Amelia stood with her back pressed against the cold stone wall of the Vatican, her breath coming in quiet, controlled puffs. The chill of the marble seeped through her clothing, but she welcomed it—it sharpened her focus, keeping her mind clear as they approached their final target. Beside her, Ezio's presence was a steadying force, a reminder that she wasn't alone in this fight. She cast a sideways glance at him, catching the determined set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders. She knew that, like her, he was thinking of all the lives lost and the pain they had endured to get here.
They moved together in perfect synchronization, slipping through the shadows of the Vatican's corridors. Amelia's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing with the weight of what they were about to face. When they reached the top of a parapet, Ezio turned to her, his expression softening for a brief moment. He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against her cheek, the touch so brief it could have been imagined.
"Stay close, amore," he murmured, his voice roughened by the urgency of the moment.
Amelia nodded, offering him a tight, determined smile. "You couldn't keep me away if you tried," she whispered back, a spark of fierce resolve in her eyes.
They exchanged a look—one that held the unspoken promises between them—before he turned away, readying himself for the final approach. Amelia watched as he leapt from the beams above, descending onto Rodrigo Borgia with a grace that spoke of years of training. Her heart clenched as she saw them clash, the sound of steel meeting steel ringing out through the Vatican's halls.
Ezio's hidden blade caught Rodrigo by surprise, slicing into his side. Rodrigo's gasp echoed in the cavernous space, the arrogant composure slipping from his face as pain twisted his features. Amelia's breath caught in her throat as she watched, every muscle in her body coiled tight, ready to jump down and join the fray. But for now, she held back, knowing that this was Ezio's fight—one that had been years in the making.
She watched as Ezio pressed his advantage, his movements a flurry of precision and deadly grace. He struck again, driving Rodrigo back, each blow punctuated by the harsh clatter of metal. Rodrigo stumbled, clutching his side, but as Ezio closed in for the kill, the Pope's hand shot out, seizing the Papal Staff.
"I don't think so," Rodrigo sneered, a twisted smile pulling at his lips. The staff glowed with a blinding light, and a wave of energy burst from it, slamming into Ezio and throwing him back across the chamber.
Amelia's heart lurched as she saw him hit the ground, pain etched into his features. Without thinking, she vaulted over the ledge, landing in a crouch beside Ezio, her dagger drawn. Her eyes met Rodrigo's across the distance, her blood thrumming with a mix of fear and fury.
"Ezio!" she hissed, crouching beside him and pressing a hand to his shoulder. He groaned softly, struggling to rise, and she turned her glare on Rodrigo, her grip tightening on her blade. "We end this, together."
Ezio nodded, wincing as he pushed himself upright, his hand brushing against hers in a wordless gesture of thanks. They moved as one, Amelia launching herself toward Rodrigo with a fierce cry, her dagger slicing through the air. But Rodrigo was ready for her, his staff emitting another pulse of energy that sent her stumbling back.
He laughed, the sound grating against her ears. "Ah, the lover joins the fray. It's almost touching, really."
Amelia gritted her teeth, forcing herself back to her feet, her vision blurring for a moment. She could see Ezio, circling Rodrigo, his face tight with concentration as he readied another attack. Despite the pain radiating through her ribs, she straightened, meeting Ezio's eyes for a heartbeat.
"Don't you dare fall," she whispered fiercely, and Ezio gave her a small, pained smile in return.
Then the battle resumed, Rodrigo swinging the staff with a brutal force that belied his age. Ezio dodged to the side, landing a quick blow with his hidden blade, but Rodrigo retaliated, striking him with a backhanded blow that sent him staggering. Amelia lunged in from the side, catching Rodrigo off guard and driving her dagger toward his ribs, but the old man twisted at the last second, her blade grazing his side instead.
"Persistent, aren't you?" Rodrigo growled, his voice dripping with contempt as he shoved her back.
Amelia hit the ground hard, the impact driving the breath from her lungs. Stars danced at the edges of her vision, but she forced herself to focus, to keep moving. She rolled to her feet, catching a glimpse of Ezio out of the corner of her eye—he was back on his feet, his expression set in grim determination.
Rodrigo's eyes gleamed with a cruel light as he swung the staff again, sending another burst of energy at Ezio. This time, Ezio couldn't dodge quickly enough. The force knocked him to the ground, and Rodrigo closed the distance between them in an instant, driving his dagger into Ezio's stomach with a brutal twist. A choked gasp escaped Ezio, his eyes widening with pain, his hands clutching at the wound.
"No!" Amelia's voice tore through the air, raw with desperation. Without thinking, she threw herself at Rodrigo, her dagger flashing in a deadly arc. Her blade struck true, slicing across his shoulder, and Rodrigo roared in pain, but as he turned toward her, he lashed out with the staff, catching her off balance. Before she could react, his dagger found her side, driving deep into her flesh.
White-hot agony exploded through her, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her vision blurred, her legs buckling beneath her as she stumbled back, clutching at the wound. The pain was a living thing, searing through her with every beat of her heart. She could barely register Rodrigo's mocking laugh, the way he turned his back on her as if she were already defeated.
"You'll see Cesare soon enough," he sneered, his voice like poison in her ears. He stalked away, leaving her crumpled on the cold stone floor.
She wanted to spit a retort back at him, but the words lodged in her throat, trapped by the pain that clawed at her insides. The darkness pressed in around her, but she clung stubbornly to the sound of Ezio's voice, to the fierce determination she had seen in his eyes. She couldn't give up—not while he was still fighting.
Rodrigo turned his back on her, his attention shifting to Ezio as he raised the staff once more. The sound of the energy crackling through the air sent a fresh wave of terror through her, but she forced herself to focus, to keep her breathing steady even as the pain threatened to drag her under.
Ezio managed to push himself up, his movements slow and labored, and she saw the fear in his eyes as he looked back at her, his expression tight with worry. "Amelia, stay with me!" he shouted, his voice cracking with the rawness of emotion.
She tried to respond, to assure him that she would, but her voice failed her, and all that came out was a choked, gasping sound. She could feel the warmth of blood seeping through her fingers, pooling beneath her as the world grew colder, the edges of her vision darkening.
But then, Ezio was at her side, cradling her in his arms with a gentleness that belied the fury still burning in his eyes. He pressed a hand to her wound, his touch warm and grounding as he tried to staunch the flow of blood. "Amore, you have to stay with me," he pleaded, his voice rough with desperation as he held her close. "You can't leave me now."
She managed a weak, trembling smile, her fingers brushing against the roughness of his jaw. "I... I won't," she whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "You finish this, Ezio... for all of us."
He nodded, the determination in his gaze hardening into something unbreakable. "I will, Amelia. I promise." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment as if he could transfer his strength to her through that simple touch. Then, with a final, reluctant look, he rose to his feet, his grip tightening on his blade as he turned to chase after Rodrigo once more.
Amelia's consciousness slipped in and out, the pain in her side a distant, throbbing ache. Her thoughts were tangled with worry for Ezio, and the faint, distant sounds of combat seemed to grow quieter with each heartbeat. She barely registered the footsteps echoing off the stone floor, but when strong arms lifted her from the ground, cradling her with surprising gentleness, she forced her eyes open.
Her vision swam, but she managed to focus on the face above her—Mario, his weathered features tight with concern. He held her close, his grip firm but careful, as if he feared she might shatter in his arms. His voice broke through the haze, rough but filled with an urgency that cut through her pain.
"Amelia, stay with me," he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically tender as he adjusted her against his chest. "Can you hear me? I need you to keep those eyes open, ragazza (girl). I've got you."
Amelia tried to respond, but the words caught in her throat, a weak sound escaping her instead. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she fought to stay conscious. Mario's face came into sharper focus, and she could see the tightness around his eyes, the worry that deepened the lines of his expression.
"Ezio... he... he needs help," she whispered, her voice barely more than a rasp. It took everything she had to force the words out, the taste of blood sharp on her tongue. "Go... help him."
Mario's jaw clenched, and he glanced over his shoulder, as if he could see where Ezio had disappeared after Rodrigo. But his grip on her tightened, and he shook his head firmly, his voice steady despite the fear she could hear beneath it. "No, ragazza. You are my concern right now. Ezio can handle himself. But you—"
He broke off, his gaze flicking down to the wound in her side, his expression darkening. She could see the fear he tried to hide behind a mask of gruff determination, and it sent a shiver through her chest—one that had nothing to do with the chill of the stone beneath them.
"Amelia, listen to me," Mario continued, his tone taking on the firm, commanding edge that had once intimidated even Ezio. "You're going to be all right. You've survived worse than this, haven't you? You're not going to let some pompous old Templar take you down, eh?"
She managed a faint smile, the expression barely curving her lips, but it was enough to ease some of the tightness in Mario's features. "You... you think I'd let... let him have the last word?" she rasped, her voice rough with pain, but there was a faint glimmer of her usual fire in her eyes. "Not... a chance."
"Good girl," Mario murmured, relief softening his expression for a moment. He shifted his hold on her, adjusting the weight of her against his chest. "Just hold on a little longer, ragazza. I'm getting you out of here. You hear me? We'll have you patched up before you know it."
Amelia's vision blurred again, the darkness pressing in from all sides. But she clung to the sound of his voice, to the warmth of his arms around her, even as the world slipped further away. The pain faded to a distant hum, and the last thing she felt was the steady beat of Mario's heart beneath her cheek, a fragile lifeline that tethered her to the world.