunkards littered the dance floor reminding her of the people who spewed venom about her mother all those years ago.
Her mother, Emma Steel nee Anderson, had gone insane. A brain tumor that drove her past the point of no return even before she had passed away, and she recalled the way her father, Daniel, would smile when she'd do something bad, half-apologetic and half-excusing it all. It hadn't been until her mother nearly killed her, shoved her beneath the bathwater and held her there when she had only been six years old until her father had her put in the asylum. She died only a year afterwards, but those rumors—those nasty rumors lived on afterwards. Every small town had a woman like her mother, and had a daughter who followed in her footsteps. Or so the rumors implied.
Maybe that's why she let her father turn her into a toy soldier, afterwards. The stability of the training in the beginning had given her something to cling to, but in the end, it had just been another form of abuse. Daniel Steel had put his children through hell, trying to turn them into weapons for a purpose that was still unclear to this day to Olivia, pitting sibling against sibling in ugly survival exercise and it all had left a fractured, resentful relationship between her and her brother. Carl had been taken away by CPS after he had gotten sick, Olivia had been the one to call then having long since opened her eyes to the wrongness of the training her father had put them through, and after the most horrible verbal fight she had ever had with her father, Daniel disappeared out of her life when she was just barely a teenager. Years later, Carl and Olivia reconnected, but they never really became family again. And with Carl dead by her own two hands, they never would. She always mourned him and felt endless guilt over how she failed to save him from Juno's machinations.
Her entire life had been built on a fault-line, just one shake up away from everything crumbling down, and sometimes, she wondered if she hadn't made the same mistake here in the past. Had she built this life upon unsteady ground, and just another earthquake away from losing it all? The Shroud had taught her years ago that there were forces outside of her control, and she knew that at the end of the day that whatever love she felt for Ezio—she wouldn't be his forever love, even though he was hers. She decided then and there that she hated this building, and the people. She hated them for bringing up bad memories and painful doubts, and she downed the flute of champagne offered by a servant with a lack of finesse that drew more than one eye. She cared little for the judgment of strangers, and let them roll off of her like rain water. She placed the glass back on a tray of a servant she passed, and made her way through the throng of people with purpose flowing in her every step.
Her eyes peered taking every little detail around her, and her ears strained to grasp snippets of conversation that would lead her to her quarry. She didn't know what the King of Naples looked like upon sight, but it wasn't that hard to pinpoint members of great importance just by how people treated them with deference and wealth of their apparel. However, there were notable figures here for the peace talks so while she could slim it down to a handful of people. She couldn't, however, go up to them and just demanded to speak to them. It would turn this recon mission into a full-fledged disaster. And these conditions were ripe for mayhem.
Liquor flowing in cups with the people getting increasingly rowdy, the violent edge that trembled in scathing looks tossed between guards and soldiers, and all it took was one wrong move to send this party straight into a riot. Even the most benign soul could turn ugly in a riot for desperation made monsters out of men in the blink of an eye, Olivia knew this all too well. A brutish hand wrapped around her elbow and she found herself pulled against a bulbous man whose breath stank of alcohol. His round face was red and he slurred, "I have an empty lap that you'd fit in perfectly…"
"No," Livvy snarled, attempting to jerk her arm free. "Let me go."
"Now, don't be that way, poppet," the man chuckled, not seeing the deadly intent in the gray eyes that glared daggers at him. He reached out and groped her bottom with his meaty palm, squeezing it painfully. "If you be a good girl for me, I'll make sure you get paid your worth."
Olivia lost any ounce of decorum, and spat right in the bastard's face.
He startled, and then backhanded her across the face.
Olivia inhaled, sharply. It had hurt, but the hands man was nothing more than a drunkard with a self-indulgent physique. And she was no fluttering flower that would wilt underneath a sharp smack across the face. She had been hardened by her childhood and her existence as the Red Hood that followed in later years, and the smack was an annoyance like a fly in the ointment and nothing more. She reared back, prepared to raise her fist and break the man's jaw when a hand landed on her shoulder. She barely startled, her head cocked to the side and eyes narrowed at the well-dressed gentleman.
"Lord Felton, to attack my guests in such a thuggish manner is beneath you," the man declared, his voice deep and words held such precision that spoke of well-bred background. "You have insulted my hospitality and home and on the eve of such dreadful tidings that could mean war for our country. And to think you would break the peacefulness we strive so desperately for to soothe your own pride when a lovely bird denies you a dance."
Lord "Handsy" Felton cheeks turned darker, with embarrassment. "I—I—" He floundered for words, but with the unsteadiness of his feet, he was far too deeply into his drinks to find common sense. "Lord Ferdinard, I must apology—"
Ferdinard? Olivia's heart jolted.
"Apologize for your actions when you are sober enough to feel shame for them," Ferdinard I, the King of Naples, countered with a frosty tone. He snapped his fingers together, drawing the attention of a nearby male servant. "Please show Lord Felton to the guestroom where he may have a bit of respite for the rest of the evening to regain his senses and good manners, if you please."
The male servant bowed, and hastily led the intoxicated noble away.
"Forgive Lord Felton, milady, for his lack of decorum. Many have sought solace in the bottom of the bottle when dark times are on the horizon," Ferdinard replied, with a well-practiced and charming smile. He was not what one would label as traditional handsome, but he had a charisma about him that would draw suitors like bees to honey. He was a young man, only of four and twenty years but one would be a fool to underestimate him due to his age. Olivia had seen how easily he had disarmed Lord Felton with words as easy a breathing air, and she had a feeling it wouldn't have mattered if Felton had been more sober. In fact, she would bet every last coin she owned that he would have been less cordial and cut the man down to ribbons with his tongue if he had acted in that manner towards a woman without liquor as a poor excuse. "You seem…lost, if I might be so bold. If I may aid you in finding your way, I will endeavor to do so."
"I admit I was wandering around the party a bit aimlessly," Olivia replied, careful to adopt a high culture accent. Her voice had adapted over the many years she had been here in Italy, but the streets and the underbelly of the cities had been more of her world rather than the airs of the gentry had ever been. There was a distinct difference in the way common folk and the rich spoke, a discrepancy in the way the syllables rolled off the tongue. "I have been searching for a person that was not so inebriated that they could hold polite conversation. It sets a dismal precedence for the peace talks tomorrow if so few intellects like yourself are present."
"You flatter me, milady," Ferdinard accused, mildly. His hand fell away from her shoulder to clasp the puffy sleeve of the gown, his fingers pressed through the fabric to the hidden blade that lay beneath. "But I know that you aren't here for intellectual conversation. You should not have given yourself away so openly with so many Templars here. All it took was a second for me to see the hidden blade when you jerked your arm back from Lord Felton, and had I not been the one to reach you in time then your night would have ended on a much darker note."
She paused, briefly. He had mistaken her for one of the brotherhood, but she was still a bit leery of his forwardness. An assassin's life was riddled with paranoia, and one should not—or rather, could not just go by word alone in most instances. An assassin who held the title of King, must be doubly so paranoid given that matters of political intrigue and assassinations crossed more often than not. "Indeed, it would have taken a much dark course. I admit that knowing that Cesare Borgia was in attendance initially made me skittish in coming here, but the bigger the crowd gave me more opportunities to approach you, sire, so that we may speak of pressing matters," she answered, keeping her tone demure and modest. She did not want to appear overeager and add to any wariness that existed inside of him.
Ferdinard scrutinized her from head to toe, evaluating her carefully. "We may speak, but not here," he cautioned, with a small jerk of his head for her to follow him. He led her carefully away from the prying eyes of the crowd and down a hallway to a secluded room. In the center of the room looked like a war table with a great map and markers set upon it, but before Olivia could even get close the door was shut and locked behind her. She heard rather than saw Ferdinard draw his blade, and it took an exceeding amount of willpower not to instinctively lash up when she was pushed against a wall and felt the cold steel at her neck.
"I've received no word that a novice would come to these shores, and the only assassins I know that would be passing through descriptions resemble nothing of like you, milady," Ferdinard commented, his tone nonchalant but expression lethal. He flickered off the porcelain mask and allowing it to crash to the floor. It shattered into pieces, the noise almost deafening in the quiet room.
"I am no assassin, that is true," Livvy chose her words carefully. She understood that one misstep could spell her death, and she had no desire to meet her demise today. "But I am an ally to the Italian Brotherhood, and a close friend to Ezio Auditore da Firenze and his family. I'm Olivia Steel—"
"The Red Hood?" Ferdinard said, his expression stoic with a hint of a suspicion. His eyes bore into her, leave no room for deceit or lies to be put forth. His hand was steady; the blade of the dagger pressed against the hollow of her throat just enough to give warning but light enough not to shed unnecessary blood. This was a man who was mindful of himself and his movements, meticulous down to his every heartbeat. "You certainly fit the description of the woman, but such looks are not so wholly unique that you could not be someone attempting to pass off her identity as your own. Not many are aware of what happened to the Red Hood, but I am one of the few privileged to know what became of her."
Olivia held his burning gaze, lifting her hand in slow increments as though not to startle him and make a tense situation worse. She placed her open palm against the blade, careful to show him that she was not grabbing for it and sliced her skin wide open. She saw a flicker of surprise passed through his eyes, and she turned her palm out towards him. Blood dripped down her wrist in thin rivulets for a single second before the Shroud around her waist hummed and glowered, and she felt her skin stitch back together and the blood melt back into the flesh, disappearing without a trace. "If you are so well informed then you know that the Shroud of Eden stole me away from Monteriggioni nearly four years ago," Olivia stated, still ever mindful of the dagger at her throat. "I know not what happened to me during that time, nor what has transpired in my absence only that circumstance behind my disappearance and return seem tied to the precursor artifact."
"Precursor? An apt term to describe them," Ferdinard commented, rapping his fingertips across the pommel of his blade thoughtfully. A split second later, he withdrew from the blade from her neck and stepped back allowing her room to breathe. "It seems I believe your story, after all. You are fortunate that you found someone like myself that could cooperate your story, otherwise your bold plan may have ended very differently."
"A strange kind of fortune does seem to favor me," Olivia mused, slumped back against the wall. Her nerves were shaky and rattled. "I don't know if I need more or less of it."
"Tell me why you have sought me out, Lady Hood," Ferdinard beseeched, sheathing his weapon. He walked over to the table where liquor bottles sat undisturbed and poured him a small glass after Olivia declined a drink. "You do tempt fate with so many of Borgia's most dangerous loyalists here tonight. Rodrigo Borgia has not let go of his anger over his brother's loss, and while outwardly he had given up the mass headhunt for you, he still has agents that deploys that would be more than happy to collect the coin he is willing to pay for your head."
"I think my entire existence tempts fate, what is one more night?" Olivia smiled, thinly. "I have come here despite the risks to ask for aid to return back to Monteriggioni. My…strange return has left me isolated from my allies and I am sure given the amount of time that I have been gone…" Her smile slipped away and a deep frown settled upon her features. The twenty-seven year old woman pressed her hand to her lips, and let out a ragged sigh. "They probably think I'm dead and I fear no matter how many letters I send, I will not be able to persuade them to believe me. When I learned that you were part of the Brotherhood, I had hoped that I could count on your aid."
Ferdinard carefully sipped on his cognac, and twirled the glass between his fingers idly. "It is curious situation you have found yourself in, that is very true and I can see your plight with clear eyes," he inclined his head, thoughtfully. "But I don't know what manner of aid I can offer you at this time. I am under heavy scrutiny with the peace talks and afterwards the war that will come."
"You believe the peace talks will fail?"
"They have already failed thanks to Borgia," Ferdinard said, bitterly. "The peace talks are a farce so the Pope and Borgia family may spread propaganda about how generous they were being to allow us an opportunity to surrender without bloodshed. The people will never know that it is the Templars sowing the seeds of war and would have innocent bloodshed. It is a cruel fate that we assassins adhere to by fighting from the shadows."
"It is as that," Olivia agreed, quietly.
Ferdinard downed the rest of his drink with haste and rose out of his seat with a practiced grace. "I will send word to Machiavelli and Mario that you are alive and thriving. I can also see you passage on board of a ship by the end of next week," he offered, with a small smile. "I would send you as swiftly as I could on the next available to avoid the obvious dangers, but as I said anything I do is being heavily scrutinized meaning all of Naples is being watched with unblinking eyes. The letter I will send out immediately and with haste."
Her knees went weak with the amount of relief that flooded through her, and she grasped the edge of the nearby table to keep herself upright. She couldn't hide the gratefulness that swept across her features nor the glimmer of tears in her grey eyes. "Thank you, Lord Ferdinard," she told him, bowing her head. "Your aid is more than I thought I would find here in Naples. If you ever need aid from the Red Hood, it is yours."
"Perhaps one day, I will take you up on that," Ferdinard nodded, with a genuine grin. "For now, I would make your way out of the villa as quietly as possible. I send my lovely courtesan, Isabella, into town tomorrow to the local tavern to keep you updated on everything and she will act as a go to so as to not draw too much attention to yourself."
"A wise plan," Olivia agreed, seeing the logic behind it. It wouldn't be wise for her to show up here so often, especially given volatile climate that Naples currently was embroiled in. She thanked the King of Naples once again, noting the guards that stood at the door (only someone foolish would believe the man would face an unknown threat alone) when she left and she made her way through the party. She bumped into a man who was more interested the chest of the courtesan on his arm then looking where he was going, but on instinct, Olivia slipped out an apology only for it to be caught in her throat when she realized the person she crossed paths with was none other than Cesare Borgia. He looked so smug and arrogant, and a great deal younger than when he first appeared in Brotherhood. He almost looked boyish, charming, the guy that mother dreamed their daughters would bring home—a look that he would abandon with time, feeling no need to hide his vicious and dark side behind a saintly veil. However, she was not fooled by the façade. She knew what monster lay underneath and for a split second she felt rooted to the spot.
"Watch where you are going, idota," the courtesan spat, eyeing her with open disdain.
"My apologies," Olivia said, with a strained smile. She quickly ducked her head, and past them without another word. Shaken to her core, Olivia fled the villa like the devil himself was nipping at her heels.
END OF CHAPTER!
Thanks WinterChild97 for pointing out the dates. I didn't realize it. The Shroud is different than the one in syndicate.
AN: It's really sad that I forget Olivia's parents' names. I don't think I ever gave them specific names in the first story because they were on the back burner, but canon names are now Daniel and Emma. As I go back and edited LDaaC, I will change this to fit if I have them named something else. I apologize, it's really hard for continuity when I've been working on this series since 2012, but hopefully my edits will smooth out any bumps along the way. If anyone is curious in 1474, Ezio was 17 and Olivia was 19. Ezio currently is 25 and Olivia is 27.
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