TMWolf: So, uh, sorry I forgot to update D: I've had a really busy time since when I was supposed to update and wasn't able to be on my laptop a lot which had the story, so oops? Combination of work and research, so I barely had time to do well, much of anyhting. But I'm back and updating early this week to kinda make up for it! :) This is an Ezio-dominate chapter, so hope my Ezio fans enjoy! xD It's namely just my take on some scenes that I felt were important to show since I don't want to do a "walkthrough" and all.

Anyways... thank-you for your reviews and views in general! I really appreciate y'all reading my story and leaving your input, so feel free to leave any comments, questions, critique, or if you see any error please let me know! I don't always catch them! XP

And this chapter's song is by... Future - Selfish (ft. Rihanna). Still no lyrics fitting, but I thought the title worked xD

06 – Selfish

February 18, 1500

Rome, Italy

Ezio dismounted his horse as he came into the courtyard, eyes scanning it quickly. It was one of the nicer parts of the city, settled on one of the edges not terrible far from Isola TIberina; perhaps a few minutes by horse. He lamented how long it had taken him to come to this place, but things had waylaid his progress. Despite meeting Machiavelli so soon and talking of a great many things—of gathering allies and bringing the city to their side—starting it was slow. He still needed to recover, for one, his wound bringing him more pain and ache than he liked once the medicine had worn off. He could not hope to fulfill his goals, though, if he could not fight to his full potential. So he had spent about a week nursing his injury at the new lair of the Assassins, hidden within the Isola, and also planning.

The storehouse had been a great boon from Fabio Orsini—cousin to Bartolomeo—whom he hoped would remain an ally and provide his strength when needed. The man, unfortunately, was in a precarious position and could not openly support them. He was, after all, a commander in Cesare's army, but he had no love for the Borgia, even if he was married to the cousin of his leader. Indeed, the man was very much so on their side, and even seemed to admire him—Ezio was both honored and a little amused Bartolomeo had spoken so highly of him to the Orsini—but he could do no more than provide the old storehouse. It would be enough, though, and served to give Ezio the safety he needed before he began his work.

Thus far he had altered the building to suit their needs, setting up a place to conduct plans and keep a map of the city to lay their mark upon. Machiavelli had brought food and supplies, and extra coin—to help speed things along. He'd also showed the Assassin the secret tunnels around the city, and with the extra coin he would earn from his work—be it from requests or claiming income from the buildings he bought—the other portals could be repaired. They would be vital to his work, and so he made sure to mark their locations down whenever he could. Beyond that, Niccolo provided what information he could; particularly the locations of some of his allies he would hope to bring to his cause.

Yet, he could not move so quickly, even after his wounds had fully healed. He needed more coin and influence, and the Borgia's hold was strong. It could be broken, though, as he had done the same day he'd spoken with his fellow Assassin. The loss of the Captain had loosened the hand of the Borgia, providing a means to grow the influence of his brotherhood. And so he had begun to work, slowly and in the shadows, by removing what Captains he could. Some were still beyond his means—the Vaticano distract especially was an impossible feat at the moment—but already he had rid the Borgia flag from a handful of sections of the city. It wasn't much, but it showed; the people looked more relaxed and did not look at soldiers with the same fear.

It had taken a long time, but he was ready to begin acquiring his allies—not unlike back home and in Venezia. Thieves. Mercenaries. Courtesans. All people of Roma, and his best hope of improving his chances of overthrowing the Borgia. Machiavelli had recommended visiting Bartolomeo in the countryside at his fortress, the Caserma di Alviano,where he aimed to take on the French army led by Octavian de Valois. Ezio deemed that particular route too risky, however—to face both Borgia and the French at once, even with Bartolomeo was too soon a task to manage. He needed more allies first. He'd considered the thieves next, but he did not know any of them there, and they could be tricky. They might not know who he was as they did in Venezia, nor might they dislike the Borgia as much. He would have to approach them eventually, but for now he considered his third potential allies.

Courtesans he knew how to handle. He had most of his life—up until the woman he loved stole his heart. Their charms no longer could sway him, but his worked just fine, and that was an advantage he could not ignore. The women would be useful, too, in approaching nobles and men high up in the Borgia ranks. They had the coin to spare for such pleasantries, and men's tongues moved quickly when sex was involved. That was something Ezio greatly needed: nobles talking. Catherine was hidden somewhere in, then it was the nobles that would know about her, or at least have some inkling of information. They would perhaps speak of a "guest" with the Borgia, anyways, and that would be something. A little more time and he might even obtain her exact location, be it here, the Vaticano, the Castel or even outside the city. No matter where she was, he would go, but he needed to know where she was.

Thus, Ezio Auditore chose the courtesans to be his first allies.

The Rosa in Fiore was the place Niccolo had recommended, run by the Madame Solari, and while it was a grand sight with its multiple stories, pale walls, and red tiled roofs, he could not help feeling something was off. Perhaps it was the smell of the river, which wasn't exactly the cleanest, but he supposed it didn't matter. He needed to seek the Madonna and acquire her loyalty in whatever way he could. Well, except for one. He could never betray his wife, but he would do everything he could to ensure he could get the courtesans to find her location.

The Assassin approached the tall mansion, noting some drunks were out front as were men who did not look in terribly good health. They were mumbling something, but he could not make out what as he knocked on the tall, wooden door. It opened after a few moments, letting loose a mixture of aromas that filled his nose and revealed a blonde-haired beauty, her dress barely covering her assets. Her hair was tied up in the frivolous buns he once played with to tease the girls—among other things—and locks flittered down to her collar. Her eyes looked him over once before smiling coyly, eyelids drooping some. Years ago, it would have enticed him. Now he only thought back wryly on such memories, to have been so enamored with such women.

"Welcome to the Rosa in Fiore, stranger," she cooed, leaning against the door, causing her chest to show itself promiscuously.

He bowed his head politely, "Hello. Would be kind enough to call the owner for me?"

"Madonna Solari is not in," the woman replied, shifting back to a proper stance. Disappointment crossed her features, but was soon covered with a suspicious expression as she folded her arms over her chest. Ezio imagined not many men asked for the owner—certainly not a "stranger", but at least the women were apparently careful here.

"Do you know where she is?"

"I—."

"Help! Help!" a voice screamed, and both courtesan and Assassin turned to find another girl dressed not unlike the blonde rushing towards them. Her skin was pale and sweat was along her brow. Her eyes were wide with fright as she came to them, "Madonna Solari—."

The blonde took the woman's hands, "Lucia! We thought you were gone for good!"

"The men took us on a ship! They released me, but she—."

"Who took you on a ship?" Ezio interjected quickly, lifting his hand to grab her attention. The woman turned towards him and he saw hope flicker in her eyes.

"Slave traders, Mister. Near Isola Tiberina. They want coin in exchange for her life."

The Assassin scowled. Slave traders. Some of the worst scum out there, and so close to his headquarters? Even if it weren't for the courtesans' involvement, he couldn't allow them to remain.

"I will get her back. Go inside, and do not let anyone else in until I return in case they come back here," he told the blonde, whom nodded. She quickly pulled Lucia in with her, locking the door after. Good. They would be safe for now, which meant he was free to work without worry. The Assassin whistled for his horse, which came at once, and he took off as quick as he could through the streets. The only place a ship could dock was in the river on the southern edge where they could sail it out of the city and not worry for bridges. The ride took him through the poorer parts of the district, evading guards, and keeping a low profile.

He spotted the ship easily enough as he came upon the river's edge and dismounted. He could only see a few men by the rails, which meant the Madonna was either more towards the center or even down below. The latter was not as desirable an option, but he would handle it all the same. Still, he would prefer facing them on deck if he could. In the end, he supposed it didn't matter; he approached the boat and paused when a thief brandished a dagger at him. He looked beyond the man, and found another, and in his clutches was a woman with a knife to her throat. She didn't look much like a Madonna, rather just another courtesan, but it had to be Solari.

"Are you here for the whore?" the man in front barked as Ezio drew closer and took a pouch of his coin meant for the Rosa off his belt.

"Help me!" the woman cried.

Ezio frowned as he tossed the pouch to the man, "I have your money. Now let her go!"

"No!" the man sneered and pulled the blade across her pale neck. "Take it up with Cesare."

"Bastard!" the Assassin snarled as the slave trader let Solari drop, blood pouring from her throat. She was most likely already dead, not that he could do anything for her—especially not with the group suddenly converging on him. There was about eight in total, but nothing he couldn't manage. They were poorly armored, and their only tools were daggers at the most. No doubt they were successful only through subterfuge and their numbers.

Today, however, was going to be their last victory; their last life claimed.

Sword drawn, Ezio took them all on. His senses kept him safe, evading blows at the last second regardless of which way they came. He spun and twirled, ducked and dodged, and then struck with sword, Blade, and even throwing knives when one slave trader tried to flee, seeing they could not win. By the end of it, a parade of bodies was around him, their blood turning the brown wood of the deck red. He grimaced at the sight of it as he came over to the Madonna. He turned her onto her back and closed her faded eyes.

"Rest in peace," he murmured softly and then left, though paused to reclaim his money.

He made for the Rosa in Fiore the same way he'd come, all the way contemplating things. The Madonna was dead, which meant the courtesans no longer had a leader. Had Cesare planned it? Had he known Ezio was coming for them? Or had they defied the bastard and they took Solari because of it? Even if he had answers, that still left one lingering concern: who would lead the women now? A Madonna required a certain skill set to manage both the people and the money, and not many women were capable of such things—at least, for the kind of woman that would run a brothel. No noble woman would dare, but what common lady would take it up? He couldn't run it, so where did that leave him?

His heart sank at the thought of losing precious allies—and a potential network of informants that could find his wife. He would have to find another way then, but first he had to report back to the woman and Lucia. It would be cruel to leave them wondering if they would be taken next.

Ezio knocked as before, but instead of the door opening a voice shouted from behind it, "Go away! We are closed for today!"

"I bear news of Madonna Solari," he replied, and once more he was greeted by a courtesan, but not the blonde woman. It was a brunette this time, whom regarded him curiously.

"She is not with you?" she asked, realzing his was alone.

"I… do not bear good news. I'm sorry," he replied, causing the girl to gasp and her eyes water. She sniffed loudly as she covered her mouth. Ezio touched her arm gently, "I have dealt with the slave traders. You will not suffer them any longer."

"Thank-you. Truly. We are in your debt, Mister…?"

He smiled warmly, "Auditore. Ezio Auditore."

"Ezio?" the woman frowned, her sorrow mixing with confusion. Realization came next, eyes widening. "Oh! You are—there are two visitors in the back patio looking for you. Here, I can lead you to them. It is the least I can do for what you have done."

"Wait—who are they?" he called out, but the woman was already heading towards the back. He sighed, but complied anyways. The woman was already upset, and she was determined to lead the way. The brothel was rather empty, although he suspected the girls were laying low. They would hopefully not need to for a long while, and so he continued, venturing through a kitchen and then out another door into the outside once more. As the courtesan said, a group had gathered at the back. Two of them were the blonde-haired courtesan from before and Lucia there. The other two, however, were two ladies dressed not in sultry garbs, but regal gowns. They also had dark hair and extremely familiar faces—ones which made him pause.

He had set them away. They couldn't be here.

Yet, as he came closer, he knew his eyes were not tricking him, and so he was left dumbfounded, barely able to find his words.

"Mother? Sister?" he called, and—to his dismay—the two women looked up with wide, bright smiles.

"Ezio!" Maria beamed, coming forward to embrace the young man. He did so tentatively, mind trying to figure out how they were here. "Sir Machiavelli said that you might be here."

"What are you doing in Roma? Has Firenze been attacked? Is Diana alright?" he pressed, heart racing briefly. He had already lost his wife—to lose Diana now as well?

"No. Or, rather, I do not know. We did not go to Firenze," Claudia answered.

Ezio stepped forward, brows scrunched, "Why?"

"Ezio, we want to help."

"I was trying help you by sending you to Firenze… wait, what of Diana?"

"Do not worry, my son, she is safe. Machiavelli has taken her and Giovanni into his home. Annetta is with them as well. He is claiming them as his cousins so they will not be questioned. He will protect them," his mother spoke, touching his arm gently. Relief flooded through the Assassin, but so, too, did annoyance and a sense of betrayal. Machiavelli had told him nothing of this—that his daughter was here, in Roma; so close to his enemy! Deep down he knew that being under his comrade's care was, perhaps, the safest place she could be, but still; his instinct was to worry for his child. What if Cesare found out? What if he took his daughter, too?

"Where is Madonna Solari?" Lucia suddenly spoke up, pulling the Assassin from his thoughts.

"She's dead," he responded plainly, his anger not cooled in the slightest.

Lucia gasped, "Shit."

"What now?" another girl asked softly.

"Will we have to close?" the blonde added, looking between the three of them with desperation.

Ezio turned sharply, "You cannot close. I need your help."

"Mister, without someone who can run things, we are finished," Lucia replied, gaze falling as her sisters shifted nervously. Ezio scowled, recalling his earlier thoughts. Just as he feared, without a Madonna, the Rosa would close. He would lose his allies—a chance for his wife!

"I will do it."

Ezio's gaze shot to Claudia, whom faced him, a determination in her eyes. Even a stranger could have seen the woman was not going to relent, her head held high and expression firm. Even so, the Assassin jabbed a finger at the ground.

"You do not belong here, Claudia."

She nearly snorted, folding her arms, "I know how to run a business. I ran our home for years, or have you forgotten who provided the funds to build it up? To expand our forces? To fund your missions?"

"This is different!"

"What alternative do you have, Ezio?" Maria pressed, and Claudia raised a brow in challenge.

"I didn't send you away just to have you come and face the danger of the Borgia all over again! They have already taken too much from me," he hissed, the pain of his loss fueling his anger. His sister still would not relent; rather, her gaze grew cool and there was a familiar hurt there.

"You are not the only one who has lost someone to the Borgia. At least Catherine is still alive."

The Assassin paused, realization dawning upon him.

Ottavio.

Federico.

Their bodies hadn't been found. Only Giovanni had gotten through with them. Mario had perished, and there was no way the Captain would have abandoned his commander or the battlefield. No, Ottavio was the kind of man who would have fought until his last breath to ensure his family was safe. In that way, the mercenary and Assassin had been very much so alike and had created a strong bond between them beyond simply being brothers by his sister's marriage. If Mario had not made it, then it was likely the Captain had fallen with him. Giovanni had said both he and Federico had been sent back, but his nephew hadn't seen his brother since their wild race back. They couldn't know if he was alive or not, and the Borgia had only taken two prisoners—that they knew of. Still, the chances were slim.

Yet, Ezio could not appease the anger in him. Claudia might have had good reason to fight, but he could not bear seeing her nor his mother harm. He had already failed his wife—he could not endure another. He was foolish for it. In his heart, he knew it was selfish and cruel, but his mind would not listen as he jabbed his finger at her.

"You do this, Claudia, and you are on your own."

Maria frowned, "Ezio—!"

"I have done just fine on my own for twenty years," the younger Auditore shot right back, and the words stung more than he thought they would. He did not miss the meaning; of how, though they had thrived together in the city, he had not truly been there. Not really.

"Fine," he barked back. He should have said something more; should have apologized; but his pride would not let him. He looked around at them all briefly and then back to his sister. "I intend to repair the brothel. This place is a real mess. And I want your courtesans to find any word of Catherine. They took her, and I need to know where."

Claudia folded her arms across her chest and replied curtly, "You can count on us."

-O-

February 24, 1500

Rome, Italy

The repairs went smoother and more quickly than Ezio had expected. The architect was easy enough to find, and with Machiavelli's finances—along with some of his own—the Rosa in Fiore was repaired, partially rebuilt, and made better than ever. The basic outward structure was left be, although reinforced in the front, and new additions added in the front, back, and an extra level as well. The portal leading to Isola Tibera was repaired, much to Ezio's approval, which made it far easier to go to and from. Within the complex, leaks were fixed, the old smells rid of, and the inside was revamped with ornate furniture, beautiful painting, the prettiest of flowers, and best silk for curtains and sheets—all to befit the title of "best brothel in Roma". Not that it had such a title yet, but it was going to. Even before the true grand opening they had patrons waiting, and both new and veteran girls had been called upon, too. There was much to discuss and new rules to make, and as much as Ezio hated to admit it, Claudia had done better than he expected in her leadership rol.

Even so, he was still reluctant to agree to it, and he did not like. He preferred his sister safe somewhere else—not so close to the Borgia claws, but she was as stubborn as he. A true Auditore, and, to his annoyance, Mother was on her side. Their mother had even taken a place in the Rosa, acting as a Madonna in her own right, though more-so in insuring the girls were well taken care of and that proper provisions were made. She was the "mother" of the house and the girls now, it seemed, while Claudia had already begun to ensure a profit would be made and that the right customers would be entertained. Indeed, his sister knew what she was doing and would show it soon enough.

And now that the brothel was officially open, Ezio paid mind to visit. He had been putting it off longer than he should have—instead focusing on his next allies to pick and taking out Borgia Captains where needed while also finding new sources of coin—but now here he was. He would never admit it, but he was impressed by it all when he entered the establishment. Girls were everywhere, either appealing to their patrons, or walking around, looking ready to make use of their charms. He spotted a noble he'd seen before in one corner and hoped it might be a future source of information for his wife's locations.

"Welcome to the Rosa in Fiore," Claudia spoke up, having noticed him at last. A smirk played at her lips, though she kept a professional composure. "As you can see, soon to be the most popular brothel in Roma. Already nobles line up to spend time with my girls."

"My money went well invested," Ezio mused, not wanting to give his sister any satisfaction. Their mother, not far off speaking with a courtesan, scoffed before she joined them.

"Ezio, come now. You may have funded the repairs, but Claudia's system has us thriving. We will see good profits by the end of the month already," she began, frowning as she gave her son a "look". He shrank down a little, knowing better than to cross her right now. Her expression grew somber as she lowered her voice, "And prominent nobles from the court of Cesare himself have taken an interest."

"You are certain? Do they—?"

Claudia shook her head, "No news yet. These nobles may know nothing at all, but my girls will keep pressing until we hear something—anything. They're still learning the skills I taught myself when engaging them in Monteriggioni."

"I need answers now," Ezio growled.

"What? You think you could do better?" the young woman snapped, glaring with hands on her hips. He opened his mouth to snarl back, but his mother once again shot him a look.

"Ezio," she chastised, "You know we are doing everything to get Catherine back. She is dear to us as well. But the Borgia make it difficult for Claudia's girls. If you wish to expedite things, there is much you can do that would aid them. You should help them if they ask it of you."

"I… I will keep that in mind," he rumbled, softer this time, but then grew gruff again as he looked to his sister. "Anything else?"

"No," she huffed, but then faltered. "Or, well… Ezio… there has been talk—not of Catherine, but… Caterina Sforza. Cesare took her prisoner."

"What?"

"We do not know where she is, but the nobles know more of her than Catherine," Maria added. Ezio frowned. This only made things more difficult. Caterina was an ally in her own way, and he had hoped they could join forces formally after all they'd been through. She was a friend as well, and to leave her in Cesare's hands would be cruel. She could very well be killed, too.

"Catherine comes first," he began, fingers clenching, "but keep me informed of Caterina as well."

"Alright," Claudia nodded.

Ezio let out a deep breath of air, "Good… when you have anything—either of their locations—come to see me at Isola Tiberina."

"We will, and Ezio?" Maria spoke, grasping her son's hand gently. "Please, be careful. And visit Diana if you can. She misses and worries for you."

"I'll visit her soon—I promise. Take care, Mother," he replied, kissing her brow. He looked to his sister, opening his mouth to speak, but then closed it. He nodded instead, which Claudia returned, and then he left. No words followed him, but guilt did once he closed the wooden door behind him. He should have said something to her, but his pride kept him from doing so. He was still upset with her choice, and damn it all if they both weren't too stubborn to let things go.

He shook the thought awayHe didn't have time to mull on it. Claudia could evidently handle herself, and he had more important matters to deal with. First and foremost was giving Machiavelli a piece of his mind about his daughter, something of which he'd been stewing on for a while, but most of all he did need to go see her. Then, once he was sure she would be alright, he had to decide whether to visit the thieves or mercenaries next.

Sighing softly, Ezio opened the metal gate to the tunnel entrance outside the Rosa in Fiore and headed back to his headquarters. All the while, he prayed some news of Catherine would come soon, and that she—and their unborn child—were alright.

-O-

February 24, 1500

Castel Sant'Angelo

Rome, Italy

Catherine regarded the young girl standing in her doorway, clutching the wash rag against her chest like it was a lifeline. The bucket of water in her other hand looked ready to spill over, but was nothing compared to her wide eyes that looked ready to burst into tears. She refused to meet the redhead's gaze, determined to look at anything but her, but too afraid to come any closer than the arch of the door. The guard behind her grunted, causing her to squeak and jump forward slightly.

"Get in there and wash the floors already," he snapped and, now that she was out of the way, slammed the door shut. The woman looked absolutely terrified.

Frankly, Catherine hadn't any idea why. It was almost amusing, but mostly it was sad to watch her shuffle over to the farthest corner, crouch down on the ground, and begin to scrub the floors. She supposed, at the very least, she was glad someone did wash the room even if it was maybe once every few weeks. She suspected it was by the Doctor's orders, being that a clean room was better for a baby. Either way, it was still nice not to feel like she was stuck in a grimy room. Although, being treated like she was a blood-sucking monster from hell was a little weird—and a little insulting.

"I'm not going to kill you, you know. Although, I'm sure the guards joked otherwise," the redhead snorted, cheek set into her palm while her elbow rested on her knee. The woman flinched, but did not reply; instead, she kept scrubbing and shifted so her back faced the redhead. Catherine half-sighed, half-groaned. "Good Lord, you can't be serious. I finally have someone other than the Doctor alone in the room with me, and they think I'm the Devil or something."

The woman remained quiet, and Catherine sighed fully. Well, this was great. It had been a while since anyone had spoken to her in the slightest—the maids that brought food just brought the tray and then left. No "good morning" or "hello". They just set the food down, left the room, and then cam back in an hour to take it again. If they were the ones to bathe her they only spoke to ask her to lift her arm or turn around and what not. Not a true conversation. The Doctor was the only one to ever say anything, but it was generally the same. Nothing particularly new to say about the city; certainly nothing about a man in white liberating the populace. Her hopes of him becoming an ally were slim and looked slimmer every visit. She had to hold onto hope, though. It was the only thing keeping her going now.

"Do you have a name I can call you? I'd rather not have to say 'hey, you' or 'cleaning lady' if I need you to clean anywhere in particular," the redhead hummed, leaning back against the bed frame. Not that knowing her name—even if she did say it—would do anything really. It certainly wouldn't help her boredom. Despite getting some new books, she'd read them all multiple times now and she could only handle reading scriptures so much.

When the girl kept quiet, Catherine groaned aloud. She flinched and scrubbed a little faster. The redhead rubbed her face—particularly her brow—and slung her legs off the bed. The woman, as she expected, grew tense, and watched her from the corner of her eye as Catherine sat down in the vanity chair. Her movements were becoming slightly different, and she could tell her belly was growing. Not too much yet, but it was definitely larger. She could still run if she managed to get out and even fight, but the idea her child might be farther along than she thought was dreadful. The child was that much closer to being in Borgia hands, and her usefulness would come closer to an end. She had spent a long while considering her role after Cesare no longer needed her, and she had no illusions about what her fate would be.

Death.

There might be torture before—she could already imagine what kind—but death would come.

She had to find a way out now more than ever.

"Look, I don't care if you start preaching some incantation to banish a demon at me or call me the Devil or even bitch, can you just say something? I'm dying of boredom. So, y'know, what? Did the guard tell you I'd bite your head off? Did Lucrezia? Do you actually believe her? All she's good for is popping out babies for whoever the Borgia throw her way, so I wouldn't call her opinion very valid."

"My Lady is not like that!" the girl spoke quickly, but the redhead could only snort. The response was way too quick, and her eyes shifted way too much. Well, at least she could work with that. Better than silence, anyways.

"So she doesn't slap you and-or berate you constantly? I know a superiority complex when I see one, and she's got it bad. Spoiled, too. But that's what happens when daddy is the Pope and brother dearest runs the army. Doesn't help she's got nice breasts, so you know men shower her with adoration. God forbid she not be the fairest bitch of them all."

The woman's eyes went wide with horror again, "Y-you musn't say such things! The guards will hear!"

"I'm carrying her new nephew. What do I have to worry about? I can still kick her ass even if I'm pregnant, anyways. So, what did you do to piss her off?"

"I—no. N-nothing," the girl stuttered, going back to scrubbing the stone furiously.

Catherine sighed, "Look, the guards don't actually care. They don't like when I break their noses. And I'm sure as hell not going to tell Lady Bitch-face you talked to me. I'm not exactly trying to grovel my way into her good graces."

The girl briefly paused, and Catherine felt a flicker of relief. She also felt a little bad, tricking the girl—in a way. She was pretty young, and no doubt had been forced into this life somehow. She might have been a plain commoner chosen for this work and it was probably the best she'd ever known. Now she lived in fear of her life for it. No person deserved to live that way, but she needed someone to talk to at this point. She needed an ally, however small. It was selfish, she knew, but her child's life was at stake, and that was everything.

"I… my Lady… said you were… well, a savage. That you kill senselessly. Like a mad, wild animal. She said you tried to kill His Holiness," the girl finally spoke, almost at an inaudible whisper.

"She's only right that I kill people. Well, not right now, but I have. Came with the job," the redhead shrugged, and the girl looked at her, eyes wide once more. Catherine waved, "No, no calm down. I didn't kill people like you. I killed bad ones. Or well, bad in a certain way. We took out people who were bad for the populace. Like the Pazzi if you know them or the Barbarigo. And I didn't try to kill the Pope. My husband did. The Pope kind of falsely accused his family and hung them decades ago. He's not exactly a great guy, although…"

She paused on the words, recalling her talk with the aging man not long ago. She let the words fade, not wanting to even say them aloud. It would be admitting to them, and that felt like she was forgiving him, but she couldn't do that. She could never do that.

"The Pope would never do such a thing—he is holy."

Catherin shrugged, letting her head fall back lazily, "Think what you want. Just know I won't kill you. You're an innocent. My husband and I work to help the innocent… we just do it in, well, a bad way, I guess. Killing isn't ever exactly good. Just… necessary sometimes."

And sometimes that became a lot of times.

Thirty years of killing. Or was it longer? She supposed it didn't matter. Her hands had been stained red from the first kill, and it would never wash away. She could only come to terms with it and live knowing she killed to do good, no matter how "bad" her work was.

"Paula," the girl suddenly spoke, and the redhead turned her head towards her. She looked down bashfully, "My name is Paula. I'm the new cleaning maid for your room."

"I'm Catherine. Catherine Auditore. It's nice to meet you. I look forward to having you around," she grinned, earning a small smile in reply. She went back to cleaning, and this time, the silence wasn't so bad.

06 – End

TMWolf: And there we go! Couple of selfish folks these Auditore *waggled finger*

So, figured I'd show the scene with Claudia at the brothel since it's a bit different here. Not toooo much, but significant enough to show. Also because Ezio was like mad for a dumb reason!? I was confused in the game why he was getting mad and it seemed just for dumb drama, so I tried to make some sense with it here, having it be because he doesn't want her to get hurt and then they're both just being stubborn babies (Maria rubs her head a lot secretly).

And Cat... well, she has a... potential ally. We'll see how it goes. Things are slowly rolling along, but that's because the end of Part I is fast and crazy and wild and relying on all this build up to also come into play later, so bear with me! :)

If only to keep y'all reading: prepare for some cute father-daughter time next chapter! X)