Everything was failing me. My goals, my plans, they were not at all the way I had imagined them to be. I heard the explosions from the canons every ten seconds, and every ten seconds the ground at my feet would shake. I was losing my balance and with my sword gripped in my hand, I barely knew why I continued on. I would heartlessly and apathetically slice through my enemies with my blade- their throats, their stomachs, or their chest- whatever part of their body that was conveniently undefended. I kept running through the shaking battlefield, and the orange sunset blended with the blood of the dying soldiers.

I was not fighting for power anymore. I was not fighting for Italia anymore. I only fought for my life, the life that one woman cherished the most. I fought so that Louise's heart would not break at hearing of my death. Even the slightest thought of picturing her grieving in black, or kicked out on the streets and in the clothes of a courtesan made me weak.

My army was falling apart in Vienna. The last remains of my young childish dreams were falling apart in Vienna. My power and strength was failing me and the Assassin—who I loathed more and more each day, was taking all of my failure and turning it into success for himself.

When I was on the tower that Ezio found me on, a part of me realized that he was born solely to destroy everything I ever cared about. This hatred raised and I was determined to kill him once and for all…

But alas, my life was a stack of failures, piled on top of one another.

I could not defeat him and in his pride, he pushed me off the tower.

My life slowed down, the way that my Father told me happens before you die, and I saw Louise.

Only a month ago, when I had escaped prison, I went to go visit her. She had become so weak and skinny, but her protruding stomach had become larger. She was forcing a smile on her face—she would not let me see her cry.

"How did you escape?" she had asked as she placed her hand on my cheek, as if she were afraid I was a ghost.

I held her close and told her not to worry herself over silly trifles. In reality, it was torturous but I did not want to worry her.

"Louise, I must leave again, but I will return to you as soon as I am finished. We will leave together and go back to France. Don't you long for your home land?"

She shut her eyes and said, "No, I hated it there—but I hate it here too. I hate everywhere that you are not."

"Patience, my sweet lamb, it will soon be over," I had said, trying to reassure her. "We have two precious nights together until I leave, and then three horrid months until I return once more, at my knees for you."

The way her face radiated when I said that to her was the face that I saw when I fell from the tower. I raised my hand to try and touch her smile but it was too far. It was out of my reach, and I cried in hatred at the miserable world I had lived in before Louise.

I felt my body shake everywhere in pain and I knew I had reached the ground, but the tingling pain faded away and my gaze at the orange sunset turned dark until I could see nothing anymore.

"I failed again," I gasped, unsure whether anyone could hear me.

But someone did hear me, for I heard Louise answer: "Don't worry, dearest, I am sure next time will be better…"

But there was no next time. The only problem I had with dying was that I would never see Louise again, and that I was going to be the cause of her heartbreak, and the only reassurance I had was that the little baby Louise was pregnant with, would give her hope and reason to live.

All my failures amounted to nothing, and all my goals were meaningless, but the love that Louise felt for me and the little human that I had made with her were the only two things that made my life bearable. If I could take it all back, I would. I would apologize to my Father, I would apologize to Lucrezia, I would apologize to the woman I married and neglected, and I would apologize to Louise—for letting her love a man who did not realize that the best things in life were love and family.

There was a time when power and vengeance boiled through my veins and haunted my dreams. Money and women were all I wanted, but all I needed was her. All I needed was her love—an emotion I took for granted. Loving someone is completely bittersweet: it breaks your heart while it nurtures it. How I long to hold Louise one more time and tell her everything will be all right. If I could do anything I would tell her to move on and live to the best of her ability. I would tell her to never cry for me because it would only break my heart to know she was unhappy.

I can never tell her these things, and she will never understand how much regret stirs in my dying heart during my final moments. No letters, no goodbyes, just an empty space where our farewells should have been. They will never be there.

After Cesare's death, Louise spent two years with Lucrezia in her villa with the Duke of Ferrara, as her maid. Louise was never the same after his death and her only source happiness was her baby. Her child, however, was taken from her one night as it was mistaken for the child of the Duke's to be held for as ransom. He did not pay for the ransom and Louise never saw her child again. Afterwards, she had hot flashes and was driven to insanity. She tried murdering the Duke in his sleep and was arrested, only to escape and never be found.

Her beauty had died and everything in her life died along with it. She had nothing and no one to live for, so it did not surprise her when she contemplated suicide.

Louise held onto her own arms and stood on a wooden bridge in the middle of the country. Below was a rapid river flowing down stream. She did not know how to swim and neither did many of the men who Cesare had once thrown to their deaths on the very same bridge. She had watched him put a cloth over their heads and tie it tightly, she had watched him make jokes and push them over and she had watched them fall into the river and struggle like a fish on land, before becoming eerily still and letting the river take them away into the darkness. This too was her own her fate, and deep in her mind, she closed her eyes and imagined that Cesare was the one who was pushing her—pulling her into the river. The water was refreshing on her burning body and the constriction and pain she felt only lasted for a while before she felt nothing but cold arms embracing her, pulling her deeper and deeper within, kissing her soft skin and telling her that he had missed her so very much. And then there was nothing.