The air in the brothel felt heavier after the violence of the encounter, the coppery scent of blood mingling with the heady perfumes that clung to the place. Amelia wiped the back of her hand across her brow, her pulse still racing from the intensity of the fight. Her thoughts were a tangled mess—partly relieved that she'd stopped the killer, partly shaken by how close the danger had come. But she didn't let any of it show as she turned to Sister Teodora and Antonio, her expression set in grim determination.
Sister Teodora stepped forward, her features softening as she inclined her head. "You have our gratitude, Amelia. You've saved another of my girls."
Amelia nodded, offering a tight smile. "Just doing what I had to. He wasn't going to hurt anyone else," she replied, glancing toward the man's body, now being dragged away by Antonio's men. She took a breath, willing her racing heart to slow, even as the adrenaline still buzzed in her veins.
Antonio shook his head, a wry grin on his lips. "Why is it wherever you go, trouble follows?"
Amelia let out a soft, humorless chuckle, running a hand through her hair. "It's a gift, Antonio," she said, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "But we both know there's more to worry about than just a single man with a blade. This city's changed, and not for the better."
Before Antonio could respond, Ezio's voice cut in, serious and focused. "Antonio. I trust you know why I'm here?"
The shift in Ezio's tone drew Amelia's attention back to him. She could see the tension in his posture, the sharpness in his gaze. There was a weight there—something that went beyond their reunion, something that pressed heavily on both of them. She watched as Antonio's easy demeanor slipped away, replaced by a look of understanding.
"I imagine to rid Venice of Marco Barbarigo?" Antonio said, his smile turning grim. "But really, Ezio, we did this once already! And this new Templar Doge is a bigger *culo* (ass) than the last. Nevermind that he NEVER leaves the Palazzo."
Sister Teodora interjected, her voice smooth and confident. "Yes. Except... for tonight. Marco wouldn't dare miss Carnevale."
Ezio's brow furrowed, his curiosity piqued. "How do you know this?"
Teodora's lips curved into a knowing smile. "In fact, he's throwing the biggest party of them all. But getting in won't be so simple. You'll need a golden mask for entry. And before you think about forging one, keep in mind, each mask is numbered."
Amelia's thoughts immediately shifted to strategy, her mind racing with possibilities. It wouldn't be easy, but they had options. She caught Ezio's eye, giving a small nod to signal that she was thinking through a plan of her own.
Teodora continued, glancing between them. "Fortunately for you, I have an idea. Let's see if we can't WIN you a mask."
As they made their way outside, the evening air wrapped around them like a cool shroud, a welcome contrast to the stuffy warmth of the brothel. Amelia took in the sights around her—the vibrant colors of the Carnevale, the laughter and music that filled the air. But beneath the festivities, she felt the tension simmering, a reminder that their enemies lurked even in the shadows of celebration.
Ezio walked beside her, and for a moment, they shared a silence that was almost comfortable. It was strange, this feeling of being both familiar and uncertain around him after so long. She glanced sidelong at him, studying the way he moved through the crowd with a grace that spoke of both a warrior and a man who had been away too long.
Before she could voice the questions that pressed at the back of her mind, Teodora broke the silence. "What is it, my son? You want to ask me something?"
Ezio gave her a half-smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. "I do. Forgive me, but—why is it you wear a nun's habit if you aren't one?"
Teodora laughed, a rich sound that cut through the night. "Well, whoever said I wasn't? Indeed, I am married to the Lord."
Amelia couldn't help but smirk at that, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she listened. Ezio, ever the curious one, pressed on. "And yet you are also a courtesan? You run a bordello."
"So? I see no contradiction," Teodora replied, her voice light but firm. "How I choose to practice my faith—what I choose to do with my body—these are my choices to make."
Amelia stayed silent, but she found herself respecting Teodora's words, the strength in them. It wasn't often that someone in this city dared to forge their own path so boldly.
They reached the edge of the square where the Carnevale festivities had begun in full swing. The air thrummed with energy, the cheers of the crowd rising as games and contests kicked off. A caller stood on a makeshift stage, announcing the main event.
"Signore e Signori, (Ladies and gentlemen), come one come all! The Games of Carnevale are about to begin. Do you have the coraggio (courage) to compete for as grand a prize as this?"
Amelia's attention sharpened as a man stepped forward, holding up a golden mask that gleamed in the torchlight. She recognized the look in Ezio's eyes as he took in the sight of the mask—determination mingled with a challenge.
But as the crowd gathered and the competition began, Amelia leaned closer to him, lowering her voice. "You go after that mask, Ezio. I'll... handle things my own way." She shot him a look, one that held a hint of mischief, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them.
Ezio arched an eyebrow at her, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "Just try not to get into too much trouble, amica mia (my friend)." He reached out, brushing a hand against her arm, a gesture that spoke of a thousand things left unsaid.
She smirked, the corners of her mouth twitching up despite the tension. "No promises."
As Ezio disappeared into the crowd to compete, Amelia slipped away, her mind focused on the plan she had crafted in the span of a few breaths. It was risky, but risks were something she had grown accustomed to in the years she had spent in Venice. Her target was an older man, one of the wealthy patrons who clutched his golden mask as if it were a lifeline. He didn't notice her until she was already at his side, her movements fluid and graceful, the mask slipping from his grasp without him realizing it.
She vanished into the shadows before he could react, the golden mask cool and smooth in her hands. There was a thrill in the ease of it, the rush of pulling off a trick that would have had Ezio raising an approving eyebrow. She allowed herself a small, satisfied smile as she made her way back toward the rendezvous point.
But when she arrived, she found Ezio waiting, a fresh bruise blooming on his cheek, and a look of frustration darkening his features. He glanced at her, his expression turning wry as he took in the sight of the mask in her hands.
"You're in better shape than I am," he remarked dryly, gesturing to his bruised face. "Let me guess—yours was easier?"
Amelia sighed, handing him the mask with a reluctant smile. "It wasn't without its challenges, but I think you got the worse end of the deal." She paused, her expression softening as she met his gaze. "Come on, let's head back to the bordello."
The night air was alive with the energy of Carnevale, music and laughter drifting through the narrow Venetian alleys as masked revelers moved from one celebration to the next. Lights danced off the water of the canals, casting a shimmering reflection that gave the city an almost dreamlike glow. Amelia adjusted her own mask, the weight of the smooth gold unfamiliar against her face. The mask had once belonged to a wealthy patron, but now it was in Ezio's possession—thanks to her. The thought made her smile, though it was laced with a tinge of frustration.
As they made their way toward the entrance of the Doge's grand party, Amelia couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure. She was dressed in the vibrant silks of a courtesan, the fabric hugging her frame more tightly than she would have liked, and the mask only made her feel more conspicuous. This wasn't the kind of work she usually did—she was more accustomed to the shadows, to slipping through the city unnoticed.
Ezio, sensing her unease, caught her hand briefly as they walked, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You'll be all right, Amelia. Just blend in with the courtesans, and no one will think twice."
She shot him a dry look, trying to maintain her composure despite the nervous flutter in her chest. "Easy for you to say—you're not the one parading around in a dress that feels like a second skin."
He chuckled, the sound low and warm, even beneath his own mask. "I don't know, amica mia—I think it suits you." His tone softened, his gaze lingering on her. "Besides, you're... beautiful tonight."
Amelia's cheeks flushed beneath the mask, but she brushed it off with a smirk. "Don't get used to it, Auditore. I'd rather be in armor any day." Still, his words settled warmly in her chest, bolstering her as they approached the entrance.
At the gates of the Doge's estate, the guards stepped aside, letting Ezio and Amelia through with barely a glance. The courtesans with her giggled and whispered, their voices mingling with the music, and she followed their lead, letting the performance come naturally. She cast a glance back at Ezio as they entered the crowded courtyard, watching as he moved alongside them, his posture relaxed yet alert.
The party was in full swing, the wealthy and the powerful gathered in clusters beneath the opulent decorations of the courtyard. Lanterns cast pools of golden light across the faces of the revelers, and the air was thick with the scent of wine and roasted meats. Amelia kept her head low, mingling among the courtesans while keeping an eye on Ezio. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses surrounded them, but beneath the surface, tension simmered.
Ezio's jaw clenched as his eyes locked onto Marco Barbarigo, standing on a stage just beyond the edge of the dock, preening like a peacock before the crowd. The man radiated smugness, his voice booming over the festivities as he addressed the gathered guests.
"Benvenuti! (Welcome!) Welcome, my friends, to the grandest social event of the season!" Marco spread his arms wide, basking in the attention of the crowd. "At peace or at war, in times of prosperity or paucity—Venezia will always have Carnevale!"
Amelia sidled closer to Ezio's side, keeping her voice low as she spoke. "He's not leaving that boat anytime soon, is he?" She could see the wheels turning behind Ezio's eyes, his frustration evident in the way his fingers twitched at his side.
"Merda (Shit)," he muttered under his breath, glancing between Marco's pompous figure and the guards that lined the docks. "I'll have to swim out there."
Sister Teodora, who had slipped in beside them, shook her head sharply. "I wouldn't try it. You'd be spotted right away."
Ezio's frustration flared, but he held it in check, his tone clipped. "Then I'll fight my way out th—"
"Wait," Teodora interjected, her eyes brightening with an idea. She gestured subtly to Ezio's wrist. "Your pistola (pistol)! The one you stopped the murderer with. It's as loud as those explosions. Time it right, and you'll walk out of here unnoticed."
Ezio considered her words, a slow smile creeping across his lips as he nodded. "I like the way you think, Sister." He glanced back at Amelia, his expression softening for just a moment. "Stay close to the girls. I'll be back before you know it."
Amelia caught his hand briefly, squeezing it tightly before letting go. "Just don't miss, Ezio. We've come too far to botch this now."
He gave her a wink, slipping back into the crowd with the fluidity of a shadow. Amelia watched him go, her heart pounding harder than she cared to admit. There was always risk in what they did—risk she'd grown accustomed to—but tonight felt different. Tonight, she felt every second stretch out like an eternity, waiting for the moment when everything could go wrong.
She fell in step with the courtesans, forcing herself to keep up the charade as they danced and mingled with the guests. Her laughter was forced, her gaze darting constantly toward the dock where Marco continued his speech, oblivious to the danger that lingered just beyond the flickering light of the lanterns.
The tension tightened in her chest as she caught a glimpse of Ezio positioning himself, his movements calculated and precise as he waited for the right moment. The fireworks crackled above, and for a moment, all sound seemed to fade as he raised the pistol, aiming with a steady hand.
The shot rang out, a crack that blended seamlessly with the booming fireworks, and Marco's triumphant speech cut off abruptly. He staggered, clutching his chest as the crowd gasped, chaos erupting in the blink of an eye. Amelia forced herself to turn away, blending back into the revelers as panicked shouts filled the air.
She could see Ezio already making his retreat, slipping toward the water's edge with practiced ease. But the guards were already closing in, drawn by the commotion. Amelia took a deep breath, her muscles tensing as she prepared herself for what came next.
"Sister Teodora, take the girls and go," she whispered fiercely. Teodora gave her a nod, gathering the courtesans and pulling them away from the chaos. She followed after Ezio as quickly as she could. Though with only a single dagger on her when realized she wouldn't be of much help.
Please continue this scene where she goes after Ezio and a guard takes a liking to her, thinking she is real courtesan. With her dagger at her thigh and the guard panning her hands she struggles against him as he kisses at her neck. She calls out for Ezio. The guard punches her and then a gun shot rings out and Ezio has killed him. He escorts her back to the bordello to meet with Antonio and Sister Teodoro.
Amelia watched as Sister Teodora herded the courtesans away from the growing chaos, slipping into the shadows with their skirts rustling like whispers against the night. Amelia's heart thudded in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her veins making her feel alive and on edge all at once. She couldn't stand idly by while Ezio risked his life alone. With only her dagger strapped to her thigh beneath the thin silk of her courtesan's disguise, she slipped through the side streets, following the path she'd seen Ezio take.
The echoes of panicked cries and the clanging of swords against swords reverberated through the alleys, but Amelia focused on the route she believed would lead her to him. Her pulse quickened with every step, a knot of worry tightening in her chest. She cursed herself for feeling so exposed, wishing she had more than just a slender dagger at her disposal.
Turning a corner, she nearly collided with a patrol of guards. Quickly, she ducked into the shadows, pressing herself against the cool stone wall as they marched past. She waited, her breath held, before she darted back into the open, her gaze scanning the rooftops and the darkened alleys, searching for any sign of Ezio.
But before she could take another step, a hand shot out, grabbing her roughly by the wrist. Amelia spun around, eyes wide as she found herself face to face with a leering guard, his breath hot against her skin.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" he drawled, his eyes glinting with an ugly curiosity as he took in her attire. "A lost little courtesan, wandering where she shouldn't be?"
Amelia's mind raced as she fumbled for her dagger, but the guard's grip tightened painfully, twisting her wrist until her fingers went numb. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she forced herself to keep her expression calm, even as panic fluttered in her stomach.
"Get your hands off me," she snarled, her voice low and dangerous, but the guard only laughed, his fingers trailing down her arm in a way that made her skin crawl.
"Oh, but you're so pretty," he murmured, leaning closer until his breath fanned across her neck, his free hand pawing at the thin fabric of her disguise. "And I've got time for a little... entertainment."
She tried to twist away, but he was stronger, his body pressing her back against the wall. The rough stone scraped against her shoulders, and her heart pounded in her ears as he forced her head back, his lips grazing the curve of her neck. She bit back a cry, her hands scrabbling for the dagger still hidden beneath the fabric, but his grip on her tightened, bruising her skin.
"Let go of me!" she gasped, panic seeping into her voice as she struggled against him. She managed to get her fingers around the hilt of her dagger, but before she could draw it, the guard's fist connected with her jaw, sending a burst of pain through her skull. The world spun, her vision blurring, and she tasted blood as she staggered, her back slamming into the wall.
"Ezio!" she choked out, the sound ragged and desperate, her head ringing from the impact. The guard sneered, his grip like a vice on her wrist, but his expression faltered when a sharp, deafening crack split the air.
The guard jerked, his eyes widening in shock before he crumpled to the ground, a dark stain blooming across his chest. Amelia blinked, trying to steady herself, her vision swimming as she struggled to make sense of what had just happened. A shadow moved toward her, and she felt strong hands catching her before she could collapse to the ground.
"Amelia," Ezio's voice cut through the haze, his tone edged with worry. He steadied her, his hand lingering against her cheek as he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. His brow furrowed as he took in the bruise already forming on her jaw, the anger in his eyes barely contained. "I've got you."
She tried to force a smile, her fingers clutching weakly at his sleeve. "Took you long enough, Auditore," she muttered, but her voice wavered with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. The pain throbbed in her jaw, but she leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his presence anchoring her to the moment.
Ezio's expression softened, though the tension in his jaw remained. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, making sure the area was clear, before turning his attention back to her. "Can you walk?"
Amelia nodded, though her legs felt unsteady beneath her. "Yeah, I think so," she whispered, swallowing back the tremor in her voice. "Let's get out of here."
With his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, Ezio guided her through the winding alleys, his movements quick and purposeful as they made their way back toward the brothel. Amelia leaned against him, grateful for the steady support he provided, though a part of her chafed at her own vulnerability.
When they reached the safety of the brothel, Sister Teodora and Antonio were waiting at the entrance, their expressions a mix of relief and concern as they took in Amelia's disheveled state. Teodora reached out, brushing a gentle hand against Amelia's cheek.
"You're safe now," Teodora murmured, her eyes softening with sympathy. "We owe you both a debt."
Amelia managed a tired smile, glancing back at Ezio, who hadn't moved more than a step away from her side. "It's... nothing," she said quietly, though the memory of the guard's hands on her still made her skin crawl. "Just... a close call."
The adrenaline of the night's events lingered in her veins, but exhaustion pulled at her bones, making her feel unsteady on her feet. She could still hear the cheers and murmurs from the courtesans behind her, their voices a blend of relief and admiration.
"Beautifully done!" one of them called out, her voice carrying a bright, musical lilt.
"Che spettacolo! Che spettacolo!" another echoed, her hands clapping together with a flourish.
Amelia offered them a faint, grateful smile, but her mind was elsewhere—on the man she'd followed through the chaos, the man who had once again managed to upend everything she thought she knew about herself.
Sister Teodora's voice cut through the commotion, gentle yet firm as she beckoned Amelia closer. "You must be exhausted, child. Come. Relax."
Amelia nodded, catching sight of Antonio standing beside Teodora, his arms folded across his chest, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Ah! The savior of Venezia! What can I say?" he said with a chuckle. "Perhaps it was wrong of me to doubt so readily. Now we'll see where all the pieces fall..."
Teodora shook her head at him, her expression softening as she looked back at Amelia. "Enough of that now. You've worked hard, my dear. And you—" She turned her attention to Ezio, who was standing at her side, a gentle hand on her back. "You must be exhausted as well. I feel your tired body in need of comfort and succor."
Ezio let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Ah, the only comfort I need is a bath and a hot meal."
"I'll see to it that you get your bath, Ezio," Sister Teodora said.
Amelia balanced the dinner tray carefully as she made her way down the hallway toward Ezio's room, her heart still racing from the night's events. The memory of the masked revelry, the chase, and the moments of danger clung to her like the lingering scent of the canal's waters. Her courtesan disguise, with its rich silks and delicate lace, felt like an uncomfortable second skin, and she looked forward to the moment she could shed it. But there was one more thing she had to do first.
She knocked on the door, waiting for Ezio's muffled call before she nudged it open with her hip, stepping inside. The warmth of the room hit her, mingling with the herbal steam that curled from the bath where Ezio rested. He sat with his head leaning back against the edge of the tub, his arms draped over the sides, and he looked up as she entered, a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he took in her appearance.
"You brought dinner?" he asked, amusement lacing his words as his gaze lingered for just a moment on the silken folds of her dress. His tone was playful, but she caught the weariness in his expression, the way the tension from the night still clung to his shoulders.
Amelia offered a small, wry smile, setting the tray down on the nearby table. "Figured you'd be hungry after all that excitement," she replied, her voice carrying a teasing edge. "You always seem to forget that even the most wanted men in Venice need to eat."
Ezio chuckled softly, the sound warming the space between them. He shifted in the tub, adjusting his position, but she noticed the way his gaze followed her as she crossed the room, his expression growing a touch more serious. "I'm not the only one who's had a long night," he said, the concern in his tone catching her off guard. "Are you... alright?"
She paused, glancing over at him, and for a moment, the mask she'd been wearing slipped away, revealing the weariness she felt beneath. "I'm fine, Ezio," she said softly, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice. "It's just... been a while since I've had to wear one of these dresses."
She could see the tension ease in his shoulders as she spoke, and he offered her a small, understanding smile. "You wear it well," he said, his voice gentler than she expected. "Though I suppose I'm a little biased."
Amelia's smirk returned, though her heart softened at his words. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she shot back, but there was no real bite to her tone.
As she moved to the side of the room, she caught sight of the wooden screen near the hearth, its intricate carvings casting long shadows against the walls. The idea came to her almost unbidden, a chance to lighten the mood, to bring a bit of humor into the heaviness that lingered between them.
She stepped behind the screen, her hands working to unlace the bodice of her courtesan attire. The silk fabric whispered against her skin as she slipped out of the disguise, leaving her in a simple shift. She couldn't resist the urge to tease him, pausing just long enough to let the silhouette of her movements be visible against the screen.
"You know," she called out, her tone casual as she adjusted the shift over her shoulders, "if you wanted me to join you, you only had to ask."
There was a splash of water from the tub, followed by the sound of Ezio clearing his throat. She could practically hear his thoughts scrambling as he tried to maintain his composure. "You're playing a dangerous game, Amelia," he muttered, though there was a roughness to his voice that betrayed the effect her words had on him.
She stepped out from behind the screen, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as she met his gaze, her expression turning a touch wicked. "And here I thought you liked a little danger."
Ezio let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're incorrigible."
"Perhaps," she replied lightly, settling down beside the table where she'd laid out their meal. She tore off a piece of bread, handing it to him with a smirk. "But at least I'm incorrigible and well-fed."
Ezio accepted the bread, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully as he watched her. The playful banter hung between them, a welcome distraction from the turmoil of the night, and for a moment, the world beyond the room seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in the quiet glow of candlelight.
As she turned back to adjust the screen, she paused, a flicker of something softer crossing her expression. Leaning in close, she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, her lips brushing against the damp strands of his hair. "Get some rest, Ezio," she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of tenderness she couldn't quite hide. "You've earned it."
Ezio's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected gesture, but he offered her a lopsided smile, a warmth creeping into his gaze that she couldn't quite decipher. "Thank you, Amelia," he murmured, his voice roughened by exhaustion and something deeper. "For everything."
She gave a small nod, feeling her heart twist with an emotion she wasn't ready to name. Then, without another word, she moved away from the tub, settling down in front of the fireplace with a book she had borrowed from Leonardo's collection. She could feel Ezio's gaze lingering on her for a moment longer, but when she glanced back, he had closed his eyes, the tension finally easing from his frame as he let the warmth of the bath envelop him. It wasn't very long before his breathing became heavy and she could tell that he had nodded off in the water. Amelia turned her attention to the flickering flames, her thoughts drifting as she listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
For a while, they simply sat in silence, the quiet punctuated by the occasional sound of the water from the bath sloshing as Ezio shifted in his sleep. It had been a long time since Amelia had felt a sense of peace and normalcy, but as she sat there with him not too far from her, a wave of calm washed over her, so unexpected and intense that it made her breath catch. It was overwhelming, this feeling of safety, of knowing that despite everything they had been through, they were here together.
She clutched the book to her chest, holding it like a lifeline as the emotions welled up within her, raw and unbidden. Tears stung at her eyes, blurring her vision as she tried to keep her breathing steady, not wanting to disturb the fragile tranquility of the moment. Her heart ached with the weight of all she had kept buried for so long—the fear, the uncertainty, the loneliness she had pushed down during those long years when she didn't know if she would ever see him again.
She had been strong for so long, carrying on despite the pain of his absence, telling herself that she could manage on her own. And she had, more or less. But sitting here now, with the warmth of the fire on her skin and the steady rhythm of Ezio's breathing filling the room, she realized just how much she had missed having someone by her side, someone who understood the darkness that they fought against.
It wasn't just relief she felt—it was gratitude, too. A deep, unyielding gratitude that he was alive and with her again. For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to remember how close she had come to losing him, how many times she had feared that his next letter might never arrive. The thought of what might have been—of a world where he had been lost to the shadows of the Templars—was enough to twist her stomach in knots.
But he was here. He had come back, with that familiar crooked smile and the same fire in his eyes, and somehow, despite all the uncertainty that lay before them, she believed that they might find a way through this together.
She turned her head slightly, her gaze resting on his face, softened by sleep and the glow of the firelight. There were new lines etched into his features, signs of the battles he had fought without her, but there was a gentleness too—an openness that had not been there before. It made her chest tighten, her heart stuttering in a way that left her breathless.
A part of her wanted to reach out and trace the curve of his jaw, to brush away the stray lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. But she held back, afraid to shatter the delicate balance they had found, afraid of what might come spilling out if she allowed herself to cross that line. Instead, she clutched the book tighter, letting the tears slip silently down her cheeks, one after another.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the fire and the quiet weight of Ezio's presence wrap around her like a blanket. It was enough to simply sit here, to be close to him in the stillness of the night, to believe that perhaps, in this small, fleeting moment, they could forget the darkness that lingered at the edges of their world.
When she opened her eyes again, she let out a long, shaky breath and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. This peace wouldn't last, she knew that much. But maybe, just for tonight, they could pretend that it did.
The water in the bath sloshed gently as Ezio shifted, preparing to climb out. Amelia did her best to keep her focus on the book in her hands, but the sound of the water, paired with the knowledge of him rising from the tub, made it impossible for her to concentrate. She could hear the soft scrape of his footsteps on the stone floor as he stepped out, the rustling of fabric as he reached for a drying cloth. Her cheeks warmed at the thought, and she found herself staring determinedly at the fire, willing the heat from the flames to account for the sudden flush on her face.
Ezio, of course, was far too observant to miss the opportunity. "Are you blushing, Amelia?" he teased, his voice carrying a lazy drawl that made her bristle with both embarrassment and a reluctant smile.
She turned her head just enough to give him a pointed look, her cheeks burning even hotter. "You wish, Auditore," she shot back, but her voice was unsteady, betraying her.
His laughter rumbled softly through the room, and she heard the soft thud of the drying cloth being tossed aside. "Don't worry," he continued, his tone low and teasing. "I won't hold it against you. After all, it's not every day a man like me makes a lady blush."
She rolled her eyes, doing her best to maintain her composure as she turned another page of the book, though the words blurred before her. "It's just the heat from the fire," she retorted, trying to regain her footing in their playful banter. But even as she spoke, she knew he could see right through her.
Ezio's chuckle was warm, and she could hear him moving across the room, the gentle padding of his bare feet. She risked a glance up, catching sight of him as he finished dressing, pulling a loose linen shirt over his shoulders. His dark hair was still damp, and he ran a hand through it, pushing it back from his face as he met her gaze with a mischievous smirk.
He crossed the room to join her by the fire, dropping down beside her with an easy grace that made her pulse quicken. Without a word, he shifted her forward, and before she could react, he had settled back against the armrest, guiding her so that she rested against his chest. Her back pressed against the warmth of his body, and she felt his arms drape loosely around her waist, holding her in place with a casual intimacy that left her breathless.
"Ezio..." she began, her voice barely more than a whisper, but he interrupted her with a gentle nudge, his chin brushing the top of her head.
"Keep reading, Amelia," he murmured, his voice softer now, a quiet request. "Read to me."
For a moment, she hesitated, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her, the solid warmth of his presence wrapping around her like a cocoon. But there was a vulnerability in his tone that she couldn't ignore, a longing for a moment of calm amidst the storm that had become their lives. So she swallowed back her nerves and turned her attention to the book in her hands, her fingers brushing over the worn pages as she searched for her place.
Her voice trembled at first, but as she read aloud, she found a rhythm, the words weaving a story that filled the quiet space between them. She felt the tension in his body slowly ease, his breathing deepening as he relaxed into the sound of her voice. And though the fire continued to crackle softly in the hearth, she was acutely aware of the steady beat of his heart beneath her, a constant reminder that they were not alone in this uncertain world.
She leaned back against him slightly, her head resting against his shoulder as she read on, allowing herself to savor the rare closeness of the moment. It was a fragile thing, this connection between them—something she hadn't allowed herself to believe could exist outside the chaos of their lives. But as the minutes stretched on and the story unfolded, she found herself hoping that maybe, just maybe, there could be more nights like this, with the city quiet around them and the weight of the past held at bay.
She felt the brush of his breath against her hair, warm and steady, and she allowed herself to close her eyes for just a moment, letting the words flow like a gentle river between them. In that small, stolen space, it was enough.