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When Girolamo awoke, the pale light of sunrise was leaking through the shutters, and Leonardo was nowhere to be found. He winced as soon as he tried to move—his entire body was stiff and aching. He managed to roll over, preparing to sit up, when he heard a paper crinkle.
There on the pillow where Leonardo had lain was a page out of one of his notebooks filled with a sketch of Girolamo. He was almost ashamed to look, fearing that Leonardo has used his over-active imagination and memory to draw a debauched scene. But instead, Leonardo captured something—the something that Girolamo thought was gone forever. The portrait showed Girolamo as he lay sleeping, without the blood and bruises, and it made him look … tender was the nearest word he could come up with. It made him feel something that he didn't want to and he tamped it down as quickly as it raised its ugly head.
He made it to his lodgings and cleaned up before deciding to attempt the walk to work. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts that day. Becchi questioned him about his injuries, but he was not as suspicious as Leonardo, and believed a story about a mugging on a dark street and a fight when Girolamo refused to relinquish his money.
It was later in the afternoon when Captain Dragonetti and Giuliano rushed in looking for Lorenzo. Giuliano seemed taken aback by Girolamo's swollen, bruised face, but after a quick "Are you all right?" he left again with his brother and guards in tow. They didn't return by the time the bank was closed, so Girolamo slowly made his way back to his own bed.
He was awakened by the sound of his door opening and closing. He slid his hand under his pillow to find his dagger then bit off a curse when he tried and failed to open his swollen eye. He tried to keep his breathing regulated, but he couldn't see who was in the room and he would soon lose any element of surprise. He gathered himself to strike when a hand came down over his mouth and another grabbed the wrist under the pillow.
"Don't move. It is I," Leonardo growled above him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked as soon as Leonardo moved his hand.
"It has been a remarkably trying day, and I have need of a place where I can sit and think without being assaulted or kidnapped."
Girolamo wanted to ask but he merely motioned Leonardo to sit where he wanted. Leonardo sank onto the bed with a sigh. "Do you have any wine?"
"There is a bottle in the cupboard."
Leonardo lit several candles and went about finding the wine, not bothering with cups, while Girolamo propped himself up in the bed, trying to find a comfortable position where he could draw a deep breath without extreme pain. "Do you wish to talk about it?"
Hearing Leonardo tell the story of the day was like some kind of fantastical tale. Nico had been kidnapped by members of the Vatican guard and taken to Riario's camp. Although Nico had told them under torture that Leonardo had the key, he then led Riario and his men back to Leonardo's studio where he let them explode the rigged box, killing two of the guards.
"But not Riario?" Girolamo asked, heart in his throat.
"No, the two papal guards who were using their swords to chop the box open. Can you believe the courage Nico showed to lure them in and save himself?"
Girolamo shook his head. Leonardo went on to explain that the Medicis had come with Dragonetti to investigate and he'd lied, telling them that Riario wanted his designs for the musket and war machines. Lorenzo had ordered him to remain in the wreck of the studio for his own safety and work on his plans to perfect the musket's remaining design flaws, then left guards to watch and protect him.
From there, Leonardo told the tale of sneaking off to the tavern and his discovery that the key was, in fact, one of a pair cleverly made to work together. Girolamo bit his lip and tasted the fresh blood on his tongue. Then Leonardo described his discovery of the blind man whose testimony led him to the bookstore where he found the book which he had to toss to Zo for safety after the Vatican's guards attacked the trio. He was almost out of breath as he talked about the sword fight then his flight across Florence where he found refuge high on the face of the Duomo.
Girolamo shook his head again. "You have an unbelievable talent for finding the most unfortunate misadventures."
Leonardo grinned but it was a weary version of his usual cocky expression. "It's been a rather full day, yes."
"It also sounds like you've made a very dangerous enemy," Girolamo said slowly.
"You mean the pope's guard dog, Riario?"
"He's not a man to be trifled with. There are stories about him and his propensity for violence. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. Just...take care," was all he could bring himself to say.
"I have heard he is a monster. Anyone who would torture Nico could be nothing less." Girolamo was surprised when Leonardo touched the back of his hand, running his finger in a circle along the skin and bones. "He carved a hole into Nico's hand, right here, to make him talk. It looks ghastly. I'm afraid it is going to leave a scar." He squeezed Girolamo's hand and looked him in the eyes. "He seems to be the type of man who enjoys leaving scars."
Girolamo tried to pull away before he could help himself. "Leonardo—"
"Just don't say anything now that you are going to regret later."
"I am already full of regrets," he murmured, and Leonardo leaned in to kiss him, ignoring his injuries as he licked into his mouth with force and pulled him closer, jostling his sore ribs and making him hiss in pain.
"Girolamo, do you happen to read any Hebrew?"
Girolamo should have been used to the whiplash tone of conversations with the artista, but it took a moment for his mind to catch up from where Leonardo had started to kiss down his neck. "I do, actually, read a little, from Biblical texts."
Leonardo jumped up and retrieved a large book, the one he'd found in the book shop and claimed belonged to the man who had been hanged. Girolamo flipped through it, brow wrinkling as he recognized some of the characters, enough to understand. "This appears to be a treatise talking about the universe and astronomy."
"But nothing about the Book of Leaves?"
Girolamo hated to crush his eagerness, but he shook his head. "I'm sorry I cannot translate it all, but I do not see anything referring to that."
Leonardo sighed and took the book back. "I must go to Andrea. He knows Hebrew and will be able to hide me for a day or so."
"Or you can stay here?"
"I don't think that will be wise. If anyone knows about our acquaintance, the Vatican thugs may turn up here, and I will not risk you as well." Leonardo started to gather his things and blew out all the candles except the one beside the bed before he went to the door.
"Artista..."
"Yes?"
"Just take care. There are forces at work here that even you may have difficulty standing against."
Leonardo's grin was almost back to full power. "In that case, I'll have to find another equal but opposite force of my own."
And he left. Girolamo dragged himself to the bank the next morning but Giuliano intercepted him at once. Lorenzo had put him in charge of a feast the next evening to entertain Riario, and he was both angry and amused, full of plans to spite the Vatican's second in command.
The party later became one of Girolamo's most unforgettable memories. It was almost worth the beating he had taken just to see Pietro's face when Lorenzo called him a serpent in front of the room of nobles. The entire scene Giuliano had arranged was a perfect example of the extravagance, the overt sexuality, and the beauty that Florence boasted. Instead of seeing it for the excessive temptation he would have before, now Girolamo could also appreciate the humor of the entire situation.
That was improved only by the artista at his shoulder. Leonardo had approached him immediately after exchanging a few words with Lucrezia, and scribbled notes and tiny pictures—profiles, designs, portrait sketches—as he talked with Girolamo. After Lorenzo officially introduced Riario standing nearby, he felt Leonardo stare and stiffen. When the rest of the room started toward the feast tables, Leonardo held Girolamo back for a moment.
"Lord Riario has quite the fat lip. It looks like a recent injury to match his black eye."
"Perhaps he walked into a door," Girolamo said wryly.
"There is something about his eyes, though."
"It is said he greatly resembles his uncle."
Leonardo hummed and they followed the crowd to dinner. Girolamo lost sight of him sometime after the feast broke up into small groups for more drinking. When he looked around and realized Pietro and the Medicis were gone as well, he nearly panicked. He made his way to the central hall, having an idea to make his way upstairs towards Lorenzo's study where the men might be meeting.
Instead, he saw Leonardo standing on the landing of the stairs, staring off into space and drawing as hurriedly as ever in his book. Pietro was climbing the stairs toward his vulnerable back, and Girolamo clutched the hilt of his dagger. Leonardo took out his key from where it hung around his neck, and Pietro made his move.
Girolamo listened from the shadows as he first praised and complimented da Vinci, hoping to appeal to his ego, then moved right to the bribery. Leonardo was, as ever, on top form and his verbal sparring was as agile and effective as his ambidextrous sword wielding. Girolamo was impressed as he could see Pietro getting more and more frustrated as he demanded Leonardo give up both the key and his designs.
That's when his brother turned to thinly veiled threats. "If you do not value your own life, perhaps you value the life of another. I can find the one you desire and exploit that. There are myriad ways I can inflict suffering," Pietro said.
Leonardo sighed and Girolamo pulled back further into the shadows. He couldn't believe his ears when Leonardo agreed to meet Pietro early the next morning at the quarry, and he held his breath when the Medicis came into view behind a curtain across the great hall from him. He knew they had heard the end of the conversation, but they did not reveal themselves either.
He waited until Pietro stalked back the way he had come and the Medicis returned to the feast before he approached Leonardo.
"That scene was not as entertaining as the one earlier," he said in a low voice.
Leonardo barked out a laugh and turned to him. "It was meant to be educational, enlightening even, but it was not without its entertainment value."
"I failed to see that."
Leonardo reached for him, and Girolamo stepped into his arms, not caring they were in public surrounded by enemies in nearly every way. Leonardo ran his hands over his waist to his hips and pulled him closer. Girolamo grasped his shoulder and the back of his neck as Leonardo pressed their lips together.
"Lord Riario is not truly the legendary serpent of Eden, you know. He has nothing to offer that will tempt me," Leonardo said against his lips. "Now, if you were offering an alliance, perhaps I would have taken that fatal bite of forbidden fruit. Oh wait, that was your mistake," he teased.
Girolamo shut him up with a kiss until Leonardo pulled back. "If you were in trouble, would you tell me?" Leonardo asked him, hands running up to his ribs and pressing until Girolamo winced.
"If I were in trouble, there would be no point because you could not offer assistance."
"I would though. You've said I always manage to find a solution, even if it does involve an unexpected and perhaps completely unnecessary explosion."
"What are you going to do?" Girolamo asked in his most serious tone. Leonardo wouldn't look him in the eye, and Girolamo felt his blood go cold. "Artista," he said, even as Leonardo stepped away from their embrace, "come home with me tonight."
Leonardo had turned to face the upper stairs and wouldn't look at him. "I cannot. I have matters to see to."
"Leonardo, what do you have planned?"
"Your voice is shaking," he said in amazement, finally turning to Girolamo. "Is it fear? For me or of me?"
"If I am afraid, it is only for your welfare," Girolamo clenched his fists at his side to keep himself from reaching out again. "There are reasons why Riario has the reputation he does. You may think you are winning the game when in actuality, he is planning another move that you will never see coming. Do not meet him tomorrow. Do not give in to his demands. We will figure something out. We—"
Leonardo grabbed the back of his neck roughly and pulled their heads together until their foreheads touched. Girolamo closed his eyes and breathed in the essence of the man he had come to know so well.
"I will return to you tomorrow."
"Leonardo—"
"I will return and we will have a very long talk."
Girolamo could barely swallow from the tension in his body, couldn't speak so he nodded, his head bumping Leonardo's, who simply dropped a kiss onto his forehead and turned, walking away without a glance behind.
Girolamo went home and started praying—for a miracle, for peace, for hope—for what he wasn't sure, but the fears flowed out of his heart and through his lips in his prayers. One way or the other, he feared his future would be decided on the morrow, and if he wanted to take some measure of control over it, he had better prepare himself.
He had spent his entire life living under the strict law of the monastery only to replace it with the even harsher rules of his father. He lived, he breathed, he iexisted/i for a higher calling that he felt only when he was obeying his father's orders and pleasing him.
Living in Florence had given him a taste of freedom he'd never experienced before, but he hadn't enjoyed it fully because the shame and guilt from his past never left him. But, almost against his will, he had made friends, he had fulfilling work, and God help him, he had some kind of relationship with the artista.
Perhaps most importantly, he'd seen what his holy father, the pope, surely did not want anyone to learn—the people of Florence worshipped, conducted themselves as faithful followers, but not to the pope on earth. It was eye-opening to find that Lorenzo and his family were not enemies of God, but were instead rebelling against the man on earth who claimed to be His representative yet employed men like Pietro to torture and kill indiscriminately.
Leonardo was the most difficult part of the equation. Girolamo didn't know if he could or should throw away his faith and his family for something as ephemeral and mercurial as the artista. He debated whether he should ride out to the quarry and do … something. He didn't even know what, but he hated the thought of Leonardo caught in the middle between Pietro and the Medicis.
After a night spent praying and pacing, it was definitely anti-climactic to return to the bank, but he didn't know what else to do. Only a handful of clerks were there, and everyone was gossiping about where the Medicis had ridden off to so urgently that morning.
When Girolamo heard the commotion from outside that usually heralded the return of important guests, he all but flew to the door. Giuliano had just dismounted and hailed him. He was smiling but the expression told Girolamo nothing until he had grabbed his horse's bridle.
"We put a nail in Rome's coffin today, Girolamo," Giuliano said loudly.
"Do not announce that here," Lorenzo dismounted and cuffed his brother in the head. He looked at Girolamo curiously before sweeping into the building, Becchi at his heels.
"What happened exactly?"
"We showed the Roman delegation a taste of Florence's might. We are not as toothless as they have assumed!"
Girolamo ground his own teeth in frustration. "What about the artista?"
Giuliano blinked. "What about him?"
"Is he alive?"
"Well, certainly, why wouldn't he be?"
It was all Girolamo could do not to strike him in sheer frustration. "I'm taking the rest of the day off."
"You probably should. You don't look like you're feeling well."
As he stalked off, he felt Giuliano's stare, but he didn't care anymore. It might not matter for long after what he had to do.
He let himself into the wreckage of Leonardo's workshop, finally finding him sitting at an empty table in his bedroom.
"Leonardo," Girolamo called out, suddenly relieved that the man really was in one piece.
"Are you here to kill me?"
The voice as much as the words made Girolamo stop in his tracks. "What happened?"
Leonardo sighed. He sat at the table, head in his hand and rubbed his face. He suddenly looked his age, which must be similar to Girolamo's, but without his usual energy, he appeared older. "The musket worked perfectly, all too well. I killed six men today."
Girolamo sucked in a breath. "Was Riario one of them?"
"No, the bastard was too smart and ducked just in time. I thought he'd sent you here as a last resort."
"I am not, and have never been, an assassin. It's rather my biggest failing."
"But you are..."
"I am a bastard son of his holiness and half-brother to Pietro. My true name is Girolamo Riario."
Leonardo looked up at him, eyes piercing. "And why are you in Florence, Riario?"
"I was sent here to gain as much information as I could about the Medici bank and the state of Florence. Pietro wanted me to find out what information I could to send the bank into chaos to allow Rome to default on its loans so they could get an extended line of credit with conspirators. I was to send any information I could about potential weakness in the republic that Rome could exploit to sow discord because Rome's goal is not only to take over the republic but all the wealth of Florence."
Leonardo seemed surprised that he had told the truth so readily. "The Medicis could execute you for treason."
"Yes, they could."
Leonardo rubbed at his mouth and scrubbed the hand over his face again. "You obviously told them about me."
Girolamo paused but remembered his vow to himself to tell the complete truth. "Yes. I had to make a report at Easter."
"And if I were to turn you in, right now, to Lorenzo de Medici, what would you have to say about yourself."
Girolamo answered without hesitation. "I have learned much about Florence. I have come to see what is so attractive in it and to care about it—you are the perfect representation of it. Wild and passionate, creative and insane, but loving life, art, and knowledge and its pursuit. You are the spirit of Florence and I have seen it all and come to care more than I'd thought."
"Your brother beat you. Why?"
"Because I didn't give him the information he wanted."
"About me?"
Girolamo only inclined his head.
"You didn't have the information or you wouldn't give it to him?"
Girolamo didn't answer, suddenly unsure of his own motives. Leonardo pressed on.
"Do you have any mitigating evidence for yourself, any other reason why I shouldn't report you to the Medicis immediately?"
"You must do what you will. No matter what you choose, I want you to know something. My brother has the other key. It hangs around his neck, similar to yours. I don't know anything about it or the Book of Leaves. They never trusted me enough to share that knowledge, but Lupo Mercuri, the keeper of the Secret Archives, Pietro, and my father—they know something. The key must be important or Pietro would never keep it that close."
"Do you expect this information to impress me enough to save your life?"
Girolamo shook his head. "No, I will not attempt to bribe you as my brother did. I only want you to know the truth."
Leonardo made a sound of disgust and kicked a chair with his boot. "Sit down. You're making me tired, standing there at attention."
Girolamo hadn't even realized he'd been standing in the position his father and brother expected until that moment. When he went to ease, his muscles and bruises ached all over again.
"We're two good ones, aren't we? Two opposite sides of a very confused coin. I expect you had a proper Roman upbringing steeped in the traditions of the church while I am the bastard child of the liberal Florence art world."
"I have come to believe that my father does not speak for the church," Girolamo said carefully. "His ambitions and sins are all his own, as are my brother's."
"So what do we do now?" Leonardo leaned his elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand.
"I had thought that you would make that decision. Whether to take revenge against me yourself or surrender me to the Medicis."
"You are not following Riario back to Rome?" Leonardo asked in surprise, but Girolamo only shook his head, unable to say the words. "Are you willing to give up being a spy?"
"There are secrets not my own that I cannot divulge. I will not have anyone else punished because of my actions," he said, thinking of Lucrezia and her own tenuous position. Leonardo seemed to understand. "I can no longer in good faith deliver information to Rome knowing and fearing how they will use it. I throw myself on the mercy of the ones I have wronged—you and the Medicis."
Leonardo looked up at him quickly, fingers starting to twitch. "You will allow those you have injured to decide your punishment? And would you say I have born the greatest injury, since you seduced me to steal all manner of my secret designs and give them to the enemy?Heaven only knows what other information you handed over that could come back and damage me."
Girolamo nodded tightly.
"Therefore, I should be the one to decide the penalty first, before you face what the Medicis might dole out. Then I shall pass my judgment upon you now."
Girolamo closed his eyes and waited for the blow.
"Since you have admitted your guilt to the charge of theft, I order you to serve me to repay everything you stole."
Girolamo's eyes flew open and he stared at Leonardo in amazement. He was staring back with some bemusement but also as serious as Girolamo had ever seen him.
"How, exactly, am I to do that?"
"You can start by keeping your secret from the Medicis. You have been a spy long enough to know how to protect your interests. You have sworn off working for Rome; now you will work for ime./i I will expect you to assist me with building and testing my designs and making them fully functional. And it can only benefit me to have an ally with the Medicis when I require more funding. You can exploit your relationship with that oaf Giuliano and keep them out of my workshop at critical times."
Girolamo almost laughed, but Leonardo wasn't done.
"You can write down everything you ever told Rome about Florence and the bank, and I will find a way to let Lorenzo know without exposing you. Then he can take steps to protect whatever may have been compromised."
"Is that all?"
Leonardo looked at him sternly. "I believe that I will be an onerous maestro, and I might strap you into an experimental flying machine from time to time for testing. But more than anything, I will demand total and complete loyalty."
"That is all I can offer," Girolamo said in a cracked voice he barely recognized as his own.
"Then you will start immediately. Go, fetch me those pomegranates."
Girolamo stood and found the bowl of fruit and returned to place it at Leonardo's elbow. Leonardo grabbed his arm immediately. "This can work," he said, all his natural arrogance and optimism reasserting itself. "It iwill/i work. Together we can keep Florence safe from Rome."
Girolamo let his lips twitch into a sad smile. "Rome and the Riarios will not stop. You've given Pietro a bitter blow to his pride, and he will never forget it. He will do everything in his power to make you rue the day you were born."
"Let him try. I've got a secret weapon now." Leonardo stood abruptly and embraced him. "I told you that I can always find a solution to any problem that presents itself."
"We just have yet to see the explosion from this one," Girolamo said in a low voice, knowing Leonardo would hear him. "It could still all blow up in our faces."
"Not if we can help it," Leonardo said then laughed and pulled him toward the bed. "Now, obey your maesto and come satisfy him. I believe I am getting my second wind for the day."
"Yes, my lord."
Leonardo turned, smiling, and kissed him, and Girolamo breathed in a new beginning full of possibilities.
The end
Huge thanks to everyone who read this! Thank you! This prompt grabbed me and wouldn't let go, and it was harder for me to cut out what I couldn't write rather than figuring out what to include. Thank you all for bearing with me! Let's all enjoy our last season together and wish for more!
