Assassin's Creed: Chronos - Retribution

by TMWolf

Catherine thought she would live happily ever after with her family now that the Clock was destroyed and Rodrigo no longer a threat, but the Borgia are more tenacious and cruel than she realized. Her fight isn't over, but the odds are stacked against her. In a city ruled by the iron fist of their enemies, Catherine must face not only face the Templars, but also herself. EzioxOC

31. Protectors of the Earth

TMWolf: So. Here it is.

The finale.

Not gonna say much. I probably could have split the chapter up, but... it was one final, mad dash to the end pretty much even in the game, so I'm keeping it as is.

Song is from Two Steps From Hell - Protectors of the Earth

Enjoy.

P.S. Forgive my errors this was 25 pages long ;A;

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31 – Protectors of the Earth

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August 25, 1503

Roma, Italy

The start came both sooner and later than they expected.

Whatever had happened in the room in the Castelo that night a week ago, Cesare had become gravely ill. Poisoned, according to the rumors their Thieves had found. Recalling the conversation they'd heard in the lower floors, it was believed to be Cantarella, or at least called that, and it had made the man bedridden. He'd been too heavily guarded and secreted to a place they couldn't find, so they'd bided their time. Bartolomeo stationed men on the streets at all times; Claudia made sure her girls siphoned any whispers they could from their clients; La Volpe ensured his thieves heard and saw everything before silently returning to the fox den. As such, they understood, even sick, the Borgia bastard was doing all he could to gather men, coin, and the Church to his side. He he was also looking for them—the Assassins. He wanted the Apple back, but they were masters at keeping hidden. So, try as he might, his men had no luck, and soon the "master" would have to do the work himself.

It was during such a time they found him. He had popped his head out at the Campidoglio, surrounding himself with guards of all ranks and skills. His little armada allowed him to escape even when Ezio and Catherine had brought a group of Assassins with them, but they had made their blow. Many of the guard were slain and those that lived saw the power the Assassins had. Their enemy would find it more difficult to get people to fight beside him—or that was the hope. After all, even being so ill the man had proven dangerous in this time.

Yet, they did not fear it.

Or rather, they did not worry as much as they had before. It was because of the Apple, of course, and even their trainees felt more confident with the artifact in their hands. The power of it was undeniable after their bout with the Borgia, but so was the danger, although that was kept between the faction leaders and The Mentor. As such, Ezio did well to keep it safely on his person whenever awake, and kept well-hidden when asleep—that, or in the safe hands of a trusted person. In the meantime, they readied themselves.

Catherine doubled the training, doubled the watch, and called any Assassins she could back. The final phase of their War was upon them, and they would need all the help they could get. She lamented none of her Master ranks sent elsewhere could return, but they had their own hands full. Already there was work being done in England under Alessandra and Jacopo's watchful eyes. King Richard had allied with their Order, and there was need of them there. Germany had good ties, and France was slowly being worked on. Even India was allied with the Order, although they contended with Templars everywhere. However, she was at least content to know their forces could prevent possible foreign aid to the Borgia. It would do its part, and so she sent only her thanks, wishes of luck, and orders to continue their damned good work.

So that left her forces in Roma, which would be enough. It had to be, and so she would make sure they were all as prepared as possible. She wouldn't have time to gather more recruits—nor would her husband—so she had to ensure even those wet behind the years might survive any conflict. She let herself doubt it would come to that, but she always prepared for the worst.

As it turned out, she was glad she did when the first attacks came.

To her—and Ezio's—surprise, it was not by Borgia guards or Cesare himself, but rather denizens. Nobles some, lower class others. She had not thought the Borgia would have any supporters after everything that happened, but radicals had begun to sprout up in the city. Catherine suspected it was due to the murder of the Pope—of Rodrigo. His passing had come as a great shock and tragedy to many, and soon there would be motions set in order to elect his replacement. No doubt Cesare would be working to alter it into his favor, and while the majority of the populace were against him now, pockets of supporters sprang up. They were violent and unexpected, but ultimately handled with only a few casualties. It only added to all the chaos, though, and worry began to take hold, although, only for the unknown of what the riots could stir.

"It won't do you good to worry yourself over things," Ezio spoke up, tearing Catherine from her thoughts. He had touched her back gently, warm against her cooler skin. She looked over her shoulder at him, lying prone beside her. His chest was bare—as was the rest of him under the sheets just like herself—and he looked quite handsome in the candlelight. He smiled gently, his scar moving upwards with his lip.

"You know I can't not. Yes, we have the advantage and it's mostly these nobles who have been ousted from positions of power so they're pissed, but good people were hurt—and one was killed. We need to figure out how to stop them, but we need to find Cesare for that, and he's too well hidden and won't show his damn face," she huffed, throwing up an arm in frustration.

Ezio hummed, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her down next to him, "All important things to worry over, but this is war. We knew chaos would happen, even if we didn't say it. Even the Papacy is in turmoil and now we must play our role and be ready whenever the coward shows himself."

"I wish we could just go and find him, but—blah. Okay. Right. No use worrying. Think of the positives… Alright… Diana is… doing very good in her training and she's only eleven. Mario is speaking better every day at only three, so I know he's going to be very smart. We'll need to think about getting him a tutor soon. I think. Giovanni is doing good as well and fitting in better than I expected. Even Claudia and Maria seem to like him, despite his lineage."

"Mother enjoys another 'grandson' to dote on—even if he's not blood" Ezio chuckled, thumb gently rubbing along her skin, tracing a scar. "And they both know he's innocent. Just a boy, born to a terribly family. He's doing well in his training, too. I think it's sweet how Diana dotes on him. She has a good heart."

"Claudia's going to be furious when she refuses to start courting and being a 'proper' lady," Catherine chuckled, earning one from her husband. She grew quiet, breathing in slowly for a few moments. Her voice was soft as she went on, "We won't have many talks like this for a while… will we?"

He didn't answer at first, "No, I don't think so. Cesare is going to fight hard. We may fight here, we may fight elsewhere. But we'll win it. And then…"

"Then?" she asked, looking to him.

"Then… I don't know. I hadn't thought about it yet, but… we'll think of something. At the very least, we still have lots of Assassins—our children included—to train."

"Mmm maybe we can actually have our own house instead of this place. Don't get me wrong—it's great… but I would mind having some place like the Villa back. I miss our old home."

"…Me, too," Ezio chuckled softly, pulling her a bit closer. He thought for a moment, eyes falling, "Perhaps… when this is done… we could go back—to see what's become of it."

Catherine turned to face him fully, hand reaching up to cup his face, "I'd like that. Hopefully it won't take too long."

Her husband smiled gently, "Yes…. Hopefully, we can end this war soon."

-O-

September 10, 1503

Roma, Italy

"Is Ezio back yet?" Claudia spoke up as she descended the stairs of the entryway into the Assassin sanctuary, pushing her hood back to reveal her face. She wore her newly established Assassin garbs as opposed to her Madame robes, and Catherine again thought they suited her very well.

"Not yet. But don't worry—I sent a group of Assassins with him as back up," the redhead replied, gaze moving back down to the map on her desk, spread about between La Volpe and Machiavelli on either side of the desk. It was a sketch of Roma and all on it were various marks and symbols to represent their troops, allies, and enemies. The red of the Borgia was decidedly less than the white of their Order, but the former was by no means so easily quashed. Another Borgia-loyalist had started trouble, but had thankfully been taken care of quickly enough. Still, that made the third this month, and they hadn't been able to kill the others. It wasn't too serious, but Catherine didn't dare let herself get complacent.

She noted one person missing, "I thought Maria was joining us this time?"

"She was… tired tonight. She has been working hard to ensure the girls' safety. I believe it is finally just wearing her down. She will see us next time. So. What other news do you have?" her sister-in-law inquired, coming to stand on the remaining free side.

The nobleman gestured, "I am still working to find the noble loyalists in the court, but it seems they have grown wise to the situation. Those who side with the Borgia had deemed it more likely they will survive this… 'shift' in power if they remain quiet. My associate Bruno is working to root them out, though. He is very thorough in his work."

"My spies are working hard as well to find those in the countryside, but there is little to find. It seems our efforts to dissuade sympathy for the Borgia has been working," La Volpe smiled with a twinkle in his eye.

"Well, it does help that Cesare lost his Papal support," Catherine smirked in kind. When Claudia raised a brow, she went on, "Pope Pius III's death was quite convenient."

"Ah. Clever move."

"Indeed, it was, and I have heard rumor their next choice may not be so inclined to support Cesare. I cannot confirm, but there is less Borgia coin running through their coffers these days," Niccolò chuckled, earning a light laugh from his fox-like companion.

"What of this 'army' of Cesare's we have heard rumor of?" Claudia pressed.

Catherine shrugged, "I'm not sure. It's just gossip at most right now, although Cesare seems sure. Micheletto and the Baron were his main army components, but both are dead, so I'm not sure who is leading this 'army' of his. I suppose some loyalists from his troops in the countryside might have broken off from the main force that's returning, but I can't be sure. I don't like it, but all we can do is prepare for it and keep stripping away at Cesare's power."

"I will press harder for answers where I can," Machiavelli offered, earning a nod.

Her sister sighed, "I am unsure if my girls can glean anything from the nobles, but I will try. Mother has not heard anything from her own 'older' associates, either. Her little 'club' has been useful, though, I must say. We only learned how to lure the Cardinal in to find out about the meeting tonight because of it."

"Ah, even tired, your mother is a wily creature still," La Volpe snickering, though stifled it when he received a reproving glare from the younger Auditore. "I only mean to compliment, I assure you. But, I digress… my thieves will keep their ears open, but otherwise I can merely keep an eye on the horizon for an army."

"Don't worry, we're prepared. We'll be ready for it," the redhead grinned, leaning forward to set her hands on the table. She gazed over at the map, knowing full well they had the advantage. Cesare was strong, yes, but he was getting weaker. He was still recovering from his poisoning, which made him weak in front of his men. He had none of this Generals to help him, and now the Papacy was turning against him. Once Ezio returned, it would cement that blow, and they could move on to their next step.

The door to the Sanctuary open and closed, and all eyes turned. As the redhead expected, her husband appeared a few moments later. He had sweat on his brow, despite the cool air, and she see his weariness. He'd used the Apple. By some miracle, he didn't suffer the terrible effects she had with her Clock or when she combined with the Apple, but it was a taxing endeavor to use it. He carried himself strongly, though, and approached them with a victorious smile on his face.

"It is done. Cesare escaped me, but the damage I inflicted on his guards and any potential allies was more important. I also learned the Cardinals will side with Della Rovere and elect him Pope. Cesare is no longer in control of the Papacy."

"Ah, excellent. We were just speaking of such matters, actually," the thief leader snickered, earning a grin in kind.

Catherine rubbed Ezio's back gently, "We're one step closer. All we should have left to worry about is this 'army' he keeps hoping is coming."

"If he thinks he can win, he truly is deluded," Claudia snorted, head lifted high. Her brother chuckled, clasping her shoulder.

"Indeed, Sister. He is losing his sense in his panic. He holds on to his false hope, but it is slowly fading. We will break him very soon."

"Good. We are with you all the way, Ezio," Niccolò nodded, and La Volpe did the same.

"Now that's settled… time for you to get some rest. I suggest we all do and report back once we have something substantial," Catherine grinned, giving the signal for the meeting to adjourn. Farewells were given and the three leaders left to return to their respective domains. Bartolomeo was the only one already there, having remained at the Barracks with his wife and men to see to the countryside as opposed to the meeting. With them gone, the Sanctuary grew quiet save for the echoes of weapons clanging from the training rooms down below. Catherine ignored them, though, as she took Ezio's hand in hers so as to bring it to her lips to kiss gently. "You used it too much."

He smiled tiredly, "A bit, but it was worth it. I just need rest and some good food."

"Still, I worry. I wish you'd let me carry the burden with you."

"No!" he growled sharply, though she did not wince. Rather, she smiled gently, and he sighed. "I don't dare let you be hurt by it again. Besides, you bore the burden all on your own for years. I can carry it some now. And worry not; I don't feel terrible pain, and my strength returns moments later."

"You know that just means I'm going to worry more, right?" she huffed, folding her arms. He laughed lightly, pulling her to him and kissing her brow.

"I know, and it makes my heart soar knowing I have you here watching over me. Now, come. No more worry. I need your breasts to rest my head on," he snickered, earning a smack on his thigh. "Ow! What? You love it! Especially when I play with them."

"Don't you pillow talk me here. Save it for the bedroom, now hush, and get going up to the bed."

A mischievous twinkle came into his eyes, "Yes, my dear kitty-'Cat."

Catherine only rolled her eyes as she smiled, and even as they ascended the stairs to their room, the twinkle never faded.

-O-

December 15, 1504

Roma, Italy

Cesare wisely waited a great deal longer before he emerged again. It was for good reason, though.

Despite the lack of Papal, foreign, and his generals' support, the Borgia bastard had managed to rally loyalists, from nobles to regular citizens, to his side. Despite all their efforts, the loyalists had emerged and were causing trouble—enough so that it felt like the city was at war all over again, only this time, it wasn't kept to the shadows. Riots sprung up, some with the guards on their side, and others with the guards trying to quell the chaos. Fires sprung up, structures and buildings were damaged, and people were hurt. The Assassins did what they could to help without exposing themselves while Bartolomeo was quick to make his mercenaries known to help keep the peace. In the meantime, Catherine and Ezio had worked hard with La Volpe and Niccolò to find out those working for their enemy. That, of course, proved to be as difficult as finding their quarry. Worse still, Cesare had not been as deluded as Ezio believed.

Only perhaps a month after the encounter with the Cardinals, word came of loyalists trying to amass an army outside the city. It was alarming, to be sure, but the Assassins were quick to work to undo it. Spies told them what they needed to know, and with the new Pope on their side—to an extent, of course; he, at the very least, had the same goal—they were able to warn the Papacy of Cesare's plans. The Pope set his own machinations into order, leaving it out of the Assassin's hands, but Bartolomeo's cousin—Fabio Orsini, now working for the Pope after having been an outlaw under Rodrigo's reign—assured them, it would be alright and to have faith.

Catherine found it hard to do so as she paced inside the sanctuary of Isola Tiberina, awaiting the arrival of their comrades. She and Ezio had traveled to Bartolomeo's Barracks just hours ago, having been nearby and accosted by a mercenary saying their comrade had a message. It was, unfortunately, not good news—but also not bad news. Or rather, Cesare had been spotted by the north gate of Roma, which meant it was a chance to strike him yet again. He had been seen with best guards, and it was believed he was waiting for something.

It didn't take much to figure out what. Had Fabio failed then? Had their warning not been quick enough? Had Cesare succeeded in obtaining an army to come and reclaim Roma? It was not unfounded that he had other foreign allies to draw upon, despite her assurance from her fellow Assassins abroad their leaders held no great interest or would not stick out their necks to help him. If enough loyalists were out there and noble they could pose a threat. As such, she couldn't help worrying as the seconds became minutes. It felt like too long for everyone to come together, and she wondered if the Assassins waiting with her also felt anxious—or was it just her?

"It will be fine," her husband whispered into her ear, coming up beside her with his hand on her lower back. She paused in her movement but folded her arms over her chest. She glanced behind them, noting Bartolomeo polishing his sword and his men doing the same for their weapons, and her Assassins checking and double-checking their gear. They were only bringing a small contingent of men—and women—from their group. They needed to move fast and with all their factions fighting as one, even small numbers from each would make an impact. The idea was to stop Cesare before his "supposed" army came.

"Sorry. I'm… nervous," she frowned, closing her eyes to breathe in deeply.

He chuckled, "Me, too… but we're ready. We have our best Assassins with us, Bartolomeo his best, Our nephew is with us, and the children are safe with mother up above. And to add to that, more Assassins guard them and will be waiting for our call in the city. Claudia will join us soon, along with Machiavelli and La Volpe's thieves. Cesare cannot beat us."

She sighed, "You're right. I'm thinking too much."

"Always useful—when called for," Bartolomeo chuckled, coming to their side, "but your husband is right. Have faith, my dear Lady. My cousin will come through. He is of my blood, and we never fail."

"Really," the redhead mused, earning a sharp huff and glare that only lasted for a moment.

"That is not the point. Fabio will come through."

"See? Nothing to worry. Rather, think of how good we might sleep once Cesare is defeated," Ezio snickered, kissing her brow. She managed to laugh and let her shoulders slack at last. She could afford a bit of respite before the conflict, no? Or, at the very least a little while; it wasn't long—perhaps thirty minutes—when a thief arrived.

It was time.

All their allies were on the move, and now it was time for the factions to converge.

The walk felt too long and too short. The air was bitter cold and their breath came out in visible puffs. It was, perhaps, the coldest day of the year, and with the clouds blotting out the sun, it would make the battle ahead more difficult. It as nothing they could not master, though, and so they marched onwards. The cold still tried to sap their strength, and Catherine's worries nipped her heels the whole way—at least, until she saw the first of her allies. Claudia came into view, her dagger in one hand and a blade in the other, and beside her was Machiavelli who wielded a similar weapon. Soldiers followed him, his own mercenary guard. La Volpe emerged next, a small group of thieves in tow, daggers and throwing knives tossing and spinning through the air. Their groups combined, Ezio and Catherine at the head.

The redhead drew her blade as they continued onwards. Ezio pulled the Apple from his tunic, and already it pulsed with energy; as if anticipating the coming battle. Catherine didn't know what to make of it, but she only hoped it would not draw upon her husband's strength for too long. Although, she supposed that meant it was up to her and all the others to make it so.

She inhaled deeply as they came into the wide courtyard, buildings all around save for the small enclave on the right where a hanging platform had been places for all to see those who had been taken to the rope. It was, in some ways, a fitting ground to fight their last battle against Cesare, who stood before his heavily armed men at the opened north gate. He bellowed to them, promising of ruling Italia; of great glory and power and riches.

All lies, spouted from the mouth of a cornered beast. It was a shame the men on his side were sheep, unable to see they had followed the wrong shepherd.

Cesare turned and sneered at them, "Come to watch my triumph? Soon my loyal allies and their armies will arrive. But you shall be dead before then."

He motioned and his guards drew their blades. At least thirty in total—enough to match their own.

Ezio raised the Apple in his arm, "Together, for victory!"

"Victory to the Assassins!" came their united cry, weapons raised.

The echoes were lost to the clash of blades, the howls of battle cries, and the screams of death and pain. Blood splattered and pooled onto the cobblestones of the streets. Metal struck metal, then flesh, then metal, and flesh again. Bones cracked and broke. Steel shattered. Assassins and their allies fell, and Borgia dogs came with them. In the midst of it all, ancient, powerful energy flooded through the mingle of bodies like a flood. It filled their allies, while their enemies faltered and paused or screamed in some unseen agony. A sharp edge silenced their cries a moment later, although they became less and less with each passing moment. Another second, another dark-armored brute bearing the Borgia crest fell. Then another, and another, and another.

Catherine snarled as she shoved her Hidden Blade into her opponent's throat. He staggered back, clutching at his neck as he gurgled incoherently, and fell. He died in moments, but she had turned her attention elsewhere by then. By her count, at least twenty-five Assassins remained, leaving their dead at about five. She could tell most were thieves, but a few mercenaries had fallen. None of their leaders were dead, though, and for that she was relieved. The Borgia that remained were falling back, suddenly unsure of their stance—especially when Ezio slowly walked towards them, the Apple thrumming with its intense power in his hands. They could not hope to win. This battle was over.

They had won.

Now where was Cesare?

She looked, but of those not dead she only saw civilians around them, huddled into safe hovels. The remaining guards had surrender and crouched down, weapons cast aside, which surprised her. Why had they not returned to their master instead?

"Shit—that fucking coward shut the gate on us!" Bartolomeo snarled, slamming his Bianca into the prone body of a Borgia guard not quite dead yet. The guard didn't stir again. Catherine swung her eyes to the north gate, and, sure enough, it had been shut, and just beyond it was Cesare. He had the touch of worry on his brow, but not enough for a man who had lost. Indeed, as she came closer with the others she saw not fear, but confidence. A smirk. He had lost, though.

"Throw down your arms, Cesare Borgia!" Ezio barked, jabbing a finger with his free hand. The man laughed of all things and stepped aside to motion in the distance: Men, set into troop formations marched. At their head, three on horseback that were riding fast towards them. Catherine's gut twisted. An army—but theirs, or his?

"My new army masses behind me. We will take back my city once and for all!" the Borgia howled with almost palpable glee. The men on horse came closer, and just as the worry in her stomach threatened to make her nauseous, she recognized the figure. Yes—yes, she knew that face! It had only been a brief meeting, but she knew him.

Fabio Orsini.

She almost laughed. Almost.

"This city isn't yours anymore, Cesare… and it never will be," she told him instead, her own smirk forming. He frowned, a retort ready on his lips, but it wavered as he turned and saw a man he did not know—or was at least no ally of his.

Fabio dismounted with his men and jabbed a finger at their enemy, "By order of Pope Julius II, I arrest you, Cesare Borgia, for the crime of murder, betrayal, and incest."

"No!" he shrieked, panic overcoming him. He tried to back away as Fabio's men came for him, grabbing hold of his arms. "No! No! No! This is not how it ends! Chains will not hold me! I will not die by the hands of men!"

A victorious cry rang up behind her, the Assassins and their allies celebrating the fall of their enemy. A part of her hated that Cesare would live, but he was beaten. He could do not harm in jail, and he had no power. He had no troops. He had no Papacy. He had nothing but himself, and, in truth, Cesare Borgia was a weak man.

And yet, his words struck Catherine. They were nostalgic, in some strange way; as though she heard them before. Perhaps in a nightmare. Or perhaps she'd simply suffered from being under their thumb for so long that she didn't know how to embrace the idea. Surely, she was just being paranoid.

"It is done," Ezio hummed, taking her hand in his. It was hot, from the use of the Apple, and shook a little, but he held firm. His gaze remained on the retreating army and Cesare's thrashing body as their allies congratulated and whooped and cheered behind them. She, like-wise did the same. "Cesare is beaten."

Catherine didn't answer. She only squeezed his hand and told herself it was just her imagination that her husband didn't sound so certain.

-O-

April 20, 1504

Roma, Italy

Catherine swelled with pride as she watched her daughter duck under a blow and retaliated with one of her own, knocking Giovanni off his feet. The young redheaded girl followed up with a "killing" strike to the neck, bringing her blunt practice sword to just before her opponent's neck. She smirked with confidence, assured of her victory, and then pulled back with an outstretched hand. Giovanni Borgia's eyes were wet when he took hold of it, but he quickly wiped away any tears of his shame once he was up. Diana was kind to him, though, hugging him and ruffling his hair playfully while giving him words of encouragement. It was only natural she could best her younger companion, being she had months more of experience, and she took to it a bit faster than he did. Catherine suspected it was her lineage, but she was more-so just delighted she was learning fast and kept a good head on her shoulders. It was always far too easy to become arrogant and cruel to those not as far along as you.

"Don't worry, Giovanni. You're still learning. You'll reach her level soon enough. You're both doing very good, though," the redheaded mother beamed as she came to stand before them. Giovanni sniffed as he nodded, while Diana jumped back and forth on her toes excitedly. "But you both still have a long ways to go. Diana, your footwork needs to improve to help with your balance. You were about to trip more than once there. Giovanni, you need to work on thinking two steps ahead of your opponent. She was able to read your moves while you missed hers. Watch for foot movements, where the eyes go.

She paused when their faces fell and crouched down to lift their chins with her hands, "Don't be upset. You're both learning quickly, but it takes time. Years. Your father and I didn't become as good as we are in one night. Your Great Uncle made us work hard for years upon years, and even today we still train to improve and polish our skills. So, take pride in yourselves. You're getting there. Now, back to it. And remember: Giovanni, think two steps ahead. Diana, watch your footwork."

Both children nodded vehemently, and so she stepped back with satisfaction. If they were older, she might have been harsher—she'd been teased already by her older Assassins in training—but they were still young and needed kindness over firmness. Uncle Mario might have said different, but Catherine recalled he had a soft spot for Federico and Giovanni when they were young and wanted to learn. Besides, the positivity would help them later on and she needed them to be stronger for it. Oh, she knew Cesare was sealed away and the main Borgia threat with him, but she could not help the nagging sensation at his words. So, she could only hope that her children and Giovanni would not be caught up in it, although a part of her always knew the battle was never truly over. Even while Cesare rotted in his cell, the war between Templars and Assassins would not end. It simply passed to another generation, evolving as it did so. New Templars. New Assassins. New battles.

As such, Catherine knew all she could do was prepare them as best she could. Mario Jr. would join them soon enough, although he preferred his books and the company of his grandmother or Leonardo, whom had finally been able to visit them freely. They'd even set a room aside for him, although he still preferred his workshop where he continued to create—although not necessarily finish—all kinds of beautiful works with his new apprentice, Salai. He was fond of the boy, which the redhead was glad for, although she disliked him visiting the children. He wasn't the best influence with his "habits", but Leonardo would make time regardless.

"Ah, Diana's grandfather would be delighted to see her doing so well."

The redhead turned slightly to regard the older noblewoman she'd come to know and love and become part of her family. Maria Auditore wore her usual deep, red garbs etched with golden floral designs. Her salt and pepper hair was set back loosely with golden strands, and her eyes looked tired. Her shoulders were sagged, too, and though she smiled, it seemed dulled. There were a few more wrinkles in her features than she remembered, and her cheeks looked a little thinner. Still, she was a lady of pride and strength, and there was love in her eyes when she gazed upon her granddaughter.

"She is strong," the older woman spoke softly.

Catherine smiled as she nodded back, "Yes. She'll be very strong by the time she'd ready to join the Order properly. I hope Mario will be the same, but for now I think he'd prefer to have you read him more stories."

"And I am happy to do so!" Maria laughed lightly. "He is a darling boy—far less devious than his cousins! He reminds me of Petruccio at times, although he is blessed with a healthy constitution. He is a sweet boy. Ah, I wish my dear Giovanni could have lived to see them—and to see how his family has grown. Did I ever thank-you, my dear? For all that you have done?"

The redhead raised a brow, "What do you mean? I've not done anything?"

"Oh, my sweet daughter. You have done so much. You have given this family everything and more. My boy has found true happiness and you gave him a family. You gave my daughter a sister, and my grandsons an aunt. And you have given me another daughter and grandchildren. I could ask for no more, and yet, here you stand, victorious over Cesare Borgia and fighting those of his followers that remain. They nearly killed us once and tried to a second time, but you have brought them to their knees. Perhaps it is petty and certainly unbecoming of me, but justice is quite sweet."

"I… It… I mean," Catherine blushed, a sheepish smile overcoming her, "fighting the Borgia was—er, is simply the right thing to do—for us and everyone. And then you're my family—my mother. By law, but still. You were always kind to me and wanted what was best—even if I never liked your 'proper lady' lessons."

"Ah, yes, you always were quite out of place, but no matter. You have become something better," Maria chuckled, reaching out to squeeze her daughter-in-law's hands.

"Okay, you're buttering me up now. Today isn't something special and I missed it is it?" Catherine snickered, tilting her head slightly. A thought struck her, as she suddenly recalled the date. "Oh. Oh, it's almost—when you… I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize. For all the suffering it has brought, it had also given bloom to great love and joy, and although I miss my Giovanni and my boys… I would not trade it for the family I have now. You are all my greatest treasure, never doubt that," Maria replied, reaching up to take her daughter-in-law's cheeks into her hands and then pushed up on her toes briefly to place a kiss on her brow. "If you still feel you must repay me, though, then only promise me this: when the time comes to cut the head of the snake, let not your blade hesitate. Let not your strike waver. Let it be true, and let it be swift."

"I will. I Promise," the redhead spoke softly, watching the woman closely as she stepped away. She could not place why, but her stomach clenched at her expression; at how calm and peaceful it was; how serene. Her mind flashed back to Cesare's bellows as he was taken away in chains.

"Thank-you, my dear. Now, if it is alright with you, might I invite Diana to spend time with Mario and I? If our little Giovanni here wishes, he is more than welcome to join us as well."

"Of course, hang on, I'll get them… they might need baths first, though," Catherine laughed. Maria only nodded in agreement as the redhead called the children to her. They were, of course, delighted, as spending time with the Auditore matriarch meant being able to do as they like and play around as kids normally did. The redhead suspected her daughter would soon be forced into more etiquette lessons, but for now, their grandmother let them be as they were.

Catherine watched them go, and all the while, the feeling in her stomach fought against her wishes to be rid of it. And when Maria smiled tiredly, it became unable to wither.

-O-

May 3, 1504

Roma, Italy

"Ezio," Catherine called, pressing the door to their room open gently and closing it the same. On the bed, her husband didn't stir, his hands pressed to his brow. In the quiet, she heard him sniff, and in the dim light on the setting sun she saw the wet spots on his pants. He was not the only one to have them this day. Her clothes had dried for the moment, but her eyes were puffy and red, as had been Claudia's and both of their children. Countless courtesans had similar faces, though they'd donned their pigmented masks and forced smiles onto their faces for the opening of the Rosa. Their Madame, though, had retired for the night, and no one blamed her—just as the Assassins didn't blame The Mentor for retreating to his room once the ceremony was said and done, only to be disturbed by his wife as she sat beside him. She took his hands form his face to squeeze in her own, head resting on his shoulders.

"She… she went peacefully… there is… good in that," he croaked, fresh tears coming in a wave. Her eyes, too, watered again, and she didn't bother to wipe them. "I thought… I thought I would be alright. I thought I could handle it. She was old now—I saw it, but… I wasn't… I want more time. I'm not—I wasn't ready."

"None of us were," she replied softly as he gave out a chocked sob.

How could they be?

No had expected Maria Auditore to pass away.

She had grown old as her son said, but she had always been so vibrant and indomitable ever since she'd returned form mourning over her husband and children all those years ago. She had become a mother to so many and done so much, that it seemed impossible that her life could have ended so suddenly. Yet, the more Catherine had thought on it, the more signs she saw. The tiredness. The missed meetings. The thin face. It was only on the night she passed, just before she slipped into the endless slumber, that she confessed to any illness. She knew not what it was, only that she'd felt it creeping on her in the last year. It had been slow at first, but she knew her time was coming, and so she had done what she could to let her children and loved ones be at peace, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough, truthfully.

"The world will be less without her, but… she is with Father now. And Federico. And Petruccio. And Uncle Mario. They are waiting for her," Ezio choked out and didn't resist as his wife pulled him into her embrace. He clutched to her tight, sobbing as he hadn't since the day he thought he lost her. Only, this time the loss was real and permanent, and there was no vengeance to be had; no justice to achieve. Death came for all and had no reason. It as simply her time, just as all of theirs would come one day.

"You will see her again, when our day comes. She'll be waiting for you, too," she whispered back, her own voice shaky.

"I know… I know, it just… it hurts. I miss her. I miss Father and my brothers. I wish I could have saved them."

"Me, too… I wish I could have saved so many," she cried herself, burying her head into his head. "But we can't. We can only go forward and keep this world they help build safe. We have to make them proud."

"Yes, yes we will. We will… even if…," he spoke, but cut short. She knew what he spoke of, though.

Cesare.

He had escaped from the Castel, but they had reclaimed him and he now sat in Valencia's grasp. It gave them no relief, though. Ezio steeled himself a bit more, though tears still ran, "He will never win. I'll make sure of it. I promised Mother."

"And I'll be with you every step of the way. For your mother. For our Brothers and Sisters. For our children," she replied, her mind thinking of the bastard, plotting his next escape. They would be ready, though, and next time, she would slit his throat. But not now. Tomorrow. Tonight was for tears. For sorrow-filled cries. For grief. Tonight, they mourned for their lost Matriarch. She squeezed her husband closer, "Cry as much as you wish, it's alright. It will be."

Ezio let the waves comes until he too tired and exhausted to stay awake, and while Catherine was not long after him, her thoughts and her dreams were haunted by the lingering doubt that Cesare would not stay in chains.

-O-

September 24, 1504

Roma, Italy

Despite her fears, Cesare remained incarcerated even as the months rolled by. The Spanish has been good on their word to contain him, and she was relieved at the continued "alliance" between King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella and the Pope, but such agreements were easy to break. Her only hope was that there was an apparent shared dislike and wariness of Cesare's power—or remnants of it—that kept them keen to secure the man's prison sentence. As it was, he was in chains in a tall tower, with no way to escape. It didn't do as much to ease her worry as she thought it would.

That, however, was in part due to the increased riots in the city of Roma. She—and all her comrades—had thought the loyalists would calm down once their leader was taken, but, if anything, they were emboldened. She dared to say Cesare had become a martyr and they rallied to him. It wasn't anything too terrible, and they were able to quell anything that came up, but they'd become bolder in the last month. They were reaching more nobles than she expected as well as other lower-class denizens. She imagined they were being paid, as the city was far better off with the Borgia in control. The general public had more freedom than before and no longer had to fear the guard cutting them down over nothing. It was better.

Except the damned Loyalists.

Catherine sighed as she rubbed her brow, tossing aside a report detailing the latest Borgia incident that had been quelled thanks to her Assassins. They always did good work with most all of them having passed their training. Even now she had only three left to go through the grueling exercises she had before they could be inducted. The rest were full-fledged and spread out among Roma and other cities of Italia. She'd sent more to foreign Bureau's, some at the request of her former students. Things appeared to be going well, although she lamented that Spain was not as tightly aligned with the Assassins as was liked. Unfortunately, that was not her matter to delve into, and she only sent help as needed. She just supposed they were lucky to not have to deal with Borgia problems even after their leader was gone.

"More trouble?"

The redhead looked up from her chair to her husband, who spared her a small smile. A tired one. He was just as worried about it all as she was, and he was still carrying the heavy weight of his mother's death. It was always fresh in his mind, and he loved so deep that it was hard for him, but he kept strong. Their children never seemed to notice, anyways, and their students kept quiet if they ever did. The other Master Assassins were respectful, too, but Ezio definitely looked tired.

Their war had been going on too long, she realized. Four years now, and their prey remained alive. Chained, yes, but alive, and capable of causing them agony still.

She should have killed him that day, instead of letting Fabio take him; should have thrown a knife or had Ezio shoot his little gun or something.

"Just the usual Loyalists. They're relentless. And… coordinated," she frowned, contemplating all the information.

"'Coordinated'?"

"There's definitely someone behind it—leading it. Not Cesare, but… someone. They know where best to cause trouble and never seem to put anyone who knows anything at risk. They just send lackeys who know nothing out to cause trouble, be it because they just like to cause it or coin."

"That's… not good. And there's nothing on who?"

She threw up her hands, "Nothing. I'm as shocked as you. Even Niccolò hasn't found anything with the Nobles, nor has Claudia and her girls find out everything from them. La Volpe can't seem to find anyone, either. I hate it."

"Ugh. Me, too," her husband groaned, coming over to sit down on the floor next to her chair and lean his head back against her desk. She reached down and he took her hand, squeezing gently. He pushed a smile to his face. "In better news… the kids are doing good. Leonardo is teaching them new painting techniques right now. Giovanni elected to train, though. I think he likes it a lot more than education."

She raised a brow, "And Diana isn't down there with him? I'm surprised."

"Ha! As am I, but she adores Leonardo, and she likes art as much as you did."

"Tsk… I really haven't painting in years, have I? Guess I should add that to my list of hobbies to get back into once it's all over."

"I'm sure you're still wonderful at it," Ezio chuckled, kissing her palm. He grew quiet for a moment, squeezing her fingers. She looked to him, waiting as he mustered his words, "I wonder… if it ever will be over?"

"I… I'm not sure. For us it one day will… but for the future? No, it won't But one day we'll get too old. I feel the ache in my bones some days. But I can't rest knowing Cesare is alive and can escape. But… but maybe… when he is gone… really gone…"

"What are you thinking?"

"Retiring, I guess? I wouldn't mind it. I know we talked before we lost Monteriggioni, and I know we can't just stop, but… after we ensure Cesare can't come back… I think we should think about it more; start making steps towards it."

"…I think that would be alright. Perhaps a villa in the countryside."

She chuckled, "I'm surprise you want one here. I would have thought you'd like closer to Firenze or Monteriggioni."

"Well, you don't, right?" he chuckled back, looking up at her.

"I mean… I haven't thought that much on it, but… we built a new life here in Roma. You started a whole new Order, and we've just become so much a part of this place… and our children are growing up here. Diana misses our old home, but she has a brother here and Giovanni and all the Assassins and so many friends now. Claudia is here, too, and her boys. Our family is all here. Our friends are here."

"You're right," Ezio hummed. "The countryside here is lovely. Although, I wouldn't mind somewhere to grow a vineyard."

"A vineyard? Really? Since when were you interested?" she guffawed, earning a laugh.

"Just recently, I think. I do enjoy the wine here, and it'd be something to do with no more Assassin work. I might get bored otherwise."

"Well, I don't know much about working a vineyard, but… I think I could get on board. As long as I get a workshop for art," she snickered.

"Of course. We'll make a grand home, one our children can stay in and come back to when they're grown. A place as good as the Villa."

"I'd like that," Catherine replied softly, cupping his cheek so that he could see her proper; see her gentle smile, which he returned.

"Mentor! Help!"

Both Assassins froze, then immediately scrambled to their feet. A large, burly man they recognized as Bruno—one of Machiavelli's—came sprinting through the door, a sweat on his brow as he panted lightly.

"What's going on?" Ezio demanded. Behind him, Assassins that had been lingering around took notice.

"There's going to be an attack on the Rosa—Claudia is in danger! I just now learned the Loyalists plan to kidnap her and take her to one of their safe houses!"

Ezio's face darkened, "Fuck!"

He didn't wait for a response as he shoved past the man and up the stairs. Catherine was hot on his heels, as was Bruno. If any Assassins followed, she didn't know as she and her husband sprinted to the nearby stables, mounted up, and spurred their steeds into a hard gallop. They ignored the surprised cries of folks leaping out of their path; it mattered little in comparison to the danger his sister could be in. She could handle herself, yes, but she was one person. Federico wasn't always there now, spending more time with his brother and Bartolomeo, and while she'd handled herself before, if a crowd swarmed on her she could be taken. Who knew what the Loyalists would do to her, too!

"Ezio!" another voice called, and from the right Machiavelli came riding on a horse of his own. He glanced back and seemed somewhat relieved. "Good, Bruno got to you. We must hurry, though! They are on the move!"

Catherine and her husband urged their horses faster, and yet it did not feel fast enough. Every second was too long and gave too much time for the Loyalists to strike. Yet, they couldn't be late; they couldn't fail; they couldn't lose anyone else. Maria's death was still too fresh, too raw; to lose Claudia or see her harmed would be too much.

Worry became dread as they came into the courtyard, and many of the girls were outside, sobbing. None were hurt, but they pointed to the Rosa's broken in door. A body was in the doorway and sounds of conflict were heard inside. Ezio reached the portal first with his wife right on his heels. Machiavelli drew his sword as he came in third and Bruno was last, his weapon at the ready. It was for not, though, as only bodies of unknown men lay around them, save for one, who engaged both Claudia Auditore and her youngest son.

"Die, bastard!" Federico bellowed, swinging his blade to disarm the Borgia Loyalist and stick his sword through his gut. He kicked him away with a grunt, although winced as he put a hand to his side, where he'd received a cut. His mother was wounded herself, a bloody stain on her sleeve and near her thigh, where a new cut had been made into her dress. Other sections had been torn as well, but were free of red. Her hair had been tousled, but she was well.

"Claudia! Federico!" Ezio rasped, rushing over to embrace his little sister and then see to his nephew.

"Fuck these fucking Borgia dogs!" the young man snapped, kicking one of the bodies.

Catherine came forward, "What happened?"

"They ambushed this place," Claudia glared, though she was visibly shaken. "They pretended to be customers and then attacked. One of my girls was killed, and another injured—I sent them to the back for safety."

"And thank fucking God I came back. I had a feeling—but—fuck!" the young man snarled, stomping forward and back as he sheathed his blade. Catherine could barely believe their good luck. Whatever had made the boy come back, it had saved his mother and the girls. Glancing around, the number of men here was enough to slaughter them all, and they had come at an opportune time. Someone must have known Federico's schedule or at least intimate enough knowledge to be so well planned.

"Stop, you will make your injury worse," the mother fussed, touching gently at the wound.

Niccolò breathed out a sigh of relief as he sheathed his weapon as well, "Thank God you are alright… forgive me, though; I did not learn the information in time."

"It's not your fault, Machiavelli. Thank-you for sending your man to us, and thank-you, 'Rico, for coming back," Ezio sighed as well, clasping his shoulder gently. "You two should rest while—."

One of the bodies groaned, and the group looked about one another. Catherine was closest to the source of the sound and found one of the men with a wound that could prove fatal, but only if he didn't receive attention.

"You," the redhead snapped, taking his collar and placing the tip of a Hidden Blade to his neck. "You have a choice. Tell me who sent you and you might live, or I'll kill you slowly."

The men kept his lips sealed. Catherine narrowed her eyes as she contemplated drawing blood on his neck, but then glanced to his injury. It was in his gut, so picking at it more shouldn't kill him too quick. It was, perhaps, cruel, but they had come for her family. No one got away with that. She took no joy in it, though—not like she once had—but she made a point to be cruel as she stuck her thumb and pressed down—hard. He wailed in pain, no doubt unaccustomed to it. He squirmed, but she kept a leg pinned with her knee and he could only wheeze in agony.

"Talk."

"Fuck!"

She pressed harder, "Talk."

"Okay! Okay! Okay! Stop! Stop! Stop! For the love of God!" he wailed, eyes flicking to her, then the others, and then focusing on something behind her for a few moments. There was hesitation in his eyes, but then he met her gaze again.

"Who sent you?" she repeated.

He swallowed hard, "Bruno."

Time slowed. Silence engulfed them as all heads turned to the man. Only, he was no longer standing by the doorway. Instead, he had his sword raised and armed to bring down right upon Claudia. The Madame was too shocked to scream as her arm flew up to prevent the killing blow. It was for naught, though, as a body slammed into her. Steel met flesh, but it was not the cry of a woman, but the painful howl of a young man. Federico fell, a large gash from his hip down to his knee opened. Blood splattered and he could not rise, his body on fire as the blood pooled. Claudia screamed before scrambling to him, tears in her eyes. Bruno moved to strike again but Ezio was there, parrying the sword and kicking him back roughly.

"Bruno, why!?" Machiavelli bellowed, drawing his sword.

The man's face was dark as he snarled, "Because the Borgia pay a hell of a fucking lot better than you damned lot. Things would have gone fucking smoothly if that damned brat hadn't come back when he was supposed to. But, fine. I'll settle with killing you the hard way. Long live the Borgia!"

He said no more. Ezio lunged at him. The first strike was blocked, but, while Bruno was a large man, he was not nearly as skilled, and not nearly as enraged. The Assassin was out for blood, and he would not be denied. His family had been harmed, and he would see the perpetrator die for it. The burly man knew it would happen, too. Catherine could see it in his eyes as he missed a blow and barely dodged another. He stumbled on a step, and that was it. Ezio grabbed hold of his hair and slammed his Hidden Blade into the man's throat. He ripped it free, silencing the brute and ending his life. He slumped down and fell to the floor where his blood joined the others.

"Ezio—he needs a doctor, hurry! He is bleeding badly!" Claudia cried, doing her best to use her ruined dress to stop the flow. Her words broke the trance of battle, and while her husband raced out the door, Catherine and Machiavelli rushed to Federico's aid. The redhead snatched down a curtain and used it in place of the ruined dress, pressing it down hard on the wound. Niccolò, meanwhile, pulled Claudia back to give room, although she protested.

"Give room for the doctor—he will be here. He will help," he told her, though it was hard to tell if she heard. The woman stopped her fighting, though, and instead slumped against him, sobbing. Machiavelli's face fell, his arm moving to her shoulder to comfort her. "I am so sorry, Claudia… this was my fault. I should have known—should have caught on sooner…"

"He was a good spy—not even Volpe knew he was a traitor, and he would have found out before any of us," Catherine spoke up, but it was little relief for anyone. No more was to be said, though, as Ezio returned with the doctor. He visibly paused at the sight—and at the wound—but he still moved forward and crouched beside Federico, who's cries had become whimpers, and his face had grown a little pale. He had lost a great deal of blood, but the doctor seemed to not fear he would die. That, or he dared not say otherwise as he took a good look at the wound. It was red and the blood flowed freely, but the bone was not exposed. Catherine hoped for the best as the doctor worked quickly to clean—he enlisted their help at one point—and stitch it shut as best he could.

When he was at a point where he no longer needed their hands for it, Catherine and Ezio elected to move the other bodies. They were doing nothing to help, and the girls wouldn't want to see it when they finally returned to their home. It was arduous work, and there was plenty of mess left with the stains of blood, but he was at least better than before. Yet, it did little to ease Claudia, whom had finally fallen to the floor. Niccolò rubbed her back gently, but let Ezio take over, whom embraced his sister close. She buried her head into his chest, sobbing freely again.

"God, what have I done?" the nobleman rasped beside Catherine, shaking his head.

The redhead shook hers, too, "It wasn't your fault. Don't do that to yourself. We should have been more careful. We underestimated the Loyalists. We can't take anymore chances. We have to work harder to shut them down… and I hope with this bastard dead we took out at least one."

"Yes… yes let us hope," he replied softly, and a part of her hated knowing her words had done little to assuage his guilt. He would carry it for some time, if not the rest of his life—especially if Federico didn't make it.

'No, don't think that. Ever,' Catherine mentally slapped herself, although she would have been lying if she said her gut wasn't twisting so tightly watching the Doctor work. Frankly, she was ready to vomit from her worry. The wound was terrible, and if he'd lost too much blood there might be no saving him. They couldn't lose him, though—not again. They'd lost too many. It would be too much!

Catherine held her breath when the Doctor's hand stilled, switching to a pair of scissors to cut the string. He dabbed at Federico's forehead, which had formed a sweat. He sighed softly as he packed his things, though pulled out vial of fluid, which he gently poured into the young man's mouth. He managed to swallow it after a few coughs. He looked to Claudia, who stared with hope and despair vying against one another, and motioned her over. She was beside her son at once, taking him into her arms and lying him on her lap.

"He will live—barely. The wound was deep, and he has lost a great deal of blood, but he will make it so long as he gets rest and drinks these healing draughts daily. You will need to cleanse the wound and watch for infection. I will come tomorrow to check on his condition, but you may seek me out if you believe it has changed," he explained, finishing gathering his things as he did so. "I fear his leg may not be the same again, though only time will tell."

"Thank-you. Thank-you, thank-you," Claudia sobbed, stroking her son's head gently and kissing his brow.

Ezio came forward to clasp the doctor's arm, "Thank-you… and sorry to drag you into this. We are in your debt."

"You have done the city a great service, and such is my duty to help those in pain. May you be well, and God look over your friend here."

He left them, and Claudia's cries filled the resulting silence. Even the outside world seemed quiet, and it was certainly darker than before. A heavy weight sat on their shoulders, and Catherine made a silent oath. Bruno was only the first of the Loyalist leaders to fall. The rest would soon follow, and she wouldn't stop until they were gone. Then, once Cesare faltered—when he made a mistake, she would find him. Even if she had to chase him to the ends of the Earth, she would find him, and she would kill him.

"Hnngh…" Federico groaned, coming to slightly, but only barely.

"Shh… shhh, do not speak, 'Rico. Just rest. You need to rest. It is okay. I am here. You will be alright, I promise. Just do not dare leave me. Not again. You do not have my permission," his mother croaked, brushing his hair and kissing his brow again. He mumbled something incoherent before losing consciousness once more. His breathing was steady, though, and they knew he rested. His mother's tears dribbled onto his face, but he didn't stir, which was a bit of a relief. After a few long moments, she spoke, "I… I wish to step down."

"Claudia?" Ezio inquired, crouching down beside her.

"It… it is too much. I cannot do this without Mother, and to have my son… we need to leave—to go away for a time. Federico is not safe here. I might return—perhaps one day, but… not now."

"…Do you know where you wish to go?" her brother asked softly.

"I… to Firenze, I think. We have allies there, places we can be safe. I just want a place for Federico to be safe and heal. I cannot bear to see him hurt again. I cannot bear it anymore."

"We'll make it so," Ezio murmured, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her cheek. Catherine could see the tears forming in his eyes. It was all just too much for all of them. "It will be so."

-O-

November 29, 1506

Roma, Italy

Another two years passed quickly, and Catherine could barely fathom how. Yet, last year's Fall had turned to Winter, Winter to the next year's Spring, and now it was suddenly Winter of 1506. So much had happened, and it was hard to keep up with it all. She barely understood how she hadn't fallen apart, nor how her husband hadn't. The attack on the Rosa years ago had been almost as great of a blow as the loss of Maria, and the only true loss what that his sister and nephew had moved to Firenze to stay with Paola. She was safe there, and the young man had recovered from his injury well enough. Unfortunately, he now had a limp—one he would have for the rest of his life. He could still fight, but not nearly as good as he once was, and there was a pain in his knee some days. He was alive, though, and being doted on by the girls. He made a good enforcer, even with his wound, and Claudia's mind was able to find some sanctity in her former city. She even had the joy of her eldest boy coming to visit, when he wasn't busy working as Bartolomeo's second-in-command. It would still be some time before they considered returning; perhaps not even until after the last of the Borgia influence was gone.

It was, perhaps, a wise move. The Loyalists had, for the most part, been removed, although pockets remained. Bruno had been one of the main leaders, and with his death the others became easier to find. It helped the movement had lost some momentum with the man's death, although Niccolò had been shaken by the betrayal. Yet, his resolve only became firmer and with his help they rooted out most, if not all the heads of the operation. Certainly, the riots and attacks had ebbed over the course of the year, and Catherine had yet to have a report on one for two months. She suspected their presence was not fully wiped clean, but she imagined it wouldn't—not until Cesare Borgia was dead. That, unfortunately, was made more difficult, as their worst fears had been realized.

Cesare Borgia had escaped.

The blame was placed upon the Spanish nobility. Although Queen Isabella had been taken out by the Assassins two years ago for her collusion with the Borgia, their plans must have already been set into motion, as the man was found missing from his cell not even a year after her demise. The country had a decently safe succession, although by the following years there was trouble within the realm of power. She had not heard much from her Assassins, but she prayed things were alright. Yet, it was all she could do for them, as her focus turned to Cesare, who was now lost to the expanse of Spain. They had not determined when exactly he'd escaped, nor how, or where he had gone. His trail had been lost to them, bringing them great dismay and even more frustration. None of their contacts seemed able to find him, and they were only so lucky that word did not seem to have reached to Italia. Cesare had certainly not returned, either.

And so here they were, contemplating their options. Spies had not worked. Alliances with governing powers had failed. Not even the nobles of Italia seemed to know anything, and the courtesans had worked them hard for the worthless knowledge under their old friend Rosa's care. Whatever they tried, none of their resources seemed capable of finding anything. It left Catherine brooding at her table along with her husband. Leonardo had come to visit them today, and he sat across from her, a sympathetic look on his face. She was grateful for it, and a part of her was glad he'd chosen to join them rather than visit her children, whom were busy with their tutor for the next few hours. She only hoped his amazing mind might see what they couldn't.

"Is there truly nothing about Cesare or where he might be?" he asked softly, and the redhead groaned.

"Nothing. There's been rumors of possible sightings, but they're all a bust."

Ezio sighed, "Part of the problem is that they're all in Spain, and we have been unable to go there. Or, rather, we simply can't leave on the hopes it's true."

"Was he not imprisoned there, though? It would make sense that he would still be there when he is unwelcome in Italia," the artist hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

She waved a hand, "Yes, it's more than likely, but up and leaving without some certainty is… dangerous. I mean, we've stopped pretty much all the Loyalists, and, sure, the Assassins are doing well even without my guidance, but… we just can't… go. Not without being sure."

"Not to mention Spain is massive. There's so many places he could be."

"So… you have used all avenues open to you?" the artist inquired, and she nodded. "…Have you used the Apple?"

"No—of course not. It's too powerful. I have already used it too much to stop him. It needs to be hidden outside the domain of men," Ezio responded, shaking his head.

"Yet, you still hold onto it."

"Only because we don't know where we can keep it safe besides with Ezio," Catherine sighed, rubbing her face. "It's a miracle he hasn't been hurt by it like I was… and I mean, it's not that we haven't considered. Every day I think about what Cesare said—about how chains won't hold him; how he won't die at the hands of men… Worse still, he's proven it true time and time again. I'm actually starting to believe it."

Leonardo regarded them both for a good while, before his expressions grew firm, "Use it. The Apple. And before you protest… you are out of options, you said so yourself. Cesare is eating away at your hearts and minds. I see how tired you all are. You need answers. The Apple will give them. It gave me knowledge once, though I looked for only a moment."

Catherine bit her lip. She didn't like it; not one bit. She already disliked the damned thing, but Leonardo wasn't wrong. It had knowledge. Limitless, possibly. It, when combined with her Clock, had made her essentially a god. Ezio had been neigh invulnerable using it, and when Cesare forced her to use it in her cell she'd seen the future. She hadn't known how much had been true, but now she was certain it was the future. It was a peak into the realm the Clock had brought her to, she was certain; a look into the Nexus. It didn't take you there physically, but even a glimpse was all it took to know enough.

"I'll do it," she spoke at last. Ezio's hand immediately found hers, and he shook his head. She shook hers right back. "I've used it to see the future before. Or, well, I was forced to, but I've never forgotten the feeling. I remember what it was like with my Clock, too."

"No, I should do it; it doesn't hurt me like it does you."

"Together, then," their comrade interjected, and they looked to him with surprise. "I know you both well enough to know neither will surrender. So, both of you should partake of its secret. You both are stronger together, after all. And worry not, I will be here, and pull you free if you go too far."

Catherine doubted he could fight the power of the Pieces of Eden, but she was grateful for his support. He was right, as well. Maybe alone they couldn't handle it, but together, perhaps. They were always stronger that way, just as he said.

"Together," she whispered, squeezing Ezio's hand back. He met her gaze for a long, silent moment, then nodded. He pulled the Apple from his vest, always safely secured and hidden from the world, and set it on the table. She placed her hand against his on the artifact, feeling the cool metal beneath; mentally tracing the grooves where the power flowed. She looked to her husband again. He nodded.

It was time.

Catherine summoned the memory of the Clock, of how she pulled its power out from within. It wasn't as fresh as it once was, being decades now, but the sensation always lingered in a swell of nostalgia. Memories, both awe-inspiring and frightening filled her, but so, too, did fire. It was not quite scalding, but it was hot and threatened to become painful. She knew this burn, though. She could temper it and mold it to her will; urge the Apple to heed her commands.

She only realized her eyes were closed when they opened, and images of light filled her vision. It was like her time with the Clock, yet nothing like at all. The images were blurry and seemingly without shape; just outlines of their former selves. Images and scenes flashed into being and left as quick. It was impossible to determine what it had been, although there was an echo of voices in her mind. It was a raging cacophony of senselessness that threatened to drown her focus and lose her into the chaos. It was only the firm pressure on her hand that brought her back, and her body suddenly became solid. She inhaled air into lungs she only now had, and when she turned her head she found her husband with a similar look of shock. He was not completely solid, his body made of lights, but she could feel him; sense him even. He was not like the flashing images, and neither was she.

But the images were not what they wished to see. It was the past; of their former homes and friends and battles. It threw their victories and defeats at them, along with their sorrow and joy. They ignored it, pushing further; forcing their will upon the Apple. This place was not the real world, but a window to the space between. Time meant nothing. Their will meant everything. The Apple was theirs to command, and they demanded obedience. They had come for answers—for glimpses of the future, and they would have it.

The Piece of Eden complied.

Images of light and a jumbled chorus of voices filled their mind and senses, threatening to overwhelm them. The present flew by them, scouring through the days and months and years to come. Time was endless and infinite and so much and so little of the expanse was given to them. They knew all and knew nothing. Alpha and omega became one, and the secrets of the universe were before them. The path was revealed, and they knew their course.

As quickly as it came, it was done.

Their hands flew back, and the world slammed down upon them. The lights were gone, the Apple was cold again, and Catherine sucked in air greedily. She felt as though she'd just run a marathon, but then feeling began to return to her body and it was as though she'd not taken a step, because she hadn't. They'd not move. They were still there at the table with Leonardo, whom looked to them with both eagerness and confusion.

"We have to leave," Ezio rasped, standing up suddenly and taking the Apple with him.

"What? Wait—what did you see?" Leonardo asked, standing up with him.

Catherine followed suit, "We know where he is—or will be. We leave for Spain. Now."

"What of Diana and Mario? And your friends?"

"We'll leave them word of our departure, but we built this brotherhood to last, with or without us," her husband replied, though paused for a moment to look to his wife, "We need to speak to the kids before we go."

The man frowned slightly, but relented, "What do you intend to do?"

"For one, to kill Cesare Borgia," the redhead stated, making for the stairs leading to where their children were.

Ezio continued, "And… to plant a seed. Take what money you need from us before you leave—consider if a gift."

"If this is good-bye, then keep your money. I do not want it," the artist smiled weakly.

"Oh, Leo," Catherine chuckled, retreating to hug him quickly. "This isn't good-bye."

"Don't worry, we'll see each other again, you have my word. Good luck, my oldest friend," the Mentor chuckled, stepping in to embrace the artist after the redhead moved aside. He grinned as he passed by him, "And take the money. On your meager salary, you will need it."

"Well that's one way to say good-bye to your 'oldest friend'," Catherine snickered as she trotted up the steps, Ezio right on her heels.

"You would have done the same," he chuckled back, though the small moment of merriment quelled when they knocked on the door to the children's room and entered. The tutor looked to them expectantly, and, while confused, she obeyed their request to speak to their daughter and son alone. Diana, now a teenager, knew something was going on at once. She was too perceptive for her own good, and even Mario, now six, had an inkling, though he was still too young to fully understand it. They would both understand their coming absence, though, and while it tore at Catherine's heart to have to do it, they had to go.

"Diana, Mario… your father and I are leaving to go on a mission," she started, taking a hand from each them in her own.

"Can we come?" her daughter beamed, bouncing excitedly. Always so eager to prove herself. She'd begged to go on a mission just last week. She was growing too fast.

Ezio shook his head, "Not this time. This is a mission for your mother and I alone. You have to stay here and keep to your training and lessons."

"Why can't we go?" she pouted. Next to her, Mario's face contorted in what was unhappiness for his quiet demeanor.

"This mission is very dangerous and takes us very far away. We must go stop a very, very bad man. It may take us a long time, so we don't know when we'll be back… but your Uncle Giovanni will be here to watch over you, along with Machiavelli and Volpe and Rosa, too. The Assassins will be here to guide you in my stead—Francesco will ensure you train hard."

"I want to go with you, though!"

"Where you go to?" Maria asked softly, eyes falling and lifting to meet theirs.

Ezio smiled sadly as he pulled his boy to him, wrapping him in his arms, "Far away, though not too far… but it will be many, many months before we can return. I do not want to. We would stay here with you always, if we could, but… we must. Your mother and I are the only ones who can."

"No! You can't just go! Take us with you! I can fight!" Diana shouted, grasping hold of her mother's shirt. She'd gotten so tall since coming here. She was fourteen now, and, by all means, she probably could be sent on missions now. She was doing better than Catherine could have ever hoped and was already so strong. No doubt her father had been even more skilled at his age, but this was not their fight. She wanted her daughter to become a young woman in a place she could be safe and find love and live a life without the pain and agony she had suffered, even if it had given her the greatest joy she could imagine and couldn't ask for better.

"You're too brave, Diana," Catherine chuckled softly, kissing her daughter's brow. She cupped her face gently, "You have to stay. You are capable, but this is not your battle to fight. Mario needs you here, anyways. You're his only sister. So, please, don't argue and stay here and keep your brother safe while we're away. I promise, when we come back, I'll take you on a mission, alright?"

The younger redhead looked ready to retort, but in the end, she bit her tongue as her eyes watered some. She wiped the tears away, though, and folded her arms over her chest.

"Okay. But you have to keep your promise. You have to come back and take me on a mission!" she snapped, refusing to budge any more than that. Her mother pulled her close for a hug, which she ultimately returned as hot tears came. "And promise you'll stop that man—Cesare. He's the one you're after. That hurt us. Make him pay, okay?"

Ezio and Catherine looked sharply to one another. They hadn't thought she knew so much, but it seems they'd underestimated their daughter. She was too smart for her own good, and so they strengthened their resolve.

"We will. We promise," Ezio replied, kissing Mario's brow gently.

He looked his father in the eyes, "Good. You keep promises. Come home soon."

"We'll do our best. Now, be good, alright?" Catherine chuckled softly, though her eyes stung and her chest ached. So much demanded she stay despite what she knew she had to do, but she pushed it aside. Going meant keeping her family safe, so she would go. Catching Ezio's eye, she knew he felt the same as he stepped back from their son. The two gazed at the children for a good, long while, the children dabbing at their wet eyes.

"We love you," she beamed.

"So much," her husband added.

"Yeah. Love you, too," Diana chuckled, tugging Mario to her side as he brother waved.

Catherine and Ezio turned, and they didn't stop or dare look back for fear it would break their resolve. They kept their legs moving forward, pausing only to leave a message to their Order and all its allies to let them know what was going on, and to gather at least a week's worth of supplies for the journey. Things set, they mounted on fresh steeds and made for the countryside. There, they paused for one final stop, planting the very seed they spoke of to Leonardo. It was nothing great on their part, but the Apple had shown them much, and with this seed something great would bloom. What and how was not for them to know; only the work they had to do.

And with the task finished, only one remained. With haste, the two Assassins departed, flying across the countryside and far from the home they had built. All the while, they longed for the day they would return, but they wouldn't stop.

Only when Cesare Borgia lay dead, would they come home.

So, until then, they rode on.

-O-

March 12, 1507

Viana, Spain

The sky was red as the Sun set behind the vast, sharp hills of the Viana landscape. In the distance stood a grand castle, it's stone walls painted in gold and orange from sunlight and fire. Smoke rose from its base, billowing into the sky and threatening to blot out the last remnants of the Sun. Dark clouds loomed to the East, and while it was hard to tell if the crack of thunder was from them or the canon fire and creak of battlement wheels, they were sure to bring heavy rains that would turn the desecrated battlefield below until a flood of mud, flesh, and steel. Already there was an endless stream of bodies below, some clad in red of their enemy, and that of the defenders of this realm, but all were splashed with the black stains of blood. Crows and vultures circled, some already perched and pecking at their feast. Their bellies would be full for weeks or even months with the carnage left in the wake of the siege on Viana Castle.

It was here Catherine and Ezio Auditore found themselves. It was here their quarry had brought them. Somewhere, among the throng of warring soldiers, was Cesare Borgia.

They had followed him for nearly half a year, crossing into new lands and traversing endless miles to come to this place. They'd chased leads and dead ends all along the way, and more a few lives had been ended by their hands. They'd made new friends and allies and found old ones as well. The Bureau in Spain had welcomed them and reunited them with familiar faces. But they could not linger long. Cesare Borgia was in Spain, having been spotted in December and so they had to hunt. It had taken them longer than they'd like, but they'd finally learned the man had specifically come to Pamplona, welcomed by their King John II of Navarre. He was needed for his military experience, and so the monarch was all too happy to bring the Borgia into his fold. He'd soon begun to lead a campaign, which had culminated into this moment.

"Do you see him?" Catherine asked as she shifted her horse closer to Ezio's. His gaze was out on the battlefield, trying to make out any golden color in the sea of bright red.

He scowled, "No, not yet. It's too much—too many people. We must get closer."

"I'm with you," she replied, touching his arm. He nodded and spurred his steed onward. It was only one of many they'd run harder than they should in this journey, and she didn't doubt they'd be the last. They were riding straight into war and death, after all. Yet, they did so head-on, without fear. There was no doubt their target was here, and not simply for word of mouth. Rather, they knew with certainty, for they had seen it before—when the Apple showed them so long ago. Here, they would make the last stand against Cesare Borgia.

They only needed to find exactly where.

The trail through the hills and mountain side brought them ever closer to the field, where the sound of canons were like thunder in their ear drums, and the screams echoed for miles and remained firmly rooted in their thoughts. Above them, the rocks of the cliff-face burst and shattered, spraying them with sharp shrapnel and soil that left dark smudges. Their horses only faltered a little when the blasts came too close, but they had been trained to endure war, and so they remained steadfast, conquering turns and curves and even leaps over gaps in bridges and never slowing down. At least, not until they came upon the village at the base of the castle.

There, the two Assassins finally dismounted and let their horses flee as far they wanted. There was no need to force the creature to its death, which no doubt would come at the hands of the countless Borgia-Pamplona guards stationed ahead of them. The village had been ransacked, buildings destroyed and toppled and their wooden framed burning. Bodies of innocent children and women and men were strewn about, bodies broken and bent and some with limbs torn asunder. Faces were molded into ones of anguish and terror if they weren't mauled or crushed instead. And if they weren't already dead, there were many dying with screams of terror and sorrow and rage. Prayers to God could not reach the havens in the wake of canon fire, and, surely, in a horrid place such as this, God would not come—not when the Devil had taken roost.

"This way; we need to stick to the outskirts and avoid the soldiers. There's too many for us to take on," Ezio spoke from their crouched position behind a broken wall. Catherine didn't bother to argue, even a fool would have known he was right. The army Cesare commanded was set up outside the castle, preparing to take it, and were rooting out any villagers and enemy soldiers that remained. If they dared to go through them, they'd be attacked at once, and even with all their skills and years of experience, they would perish. So, they slunk their way to the farthest edges of the villages where fewer guards kept post.

Even then sneaking through their ranks was not easy. The guards didn't have any distinct patrol, so timing was difficult, and more than once they had to silence a few to keep from being spotted. They managed to avoid open conflict, though, and pressured further up the hill the castle was set upon. Cesare had not yet been spotted, but they knew they were close. They could feel it in their bones, and this place felt too familiar. The images they'd seen and now resided only in memory were becoming more and more clear. Surely that meant they were nearing the place. Only, it wasn't here, among ruined walls. There had been proper stone and great walls and siege towers. This was not this place.

"We're out of outskirts," Catherine spoke up as they approached the last bit of the village, which then gave way to the castle buildings and stairs. Screams came from the main path, and but a moment later villagers sprinted and tumbled and trampled one another as they ran by. Right on their heels were the enemy soldiers, waving their blades and cutting down those they pleased. Some took villagers alive, though—namely the women. She knew their fate even before they did, and while she hated doing so, Catherine knew she could not stop to save them. Too much was at stake, and they had to cut off the head of the snake if they hoped to truly save the people and countless more.

She glanced above, "We take to the roofs."

"Agreed. He's close," Ezio replied, and pressed on her back to urge her onward.

Ignoring the screams and cries, she as ascended the nearest wall, clambering onto the stone roof. Ezio was right behind her and they sailed from roof to roof, climbing higher and higher as they made their way further up the mountain. Down below, soldiers cut down innocent men and women and children, laughing and taking delight in the slaughter. It made her gut twist and want to vomit when the smell of decay didn't. They pressed on, refusing to pause—at least, not until a crack shattered the sounds of battle. The two Assassins stopped short just as a siege tower that had reached the castle and begun to burn some time ago, finally gave way. The woods and metal groaned as it toppled downward, giving the two of them only seconds to leap out of the way. It wasn't enough to keep them from being thrown from the roof of the building they had been on, the siege tower causing the walls to collapse. Their only respite was that the structure hadn't been very tall and so the ground wasn't far way, but the wind was still knocked from their lungs when they landed.

"'Cat!" her husband rasped as he scrambled to her, helping her up. She groaned, a bit dizzy, but she was on her feet soon enough.

"I'm good. Nothing's broken. You?"

"The same. Come, back up," he ushered, and, though her temple rang a little, she followed. Back up they went, up onto the more pristine and decadent roofs just outside the castle gates—the noble class, without doubt. Only, in the wake of war, that mattered little. Clay tiles still shattered. Stone walls still crumbled. Wood still burned. Catherine only hoped it would stand long enough for them to reach the gates.

By some miracle, it did, and they found themselves not far from the wall, where a siege tower had breached. Above, she could see soldiers warring atop the wall, some falling to their deaths and others being cut down. It was a massacre, though both sides refused to budge. Soldiers were all around, fighting for their lives or for whatever had brought them here under Cesare's command—perhaps coin, even. Whatever the case, the foot men were not their quarry. He was somewhere—elsewhere. But where?

"Catherine," Ezio gasped, pointing up to the top of the wall. It wasn't much more than a glimpse, but she knew that face anywhere.

Cesare Borgia.

They'd found him.

"How do we get up there?" she asked aloud, searching for good footholds, but they all looked too high up, and the wall was even higher.

He pointed again, to the right, "There. The tower."

"Good idea," she nodded, though even as he made to move, she hesitated. For a split second, but he noticed. Ezio took her hand, squeezing it, and locked his eyes with hers.

"Are you with me?"

He would understand if she said no. The journey had been difficult, and this battle could be their last. If she said no and found shelter and safety, he would understand. He might not survive without her, but he would at least know she would make it back home as they promised. She would return to their children and spread word of Cesare's fall.

Only, that wouldn't happen. Catherine couldn't. She'd taken the plunge with him, and she would never abandon him. If he fell, she would fall with him. They have lived their life together at each other's side, and she wouldn't stop now.

"I'm with you," she replied, squeezing his hand back firmly. His eyes lit, and a smile dared to cross his face, but he held it at bay. Instead, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard and deep, his free hand tangling in her messy hair to cup the back of her head. She like-wise wrapped her arm around him and returned the kiss, silently swearing she would make sure he made it out alive. She knew he had done the same.

No more words passed as they shared one long, final look, and then they made their final ascension. Up the wooden ramparts they flew, and while the doubts dared to try and gnaw at them the higher they went, they fought it back with their certainty. The Apple had shown them this place for a reason, and now the rest was up to them.

Soldiers screamed as they fell off the walls as the two Assassins emerged at the top of the siege tower. Soldiers clad in green fought off red, ignoring the two as they leapt onto the wall and made a straight bee-line to the right—to their target. He was engaged in battle with more green-colored soldiers, but he cut down one of the two, and by the time they reached him, he slew the other.

"Cesare!" Ezio bellowed, drawing the man's attention. Fear and shock slapped across his visage. "The walls surround you. There is nowhere to run."

"How?!" he snarled, swinging his blade at nothing. "How is it you keep finding me!?"

"Mario Auditore led us here," Catherine snapped back, pulling her sword free. Recognition—and perhaps realization—flickered in his eyes, and his mouth curled into a fierce scowl.

Ezio flexed his Hidden Blade, stepping forward, "It end here, Cesare. No more running. No more hiding."

"Come then, Assassins!" the Borgia spat back, and they came for him. He was more formidable than they realized, though, even against both at once. When one would strike, he parried and met the blade of the other. When they struck together, he managed to duck and dodge away just in time. They, in turn, countered and avoided his blows, though all of them would leave with bruises or scratches from the remnants of what had once been deadly blows. The war around them raged on, but it was paid little mind as they danced with their enemy, back and forth with their assaults.

He sneered at their efforts, "I cannot die! Fortune will not fail me—for I have seen it!"

"Still deluded," Catherine snorted, managing to cut through the cloth of his pants, but only leaving a superficial blow.

"I am the best fighter who ever lived!" he howled, as if offended by her retort. He made a point to swing hard, forcing her to stumble back. Ezio was there to cover for her, though, stealing their enemy's attention. He bellowed again, "Defeat will never taint me! An Auditore will never best me!"

"We will see about that," Ezio growled, lunging at the man with his hidden Blade just after a parry that threw his guard. The tip almost reached Cesare's face, but the Borgia grabbed Ezio's arm in time. The two struggled, limbs visibly shaking. His efforts proved fruitful, and the Blade cut into his collar armor that his cape latched into instead, ripping part of it free. He staggered back, his face less confident than before—but only for a moment. He laughed as his caught sight of something beyond them, and when the Assassins turned, they spotted guards in red rushing their way.

"Kill them!" Cesare commanded, pointing as he back tracked to obtain his lost sword.

"Ezio, keep on him! I'll handle the guards!" the redhead shouted, racing forward to meet the men. She didn't wait for his reply as she ducked below the swing of the first and sliced through his gut before kicking him back. Behind her, she heard the mad man continue to rave. Even as his armor was chipped away and his body began to bleed from his wounds, he believed in his delusion. He thought the world was his to take and command, and certainly it had once been. But now he was beaten and broken, and though he fought off her husband as she did his guards, the battle was not in his favor. The false future the Apple gave him was no more, or rather, Catherine doubted it had ever been. He'd only seen glimpses of an illusion that had been part of a greater whole: of his defeat.

That was the prophecy the Apple had shown them, and they would make it so.

"Die!" the final guard hissed as he swung, seemingly not caring his comrades had fared no better. She caught the sword with her Blade and shove her own weapon through his gut. He grunted in pain and staggered back when she tore it free. The last the goons gone, she turned back to their target.

He had lost more of his armor, but he still fought Ezio with all he had, and with only her husband to focus he attacked with more ferocity. She could see her love struggle more than before, too, although he sported far less wounds than their enemy. Even so, the Borgia bastard blocked Ezio's strike and then kicked him so hard he stumbled back. Cesare chased after him, but he would not find the mark. Before he could strike, Catherine shot forward to meet him. He had not seen her, and so she had the element of surprise as she grabbed hold of his arm, halting his weapon. She, in turn, struck at him with her Hidden Blade. He jerked back just so, and instead of his neck, her steel sunk into the flesh of his shoulder. He yelped, dropping his weapon and rearing back out of her grip. Ezio was right behind her, though, and slammed into Cesare. The Borgia hit the castle wall behind him hard, knocking the breath from his lungs and nearly throwing him down the blown-out section to his left. When he regained his composure the two Assassins stood before him, Hidden Blades drawn. He glanced around quickly, but there was no way he could reach any of his weapons and no more soldiers were around to help he. He was alone, and he was defenseless.

Cesare Borgia was beaten.

"Any last words?" her husband ground out, and even a deaf man would have heard the displeasure he had in saying it.

"No—no, no, no! The throne was mine!" he bellowed, and it was almost pitiful to see how deluded he was. His confidence had melted away to panic, and he clung to that illusion desperately.

Ezio glared, "Wanting something does not make it your right."

"What do you know?! Either of you!?" he barked back, gaze shooting between both rapidly. There was no way out, and he was starting to realize it.

"A true leader doesn't slaughter his own people. He makes them stronger. Better. Empowers them."

His eyes grew more wild, "No… no, no—I will lead mankind into a new world! I have seen it!"

"May no one remember your name," Ezio spoke, his voice low and dark as he flexed his blade. "Rest in peace."

"You cannot kill me!" he bellowed, stepping forward so suddenly Ezio instinctively hesitated. Catherine almost did but held her ground. This man was nothing to fear after all. He was a weak, pathetic creature, and she had sworn to end him. She would not give way to fear now, even as he raved like a mad dog, frothing at the mouth. "It has been written! I have seen it! You will not slay me here! No man murder me!"

The world slowed some as the redheaded woman came forth. Her gaze was steady and focused. She heard naught but the beat of her heart, and the promises she wore; the oaths she made. Her mind thought of the past and the present and the future to come; of the people the man had killed and taken from her, the people he had slain today, and those he would kill should he be allowed to go on. Their faces and voices rose together in a choir, demanding one thing, and one thing alone.

Cesare, for all his bravado, could not hide the fear as she stood before him and flexed her Hidden Blade.

"I am no man," she told him, and stuck her blade into his stomach.

The Borgia made a strange sound, torn between shock and confusion. It reached his eyes, his brows scrunching together. He touched at his abdomen and when he brought his hand back, painted with wet, sticky red. He tried to speak, but nothing came as he staggered to the left, then back. He did not realize where he stood, and his heel slipped on the broke edge. It cracked under the force, and he fell backwards. With nothing to break it, he screamed and flailed as the ground swallowed him.

The once indomitable Cesare Borgia was no more.

Catherine let out a breath of air she didn't know she'd been holding—and a half-sob, half-laugh, too. Her legs shook and she fell to her knees, shaking. Whether it was relief or exhaustion she didn't know and didn't care. Ezio joined her a moment later, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to pull her close. He was quiet for a moment, before he, too, laughed. She did the same until it became a sob, and she imagined he had tears of his own, too.

It was over. Finally over. After seven long, agonizing years, it was done. After losing so many to the Borgia and suffering so much, their torment was ended.

It didn't seem real. How could it be? Yet, it was. Cesare had fallen over the ramparts, and even if the fall had not killed him, the wound would. He was dead and would not be coming back.

"We did it," she laughed, pressing her hand to her face.

Ezio chuckled, pushing his head against hers, "Yes… yes we did."

"Oh my God…" she rasped, forcing herself to understand it was real. She wiped at her tears to look at him, "Are you okay?"

"…Yeah, I am. Bruised and cut, but I'm alright. You?"

"Yeah. Same for me," she replied, nodding. They went quiet for a while, and the sounds of the battle filled the silence. It was not so chaotic as before, but it would still not ebb for some time, and that meant they couldn't stay. "We need to get out of here."

Ezio chuckled as he stood, holding out his hand, "Yes, we do. We have a promise to keep."

"And Auditore's keep their promises," the redhead smiled as she too his hand so he could help her up. He brushed her cheek gently, sharing a long, long look, and then motioned for her to follow. It was better if they left as soon as possible. They could do no more here.

That, and they had a lot of ground to cover to make good on that promise.

---

31 – End

---

TMWolf: And there we have it. Only the epilogue remains.

So.

A LOT happened. A lot. A lot-lot. Literally was running through so much the game didn't put like Claudia quitting and getting attacked by Bruno, Maria dying of sickness, and more. They don't even go over how Cesare got to the battleground, which involved going to like Milan and so much more. Had to wing some since I killed Micheletto (who helped Cesare out a lot until his Master killed him), but it all worked out in the end.

And, yes, I kinda "borrowed" the LOTR moment. I didn't know how else to word the line that wasn't epic like that forgive meeeeee. I just stole the line okay xD Just that, nothing else!

I wasn't sure about having Catherine deal the final blow, truth be told. I was conflicted, but... ultimately, I decided it was right. It fit good to "loop" around his words and she's suffered a lot because of him. I thought it was fitting. But, seriously, the line Eowyn says is so perfect. Even "I"m not a man" doesn't compare, dammit.

And, yeah. So there we have it.

One chapter to go and it's not long. This is the end of the Catherine and Ezio saga.