(Note: re-uploaded because I don't think my edits were coming up? Or it didn't work the first time and I didn't notice until now lol? :L Maybe I'm just crazy, too, but wanted to be sure, so re-uploaded. Sorry for double e-mail notification XP)

TMWolf: So, um, hooooooooooooly cow I was not expecting so many folks to pop up on the first chapter like that dang! Y'all are awesome! More of you were waiting for this than I thought, haha. So. It's begun, and it started out so good... too bad it's all going to shit now :'D I couldn't let be happy for too long and, come on, y'all have played the game, right? You know what's gonna happen ;) But it was fun while it lasted, right?

Anyways. So. We're following the game right now, but it IS going to deviate, and I am going to alter how quickly the game makes things SEEM like they're going. I mean, Caterina isn't rescued until 1501, so we got a year before THAT scene, and plenty to happen. So try not to get weirded out with how I space things. I'm also including some characters that aren't in the game, but are in other canonical medium, though I won't go... super deep into their stories. Just enough, though, for my purposes, haha.

Right. So. This title is from Rhye - The Fall, though doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the song, but the title fits.

Also: so, anyone want to tell me why I called Act I what it is? ;) You get like... a cookie if you do?

Oh, and feel free to leave any questions or comments! Some reviews take longer to show up than others for some reason (like one didn't show up for 12 hours?), but I promise I will review to any and all reviews that I see! :) Also, if I do a stupid mistake, be it historical, mythological, grammatical, or whatever, please let me know!

Now onto the show!

02 – The Fall

January 2, 1500

Monteriggioni, Italy

Catherine tried to gain a restful sleep, but it wouldn't come—not fully. She tossed and turned often before she could drift off, but that lasted only hours at most; perhaps even just minutes. She couldn't be sure beyond that she knew she would not be at ease tonight. She did take some comfort seeing her husband resting soundly, his doubts eased after their talk, but she could not be rid of the lingering feeling of dread in her belly. That, or it was her unborn child, but that was unlikely, although for once she wished it was the morning sickness and not her fears.

Sighing softly, the redhead shifted up, letting the sheets fall. A chill prickled at her skin despite her shirt, and she wasn't sure it was because of the cold of the early morning. She looked down at Ezio, who was on his side, arm still draped over her legs. He must have been more tired than he let on to not feel her shift, and so she kept her hand to herself instead of brushing his loose, still-damp hair from his face. She did watch him, though; noting the gentle rise and fall of his chest; the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly as he dreamed; the peacefulness of his face.

She was jealous, in a way, of how certain he was of things. How he could so be so sure they were free of their enemies. She couldn't remember a time she hadn't been in fear of the Templars since coming to this place-to this time so long ago. And while truthfully the Clock had been the ultimate cause for her journey, the enemy, too, had been such a driving force for everything they did and for every change in her life. And now that the Clock was gone—nothing but an inert, pretty trinket—they were the only factor for why they had continued to fight. To rid the people of their influence and preserve that freedom. But now? Now Ezio spoke of being free of such things. Such chains.

And it wasn't that she didn't want it. No, she wanted to be free of the danger—of the responsibility. They had a child now. Soon, another. A family. They had a different responsibility to see to. As long as their fight with the Templars went on, that family would be involved. It had to end if they hoped for peace. So Ezio's choice should have been the right one. Their path was that of killing. If her husband had killed Rodrigo, then he would simply have continued the cycle. Sparing the man started a new path. A path of peace. A path to fulfil the dream they'd dreamed an age ago. To grow old together, having lived a life like no other.

So why could she not believe in it?

She wanted it, but her heart could not give in.

The redhead withheld her groan as she laid back, almost flopping, and let her arm drape over her face. A mumble came from the man next to her, and his arm move as he stirred. He made another murmur, pausing in his movements, and then sighed softly.

"What's… wrong?" he rumbled, still half-asleep.

She reached down to pat his hand, "Nothing, go back to sleep, my love."

"S'not nothin'… never nothin'… wif you," he replied, and, not for the first time, she hated his uncanny ability to know her so well. He yawned as he pushed up to one elbow, moving his free arm from her hips to the limb covering her face and pulled it out of the way. She had a huffy look waiting for him, to which he let last a moment before he yawned once more. "You're still not alright with my choice."

"Just not as confident as you are. I trust you, I do. I just can't help but worry. Blame it on motherhood, I guess," she grumbled, shrugging slightly. She turned her head towards him, reaching over to rub his chin. "I'll come around. I will. I promise. It's just not easy for me to do so right now… I hate admitting it, but…"

"No, you're right to be wary. Even I think it's crazy, but Mother is right. I have to stand by my decision, and I do. It will be worth it in the end. I promise that."

"I know," Catherine smiled, leaning over to kiss him gently. "You've always done right by us… well, except the five years before we confessed, but, you know."

His pout was adorable, "You're never going to drop that are you? I told you it was to make you jealous and just confess, and it worked."

"I'm your wife. I'm supposed to hold on to everything that rattles you. Now, hush, and go back to sleep," she grinned, putting a finger to his lips, and then turned so her back was to him. His arms wrapped her at once and his head nuzzled into the nape of her neck, breathing in deeply.

"You try and sleep, too, alright?" he rumbled, already starting to lull off.

"Mm," was her reply as she closed her eyes, hoping she could grant his request.

In some ways, she did. It was fleeting for the most part, but she had flickers of dreams she forgot as soon as she woke. It was enough to have her not feel totally exhausted, but she still sighed dejectedly when light beamed through the curtains, illuminating the room in a dim glow. They would need to get up soon, if only because Diana woke up earlier than all of them for some God-forsaken reason, and the little spitfire would come begging them for attention. She loved it deep down, but right now Catherine wished for some peace.

Sadly, even if her daughter spared them, it seemed their men would not.

It was a far-off echo, but it was loud enough to stir someone from their sleep. Being she was already awake, Catherine knew she couldn't try to sleep again. Ezio was waking up, anyways, groaning softly as another cannon fire went off.

"Really? Is Mario really having them practice so early?" the redhead hummed, reaching up to rub her face.

"It's alright. Needed to wake up, anyways. Diana will be coming soon enough," her husband yawned, turning so he could half-lie on her, nuzzling into her neck.

She snorted, petting her hand through his hair, "You say that, but you're definitely intent on sleeping more."

He huffed, blowing hot air onto her neck, "I haven't gotten to use you for a pillow since even before I left. Let me enjoy this, woman."

"Alright, alright, but I'm fleeing before Diana lands on you," the redhead snickering, kissing his brow.

Another boom echoed, and suddenly the room was exploding.

A cannonball tore right through the walls, striking the pillar supporting the ceiling and letting loose a volley of wood and glass debris. Ezio covered Catherine protectively, holding her close, but then they were both leaping from the bed. The central pillar crumbled, but managed to land on top of itself, keeping upright—for now. Both Assassins made for their gear, Catherine her boots and Ezio a shirt to go with his own pair of shoes. He paused, though, seeing his armor in shambled—an unfortunate victim of the cannon ball. Catherine, luckily, had hers spared, but only slipped on her chest armor and grabbed both her and her husband's swords. She tossed him his, still attached to his belt, and he quickly buckled it on.

"Shit! We have to find Mario and rally the troops!" he rasped, mind whirling.

"You go find him—I'll see to the people. We have to get them and Diana out of here," the redhead barked back, racing over to his side. She nodded to the now opening in their room, exposing the vast, surrounding countryside. It also revealed the massive army coming ever closer. "Take the short cut. I'll get everyone in the house to the sanctuary, and then I'll get the people and what men we can. You've got to hold the walls until then."

"I can do that," he nodded back before grasping the back of her neck and kissing her hard. "I'll meet you in the sanctuary."

"Good. Now, go," she grinned, and then they were moving.

While her husband shot out the room onto the Villa's roof, she flew to the ladder and slid down to the hallway, which she took at a sprint. Already she heard people shouting in the main hallway, and nearly collided with a servant racing by in a panic. Others were running around much the same, save for Caterina, whom came tearing towards her once she saw her fellow redhead.

"My men are the courtyard—I aim to lead them around back and flank the attackers," she spoke and made to go on, but the Lady Auditore grasped her arm.

"Do you know who it is?" she asked, but only got a shake of her head. Catherine released the woman's arm. "Be careful. Ezio's going to help the others fight them back while I get the city out—we have an exit in the sanctuary below. When you can escape, try to go through there. You'll see it when you come back to Mario's study. Otherwise, take to the countryside and find the nearest village you can. They'll help you."

Caterina said nothing, only nodding as she left to rally her own men. Catherine, meanwhile hurried to the stairs, scanning the racing patrons and denizens, whom were already making for the study. Either Annetta or her family would have known to open the pathway, and, sure enough, she saw the book case shifted, revealing the darkened staircase to the sanctuary below. Servants rushed through, and at the opening she spotted one of her nephews.

"Giovanni!" she barked, hurrying to him.

"'Cat!" he called back, grasping her arm. She could see his brow already had a line of sweat, and his breathing a bit haggard, as if he'd been running for miles. There were red stains on his clothes, too. "They came without warning! I barely had time to get here and warn the others!"

"Who? Who's attacking?!"

"The Borgia! With the Papal army! They came just before dawn, under the cover of night. It's a fucking siege armada!" he rasped, his eyes wide with fear. He grasped her shirt a bit tighter as he met her gaze, "We don't have the men to beat them—not now. We don't have enough."

Catherine's stomach dropped, and she could barely hear the shouts of denizens that were starting to trickle in. Her mind worked quick, but not quick enough.

Her fears had come true.

Consequence had caught up with them. So quick.

Too quick.

"'Cat?!"

The redhead's eyes shot to her nephew, desperation in his gaze. He was a man now and a warrior, but he was still so young. Too young. He was scared. Unsure. He must have been there right when it happened—when the wave of red emerged. He'd been with his father and brother, hadn't he? That was why he was here. Ottavio must have sent him. Was his brother still there, too? Were they alright? Had they gotten back okay? Or was Giovanni the only one? How the hell had this all happened in the first place? How could they not have seen them?

She supposed it didn't matter. Not right now. Not anymore. They had to fight and survive this fight. That was the focus. Ezio would rally the men and find a way to keep the Borgia and Papal army at bay, and she had to get everyone out—or as many as she could.

"Stay here, guard the exit. I'm going to get others here," she urged, squeezing his shoulder. The command gave him some measure of comfort, for his gaze grew steadier and he nodded. "Where are your father and brother? Did your mother and grandmother come here? And your cousin? Did Diana make it yet?"

"Mother—I… no, not yet. I don't know where they are, but—but Diana and Grandmother did. Annetta brought them and got them through. She's safe. "And Father… he… he's fighting. He sent me and Federico back to give warning and get the men, but they… 'Rico stayed behind to help while I went on. He… I don't… They're…"

"You did good, Giovanni," she told him, hugging him tightly for a brief moment. She cupped the side of his head, "Now listen: hold fast. Protect this place as long as you can, and make sure you get as many through here as you can. None of the enemy can follow. Do you understand?"

"I—," he began, wavering suddenly, but then become stalwart again. "I understand. Go. Find Mother and Federico. Please."

"I will."

Her nephew having found his courage, Catherine headed toward the entryway, slipping past the panicked and screaming denizens who fled to the sanctuary, hurried on by Giovanni. To her dismay, the main entrance was blocked, the balcony above having collapsed from an earlier attack. She spun on her heel and made for the rear exit, glad to see people were trickling through. She hurried out, and sprinted towards the front courtyard. There, she stopped cold. The smoke hit her abruptly, stinging her eyes, and forcing her to cough as it filled her lungs. Dark clouds covered the cityscape, nearly blacking out the sun. It was almost as if storm clouds had blown in, but lightning was fire burning their precious city down, and thunder was the echo of cannons that burst apart stone and tile. Screams filled the air as thick as the smoke, and although the walls had no fallen yet, the chaos had washed over everything.

Monteriggioni was burning.

Nostalgia struck her, but it was only there for a moment before reality returned and she forced herself to move.

A cannonball soared overhead, striking somewhere behind the Villa. More still came flying over the walls, and down below people were doing their best to avoid scattering debris and the flames that threatened to engulf every home and building. By some miracle, their people had enough sense to fly to the Villa where they could escape through the sanctuary tunnels, which would lead them to the far side of the city—and to safe passage. The army could only come from one direction if it was the Borgia, and the pathway in the rear led to routes in the woods only they knew that would take them to towns and villages they had earned the loyalty of for just such scenarios.

Yet, even knowing that, Catherine could scarcely believe it was happening. Their city was under attack and falling. The Borgia were rendering their near-impenetrable walls defenseless, and she could only pray the main gate would hold until they could all get everyone out safely. But how many had already perished? How many soldiers were stuck outside or shot down from the ramparts? Was Mario out there? Was Ottavio? Federico? Had Ezio gotten to them? And where were Maria and Claudia? They should have been in the Villa, but what if they had left before the assault in the early hours?

Catherine cursed as a cannonball struck the right side of the Villa, nearly bringing down an entire wall. The rest of the building was not faring much better, but it would hold. It had to.

"Quickly! This way! Around the back! Get to the sanctuary!" she shouted to a small group, whom immediately darted her way and then beyond her. She went onwards, jogging to the training area and then the railing on the outside. There, she scanned the city quickly.

There were still many people in the streets. Most looked alright, but others were dirty, either with mud, blood, soot, or a combination of all three. All were rushing to the stairway to the upper levels, for which she was grateful, but it was then she noticed the stragglers. A man whose leg was broken and relying on his wife to carry him. A child, crying next to the broken, bloodied body of her mother. Another man screaming in agony on the ground, his legs pulled to his chest. A woman in tears as she cradled her burnt child. A corpse, dark and red from the fires. Another on the ground, blood mixed with mud, and a wooden beam stuck through their middle. Their soldiers were racing this way and that, while others were along the wall, firing the cannons and shooting what arrows they could. Hot tar was dumped in some spots, and fire shot out, but it seemed to do little. Catherine could only imagine there was an ocean of red among the hills, and she prayed they were doing some sort of damage.

Regardless of her hopes, she had to act. Her people needed help, and so she raced to the city streets. There, she called to those she could, urging them to the Villa. She pulled others from the dead, forcing them to go. There was no point in staying and no time to mourn. She hated the sorrow that consumed them and the screams of despair that erupted from their throats, but she pushed them still. For those that she could not stir or were too weak, she abandoned. She loathed it—loathed herself for it, but she not afford to drag any who truly wished to die or were nearly gone. The living were her priority, and she was only somewhat relieved as she continued to find more and more.

Yet, she had not found her sister-in-law. The notion frightened her, but she held strong to hope. The woman was Auditore. She knew how to survive, so surely she was near the Villa. She knew where to go. Perhaps she only left to get Federico. Surely that was it. Ottavio she had to know could not be reached—her mind flickered to the battle outside, praying he was alive—but her older nephew might be near, and it must have been to him Claudia was going. Catherine decided to believe her sister-in-law had made it out as she pulled a man free from debris and sent him, albeit limping, towards the Villa.

A roaring cry pulled the redhead's gaze upwards, and her heart sank. The ramparts had been breached. Among the dark armor of Mario's men was glimmers of red, and despite the darkened sky sunlight glimmered off their blades. Screams filled the air, and she knew men were on the ground, terrorizing the people. She cursed as she made towards them, drawing her blade.

The first soldier came into view, and she thrust her weapon clean through his belly. He gasped, bludgeon dropping, and then fell when she pulled her sword free. She engaged the next Borgia dog, spinning around his broadsword and slicing open his gut. Those were the only two here, leaving her with a very relieved woman and her daughter.

"Hurry! To the Villa! Go!" she snapped, and they obeyed.

Catherine looked to the walls and saw the red was growing thicker. Her comrades were falling back. She looked to the others and paused when she saw white among the rest—her husband. He kicked a Borgia soldier from the wall, and then used his hidden blade to take down another. His gun armament fired, stopping a third in their tracks.

Good. He was fine. She would join him later, though. More soldiers were descending near her and she raced to engage them. She caught the first by surprise, slicing clean through his face. He gurgled, his scream suffocated by blood, and then danced towards the next. He sliced, but missed, and she stabbed through his chest. The third swung and cut through the sleeve of her shirt, but missed the skin. She parried his blade and sliced through his thigh. He fell, screaming, but was silenced with a strike to his throat.

"Bitch!" came a snarl from behind, and the redhead turned just in time to bring up her blade and stop a spiked mace from crushing her skull. The force was too much for her to stay upright, causing her to trip as she tried to turn, and fell backwards. The stones hurt against her shoulders, but the fall threw her attacker off balance, too. She shoved her heel into his chest and threw him aside. She scrambled up just as he did, but he had lost his mace, while she kept her sword. She shoved it up through his chin and into his skull, killing him instantly. She tried to pry it free, but was forced to leap back instead, abandoning her blade, as another soldier came at her. Her eyes flicked to the mace, which she snatched up, and, on one knee, swung it up—right into the soldier's arms. She heard them crack as she stood and spun, swinging the weapon into the man's skull. It, too, cracked, and he did not move once he fell.

"Shit! They're everywhere!" she panted, tossing the mace, and finally retrieving her weapon. She grimaced at the carnage she'd caused, but this was war. If she didn't do it to them, she'd be dead right now, and she had too much to live for.

"A redheaded woman who wields a sword in the protection of Monteriggioni. Lady Catherine Auditore," a voice spoke, and when the woman whirled around she found a man with pale skin, dark hair, and black, soulless eyes staring at her. He did not wear red, but his dark, blue-ish robed adorned with decadent jewelry and lined with gold and white, was not of her city. His gaze was too cold. Too cruel. His smirk was too sinister. He held his arms clasped behind his back, but he was no less threatening for it. "So. I have found you."

"And who are you?" she snarled back, brandishing her blade.

"The right hand of your conqueror. Now surrender quietly. Cesare does not wish you harmed… much."

Catherine's mind spun quickly.

Cesare. She only knew one man of that name that could be attacking, and it was none other than Cesare Borgia. Rodrigo's son. The commander of the Papal Armies. No wonder they were here, too.

She nor Ezio had engaged the man personally, but they knew enough. No doubt some of their allies had encountered him at some point during the attack on Roma to obtain the Apple, but they had no quarrel with him directly. Except, that wasn't entirely right, was it? No, he was the son of Rodrigo, and the Spaniard—now the Pope—was their mortal enemy. Had he gone to the bastard then, after Ezio had beaten him? He did come here now, on the shoulders of his progeny, to exact revenge?

But wait—why did Cesare not want her harmed? How did he even know her? What had Rodrigo told him? Why did they want her?
"Cesare must not know the Auditore very well if he think I'll just give up," she growled in return, glaring right on back at him despite her growing confusion.

The man sighed, of all things, "I admit, the notion brings me great pleasure. I have had such little fun this battle… but I do not wish to displease my Lord. I ask again, my Lady: come peacefully."

"Or what? You'll hit me?" she spat, shifting her stance to be ready for a strike.

"Oh no, I would have much worse in store for you," he replied, his voice growing low and as cold as his gaze. Were she not hardened by years of life as an Assassin, Catherine might have shuddered. Instead, she watched him pull out a dagger. An usual choice against a sword, but it only put her more on edge. Whatever he planned, though, she did not expect him to suddenly whistle, nor for a small squad of men—five in total—to suddenly surround her. "Sadly, I have been commanded, and I must obey. Subdue her. Quickly. And try not to harm her too much."

They came fast, but not to kill. She blocked the first blade, ramming her palm into the soldier's face and possibly breaking his nose. She had no time to finish him off as another came at her, slashing downward. She dodged it and cut him across the face. He screamed in agony while she countered another blade, this one aimed for her backside. She had spun around in time, though, her instincts urging her to do so, and then kicked him away. She had to back-peddle to keep away from the next onslaught by two at once, and only barely managed to avoid having her leg sliced off. It did cut her just above the knee, though, eliciting a hiss. She rolled to avoid a third strike, grabbing a handful of mud from the stone tile, and slung it up at her enemies. It struck one too low on the chin, but enough splatter got the eyes to briefly stun him, which gave her the opportunity to slice upwards, cleaving his chin, nose, and lip nearly in two. He fell back, yowling in pain, and she turned to face the others.

"You are quite tenacious. I would have enjoyed killing you slowly," the man hummed, his knife now at her throat, just daring to break the skin, but not quite. Catherine swallowed hard, having not even notice him come up behind her. He had been like a shadow, and the noise of the battle had muted his steps. She watched him carefully now, wondering if he would defy Cesare or not. She shifted, but the knife pressed closer, and she felt a small trickle go down. "Do not push me, my Lady. I will have to break you, if you do."

She believed him, and, despite wanting to stick him through—she had the reach to do—she knew she had to surrender. For now. If she kept fighting, he would make good on his word, and the knife was too close to her jugular to risk a movement. Even if only by accident, she could severely hurt herself, and she couldn't afford that. Ezio was counting on her to stay alive. Diana was, too. And so was their unborn child. The latter forced a flicker of guilt through her. The child growing in her had been forgotten in the chaos, but now she wondered if she might have harmed them? No. No, she refused to believe that. She'd exerted herself when pregnant with Diana before, and this was only a bit more than that. The child was fine. She was fine. She would find a way out of this.

For now, she would cooperate with this man.

"Take her sword and restrain her," the man barked to the soldiers, whom did so—roughly. She hissed when they yanked her arms back tightly, and the man sneered, pointing his dagger at them. "Gently now. Our Lord needs her in good health."

She heard her captor flinch, and she briefly considered headbutting him, but refrained as her wrists were pulled tight together with rope, and the ring leader—the man she still didn't know the name of—grabbed her arm, and began to pull her through the streets.

"Root out any stragglers and kill them. Leave none alive," the man barked, and what Borgia soldiers Catherine had failed to take down skittered off. The redhead prayed the others had escaped as she was "escorted" through the ruins of the city, the cannon fire still echoing and the fight still raging. It wasn't as loud as before, though. The war cries were less, as was the sound of blades crossing. The battle was ebbing, and she knew it was their loss. Had everyone gotten out, though—those of them alive? Had Mario and Ottavio escaped, or were they still fighting? What about Ezio? Where had he gotten to? And what of Maria and Claudia? Had Giovanni found them and got them through? Were he and his brother alright?

Would she be alright?

'Maybe I should have fought more. Should fight now,' Catherine considered, glancing to the man. Her thoughts flickered to her belly, and she reconsidered. The ropes were too tight for her to escape, and she didn't have her Hidden Blade on her, which she greatly lamented now. She hadn't the time to grab them let alone find them this morning in the rush out of their room, and her captor has his dagger at the ready. His grip was iron-tight as well, and every fiber of her being was screaming that he was dangerous. There was an air about him, and maybe it was the carnage all around, but she swore he smelled like blood despite having none on him.

Whatever the case, fighting right now wasn't smart. There weren't enough allies nearby, and she didn't know where Ezio was. If he was around, then maybe she could struggle, but this was a lost battle. She was wanted alive, though, and that was an advantage. She just had to figure out why and use it from there. There was still a chance to escape and keep their unborn child safe.

A shuddering crack and boom made Catherine jump, and her eyes shot to the entryway where smoke billowed through the main gate. Her stomach dropped, and her blood went cold. That had been their last—and strongest—bulwark. If the main gate was gone that meant their front line had failed.

"Ah, there he is," the man hummed, and she thought he'd meant Cesare, but the man who stumbled through was not him nor a soldier or even one of their mercenaries.

It was Mario.

Weak. Dirty. Bloodied. Falling.

She screamed for him as he fell, but the man held fast. She struggled hard, shouting for the Commander as he struggled to rise, but ultimately remained on the ground. He was barely strong enough to push himself up as the entourage of their enemy came through. At the front, a man with dark hair to match his dark beard and adorned in silver armor with a cape flowing down his back. He carried himself like a leader, and she knew he had to be Cesare. She didn't recognize the large cardinal with him, nor the other man in armor, though it was not of Italian design. There was a blonde-haired woman besides Cesare now, clad in the familiar shade of red, and a mocking smirk upon her red lips. Catherine couldn't place her, but it hardly mattered as her dismay deepened when she saw Caterina in their midst, her arms tied behind her back as well. She had a strong face on, but she knew the woman no doubt felt the same despair. Her men had lost as well, and she could only imagine she lived because she was a woman—and because of her influence as a leader of Forli.

"My Lord!" her captor called, and the man she guessed to be Cesare turned. He, like the blonde-haired woman, smirked, and gestured with his hand for them to come forward. Pikemen were in their way, but shifted to allow them through. Caterina met Catherine's gaze, and there was such fear in her eyes that the redhead's heart sank further than she thought it ever could.

"Well done, Micheletto," Cesare chuckled, reaching over to grasp the redhead's chin. Catherine snapped at his hand, snarling. He laughed as the blonde-haired woman leaned upon him, smiling like a snake as the man spoke, "She's as fiery as her hair—just as father described. Good. Perhaps he was right about the rest then. Be sure to hold her fast. Assassins are such treacherous creatures."

"Yes, my Lord," Micheletto nodded, tightening his grip, and stepping back slightly. His Lord then looked to the burning city before glancing down at Mario, and then to the city once more.

"I know you are there, Ezio. The Pope told me about you and your little group of Assassins… of what your lovely little wife can do… and this!" he bellowed, lifting from a pouch at his side the one thing Catherine had prayed would never fall in the Templar hands again.

The Apple of Eden.

"No! You bastard! How did you—!" Catherine snarled, only to have the other armored man suddenly slap her across the face.

"Be silent wench!" he snapped, glowering, but then raised a brow as Cesare suddenly snatched an odd weapon, resembling a small rifle from his hand—a notion that turned her blood even colder.

"Give the me the weapon his friend fashioned for us," he growled, and then straightened, posture relaxing. Catherine's heart raced faster as he went on, "We have had too much bloodshed. I think a cleansing is in order. So consider this an invitation… from my family… to yours."

Time slowed as Cesare lifted the gun above him, and then turned it downward—aimed right at Mario. Catherine's heart stopped as she watched wide-eyed. Her breath hitched, and though she willed her body to body, it was as though she were frozen. Her legs would not move as her mind refused to accept the reality, and yet it happened.

The gun fired, and the world exploded with the crack of thunder, a flash of lightning, a shower of blood, and an earth-shattering scream.

Despite the man's hold, Catherine wrenched herself free, a wild-like shriek escaping her lips as she charged Cesare, not caring she couldn't hit him or do much of anything. He had killed Mario and she would rip his throat out with her teeth if she had to!

Yet, she did not get within two feet of him before a spear slammed into the side of her head, forcing her to the ground. She felt another blow to her side and her leg and then her belly. Panic seized her as she remembered what grew inside her, and she quickly turned to protect her front, but could not keep her gaze from the face of the man who had practically raised her, even if from adult hood; the man who had given her a new life here. Made her stronger. Better. Gave her a new path to follow. The man who had trained her for so long and helped make her what she was. A man she had considered a father.

And now he was dead.

Mario was gone, his dark eyes wide and unmoving as he stared right on back. The light in them was dark, the blood dribbling down through his dark locks and over his aged skin to pool beneath him. Tears stung her eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to scream again, but she held it back. She refused to give them that satisfaction. They could beat her all they wanted. She wouldn't give in—and she wouldn't let them take another from her.

"Stop! Please stop!" Caterina's voice howled as they kept striking her. "You must stop! She is with child!"

Catherine could not have shot a more venomous glare at the woman, although it did the trick: the blonde-haired woman raised a hand, and the pikemen stopped their assault.

"Lucrezia," Cesare began, almost pouting, but the woman only looked to him coyly, her lips curved upwards ever so sweetly. Catherine wanted to carve her mouth off her face.

"You remember what father said. She is necessary. And consider this: you want Ezio to face you, and not only do we have his wife… but his unborn child. You wanted to ensure he comes, and now you have three reasons," the woman hummed, eyes flickering first to Mario's body and then to the redhead, whom glared right on back. The woman, Lucrezia, cooed slightly, brushing the man's face gently with her hand. "Besides… Giovanni could use a brother—or sister—don't you think?"

"Raise the child as my own?" he snorted, but then pause, thinking. He motioned to the men as he did so, but instead of grabbing Catherine, they grabbed Mario's head. The Lady Auditore struggled, snarling profanities at them, but Micheletto hauled her up and away. She could only watch as they began to saw at his neck, each hack ripping through her very soul. Her only reprieve was to glare at Cesare, whom regarded her now, a vile smirk on his face. "Hmm… Yes… how… poetic. To raise my enemy's child—to have them grow to hate him. And you're right, my dear sister, Giovanni could use a younger sibling to keep him company… It seems you have two purposes now, Lady Auditore."

"Fuck you! I'll fucking kill you before I do anything for you God-damned fucking—!" the redhead snarled, only for her captor to strike her face. She tasted copper in her mouth, either her cheek or tongue bleeding, and spat some out.

Cesare chuckled, "Be gentle now, Micheletto. We need her strong enough to use the Apple—and grow the child. Take her to the carriage. We will join you shortly."

"As Cesare commands, so I obey," the man hummed, bowing his head, and no matter how hard she struggled, Catherine could not break free. No shriek or scream or threat loosened his hold. She howled in agony as she watched them place Mario's head on a pike, parading it around like a flag.

There was nothing she could do as she was dragged to the regal carriage and forced inside, her captor never easing his grip. She could only sit there—her body throbbing from every blow; her heart aching from every scream and the memory of death—and watch as all she knew was reduced to nothing.

It was over.

Monteriggioni had fallen.

Mario was dead.

Ezio was nowhere to be found.

Maria and Claudia and Ottavio and Federico could be dead.

Caterina was captured.

She was captured.

Her unborn child was in danger.

It was too much.

She could only spare her broken home one final look before hope failed her, and Catherine felt true despair.

02 – End

TMWolf: Whelp, this isn't good.

Sooo... yeah. Things are not going well. Monteriggioni has fallen, and, while it didn't happen in the game, in the BOOK adaptation, the Borgia parade Mario's head around on a pike. Seemed fitting to keep, being that the Borgia are crazy, sick, conniving jerks. Also, it would make it worse for 'Cat since Mario kinda was a dad for her :'D But, anyways...

Okay, so, I know it probably seems a little weird for the whole baby thing, but I thought it would be an extra kick to the gut (metaphorically in this case, although it was literal, too ID), and because I wanted to include Giovanni Borgia (Lucrezia and an Assassin's child, but believed to be Rodrigo Borgia. The Infans Romanus), so it worked out. That, and I liked to think Lucrezia would like another kid to have with Cesare since she was going to be his "Queen" and all. Also, they're assholes. So why not? A second hostage for Ezio, too. But, Catherine's most important role for them is the Apple. While Cesare probably could use it... well, let's just say Rodrigo has mentioned some previous encounters before or hinted at them, and I wanna say Cesare couldn't use the Apple like Ezio could. Maybe. Or he's being careful. Either way, they want 'Cat for their nefarious purposes, so she's been captured. But yeah, baby bit is for draaaamaaaaaa *hang gestures*

Micheletto is fun, by the way, that psychopath. I'm going to enjoy using him for my drama tee hee.

And now the slow culmination of crazy begins for Catherine, which is really what the first Act is about-piling all the pressure and stress together so that the fun of Act II comes together nicely. That, and building up Ezio's army, too, on the other side, but we'll get to that.

You'll see what I mean for it all when it gets there ;) In the mean time, I hope you all enjoyed reading this fun, crazy scene, and look forward to seeing how Catherine figures this situation out...