Fiora froze, her hand stilled on the door handle. Her senses instantly were hyper aware: her damp hair sending sparse droplets of water to floor, her robe tied much too loose, the sky outside was slowly fading from twilight to evening, and the Master Assassin Ezio Auditore was lounging on her couch, in her room, in her house. The window was open, the curtains fluttering; this was obviously his way of entry. Fiora never locked it but now seriously considered changing that habit.
How did he find me?
Then fear turned to understanding.
"You let me escape."
His smirk was all she needed for an answer. Her supposed success in fleeing the assassin and the severity of her wounds had diminished her usual paranoia. Though she had seen and heard no follow from him, that didn't mean he had not been there. Fiora had been bested and that rarely happened.
"Well, from our past encounter, I know you to be a sly one," Ezio replied, casually removing his hood.
The growing moonlight revealed his complete countenance to Fiora for the first time. And it was something to look at; strong jaw, dark scruff, a stern brow, long deep brown hair tied at the nape of his neck, and piercing golden eyes. Deadly and handsome.
Ezio sunk more comfortably into her sofa, his arms draped over the back in complete relaxation. Anger rose in Fiora at his confidence. So he thought he knew her, did he? That she could be so easily tricked? Fiora relaxed her grip on the door handle and slowly closed the door, never taking her eyes away from her intruder. As she moved away from the washroom and towards Ezio, the assassin's eyes flickered down her body.
Now there is something I can use.
Her loosely tied robe draped over her body and showed just enough to brings his eyes back down to her bare legs and barely covered breasts. The assassin, under all his mystery, power, weapons, and armor, was still but a man. Pathetic.
"I am more than just sly, Signore Auditore," Fiora purred as she sauntered towards the assassin to stop right in front of him, her legs between his.
"I am starting to see that, Madonna," he hummed, his eyes gracing her legs and continuing their way up to her face.
"But why would a man of your stature be chasing after me?" she asked, playing with the sash of her robe. His golden eyes could not resist looking back down.
"Like you said, Fiora, I can see that there is more to you. No matter how pleasurable you are to the eyes," the assassin responded and his eyes flashed with challenge.
"Right you are, Auditore."
Fiora slowly straddled the assassin and watched both surprise and pleasure cross his handsome features. The pleasure didn't last long, however, as Ezio soon found one of his own knifes pressed to his throat.
"I am also not accommodating to intruders," whispered Fiora, flirtation mixed with threat.
"Come now, Fiora, I hardly classify as an intruder. I've stopped men from killing you twice now. If anything," Ezio's voice lowered to a husky whisper as he leaned toward her face, pushing against her blade in challenge, "I am your personal savior."
"Please! I could have easily slain those men myself. But someone needed to make himself feel important."
"Well… shall we see how truly skilled you are then?"
A struggle quickly ensued. Fiora found herself flying backwards and landing hard on her back on the floor, Ezio's knife flying from her hand. Ezio leaped from the couch to pounce but she rolled backwards, sending a well-aimed foot to the assassin's face at the same time. As Ezio faltered from the surprise foot attack, Fiora dashed for her hand fan lying on the table only to have her hand caught inches away from it. Her other hand swung for another attack on the assassin's face but he was ready this time. With both wrists in Ezio's merciless grasp, he swung Fiora around to pin her to the wall. But before the assassin could close in, Fiora raised her knee and found her mark in Ezio's stomach. Ezio doubled over as Fiora ripped her hands from his grasp and ducked away, scrambling and lunging for the knife she previously held. An iron grip found her ankle and Fiora fell short of the knife. The same iron grip seized her shoulder, flipped her onto her back and now Ezio was the one doing the straddling. As a last attempt, Fiora shot a fist for his handsome face to no avail and the fight ended with both her wrists restrained and pinned to the floor.
"I think me on top means I win."
Fiora was breathless from both the struggle and the dread growing in her heart. Here she was, trapped in the Maestro of the assassin's hold and unable to save herself. And he had no idea who his prisoner was.
"Do you feel pride in incapacitating a injured woman?" Fiora cursed as she struggled against him.
"Come now, you being injured did not affect your fighting at all."
This was both a true and false. As she began the fight she felt nothing. As the fight continued and she lunged for the knife, Fiora felt a sharp pain in her foot and knew she made her wounds worse.
"Plus, I watched you run through the streets without any regard for your feet."
"You are lucky I am not at my full strength, assassino," Fiora hissed and watched Ezio's face grow stern at his title.
"Yes, I know what you are, Auditore. Death follows your kind like a foul stench."
"I do not kill for sport, courtesan, if that is what you imply," Ezio growled, the charm and humor absent. Again, Fiora saw the stark difference between Ezio Auditore and the Master Assassin.
"Then all your killing is justified, is it? Never once did you kill because you enjoyed it? Desired it?"
Ezio's eyebrows furrowed.
"You assassini kill only for yourselves and make others pick up the mess you leave behind," taunted Fiora, watching Ezio's eyes grow more deadly with her every word.
It probably was not a good idea to test a master assassin but Fiora was looking for anything that she could use against him. Just because he won the physical battle did not mean that Fiora was done fighting.
"You know nothing," replied Ezio, his voice calm but cold. He released her wrists only to continue hovering over her. Though her hands were free for fighting, Fiora did not dare move.
"I have seen the man you proclaim to call 'his holiness' hang innocent men and a child for his own gain. If his work is more honorable than mine, then you have a skewed idea of what is good in the world."
Fiora remained silent, captivated by the depth and pain that emanated from Ezio's eyes. For an assassin, Ezio displayed a wide array of emotions quite openly. She expected the Maestro of the assassins to be crueler and less human. But Fiora could not deny that the Borgia family was cruel and ill tempered, for that in part was the reason she served them. In her younger years, Fiora was attracted to power and made friends with people who had it. It was the only way she could leave the brothel. But as she looked into Ezio's pained eyes, she saw a man affected by the same family that now controlled her life. I know this pain.
Fiora noticed there was blood on Ezio's face. Had she injured him? She raised a hand and brushed his cheek with her thumb to remove the stain. However, there was no wound revealed. Ezio was taken aback at the Fiora's soft touch but when he saw the blood on her hands, he glanced behind him.
"Mi dispiace, Fiora. Your feet."
Ezio removed himself and Fiora looked down to see yet another pool of her own blood.
"I guess you were right about your injuries."
"Did you think I was lying?" Fiora groaned as she lifted herself to sitting and checking her wounds.
"Allow me."
The second time that day, Fiora found herself at the mercy of Ezio as he carried her back to her sofa. Before she could protest, Ezio walked back into the washroom to emerge with a bowl of water and more bandages.
"Where did you find bandages?" asked Fiora, knowing she had none of her own.
"I brought extra from the doctore. He thought you might need more."
"How thoughtful," she growled. Did everyone think she was accident-prone?
"Auditore, really," Fiora protested as Ezio kneeled before her, setting aside both bowl and bandages to reach for her feet, "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"Of that I am quite sure, Fiora. And please, call me Ezio. It is partially my fault that your wounds have reopened. Therefore, it is my duty to help you. And let's be honest, you're helpless without me."
A small smirk returned to Ezio's face and Fiora rolled her eyes.
Silence sat between the ex-courtesan and the assassino as Ezio put the last bandages on Fiora's feet. She grabbed another slice of bread from her side table and focused on eating to ignore the gentle caresses of war-hardened hands. All Fiora wanted was to go to bed and forget this night had happened. An association with an assassin was the last thing she needed for Cesare to find out. Hopefully, I will never have to see him again.
"So you know of us assassins," Ezio said, as he tied the last bandage.
"How can I not?" Fiora replied, biting into another slice of bread. "With all your stealth, your deeds are very public."
A small smirk rose on Ezio's features but he said nothing more.
"There, finished."
Looking at her now bandaged feet, Fiora was satisfied with Ezio's work. It was obvious this was not his first time with treating wounds.
"Impressive. Perhaps you should consider a profession as a dottore instead of an assassin."
"Oh no, bandages I can do. But the syringes," Ezio cringed, rolling his sleeves back down to replace his arm braces.
"Careful. You're giving away your weaknesses," Fiora teased as she began to rise from the sofa. Ezio jumped up.
"Whoa! How about we not ruin my handiwork, ya?" Ezio cautioned, easing her back down to the sofa.
"I am tired. I want my bed and I want you to leave," sighed Fiora, rubbing her temples.
"So much for gratitude," scoffed Ezio as he pulled Fiora into his arms and walked her to her bed located behind her sofa.
"I'm also very tired of you carrying me around like a doll."
"'Thank you so much, Ezio, for rescuing me and caring for my wounds.' Is it that hard?" mocked Ezio.
"I do not want to make your ego larger than it already is."
"It's not the only part of me that is large," teased Ezio as he lowered her onto the bed. Fiora half laughed and half scoffed as she shoved his arms away.
"You are finished. Leave."
Ezio remained unfazed by her foul mood and chuckled. He made his way to the window but stopped, stooped down and returned back to her side. What does he want now?
"Here. Just in case."
It was his own knife that Fiora had used to previously threaten him. Ezio set it down on the side table and smiled at her scowl. Walking to the window, he put one leg over the window seal and turned back to her.
"Oh, Fiora? Try not to get into any more trouble tomorrow. Or I'll have to come rescue you."
Fiora reached for the assassin's knife and flung it in Ezio's direction. But he was gone before the knife struck the window frame.
Fiora was reciting dark curses upon Ezio's head as she gingerly made her way to Baltasar's hideout. Her feet were still extremely tender but work demanded she be about in the city. Yesterday's events played in Fiora's head again and she could not help but quietly groan. Did Cesare know that she had killed his guards or would this event pass unnoticed? Either way, Ezio's involvement in her life was problematic.
As Fiora turned into an alleyway, she heard the sound of blades crashing together and slowed to peer around the corner to the back of the building. There she found Baltasar training with Il Lupo, a dangerous dance of blades. Il Lupo was a product of both Baltasar and Fiora. Baltasar had been tasked by Cesare to follow the assassins' movement and learn everything he could about them. Fiora would often join him on his observations. Il Lupo was the result of everything she and Baltasar learned about the white-hooded assassin's. They trained Il Lupo to move, fight, and flee like an assassin. Cesare's engineers even crafted a crude replica of the infamous hidden blade. But there was still much they did not know and Il Lupo was still very young in training and age, barely in his twenties. It would take more time for Il Lupo to reach any level close to the best assassins.
Fiora continued to watch as Il Lupo disarmed Baltasar and pounced, flying in a much similar form to the assassins as they killed their prey from above. Unsheathing her fan and flicking it open, Fiora crept forward behind Il Lupo.
"Well done, Lupo. You are improving. It did not take you as long to disarm me this time," said Baltasar, as he breathed heavily.
His eyes flicked behind Il Lupo and saw Fiora standing over him.
"Or maybe you are getting slower," gloated Il Lupo, unaware of his towering predator.
Fiora placed her fan on the back of Il Lupo's neck and watched his body tense.
"You still have much to learn, ragazzo."
Il Lupo sighed and turned to see his attacker, her fan now at his throat
"Always be alert. These assassini will take advantage of any weakness."
"Yes, Fiora," replied Il Lupo, frustration evident in his voice.
Fiora lowered her fan and Il Lupo removed himself from Baltasar, holding out a helping hand to the defeated barber.
"But Baltasar is right, your combat skills are improving, Lupo," Fiora observed, nodding at Baltasar in greeting.
"How about you and I, then?" prompted Il Lupo, his eyes gleaming with the chance to redeem himself.
"Unfortunately, we have other matters to attend to," said Fiora, handing a folded memo to Baltasar to read.
"Cesare wants to meet with us," read Baltasar, handing the note to Il Lupo.
"He has assignments."
"Finally, something to do! I am tired of sparing with you, old man," Il Lupo teased and handed the memo back to Fiora.
Baltasar ignored the young man and focused his beady eyes on Fiora.
"You look like you had a long night," said Baltasar, walking down the alley with Fiora at his side and Il Lupo trailing behind.
"You should consider not having a man in your bed every night," Baltasar's monotone drawl heavy with accusation.
"Why do you assume it was a man keeping me up?" Fiora swiped an apple from a cart and flipped a single coin at the vendor.
"Well, you are a whore, are you not?" quipped Il Lupo, also grabbing an apple but not paying.
"You both know those days are behind me. Stop accusing me of past deeds."
They crossed the bridge into Castel Sant'Angelo and the masses of common people were replaced with heavily armored guards. Fiora knew these fortress grounds well from her constant visits to Cesare for instruction. As they entered, one of the many guards eyed Fiora and winked.
"Once a whore, always a whore," said Baltasar as they followed the winding maze of halls deeper into the fort.
"At least people enjoy my presence," taunted Fiora as they approached their ended destination.
"They enjoy your figa."
"Fottiti."
Baltasar and Fiora glared at each other but couldn't help small smirks growing on their faces. Though they often disagreed and tended to dislike each other, they enjoyed sassy banter.
"You two banter like a married couple," said Il Lupo, pushing past them and opening the door to Cesare's study.
Quiet chatter and small crowd of people greeted them as they entered Cesare's study. To Fiora's discomfort, Il Carnefice was present and looking as bloodied as every. He must have had a fresh kill this morning. Lia de Russo the smuggler was also there sitting in a chair next to the fire, her feet propped up on a table. She was a strange woman. She mainly supplied Cesare with artifacts, both useless and rare items. Fiora often visited Lia's warehouses to retrieve these items for Cesare and the warehouses always smelt like death.
"The barber, the boy, and the whore," Lia sneered, "about time."
"Your insults mean nothing," Fiora said, walking up to Cesare's desk and sitting on the edge.
"Fiora, my desk is not a chair," said Cesare, as he signed his last document.
"And I assume your table is also not a footstool," said Fiora, pointedly looking at Lia's feet who scowled back but moved her feet to the ground.
"Enough. Let's begin," Cesare barked, tossing his quill and standing.
Fiora slid off his desk and stood next to Il Lupo, who both had respect and fear in his eyes as he focused on Cesare.
"I have gathered you all here today because all of you are among my most trusted agents. All of you are key in achieving our goal of uniting Italia and ruling this country."
Since when did my goals become his? What did I want with a united Italia?
As Cesare spoke, he paced in front of them and with each word his voice rang with more and more bravado. Fiora once admired him for his strength and pride. But then she learned at what price such confidence must come by.
"My spies have officially confirmed our suspicions of Ezio Auditore being in Roma. He is already beginning to amass a force against us,' Cesare continued, still pacing slowly.
Fiora avoided eye contact at the mention of Ezio. She obviously did not need spies to tell her of Ezio's existence but it should have been her who had informed Cesare, not his talentless spies. Yet, Fiora felt no need to tell Cesare of her dealings with Ezio and planned to keep it that way. Hopefully any future encounters with Ezio would result in his death and her victory. Fiora snapped out of her thoughts as Cesare began to speak again.
"Thus, with Auditore here, we need to move more quickly," said Cesare, finally ceasing his pacing to stand right in front of Fiora.
Fiora stared fearlessly into his black eyes, she knew a scolding was in store.
"Fiora, in order for me to defeat Auditore, will stand by me?"
Odd question.
"Of course, Cesare."
"Then why do my men keep dying at your hands?"
Fiora did not dare look away. If she showed any signs of weakness or fear, Cesare would destroy her.
"What are you referring to?" Fiora stalled.
"I'm referring to you killing Il Carnefice's guards and leaving him unprotected."
"Il Carnefice is perfectly capable of defending himself," replied Fiora, shooting a glare at the somber executioner.
"It is not my fault that he encouraged his men to actively rape me. I warned the guard but he did not listen."
"But there was more than one guard that laid dead in streets."
Fiora hesitated and Cesare raised an eyebrow.
"I was protecting a friend."
Cesare's hand shot out and stuck Fiora hard across the face. Fiora let no cry escape her lips and did not dare raise a hand to her cheek. He cheek stung acutely and she glanced at Cesare's offending hand. Blood was on his ring, evidence that not only was there going to be a bruise but a wound as well.
"You were protecting a useless puttana. I care more for my skilled men than those puttane on the streets," Cesare's face was closing in with each word he spoke, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper.
"I will not tolerate this behavior again, understand? Next time I hear of this, your punishment will be more severe."
Fiora nodded but remained silent. Anger mixed with embarrassment bubbled slowly inside of Fiora. No one else in the room spoke but she knew Lia and Il Carnefice were smirking with malevolence. Lupo and Baltasar held expressionless faces, except she could see the worry in Lupo's eyes.
"Now, back to business," said Cesare, walking back to his desk as if his little tirade never existed.
"In two months time, I plan to throw a celebration for my cousin, Juan Borgia. Until then, I have business that must be carried out before that time."
Cesare grabbed documents and began shuffle the papers.
"Lia, Lupo, I have contracts that must be completed before the party."
Lia bounded out of her chair and snatched the papers, her eyes thirsty for her next kill. Lupo took his assignments and without looking at them, turned to exit. As Lupo passed Fiora, he gave her a pointed look and then left. He wanted to meet later to talk.
So young and protective. Soon he'll learn that will get him nowhere in this god forsaken place.
"Il Carnefice, there is a particular district that is beginning to bring bad business. Eliminate these resistors and put new vendors in place," Cesare ordered and handed him his assignment.
"Yes, Cesare," Il Carnefice bowed and turned to leave. As he passed Fiora, a mean glint in his eye made Fiora scowl at his passing. Curse that man.
"Baltasar, I need more information on the assassini and Auditore. Find their hideouts and try to gauge their numbers."
Baltasar nodded and left, leaving Fiora alone with Cesare.
"Fiora, you remember Slivestro Sabbatini, yes?" Cesare asked, as he reached into a desk drawer and pulled a cloth rapped object.
"How could I forget that slimy excuse for a noble?" Fiora jested, taking the wrapped object.
Fiora couldn't help her curiosity and unwrapped the package. Inside was a menacing claw, sharp and deadly. Silvestro had once previously served Cesare and failed to complete a mission. His punishment was relieving him of his left arm and this claw must be Cesare's peace treaty
"Give that to him and tell him I demand his service and his allegiance."
Fiora raised an eyebrow.
"You are going to trust him again? Are you feeling unwell, Cesare? You're starting to get soft."
Cesare scowled. "I need his slave trade. Once I have it, he is expendable."
"Is he? Once his trade is secure, how will you know that his contacts will stay loyal to you and not Silvestro?"
"People are loyal to money," replied Cesare, a dark smile on his lips.
"We shall see," Fiora muttered, turning to leave.
"I have one more assignment for you. Make the usual delivery to Brother Ristoro tonight."
Fiora frowned. Cesare still kept that man whore around?
"Or if you are feeling bored, satisfy him yourself," mocked Cesare, as he walked around to face her.
"I have better things to do than sleep around with disgusting men like Ristoro."
Cesare raised his hand and ran a thumb under the cut he inflicted. It was not a gentle gesture; he was admiring his handiwork. Fiora resisted the urge to slap away his hand.
"Fiora, I value you. You have been one of my most loyal assets. But do not forget that your life belongs to me. If I order you to sleep with a man, you sleep with him. Therefore, you are whore as long as I say you are a whore, capisci?" he said, his eyes shining with warning.
"Yes, Cesare." Fiora tried hard to keep her face emotionless despite the fiery frustration rising inside her.
"Good."
Cesare removed his hand and moved back to his desk.
"Luckily for you, I do not think bedding Brother Ristoro will be necessary. Complete the tasks I have given you and visit me once you're done."
"Capito," mumbled Fiora, already out the door.
Bastardo.