The aphrodisiac was Cesare's best weapon against her and he made use of it intermittently over the next week. While Chiara had handled his subsequent attempts to seduce information from her well enough, she began refusing all food and drink but water and gruel. By limiting herself to the food she had grown up with, it was easier to discern the bitter taste of the aphrodisiac and she was able to simply forgo eating when it made an appearance. Her only worry was that it left Cesare in an untenable position. Having failed to get information from her at every turn, he might now feel forced to attempt the torture that he had avoided thus far. Having no experience with being tortured, Chiara was unsure of how she would fare under the influence of pain. Pain inflicted for pain's sake was, she had no doubt, different from the pain engendered by a rough coupling. A bruise here, soreness there… that would be nothing at all compared to a knife sliding through or a brand held against her skin. Or worse yet, broken bones that would render her helpless for many months and keep her from ever returning to the Brotherhood. If that happened, there was no chance of keeping Ezio. The thought made her smile. Ezio was an eagle in a wide sky, there was no keeping such a creature, only earning its affections.
Muffled yelling outside Chiara's room reached her ears and she began moving toward the door, no longer hindered by terrible fitting clothing. The lavender and black gown had finally been made over to fit her and three more gowns had joined it: red, white, and black. Though Chiara was still several feet from the door, she sprang backward as it burst open.
"Coward!" Lucrezia shouted at Cesare over her shoulder. Her eyes were strikingly blue, like the sky, but they were cold and haughty. Attired in a rich combination of dark red dress with slashed sleeves to show the emerald chemise beneath, golden hair braided about her head like a coronet, Lucrezia was the very image of affluence and power.
"And this is what has been occupying your bed while I was away," Lucrezia demanded, "Why, she's only a child! She has nothing in the way of charms to attract a man like you." Cesare appeared behind his sister and took a firm hold of her arm, attempting to steer her out of and away from the room. His face said that he was short of temper as he tried to turn himself and his sister about in the doorway. Lucrezia, having almost an overabundance of the charms she (correctly) accused Chiara of not having, made the maneuver difficult and shook him off and strode toward Chiara. Lucrezia was also in bad temper, but from jealousy and possessiveness rather than being thwarted, like Cesare. Having had opportunity to look at Lucrezia's features, Chiara could see some similarity in the features of their faces. There was a certain arch to the nostril and eyebrow that made the siblings look haughty and a way of holding their heads that intimated command. But they were also different. Cesare's pointed chin, dark hair and black eyes made him look predatory while Lucrezia's face was all soft, feminine beauty.
"What is your name, little girl?" Lucrezia asked insultingly, seizing Chiara's chin and forcing her to look up into the other woman's face.
"Mea, my lady," Chiara patronized, performing as much of a curtsey as Lucrezia was currently allowing, her eyes flickering to Cesare who abruptly looked incensed. Chiara would have smiled if she could: using the name Cesare claimed to have given her meant that he still didn't know her real name, and addressing his sister the way he addressed her was a little salt added to the wound.
"Mea?" Lucrezia grumbled, releasing Chiara's chin with a throwing motion that caused her to stumble back a step, "What kind of a name is Mea? Sounds like something Cesare would call you. Mea. Mine." The thought made Lucrezia furious and she turned on Cesare.
"You thought you could just take on whatever plaything you liked while I was away?" the regal woman raged at her brother. Cesare was inches from losing his temper, but was unable to loom over Lucrezia the way he did over Chiara because his sister was of like stature to himself.
"One of my men was tailing her and brought her in. She could very well be an Assassin!" Cesare snarled.
"Her? An Assassin?" Lucrezia bellowed at him, "Then so am I! And so are you! Have you any thought in your head? A child like that an Assassin? Pah!" Chiara backed away from them, suppressing a smile at seeing someone stand up so vehemently to Cesare, but wary of the fact that the siblings anger could just as easily be turned on herself.
"Hold your tongue!" Cesare thundered, turning red in the face at this affront.
"Idiot!" Lucrezia roared, having just as much in the way of lungpower as her brother, "You thought I wouldn't find offense in your taking her to your bed?" She stabbed a finger into her brother's chest.
"Mark my words, brother, I am not pleased," she growled, "Beware of displeasing me further lest you find cantarella in your wine!"
"You wouldn't dare!" Cesare snapped, and then taking a different tack, "Whose bed would bring you satisfaction after I was gone? Tell me! Your husband's?" Lucrezia's face blanched white, and then turned purple.
"You think that I couldn't find satisfaction elsewhere, brother?" Lucrezia shrieked, "How about I take your new little toy to my bed then? Perhaps her tongue shall give better satisfaction than your cock!" Chiara was surprised by the appearance of vulgarity and a little dumbfounded, having never considered attempting such an act with another woman, but instantly wanted no part of this. Luckily for her, the two seemed to have forgotten that anyone else was around. It was as if the guards were not there, as if Chiara did not exist, and Cesare had charged his sister and pinned her against the wall, his hand finding its way beneath Lucrezia's skirts.
"You son of a bitch!" Lucrezia screamed. The copious skirts concealed Cesare's hand, but his arm was moving and Lucrezia was thrashing against whatever he was doing.
"Really, sister? You think Mea's tongue could give you half the satisfaction of even my hand, much less my cock? You are sadly mistaken!" Cesare's face was twisted into a nasty sneer, and Lucrezia spit in it. Cesare wiped his face on his shoulder and then turned Lucrezia by sheer dint of force, pressing her forward against the wall and pinning her there while he untied the lace on his hose and fed himself into her. Both moaned, Lucrezia scrabbling against the stone with her nails and Cesare's fingers daggering into his sister's hips with bruising force that Chiara was all too familiar with. Cesare powered into his sister, hissing angry words in Lucrezia's ear at a rapid-fire pace that made it unintelligible to anyone else. But as Chiara watched, she became aware of something: Cesare had held back when he had taken her. He fucked Lucrezia with abandon, thrusting into her so powerfully that the woman pressed against the wall in time with his rhythm. Cesare tore at the low neckline of Lucrezia's dress and freed a breast, white flesh spilling from between his fingers as he gripped her. Lucrezia cried out, a sound of mixed pain and pleasure and Cesare growled something into her ear.
"Yes!" Lucrezia sobbed in response, "Anything, Cesare, just don't stop!" Cesare increased his tempo, and Lucrezia screamed and sagged against the wall. Cesare continued and Lucrezia moaned as he drove her into a second, and then a third climax before reaching his peak. Panting, he withdrew from his sister, letting her skirts drop. He walked shakily to the tapestry chair and sank into it with a sigh, panting.
"Let that be a reminder, Lucrezia," he said in a tone of reprimand, "Do not behave in such fashion again." Lucrezia was rearranging herself, and then went to her brother, kneeling before him and taking his limp penis into her mouth so that he groaned.
"And does this please you?" Lucrezia murmured lasciviously around his hardening cock, looking slyly up at her brother. He rested a hand on her head and stroked her hair, and then he glanced up at Chiara who was carefully looking away.
"Mea," Cesare rumbled, a throaty growl of pleasure accompanied by a crooked finger, "Come here." Chiara's head whipped around and she glared at him.
"No," she bit out, "Do what you like, but I'll have none of it." Her slender hand slashed through the air in an unmistakable gesture of defiance, her expression tinged with disgust.
"What I would like," Cesare enunciated very carefully, "Is for you to come here. Now." His tone of command was unmistakable and his eyes smoldered. Chiara's lips pulled back from her teeth in unconscious defiance, her gray eyes turning nearly black, her small hands fisting.
"No," Chiara spat, her eyes flashing toward the guard. Cesare realized a moment too late what she intended to do. Gathering her skirts, Chiara bolted for the door, sliding by the guard like lightning and escaping into the hall like a bird suddenly loosed from its cage.
"Fuck!" Cesare snarled, shoving a shocked Lucrezia aside and tucking himself back into his hose. The guard gaped at the door until Cesare seized him by the collar and threw him out of the room in his rage.
"Find her!" Cesare shouted, and the guard scrambled up in a flurry of clanking armor to find others to help him search.
Chiara stopped running after her second corner and took three deep breaths in the shadow of a suit of armor. She hastily braided her hair so that it hung down her back, then stepped out into the hallway and passed a pair of cardinals, head down and hands folded demurely. Her disguise worked, and she went by unnoticed. She was unsure how long she could slip by the people in the Vatican before all of the guards were alerted to her escape, but she would be damned if she wouldn't make as much use of this opportunity to escape as she could. She walked on, watching the play of light on the floors of the rooms around her and that she passed though, heading steadfastly north with a fast-beating heart.
Ezio watched Alfonso slip through the southern gates of the Vatican, dressed as a servant and carrying a bundle that he had presented for the guards' inspection. The young man passed through almost invisibly, as if in his passion to find Chiara he had absorbed a little of her anonymity. What he didn't have, unfortunately, was an unusual lineage.
Whoever her parents had been, Chiara had inherited an unusually large degree of Assassin blood. It was what made her content in her lot as an orphan, made her instinctively avoid attention so that she blended invisibly into a crowd, made her fly across rooftops as if they were flat ground beneath her feet. Ezio frequently scanned possible apprentices with his Eagle vision, and he had seen everything from faint glowing to a deeper shimmer, but chasing Chiara that first time across the rooftops, he had seen her shine. Light had coalesced along her back as she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, expanding in the semblance of wings as she flew over a distance that should have been nearly impossible for her to jump. Amazed, Ezio had hunted her down, nearly obsessed with adding this angel to the ranks of his apprentices.
He'd succeeded, but at what cost? He'd lost his heart to the little minx, loved her, but could never do what any woman would want: settle down with a trade, have a family. Revenge still burned like a fire in his heart, and he understood that he was stoking it, leaving little room for anything else. But that desire for revenge was mixed with a wider goal, to bring down the Templar order and secure choice for all. That was worth any sacrifice, but that didn't stop him from trying to rescue her.
Alfonso safely inside the Vatican, Ezio was on the move to observe the other gates.
Chiara flitted through shadows, sidling behind and into groups of people as they passed, hovering on their fringes and departing as silently and suddenly as she had come. Though most of the guards had been alerted, she was still virtually ignored. Whatever the order had been, it hadn't described her well enough for anyone to identify her. She saw an entrance to the courtyard and drifted toward it, playing the part of a curious, careless young girl. She stepped outside, into the dazzling sunshine, and ran into a servant, his fine shirt plain and without any of the extravagant details the noblemen in the Vatican favored.
"I'm sorry," Chiara started, glancing up at him through thick black eyelashes, "I should have-" Her eyes widened as she realized whom she was looking at, and then she threw her arms around Alfonso's waist.
"You're safe," he breathed, his hands on her shoulders, sighing with relief.
"Yes," Chiara said quietly, "But they're looking for me. I have to escape. Now. It's the only time."
"Into the city then," Alfonso responded, looking at her dress with a frown, "You can't escape in that."
"What I wouldn't give for some hose, leggings, or breeches," Chiara muttered angrily, taking his arm and steering him toward the gate. They would need to get across the entire courtyard, and then through the gate. There were too many guards. Would they be able to get out?
"My lady, I believe you'd still be lacking," Alfonso said, leaning closer to her as they strolled, like the servant lover of a minor noblewoman, or perhaps an older brother. Chiara wrinkled her nose while her pulse raced with her nervousness.
"Perhaps," Chiara said briefly and then lapsed into silence, gaze dropping to her feet though she glanced around them. The guards, while watchful, were not so overly alert that they were watching her.
"You're shaking," Alfonso whispered under his breath.
"I am afraid," Chiara whispered back, lengthening her stride. Alfonso kept up with her easily, but luck was not to be theirs. The middle of the courtyard was a fountain, and walking around it brought them both closer to the pair of guards near the porticos there. Chiara watched them whisper together from the corner of her eye, her nails digging into Alfonso's forearm. He remained as calm as ever, patting her hand though she felt his heart speed up.
"Do not be afraid," Alfonso murmured as guards began to approach them, "There is nothing to fear."
"There is everything to fear," Chiara breathed, trotting to keep up with Alfonso's long legs.
"Sir, a moment," one of the guards said, and Alfonso stopped, Chiara trembling besides him, balanced on the edge between fight and flight.
"Yes?" Alfonso asked unconcernedly. The guard came closer.
"The girl, is she some relation to you?" Chiara pressed closer to Alfonso at the words, barely able to look at the guard. Alfonso put a protective arm about her shoulders.
"What do you want with my sister?" Alfonso demanded.
"A prisoner escaped, a girl suspected of crimes against the Pope," the guard replied, his partner scrutinizing Chiara. Time slowed down as he attempted to turn her around and Alfonso's hidden blade flashed out as he palmed the chin of the guard. The man fell dead just as Chiara lashed out, her fingers finding the eyes of the one looking at her and digging into the sockets savagely, snarling as she pulled. The enucleated guard screamed as he fell back and Alfonso sprinted ahead, Chiara close behind.
"To the gate!" Alfonso shouted while Chiara caught up, nimbly ducking around a guard lucky enough to get close. "Don't stop for anything!" She flew by, a flurry of lavender skirts and a flash of black bodice. A pair of Papal guards prepared to defend the gate as Alfonso killed another guard and Chiara dashed forward, directly toward the gateway. Freedom beckoned, and she would escape this place, or she would die trying. She could hear cries of 'Assassin!', but she could also hear Alfonso's steps just behind her and her spirits soared. And then, as if in response to her hopes rising in her throat, a white shape fell, slaying the Papal guards and clearing the gate, snatching her up as she reached him with a cry of pure joy. Ezio, Alfonso, and Chiara spirited out the gates and vanished into the streets of Rome.
Alfonso split from Chiara and Ezio quickly, leaving them to steal some boys clothing from a tailor and dump Chiara's dress in an alleyway. Freed from the excess fabric of the dress, Chiara scampered up the side of a building like a monkey and then flew across the rooftops, away from the Vatican with Ezio by her side and letting her lead.
She had been held captive too long, and she felt herself tiring much too quickly, still anxious to put more distance between herself and the place where she had been kept. She looked over her shoulder often, apprehension apparent in her every movement, and Ezio noticed. Chiara had always been sure and determined, but now she was tentative, almost frightened. Finally, she slowed, almost collapsing on a rooftop, sheltered from the sun by a chimney. Ezio crouched down in front of her.
"You've grown soft, but a little training will bring you back to form," Ezio said gently as she panted.
"I'll begin training tomorrow, master," she panted, attempting to pull herself together. Ezio stayed her with a hand on her shoulder.
"Rest," he said simply, "We've not too much further to Tiber Island, but I do not wish you to be half-dead when we get there. Serafina and Marisa have been worried." Chiara ran her fingers through her lose hair, tiredly re-braiding it since she had no pin to make it hold.
"With luck, I'll make it back alive," she said, sliding her back up against the rough bricks of the chimney. Ezio straightened with her, and then he was leading the way back to Tiber. She was moving slower, and he didn't push her to go any faster, too preoccupied with his own relief.
By the time they made it back to Tiber Island, Alfonso had already returned and spread the good news that Chiara was among their ranks again. Marisa and Serafina fussed over Chiara and showered her with attention that made her uncomfortable, and then Chiara escaped from them, heading for her room in their little fortress. Ezio was waiting at the entrance to her chamber, and she looked up at him with exhausted, questioning eyes. Saying nothing, Ezio swept her off her feet and carried her away. The Chiara he'd known before would never have tolerated this, but this creature, with her soft and weary eyes, needed care. She clung to him, laying her head against his shoulder, a strangely wounded silence between them.
"He raped me," Chiara said finally, her voice soft and broken, "He drugged me and took me and I-" Her words set his blood on fire with a never-ending flame of rage, adding another black mark to the bastard Cesare's list of transgressions.
"Hush," Ezio murmured, his burn for revenge settling into long-lasting coals. He felt the tickle of moisture at his neck, and the flutter of her eyelashes as he paused to open the door to his own room. He brought her inside, kicking the door shut.
"Don't hate me," she whispered as he dropped her onto the bed, and he silenced her with a long kiss.
"Never," Ezio reassured her, rubbing his thumb across the tear streaks, "I am only too glad to have you back. I've nearly lost you twice now. You did what was required to keep yourself alive."
"He never really knew if I was an assassin or not," Chiara said quietly, "He was never able to make me confess anything."
"Then you have done your duty," Ezio murmured, moving fluidly to kneel over her, hands on either side of her elbows, forcing her to lay flat. He pressed his mouth to hers and then she was clutching at him again, pulling him down by the front of his tunic.
"I missed you so much," she whimpered helplessly, his mouth moving down her throat.
"And I you," he murmured reverently against her skin. Within seconds, she was naked and he was stripping speedily, his fingers working at the various knots and buckles. When he settled onto her body at last, she sighed, her only desire during all her captivity filled. To be in his arms, knowing that she was safe – it was worth every moment of terror and loneliness she had endured. His mouth slipped to her breasts, laving them with his tongue and softly whispered endearments, hands hitching her slender legs about his waist. Moonlight silvered his skin, touched his hair with a shimmer that Chiara couldn't resist touching, sliding her fingers into his hair and tugging his face back up to hers to kiss him thoroughly. He took her gently in response, relishing her sharp gasps of pleasure, the way she surrendered to him with no reservations. He surged in her until she came undone with a soft cry, shaking to pieces beneath him, and he let himself go, releasing his body to the rushing pleasure of hers.
The quiet moments after were heavy with intimacy, Ezio resting much of his weight on his elbows as he brushed black hair away from her eyes, hazy with satiation. She ran her fingers gently over his chest as if to reassure herself that he was real, her lips curving lightly.
"It's not a dream," she said, closing her eyes as he dropped his head to nuzzle her cheek, his beard rough against her face.
"No, it is not," he agreed quietly, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him so that she sprawled over him like a cat in the sun. They fell asleep like that, tangled together over the coverlet of the bed.
