Assassin's Creed 1. Endings and Beginnings

**My first foray into the AC universe. I'm a lazy author, but AC is effin' AWESOME, so maybe this will start a new trend. Any-who, these first couple of chapters will be a bit dark, so rated just to be safe. All the original AC material belongs to ubisoft. Enjoy and please make sure I don't get away with any glaring mistakes! P.S. if you make it to the end, Ezio might show up! wow, that was shameless...**

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Alessa put the finishing touch on the embellishment of the hilt of the sword her husband had recently completed. She sighed in satisfaction and sat back in her chair, systematically stretching the stiff muscles of her upper body. She rubbed her eyes and forehead, scrubbing away the weariness and strain built up from hours of concentrating on fine detail work. A rush of satisfaction made her forget her physical discomfort as her gaze followed the painstaking maze of scrollwork. There was no inlaid gold or precious metals to make the piece solely ornamental, but a Ricci weapon was always a functional work of art.

The local nobleman that had commissioned the piece had disappeared since the Borgia-controlled soldiers had taken over the district, but Vito had finished the sword anyway, and Alessa had not been able to resist the embellishing work once she had put her hands on it.

She carefully stowed the tools and magnifying lenses she used in her work, then swept her area clean, saving the minute bits of steel she had shaved from the sword to be reworked into a future commission. Picking up the sword, she balanced it carefully in her upturned palm. Perfect. Her knotwork had not affected her husband's painstaking skill. When she took hold of the grip, it sat comfortably in her fist; nothing pinched or poked.

With a small, self-congratulatory grin, she picked up an oiled cloth and began rubbing the sword down, from tip to tip, removing the fine dust from her tools. Lost in her work, she jumped a bit when the door to her workshop suddenly opened and she looked up. Her husband filled the doorway, his shorn dark hair disheveled in unkempt spikes and his face smudged with soot. His forge was a short distance from their home and showroom on the main thoroughfare in the district; fires were an immediate danger to nearby buildings. Also, as Vito doubled as a farrier, it made sense to have the forge closer to the stables, which were also often out of the main route through the district.

Alessa stood and went to her husband. Grimacing slightly, she went to her tiptoes to briefly brush her lips at the angle of his jaw.

"You stink, _amore mio_," she teased. He shrugged and put his arms around her, nuzzling her neck deliberately with his day old stubble as she shrieked and punched him just under his ribs. Laughing, he stepped away from her, clutching his stomach.

"Awww, that tickled," he said, protecting his flank from another blow. Of course, her threats were all to no avail, he was a big man, chest and arms thick from his work at the forge. Damn her little fists!

She watched him remove his shirt, scrubbing his face clean. As he lowered the cloth to toss it in a basket for cleaning, Alessa was enraptured anew, as she always was, at the startling eyes of her husband. The palest of blues, irises ringed in a diamond white starburst pattern, Vito Ricci's eyes were incongruous set in his somewhat plain, craggy face.

He cleaned his hands, forearms, and face at the wash basin and pulled a clean shirt on. The he came to her, one knuckle brushing her cheek before his hand reached down to span her lower belly. Leaning down, looking somewhat ridiculous, he put his mouth just below her bellybutton.

"Have you been behaving today, _bambino_?" He asked in a mock stern voice. Alessa rolled her eyes and chuckled. They had known she was expecting for all of a week and he had started including her still flat belly in conversations - once he had recovered from the dead faint the news had put him in. Yeah. That had been damn satisfying. Too bad no one else had been around to see it.

"I don't think she can hear you yet," Alessa said as she started untying her work apron. Vito scoffed,

"Oh, HE can hear me just fine!"

"Yeah, it must be a he, does nothing but nauseate me when I wake up in the morning," she brightened, considering him, "Quite a lot like you do, actually."

He growled and stalked her across the room. She eased away, grinning as he reached for her and missed. There was an unmistakale glint in his eyes.

"I finished the sword today," she said, ignoring him, a little out of breath. There was no time for that right now, she had not had a chance to start dinner yet. She picked up the sword and held it out to him. Vito made noises of approval as he ran scarred fingers reverently over the knotwork.

"_Jesu Christo, bella_," he breathed, "You are a master artist."

Alessa felt her cheeks flush with his admiration and grinned.

"Think we'll be able to sell it since _Messer_ Mancini…" she cut off and steered the conversation away from the nobleman's mysterious disappearance; the Borgia soldiers had effectively shut the bustling little community down when they had moved into the area. Pack of damned bullies. So far she and her husband had been able to escape their notice, but that did not stop Vito from making sure he was home well before dusk each day. Nor did it stop him from keeping a weapon - a completed, functional weapon, beside him always. They were essentially living hand to mouth due to the halt in commerce, but they would get by.

Vito also deliberately avoided discussing the obvious.

"It is your best work yet, I would hate to part with it, yet… There are many who would pay a fortune for this sword. There are also many who would steal it."

He laid the sword down on her workbench, pulling a tarp over the whole thing, effectively hiding it from sight. Looking over at her, evidently noticing her expression, he moved back to her side to take her in his arms.

"No worries," he murmured, as she held him little too tightly "This will pass. We will just have to avoid the patrols, plan our days around them. The soldiers are entirely reactionary. They won't bother us if we don't give them a reason to bother them." He held her at arm's length, smiling, his incredible eyes shining.

"Now what's for dinner?"

* * *

It had just past the gloaming of dusk and into night. Alessa was still awake. Vito had made love to her rather passionately before falling asleep. Alessa, however, could not shake a feeling of unease. She drifted in and out of sleep, waking to watch the moonlight creep across the floor.

At one point Vito grumbled something in his sleep and rolled over, one of his legs trapping her as he flung his arms wide. Alessa sighed. The man truly was a bed hog. Shoving one of his arms off of her, she flipped his half of the blankets back over him, and rolled to her side. Just as she had settled comfortably and felt her eyelids grow heavy, a noise caught her attention and made her heart gallop.

Measured footsteps sounded in the street and she involuntarily tensed. At least one of them wore heavy plate; she could make out the distinctive rattle that beat in time to the thuds of the boots. An unusually large patrol by the sound of it.

Shaking, she reached out and shook her husband awake, unable to still the fine tremble that suffused her entire body.

"What –" he started, then cut off his question as he, too, heard the footsteps coming up the street in their direction. Swiftly, silently, he got out of bed, dressing quickly. Alessa followed, pulling her work gown over her head and buttoning it swiftly. Vito pulled his short sword out of it's sheath and disappeared into the showroom. The shutters of their showroom had a crack wide enough to see out of and no doubt he was going to keep watch to make sure they passed.

Alessa flitted into her workshop and silently pulled her own weapon out of a discreet drawer in her workbench.

Alessa's father had been a mercenary, most recently working for Bartolomeo d'Alviano before retiring. As his only child, Alessa had been trained by her father in hand to hand combat. She had never used any of the skills her father had taught her physically, but with the knowledge, she had developed a unique weapon that she still trained with.

Her right hand settled comfortably in the grip of the strange looking dagger. The metal of the blade was brushed, something her father had taught her. A way of keeping the sheen of the metal from reflecting the sun.

The hilt was very unusual. Four rings protruded from the grip, so that as Alessa held it in a fist, the metal rings fit in between her knuckles; expanding and reinforcing them. Punches thrown by females generally did not hurt big males. Punches thrown by females with reinforced knuckles hurt like hell and could break bones.

Alessa grabbed the sword on a whim as she left the workroom to join her husband in the front room of the shop. He gripped his short sword in his right hand and looked over at her as she entered the room, just as a booming knock pounded on the front door.

"_Cazzo_!" Vito spat quietly. He sheathed his sword, grabbed a dagger from a display rack and tucked that into his belt at the small of his back. Alessa stepped back into the darkness of her workshop at Vito's look. Then, feigning the appearance of a man who had just been roused from sleep, he opened the door, which had not stopped resounding with the booming knocks of an armored fist.

He had barely opened the door when the soldiers barged in and began ransacking the place. Grabbing the few weapons Vito still had available for sale and opening cabinets in their search for more, the soldiers filled the room with lantern light and weapons. Vito was outraged.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" Vito snarled.

One of the soldiers eyeballed him insolently as he handed a pouch of throwing daggers to one of his companions.

"We are commandeering the weapons for the cause," the man stated self-righteously and somewhat officiously.

"By God you will not!" Vito barked, his fist closing on the hilt of his sword. The soldier shrugged, ignored Vito, and turned his back to continue his search.

Alessa knew what Vito was going to do before he did it and she clenched her dagger and sword in anticipation.

Sure enough, with a silent snarl, Vito pulled his sword. They were good; even amidst the racket of their looting, the soldiers heard the sound of steel sliding past leather and snapped their full attention to Vito, who bared his teeth before engaging.

Alessa stayed hidden, knowing that she would be in the way if she tried to join the battle. The men were all quite large; she needed more open space to engage. She felt her own lips peel back from her teeth as she watched her husband in fierce pride while he held the more heavily armed and armored soldiers at bay.

Somehow, the fight moved out into the street. Alessa moved quickly and unerringly through her workroom and out the back door. Energy thrummed through her body as she moved silently around the back corner of her home into the alley, where she peered around the corner into the street.

Vito was surrounded. He was doing well, but he was not armored and outnumbered. Alessa could hear more soldiers running through the streets in the distance, responding to the noise. Unable to wait any longer, she kept to the wildly dancing shadows cast by the torch and lantern light. Coming up behind one of the soldiers ringing her husband, she punched hard just under his breastplate in the back, feeling the satisfying crunch' vibrate all the way up her arm into her shoulder. The man howled and went down. Swinging wildly, she chopped downwards with the sword, just like when she chopped wood. The man stopped writhing and fell still.

One of the soldiers had noticed her and moved toward her. Alessa crouched in a fighting stance, right dagger-hand waving in front of her, sword held back a bit in her non-dominant hand. They circled one another. The soldier was taking her entirely seriously, which was not good. Her father had always said that most men would not take a woman fighter seriously and she could use that to her advantage.

He swung, the steel of his sword catching the light. Alessa parried and the blade slid down her own, the ornate hand basket of his sword catching of the cross guard of hers, bringing them closer together. Instinctively, Alessa punched the man right in the face with her knuckle-dagger and he snarled in pain as blood sheeted down his face and his orbital bone collapsed.

Alessa felt a mighty jerk as he wrenched his sword out of the lock, then agonizing pain fisted from her hand up her arm and slammed into her skull. She let out a harsh cry and involuntarily dropped her sword. Her vision swam as she looked down at her left hand and it's mangled ring finger.

Panting with the pain and shock, she left the sword lie and looked around for another soldier to attack. Suddenly, she was struck from behind and fell heavily, the wind rushing out of her chest. She felt herself lifted and dragged out of the street as she tried to catch her breath. Doggedly gripping her dagger, Alessa struggled feebly to no avail as she was dumped on the grass behind her home.

Vito, she saw, had been disarmed and forced to his knees. Surrounded by taunting soldiers, he struggled mightily until one of them grabbed a handful of his hair and placed a dagger to his throat. Alessa wondered what the hell was happening until she felt herself roughly kicked so that she rolled onto her back.

Her left hand twitched spasmodically and she was lost in the pain, but not before she saw the eyes of the men ringing her and the anguished scream of her husband as one of the soldiers got down on his knees to begin ripping apart her gown.

"_Luridi codardi_!" she spat, swinging her right fist into her attackers face. He got the edge of the dagger and fell off of her, shrieking as half of his cheek fell away. It was a mistake, apparently, to fight back. She lurched after her attacker, intent on finishing the job of slicing his fucking face off. A booted foot smashed into her lower back. Then another into her stomach.

She was wrenched to her feet as one man fisted a handful of her hair and pulled her up. He backhanded her viciously and she felt the skin split over her cheekbone. Unable to hold herself up, she dropped once more to the ground, only to be hauled back up for another slap. The second time, she was not hauled up, but kicked mercilessly. Her body would not respond.

Through a pain filled haze, she watched a man slit Vito's throat as he fought mightily against those holding him. Her mouth opened reflexively, but she could not draw breath to scream. His heavenly eyes caught hers as he brought his hands up to his throat to ineffectually stem the flow. His eyes slowly lost their light. Oblivious to the impacts on her body, Alessa watched the world turn red-tinged. Then fade to nothing.

* * *

It was the silence that jarred her awake. Hell itself could not contain such a cacophony of noise such as what she had just been through. And now it was extinguished. The cool light of the moon softened the bodies surrounding her into shadowed mounds of what could be anything. It was quite lovely, the moonlight. She felt herself roll to stare up at it and wondered how she could find anything to be beautiful. How she could have an opinion at all. A shadow passed over the moon and she frowned, reaching up feebly to swipe at it.

"Try not to move, _cara_," a rich baritone voice soothed.

"Who - ?" then she could not say anything else as she groaned in pain.

"Don't worry about me, I'm a friend," the voice murmured. He was doing something to her injured hand and it was all she could do not to scream in agony as red filled her vision.

A big hand patted her cheek firmly.

"Don't go to sleep," warned the voice.

"Nrrrghhh," she replied.

"Good girl," He finished his remonstrations with her hand and swiftly ran gentle hands up her arms, down her ribs, and then over her legs. Maybe feeling for broken bones?

"Still with me?" the voice intoned. Alessa made a noise and the voice seemed satisfied. She could not see much of his face, it was obscured by a deep hood. She watched his mouth as he carefully lifted her in his arms, focusing on a single object seemed to help control the pain.

"My weapon – " she panted as the pain of being moved overtook her.

"It have it," the voice appeased. Alessa continued to focus on his mouth. Nicely formed lips ruined by a thin scar running vertically in one corner. His facial hair did not grow in the area, she noted. A few days worth of stubble covered his cheeks, while he must have nicely trimmed goatee at some point.

"We are going to have to ride," he warned her.

"Ride?" Alessa said, not really understanding what was happening. She wanted him to speak again. His voice was very soothing, rich and deep. Beautiful as polished mahogany. Distracting. Measured. Her heartbeats seemed to calm just a bit.

She watched his lips purse as he whistled - a single piercing note. Hoofbeats thumped closer and Alessa tensed. She was not ready to change positions.

She made another ugly noise of pain as he aided her, reeling, into the saddle.

"_Merda_!" he said. "You're bleeding again, but from where…" he cut off suddenly and she went cold. She did not know how much blood she was losing or from where, but his motions suddenly turned more brisk. He spat out a curse and jumped onto the horse behind her.

"Stay awake, _cara_," he murmured again. She felt him slap the reins and heel his horse, "I know where to take you."

Alessa did not take her eyes off of his mouth as the horse jolted into a gallop and she fought against the blackness.


	2. Ezio

**A/N: My goal is to have Ezio appear at least once each chapter because, let's face it, he's the only one any of us cares about. ****AC belongs to ubisoft.**

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They seemed to be moving a quite a pace based upon how fast objects flew into and out of her field of vision. The stars were unnaturally bright in the sky. But it was very cold. Perhaps that was why. Stars always seemed brighter in the cold. Why the hell was it so cold?

Her breath came in gasps. So much pain; would it ever end? With her good hand, she feebly clutched at his cloak, seeking the intense warmth that radiated from him. Her dimming vision focused suddenly on the exquisite detailing of his shoulder plate and her fingers scrabbled of their own accord over the fine detail, leaving smears of blood to pool in the furrows and whorls.

She lost time somewhere. But the good Samaritan was persistent; he did not allow her to stay in the blissful darkness for long. And then the jolting ride was over. His gait was much smoother than the horse's as he carried her out of the night and into torchlit interior and she found it harder to keep her eyes open. He spoke urgently to her now, interspersed with curt orders to others who moved in a flurry of activity around them.

"_Dio mio_!"

"…finger will have to come off…"

She was laid on a hard surface and reflexively reached for his departing warmth.

"…_merda_! … so much blood…"

"…amputate immediately…"

"…she must have been pregnant…"

"…cauterize…"

Alessa whimpered, still reaching for the warmth.

"…likely pass out from the shock…"

"…the tonic first… shock by itself… kill her…"

The different voices were startling to her senses and she felt herself receding from it all. Then he returned, his armor and thick cloak removed. A strong hand and forearm supported her into a sitting position as her injured hand was briskly unwrapped by yet another person.

"It will have to go, _cara_, but drink this first. It should stop the bleeding."

Alessa turned toward him. What would have to go?

"Wha - ?" she began.

"Hush. Drink." He tilted a cup of bad tea toward her and she managed the brew docilely. Somebody would half to teach these idiots how to pick out good tea leaves. It was a travesty because tea was so easy to make.

"Good girl," he murmured, brushing her hair from her face after he had eased her into some pillows that seemed to have sprouted up behind her. Sprouting pillows. Sprout. Pillow. She giggled a little. Silly words.

"Good," stated another voice, "It's working."

Someone began tugging insistently on her injured hand and she frowned, turning to swat at the annoyance. A warm hand claimed her free hand. Confused, her gaze followed the heavy, scarred knuckles up an arm covered in fine white linen. Her gaze ran doggedly over the big shoulder and muscular neck. The strong jaw, the lines reminiscent of... There were those scarred lips again.

A kind of shock ran through her as she met his dark gaze, eyes narrowed in concern and a simmering anger under forbidding brows. Something was happening to her hand but she could not look away from the charismatic face that held her in thrall. Did he look somewhat familiar?

His other hand reached out and cupped her face and she turned instinctively towards it and the comfort it offered.

_Dio_, but he was **warm**!

"I am so sorry, _cara_," he said softly, his voice strained.

Alessa frowned and turned away from him as an awful hissing attracted her flailing attention. He tightened his grip on her hand and turned her face back towards his. But sensation was returning to her body and a shock of terror fisted her chest as she realized what was happening to her injured hand. She lost him in the dark again.

* * *

Small, homey sounds roused her from the depths. Quietly clinking pottery and… Something awful had happened. Alessa refused to acknowledge the specter of truth that lurked just out of her grasp. Fucking truth. She hated the truth and refused it entirely. Her thoughts skittered and refused to coalesce. The darkness brightened somewhat but Alessa could not face the light quite yet so she groped around inside her mind and body, taking objective inventory of her physical state.

Throbbing pain over her face. Chest and shoulders seemed alright. Right arm worked okay. Left arm, good. Left hand… okay, ignore the left hand. That pain was insistent and sharp. Abdomen and back were good places to ignore as well. _Cazzo_! What was happening in her hand? Hips? A heavy weight seemed to press down the cavity between her hipbones. Legs were achy but not too bad compared to everything else.

Maybe she could tolerate the light?

Golden spears of agony pressed her eyelids shut as she attempted it. Fine. She would leave the early morning sunlight alone. Her throat was parched and her mouth was cottony, dry, and tasted of that bitter tonic. Maybe some…

"Water?" she croaked. A small gasp and then footsteps hurried to her side.

"Sip slowly," a gentle, feminine voice advised her.

Alessa would have scoffed if she had had a mind to. She did not have the strength to gulp. In fact, it was all she could do not to choke on the tiny, glorious drops that passed her lips.

"Try some broth," the water bearer said as an absolutely heavenly scent wafted over Alessa's face. The taste that hit her tongue was glorious and she raged impotently in her mind that she could not wrest the bowl away from it's captor and her maddeningly slow dribbling.

Alessa felt her heart begin to beat rapidly as she managed some more of the broth and then some water again. Finally, wheezing and exhausted she turned her face away from the proffered liquid.

She managed to slit her eyelids to take in the scene, capturing a glance of a small, bare, but very clean room and a petite woman in a blue gown whose fine color and cut were not diminished by its simplicity.

When the woman turned, Alessa's eyes had had enough and slammed shut before she could make out the woman's face. Still breathless from drinking… _drinking_ dammit! Still breathless from drinking, she managed,

"Who are you?"

A pause in the footsteps, then,

"Claudia. Claudia Auditore. My brother, Ezio, brought you here,"

"Where… ?" It was all she could manage.

"Somewhere safe," was all Claudia would say.

Safe from what?

A roaring torrent of pain threatened at the brink of revelation and Alessa scrambled frantically to keep it at bay. No, she would not go there, too much. Too much…

A half formed sob took away the rest of her energy and she leapt eagerly back into the dark.

* * *

The light again. Gentler.

Alessa opened her eyes to candlelight. The window that had let in the cheerful, agonizing sunlight was shut. Three candles burned calmly on a table near her bed. Claudia had been replaced by a doctor, who had his back turned to her and was not aware that she had awakened.

Her hand throbbed. She must have broken a finger during… Nope. Her mind shied away from the memories.

She must have made a noise, for the doctor turned toward her. His face was kindly, crinkles at the corner of the eyes, gray tinting the dark hair. He finished drying his hands.

"You are healing quite fast, child," he said encouragingly. "Would you like to eat?"

Alessa nodded slowly.

"How long has it been?" she rasped. The doctor hastened to pour her a cup of water. She shifted uncomfortably in her bed to sit up and barked a curse of pain as she jolted her heavily bandaged hand.

"This is the eighth night," he said. Alessa choked on the water.

The doctor sighed, somewhat miserably, and set a cup, a sealed jar, and washbowl down on the stand next to her bed.

"I need to change your dressing. Then I will have someone bring your food. Are you ready?" he asked as he reached for her hand. Horrified, but unable to look away, Alessa nodded. He carefully unwrapped her hand, the single, macabre splotch of red that marred the linen growing larger as he removed layers to bare the abomination to the candlelight.

She almost fainted at the sight of her missing finger.

"Now," the doctor said briskly as he gently spread a thick cloth over her lap and set the bowl of water on it.

"It's your ring finger obviously," he continued, carefully easing her hand into the liquid. Alessa hissed at the sting of alcohol.

"Our fourth finger is actually our weakest finger, so you won't lose any strength in the hand." He lifted the dripping hand, removed the pink-tinged bowl of water, and set her hand on a pristine new cloth to air dry.

"Once the stub heals, you'll have to keep the fingers limber or you will gradually lose function. Miraculously, there does not appear to be any infection; we were able to remove it in time."

He re-bandaged it in silence, first applying some of the smelly, but soothing salve in the jar. Alessa breathed a sigh of relief as the injury was hidden away for the time being. The doctor seemed to be deciding on something. His expression composed itself into blandness and Alessa involuntarily moved away from him, as if physical distance would soften what was definitely going to be bad news.

"You were pregnant, weren't you?" he asked quietly.

The air in the room suddenly grew too heavy to breath. The doctor looked away from her for a moment; her expression was answer enough.

"No, no…" she whispered despondently. Then she felt her expression harden, her brows drawing down. Something ugly rose up from within her. A frigid blast blossomed in her chest, a feeling she did not recognize. A few heartbeats later she decided that it was rage. Rage such as she had never experienced or imagined before. God, but it burned, eclipsing even the pain of her physical injuries.

A part of her was surprised. In another life she would have been wildly sobbing with loss and despair. But not now, it was definitely hate, rage, fury that seethed through her.

"Please leave," she whispered hoarsely. She did not have to ask twice; the doctor was out of the room and closing the door before she could blink.

She did not have much time to form any coherent thoughts or ideas before the door opened again.

A bigger man this time. Broad shoulders were covered in a rich dark cloth, sleek lines curving upward into a dark hood that he pulled back with a plated hand. A jolt of recognition passed between, almost imperceptible, and fleeting. He ambled into the room, lean hips belted in a startling crimson sash and silver buckle inverted in a stylized "V." He was heavily armored, but did not appear bulky or ungainly at all. Even more amazing, all that metal and leather did not seem to creak or clank.

"_Cara_," he said. "How are you?" The intensity of his scrutiny seemed to pierce the seething rage Alessa had shrouded herself in and she returned half-heartedly to lucidity. She ignored his question, though. She was not sure how to answer it.

"You are… Ezio?" Her voice was raspy from disuse.

He placed the leather gloved hand to his heart and bowed slightly.

"Ezio Auditore." Closing the door with a contemptuous flick of his foot, he moved to the workbench across the room, propping himself against it, long legs crossed at the ankle, arms criss-crossing the broad chest.

"I have a proposition for you," he stated, still watching her carefully. She tilted her chin expectantly. He did not mince words.

"The liberation of Roma has begun. If you choose to fight, I would have you stand beside me against the Borgia."

Alessa spat a juicy curse. Ezio smiled lazily at the response, interpreting it correctly. They shared a moment of perfect accord.

"Lots of fire in you _cara_, that's excellent, it's something that has been lacking among my people of late."

He reached to his belt and unsheathed a dagger. He came to one knee at her bedside and held it out, balanced across the palm of his hand.

"This is yours?" he asked presenting her knuckle-dagger to her. Alessa reached for it and it settled into place in her fist, sliding her fingers through the rings.

"It is," she said.

"Where did you get it? It's an interesting piece. Very clever design."

"My husband made it. I modified it so that I could do more blunt damage in addition to stabbing and slicing. I had orignally made the knuckle weapon portion of it as a separate piece, but it's more efficient as one tool," The words just poured out of her. For some reason, she did not feel as if she had to guard against him.

"A tool. Interesting. Forgive me, but how does the wife of a blacksmith speak of fighting as if it were a craft?"

"My father was a mercenary. I was his only child." Alessa was slightly amazed at herself. _Tell him you want to have his children next, why don't you?_ she thought, a little annoyed with her forthrightness and subsequent vulnerability. Then she tamped that line of thinking down and hurled it away in her mind. _I hate the truth_...

He considered her silently, absentmindedly removing the dagger's sheath from his belt to pass to her. Alessa slid the blade out of sight and pushed it under her pillow.

"I am in need of recruits," he finally said. "I have… a vendetta against the Borgia." He reached into a pouch at his belt, producing a miniature portrait. The edges were faded with age. As she looked closely, she thought she recognized a younger version of the man before her, surrounded by his immediate family. He had been awfully pretty. If he had had half the charisma he did now, there were probably hundreds of broken female hearts still fluttering at the thought of him. She smiled slightly. Not anymore; now this man was scary as hell.

"I am the sole surviving male of my line because of the Borgia," he said, his voice harsh. His stare turned turbulent and inward. Alessa leaned away from him; his internal emotion was damn near physical and it seemed that a blast of heat suddenly radiated out of him as his lip lifted slightly, warning away some internal demon.

Then, just as suddenly, the rage was gone. Alessa let out a breath she did not know she had been holding. He returned his attention to her.

"And I believe that you and I have something in common. When you have healed, I have a friend I would like you to meet and a mission for you to perform. Then, you and I will discuss your future."

It did not occur to her at all to question him. Not a glimmer of distrust or second thoughts swayed her. Here before her was the key to her vengeance. This man would give her the tools necessary to fight back. And by God, her body already thrummed with anticipation at the thought of doing so.

Sitting upright, she imitated his movement from before. Raising her bandaged hand to her heart, she bowed her head.

"_Maestro_," she murmured. She felt him rest the broad palm of his hand over her head in a sort of benediction.

* * *

**A/N: yeah, a little melodramatic, but hey, my girl is not exactly going to end up Mrs. Emotionally Stable. Give me a shout, what do you guys think?**


	3. Teacher and Student

**You know, I feel like some of my words get changed after I upload these things. I'm having a hell of a time trying to keep the grammar and spelling correct. Anyway, I'll make this chapter inspired by Sarah Brightman's "Fleurs du Mal;" chorus of that song is EPIC! And of course by the badassedness of Ezio, whom I do not own, more's the pity.**

**Okay, time to lighten things up a bit.**

* * *

She healed. Well, her body healed. She ignored her thoughts most of the time. There was a particularly effective vintage in the cellar that aided her in her goal when the past loomed too menacingly over her. It was especially hard to be remote as her lost ones hovered in the periphery. She hoped that they would understand her evasion for the time being.

Alessa constantly worked on stretching her hand, getting used to the absence of the amputated finger, keeping the tendons and muscles limber. The stump slowly healed; the ugly, weeping wound re-growing skin in shiny ridges of scar tissue that was much less flexible than regular skin. It itched enough to make her out of her mind at times and it snagged on things and generally was annoying as hell.

The vicious bruising of her chest and back slowly paled back to normal. Miraculously, nothing in her abdomen seemed to be permanently damaged. Her face would be scarred for the rest of her life, not as bad as her stump, of course, but the jagged line ran laterally right across her left cheek. The doctor assured her that the angry redness would lighten eventually. Her body regained most of its previous vigor relatively quickly, considering all it had been through.

And the Lord only knew if she would ever be able to bear children.

Some two weeks after her visit with Ezio, she finally ventured outside. The building Ezio had brought her to for healing was quite large, but she was tired of being cooped inside. Located on Tiber Island, the area was very safe due to the heavy concentration of Ezio's allies. The building semd to be a headquarters of some kind.

Her daily walks strengthened her and she met many of the locals. She did try to avoid too much conversation, some of them, the women especially, looked at her with too much knowing pity.

She had been astonished to meet some of the people she would be working with. Thieves, whores, well, the mercenaries she was used to at least. Claudia often came to visit her. Claudia the Madame! Alessa was repulsed and impressed all at once. It was a strange feeling. But she liked Claudia. The woman was entirely independent of any man, intelligent, and capable. Alessa eventually came to the conclusion that the siblings were in some kind of ongoing misunderstanding, but Claudia loved her brother fiercely.

It was one of those perfect early summer days when he returned. Alessa had climbed the stairs to the roof, where she sat, legs dangling over the edge. She stared out over the river to the countryside past the southern bank. People-watching from the rooftops was easier, quieter, less smelly, and she did not have to risk any contact with said people.

A series of scraping sounds informed her that the building was infested with man-sized…wait... what? She shook her head and stood. She was spending too much time as a bloody recluse. Feeling like she was beginning to hallucinate, she looked over the ledge…

And almost pitched right over the side in surprise.

A man was clambering up the walls, moving rather quickly, actually. Alessa took a couple of steps back and watched him take the last (step? stair? she had no vocabulary for this type of movement) rise to his feet. Her mouth was open and she was entirely aware of it. And she could nto do a thing to change it. Who was this man? He revealed some new astonishing ability or knowledge each time she had met him so far.

He gave her a slight bow.

"They said you were up here," he said, his voice just as deep and resonant as she remembered.

"You don't just use the stairs?" Alessa asked, flicking a meaningful glance to the nearby door leading inside the building. Ezio chuckled appreciatively.

"Meh," he scoffed, hitching a shoulder in a display of mild disdain for mere mortals.

He brushed past her, took a few running strides and then in a flurry of motion almost too quick to see, ran a couple steps _**up**_ the nearby wall and grabbed hold of the ledge, pulling himself up in one fluid motion.

He turned and looked down at her, the sun directly behind him and his expression hidden by the shadows cast by his hood. He gestured to her, a graceful upturned, outswept palm..

"Want me to teach you?"

Alessa let out a surprised bark of laughter.

"Teach me?" she said, her tone rife with skepticism. He just stood there and Alessa had the disturbing impression that he was absolutely serious. Maybe he could teach her.

"Really?"

He laughed again, took a step off the edge, and landed beside her, his knees bending fluidly to absorb the impact of the short free fall. A sort of mad glee rushed through her and she grinned suddenly.

"Fuck yes!"

So he demonstrated in what he called slow motion; Alessa really could not tell the difference. She set herself up directly in front of the wall. She was going to _own_ this! She clenched her fists open and closed spasmodically, took a couple of quick gulps of air and ran at that fucking wall with all she had…

Pain bloomed as her face smacked directly into the brick, her feet were dragged down like they had rocks tied to them, and she landed flat on her back with a loud _thunk_ and _whoooosh!_ of forced exhalation.

She gasped like a landed fish. She was sure her eyes were just as round and protruding. A guffaw sounded nearby, choked off, and then started again.

"I'm… sorry…" he wheezed, his eyes tearing with mirth, "But you were so…. I could see it! You were going to do it weren't you?" He was transformed. Gone was the hardened man. He almost resembled the boy in his picture. Yes, quite pretty.

Alessa grumbled a bit under her breath and got to her feet, half amused, half pissed off. Still chortling a bit, Ezio explained,

"As much as I would love to have it be a pure show of strength, for your pride, the movement is not quite that simple. Timing – the speed exchanged for the force of your legs at just the right height. You have to wait until you feel like one more step would make you fall, then take that one step and push hard at the right time. Of course you also have to adjust for the height you are reaching for."

He prepared to do it again.

"Watch closely this time."

She could not discern a difference. Whatsoever.

He jumped down again.

"Try," he offered.

She did it again. And fell again. Catching her breath she tried again. And again. And again. And again.

Wait.

She eyeballed the wall as it rose above her, taunting, derisive.

"Prick," she muttered, giving the tan stone a baleful look.

But that last attempt, she had felt it. The turning point.

Ezio was silent as he watched her measure her distance. She pumped her arms as she stomped that damn wall as hard as she could, took that final step…

Her legs propelled her skyward and she felt her fingers grasp the ledge…

And was on the damn ground again her back. Roof. Well, it was a flat surface.

Ezio was thrilled.

"Good!" he exclaimed, making motions for her to get up. "Do it again!"

She doggedly obeyed, cursing herself for a masochistic idiot.

It turned out that her upper body strength was woefully inadequate for the job.

"Strength will come in time, _cara_," he said as she made her thirty second attempt. Her arms felt like water and her legs were feeling pretty much the same. "You have the idea," I'll have some of La Volpe's people work with you to build that strength."

He walked over to the edge of the roof, peering down as the toes of his boots hung nonchalantly over four stories of space.

"Have it in you to learn one more thing?" he asked, arching a brow. Alessa walked towards him. Her left hand throbbed and she massaged it unconsciously.

"What?" she asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowing. He looked down over the edge again in answer. Slowly, she joined him, their elbows bumping companionably. She peered over the edge.

Directly below them was a massive pile of hay, destined for the stable down the street. She directed a sharp gaze back on him as she realized what he was asking her to do.

Disturbingly enough, after her initial shock, she was curiously intrigued by the idea of leaping off a building. What. The. Hell.

"Really?" she asked. He nodded, one side of his mouth rising in a half-smile. She looked back down. Looked back up at him. Looked down.

"It's deep enough?"

"Shall I show you?" Her heart pounded. She nodded slowly. Then waited. He did not move.

"You have to let me go first," he said blandly.

"Oh."

She had unconsciously grabbed his forearm as he had moved imperceptibly closer to the edge. She forced her fingers to let him go and he chuckled.

"It will be fine, _cara_," he said, hitching his shoulders in a display that looked like prepatory motion. Or he may have been showing off a bit.

Alessa watched in fascination as he dove gracefully off the edge, managed to turn his body languidly in mid air so that he landed flat on his back in the hay. Alessa's hands crept up to her face in agony as she waited for him to get out. Seconds felt like years before he leapt out of the pile, nonchalantly brushing himself off. He stepped back and his chin tilted up, looking at her, waiting expectantly.

She stood there for a while. Her thoughts and heart raced. She stared at Ezio, even though they were separated by a good distance, she could see him quite clearly. His expression was confident, relaxed, and she took those feelings into herself.

She did not dive as he had, merely stepped off the roof. The air was… heavy? No. Hard. Opposing forces pushed at her, the air was tangible! _Merda_! But the ground pulled harder. Better pay attention. Now to attempt to land on her…

Oh shit! Wrong way!

Alessa hit the hay face first. Astonishingly enough, the landing was surprisingly soft and she luckily did not end up with a stick in her eye. Sputtering, overcome with the jolt to her system, she leapt from the pile of hay. Ezio caught her as she sprang at him, grinning for all she was worth. Tears, goddamn _tears!_ threatened, but she wiped them hurriedly away. She hugged the man as hard as she could.

"Thank you!" she whispered fervently, burying her face in his neck. _Dio_, but if this was one of the simpler things he could teach her, then there was no doubt that she would have her revenge on the piece of shit Borgia! And spectacularly! The whole world would know! She clutched him to her as if he were water after days of thirst. She looked up into his face when she was sure she would not cry, half expecting him to be laughing at her.

He was not. He had become quite serious. She could not read his expression. Mortified with herself, she moved to step away from him. Instead, his arms came around her and he gathered her close. Nonplussed, she leaned her forehead onto his shoulder again, unable to bear the intensity face to face. _Dio_, but his **eyes**! It was too much. And it was not lust. Well, there was lust, but mostly for all of the things he would be able to teach her. Maybe greed?

Anyway, whatever the hell the feeling was, it was making her lightheaded.

_Was she about to fucking faint?_

Oh.

Yup.

* * *

Her eyes popped open. He had laid her on a nearby bench, her head in his lap. Embarassed, she put a hand over her face. He gently removed it. Alessa noticed a pair of matrons tromping by with baskets of their market purchases half leaking bolts of cloth, streaming ribbons, and… was that a rat? Oh. No. It was a kitten. Weird. Why would rat be her first guess?

Anyway, they looked openly disapproving of what probably appeared to be two lovers' public display of affection. Alessa wondered idly what sort of histrionics would take place if she reached up and kissed…

Ezio snapped his fingers in front of her face.

"You going to pass out again?" he asked.

"Sorry," Alessa mumbled. Ezio's eyes flicked towards the women and back to her and he smiled. Alessa had the sneaking suspicion that he was thinking something along the lines of what she had been. There was that half-smile again.

"Yeah, sorry," Alessa said, clearing her throat hastily. "I don't just pass out like that all the time, you know."

"People react differently after their first Leap of Faith. But it is always a strong feeling, regardless of its manifestation."

"Can I die now?" Alessa asked, only half-joking.

"No," he said. "We don't have time." He helped her sit up, then stand, hovering a conscientious hand over her lower back.

"That's too bad," Alessa said. "Why not?"

"Because, the reason I needed to see you was actually not to get distracted by playing tutor, but to take you to meet a friend."

Ugghh. People.

"Who?"

"You'll like him. You both have very similar personalities. He is also a little… ah…" Ezio waved his hand meaningfully in the air. "…preoccupied."

* * *

They had been sitting on a bench a few streets north of Tiber Island. For a long time.

"Ezio?"

"Sshhh."

Moments passed by. People passed by. Then some more moments.

"Ezio?"

"Sshhh."

Her eyelids were fluttering down, when he suddenly pulled her up and started walking away.

"Come on."

"What was that?" she asked. Having to trot a bit to keep up – damn! he didn't look it but the man had some long legs! – Alessa followed him.

"What was what?" he replied.

"We sat there for hours!"

"I would guess about forty five minutes," he replied.

"Fine. But why?"

"I want to make sure no one follows us."

"Why?"

"Be quiet," he said dismissively.

Chagrined, Alessa fell silent and into step just behind him and to his left. She was just starting to feel the culmination of the day's exertions when Ezio ducked suddenly into an alley, snatching her as she almost walked right by it.

They jogged down the length of the alley, Alessa pointedly not holding her noise at the smells.

"Up we go," he said, pulling himself agilely up a ladder. Alessa followed at a more refined pace to the rooftop. Their boots clattered on the tiles as she followed him across the roofs. They appeared to be backtracking. Alessa did not comment. She was coming to realize that Ezio had reasons for what he was doing. And he had already told her that he did not want to be followed.

It made her think. What kind of life did he lead where everything he did and everyone he knew had to be kept secret? Was it lonely? Was it the same road she had already started down?

She did not care. She was set in her path. And she was surprised at her patience. Perhaps she had been changed when her world had been destroyed.

Time to stop.

No more thinking about it.

But one more thing, her mind pleaded.

_Fine._

She looked at the man in front of her, his gait confident, shoulders up, straight posture. He moved as if he owned the world, but at the same time was entirely unaware of said ownership. Not because he was oblivious. Not in the slightest. More because he was so far removed from it all. So far _above_ it all. _Who the hell is he_? she wondered.

They had stopped.

"In here," he said. They ducked into the darkness of the upper storey of the place.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, I was going to have this whole episode resolved by the end of this chapter, but things got a bit long-winded. Sorry to leave you hanging! Trying to keep these at a manageable length. Review! Review!**


	4. Leonardo

**Chapter inspired by poisonblack's "Rush" I've been really hamming up the drama so far, sorry, it's the music I'm listening to. So this is a short one, just works out that way in the grand scheme of things. The AC-verse belongs to ubisoft.**

* * *

They emerged in the airy heights of a warehouse-style room. Alessa sighed as Ezio clambered down the scaffold-like structure they had climbed onto from the window. The man had stamina of the like she could never have imagined. She barely repressed making a sound of relief when she noticed the ladder leading forlornly down to the ground.

"You are a beautiful thing," she whispered to it as she descended to the ground properly.

She reached the ground in time to see a lithe, energetic man enter through a doorway and greet Ezio enthusiastically.

"My friend!" he exclaimed as the men heartily exchanged the grunts and arm slapping that characterized the male-to-male greeting ritual. "Is this she?" he asked. Ezio nodded once and stepped aside, sweeping his arm out to include her.

"Leonardo da Vinci, meet Alessa Ricci, my first recruit," Ezio said as she moved into their presence, closing his outstretched arm around her shoulders.

"A pleasure, _mia signora_," Leonardo said, hand over heart, as he bowed. Alessa inclined her head.

"And for me as well, _messere_," she replied.

Ezio's arm slid from her shoulders, down her left arm, capturing her hand in both of his.

"We have something for you," he said, looking down into her face.

Leonardo's eyes sparkled with glee as he hurried off to a dark corner to rummage on the workbenches. Ezio's gaze remained on hers as he raised her hand to kiss the knuckle of her missing finger.

"Come, have her sit here," Leonardo called. Ezio tucked her hand into the crook of elbow and walked beside her as they crossed the room. He went to one knee beside her and looked up at Leonardo expectantly. The man held what appeared to be a leather vambrace in his hands and was busy undoing the buckles. He knelt in front of her, holding the armor piece open for her forearm.

"Your arm please," he asked politely. "No the left one," he said when she held out her right. Ezio watched them both silently, eyes intent. Leonardo eased it into place and helped her buckle it into place. It was slightly uncomfortable, the leather lacking the give she had expected it to have. It seemed to have been reinforced along the entire length inside of her forearm.

"It's very nice," she said, slightly disappointed. After all of the anticipation, the simple gift was sort of a let down. She appreciated that the leather was of the finest quality, but what was the big deal? Both men eyed her expectantly.

Ezio laughed suddenly. The man was entirely too adept at reading her expressions. He held his own left hand out and…

_Schhhhink!_

"What the fff…" she blurted in startlement, stuttering into silence, not wanting to offend Ezio's friend with her cursing. Appearing by magic, a disturbingly long dagger blade had emerged from Ezio's left vambrace. The thing was almost obscene. Where the hell did he keep a blade of that length?

"How…? What…?" she had no words. Ezio flexed his wrist and the thing disappeared under his sleeve.

Silently she held her own device to him in silent appeal. His teeth flashed from within his hood as he grinned.

"Yours is special, _cara_, I'm afraid Leonardo will have to show you how yours works; it is slightly different from mine. Yours is the original design." Alessa looked at Leonardo as Ezio rose to his feet and wandered over to another part of the cavernous room.

"Yes, the original design was such that only someone who had an amputated ring finger could use it without risking, well, amputation,"

"Why would it be designed that way?" she asked.

"Ezio will have to explain the details of that to you, I am not entirely qualified to accurately portray the history and tradition behind this blade. I can, however, show you how to work it."

And so he showed her how to flex her wrist and orient her fingers in order to use the blade. The thing was a work of genius. Leonardo had her remove the vambrace from her arm to fold a flap of leather back and show her the intricate mechanism and blade hidden within. Alessa was utterly fascinated and pelted Leonardo with questions.

Some of what he told her about mathematical equations, centrifugal force, and potential energy was pure gibberish. But the method of the actual construction of the interlocking pieces piqued her interest. Eventually the two of them stood at the workbench, heads together, as he showed her how to take the blade out of the mechanism and then reassemble it as Alessa expressed her desire to customize.

"Just be careful you don't take any metal off near the attachment points. We would have to forge an entire new blade and it is a very painstaking process to get the measurements exact."

It occurred to her that a good amount of time had passed. Leonardo was absolutely fascinating and alarmingly intelligent. Hell, she still had questions about the manufacturing of other items he had hinted at.

"Where has Ezio gone?" she asked, looking around and not seeing him. Leonardo shrugged and continued adjusting the cogs with a tiny tool.

"He often sleeps when he is here," he said, his eyes squinting as he concentrated on the minute adjustments he was making. "There, try it now."

He nodded in satisfaction as she flexed her wrist and closed her fist, the blade shooting out though the space that used to be occupied by her finger.

"That is so…" she grinned fiercely, unable to come with a word sufficient enough to express her admiration. Leonardo gazed at her, an unreadable expression on his face as he retuned the tool to its case.

"You will be good for him, I think. The path he treads can be a very solitary one. He is one of my oldest friends and it has saddened me over the years to watch him struggle alone."

Alessa was silent at the unexpected graveness.

"But he has had you? You apparently know each other well and you must work closely together to engineer his weapons?" she asked.

"I assist in him in many ways, yes, but he performs the bulk of his duties alone."

"Who is he?" she asked, looking down at the dagger bristling from her fist.

"He is the greatest man I have ever known."

Leonardo stood, apparently not wishing to speak of the subject any longer.

"He'll want to know we're finished. Come," he said briskly as he held his hand out to assist her up. Alessa looked up at him, flexed her wrist to sheathe the blade, and took his hand. Leonardo led her through a door, up a flight of stairs and into a small room containing a pallet and a battered practice dummy. Ezio's chest and shoulder plate, hooded robes, and various weapons in their holsters and scabbards were slung over it the latter. The thing looked like it might fall apart from the sheer amount of weaponry draped over it.

Ezio was sitting up as they entered, scrubbing a hand across his face. His white linen shirt gaped at his throat. He stood and locked forearms briefly with Leonardo before the smaller man left them with a slight bow. The door clicked shut behind him.

"So what is happening now?" Alessa wondered as Ezio returned to the pallet.

"Sleep," he said.

"Here? With you?"

"It is quiet here, you will rest well, and I do not feel like going back to headquarters."

"Mmmhmm. And would you make the same offer if I were a man?"

He laughed, a short, sincere sound.

"If you were a man, I'd let your ass sleep in the workroom!"

He watched her as she vacillated, then sighed.

"Come here to me, _cara_, I am tired,"

Nothing but his absolute sincerity and the admission could have swayed her. She kicked her boots off and slid under the blankets that he held up for her. She turned on her side away from him, enveloped in his masculine scent and the remnants of warmth. The bedding beneath them gave under his weight as he followed suit, his shoulder blades close to her own.

She was a little uncomfortable being in bed with a relatively strange man, just recently being widowed and all. But…

"You know, you have changed me," she admitted, "A short while ago, this would have been almost unbearably awkward for me."

"A short while ago," he replied, "You would not have even been in this situation."

"Yes, but for you, I would have no way of actually succeeding in my plans, you give me the freedom to fuel my fire, you have made me feel alive again – for a while, I was feeling _nothing_, - you are making everything _real_," her response was vehement.

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, _cara_, and I am not the instrument of your change, merely a witness to it. You have been changed by the events that steered you in my direction."

Alessa made a noise of concession to his logic, but could not quite hide a shuddering inhalation as a heavy wave of grief abruptly crashed into her. He turned toward her and she went unerringly into his embrace. He made soothing noises as he tucked her under his chin. She was thankful, if she had looked into those expressive eyes, she very well might yield to him; his physicality was much too compelling. As it was, he smelled pretty damn good.

Silence for a time; the only sounds were their quiet breaths.

"I… I can't make love to you," she finally said, wondering at the same time why the hell she couldn't.

"Don't worry, _cara_, I do not take something when it is entirely possible that it might be given,"

Alessa could not help a mildly derisive snort at his masculine surety, but still…

"I don't find that hard to believe, Ezio, you are a good man, and very… persuasive, I am sure,"

"That decency you speak of depends on the eye of the beholder,"

"Well, that is how _this_ beholder's eye sees you," she said.

He chuckled, the movement and sound vibrating through his chest and he lifted his arm slightly so that she could turn away from him. She knew that he knew exactly how he tempted her, knew he could have everything she was, for she willingly give it to him. But he did not press her for that last little surrender. She was both grateful and saddened by that.

Their arms threaded together and she felt him rest his chin on top of her head again. Comfortable silence passed as she ran her hand up and down the hidden dagger that he still wore, her fingers exploring the single weapon of his arsenal that seemed to never leave his body.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be obtuse," she said, "You have secrets. I think you want me to know them or you wouldn't be sharing these tantalizing bits of your knowledge with me, would you?" She felt his smile, even if she could not see it.

"_Laa shay'a waqui'n moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine."_

The words and their exotic cadence thrummed through her, invoking… something. Alessa waited. She could practically see his brows lower over his eyes as he considered his words before he spoke.

"It is a motto, one which has shaped my life and given me direction over the years. I live by the words of the Creed, passed down over generations. One that will be upheld even if all of those belonging to our order pass from this world. Stay your blade from the innocent. Always be discreet. Never compromise the Brotherhood."

"Sounds simple," she said.

"Yes, it does, but it demands more than you would think; like many simple-appearing truths, it is unbelievably complex."

"Do these daggers have anything to do with it?" she asked as they simultaneously held their bladed forearms up and flexed their wrists. The last of the candlelight flickered and its light flashed on the blades as they snapped back into their leather sheaths before it finally sputtered out.

"Very much so," he murmured. "They are the tool we use to being down those who abuse the power they hold."

Slowly, like the light of dawn, the idea he was trying to get her to see spread through her mind; the understanding as welcoming and life-suffusing as that daily proliferation of light.

"Assassin," she breathed when she could speak. He made a noise of affirmation.

"If you choose to, I will work with you to assimilate fully into the Brotherhood. But know that to try to part from us once you have made your choice is forbidden. The way in which we deal with such a transgression exacts the ultimate cost."

The thought was chilling. What would it be like to be hunted down by this man? To feel his presence but never see him. To know that the specter of death did not reside in the murkiness of some distant future, but _right there_ beside you, a merciless blade longing to quench its thirst for your blood. But then, inversely, to actually _be_ the one wielding that blade, cutting the filth from society. The hunter, the shadow in the darkness.

"I don't think I have a choice at this point," she said in a shaky voice.

"There is always a choice, _cara_."

"Not for me."

"Then do you choose, of your own free will, to accept the Creed as your own?"

"With all that is in me. Without reservation." She twisted around to face him and her chaste kiss on his lips sealed her vow. He hitched her closer to his body when she settled back into his embrace and then they both slept quite deeply.

* * *

**A/N: This is not how I intended to write this scene, but it sort of flowed naturally into it and I felt it was appropriate for a couple reasons: First, Alessa is Ezio's first apprentice, he calls her a recruit, but I get the feeling of a closer relationship between them, especially considering the traumatic manner of their meeting, plus he is sharing his knowledge with a younger generation for what may be the first time; based on my own life experience, these types of relationships can be very complex Second: if you've ever snuggled in bed with someone platonically, the security and communion has a way of breaking down barriers. Third: even though Ezio is very much a ladies man, I always have the feeling that he does not get this kind of barrier-free interaction due to the solitary nature of his duty and the weight of responsibility he bears. Brotherhood is titled aptly as Ezio shares his fight for the first time.**

**Standby for the fight scenes!**


	5. Assassin Recruit

**A/N: Inspirations: agalloch's "as embers stress the sky" and marilyn manson's version of "sweet dreams." Ezio and his brilliant fighting moves are owned by ubisoft. Much love to my first reviewer, Owari, you rock!**

* * *

She woke alone. The room was interior; it did not have any windows so she had no idea what time it was. The practice dummy had been divested of its armaments and Alessa wondered idly how he could have extricated himself, dressed, and loaded himself up with all of that gear without waking her. She shrugged.

_Assassin_…..

As the word whispered through her mind, she shuddered a bit in part apprehension, part excitement. A walking, talking bloody assassin. There had been whisperings among the common folk of the existence of such an order of dedicated, educated people in the nobility, in possession of an almost supernatural set of abilities. Although she scoffed at herself almost immediately, she could not help but wonder if Ezio himself had been involved in the recent assassination attempt of the pope.

Scraping a hand through her disheveled hair, she braided it swiftly and left the room to see if he was in the workshop.

Entering the cavernous space, she found Leonardo working intently on an object before him on his workbench. Every so often, he stopped what he was doing to make a notation on a scroll beside him. When he heard her footsteps, he turned to face her, a friendly smile on his face.

"Good evening!"

"Evening? I thought we had business to attend to today? How the hell did I sleep for so long? Did he go without me? Why didn't he wake –"

"Not at all," Leonardo interrupted. "He's only been preparing; he should be back anytime."

Oh.

Well now she felt a little silly. Kind of like a small child throwing a tantrum for being left out of the big kids' games. To cover her embarrassment, she sidled up beside Leonardo. Leaning forward a little on her hands, she peered over his arm at the piece he was working on. He moved a bit to show her…

"Ready to get to work?" the voice startled both Alessa and Leonardo; she voicing her surprise in explicative, he slipping badly and nearly impaling his palm with the chisel.

"Make some noise before you do that!" Leonardo exclaimed.

Ezio chuckled, _that_ apparently was never going to happen. He nonchalantly pulled his hood back and set a bundle of clothing and a scabbarded sword and dagger onto a relatively uncluttered table and gestured her over as he untied the bundle.

He no longer wore the richly caparisoned black cloak and hood, but a simpler white one. His armor was a lighter combination of leather inlaid with metal plate and not at all embellished. The bright red sash was still a startling contrast of color, but he radiated utility and functionality today.

Alessa had been hastening over to examine what he had brought when she came to a sudden halt, Leonardo almost crashing into her from behind. Her hand went to her throat.

"Where… where did you get that?" she rasped, her heart pounding.

Ezio's expression was quizzical.

"The Brotherhood's weapon cache."

"How? That's… my husband… he… I…" she really could not form a coherent sentence. She reached out a trembling hand to grasp the hilt of the sword she had embellished not two months ago. Slowly, she pulled it from the sheath. The men watched her silently, waiting for her to compose herself.

The weapon had been freshly sharpened and oiled. The light slid along the supple blade of the beautifully forged weapon and Alessa squeezed her eyes shut, picturing for the first time since… well, since… a memory of her husband at his forge, methodically and patiently folding and refolding the metal into the blade that she now held.

"My husband made this sword," she whispered.

"It is an exquisite piece," Ezio said hesitantly, obviously not wanting to upset her more. "He must have been very skilled indeed to do both the blade and the embellishment."

"Oh, I always put the detail on the hilts; he couldn't sit still long enough to pay attention,"SHe was babbling. Then a ghost of a smile. "Although how he could stand there and swing that hammer all day was beyond me," she laughed a little to avert the tears that were coming. Clearing her throat, she re-sheathed the sword. "Thank you," she murmured, not able to look at Ezio as she turned her face away to flick her fingers at the corner of her eyes. "I don't know how you did it, but thank you for salvaging it for me."

"The thieves go through and recover arms and armament after the bigger fights. Cost effective you know? Saves us the cost of outfitting ourselves."

"Have you retained anything else from th- that night?" she asked. "Vito's talent was at balance and measurement; we still had a couple of good sets of throwing knives that you might like to use for yourself." She held her head high; her husband's weapons were of the highest quality, even for a skilled and discerning fighter.

Ezio bowed slightly,

"I would be honored to use a Ricci weapon. We will check the warehouse when we have completed our mission."

Alessa took a deep clearing breath. Now that the initial shock of seeing the sword had passed, she was eagerly anticipating whatever Ezio had planned.

"First, you need to change," he said, holding the clothing out to her. He had collected her dagger from the hideout as well.

She returned to the small room. The clothing, it turned out, was similar in cut to his own; dove grey trousers and supple Spanish leather boots. Her grey, hooded tunic was more closely fitted than his, which made sense because a man's straight-cut clothes would bunch and tug at womanly curves. Her father would have approved. And then forbidden her to go out in public.

The leather armor was something she had never used before and it was a learning experience trying to get it all on correctly. The vambrace for her right forearm was weighted a little strangely and she could not see a dagger concealed within it.

The door burst open as she was struggling to fit the shoulder and chest armor on. She jumped and failed to stifle a curse.

"Fucking sneaky bastard," she snarled in her startlement.

"Correct on the first part, not so much the second," he replied drily.

"Sorry," she muttered. He chuckled and moved toward her.

"I figured this would give you problems," he said as he began adjusting straps and buckles. She frowned and he glanced at her and caught her expression.

"Don't feel bad,_ cara_," he said. "This was the hardest part for me when I was a novice. Ah, there,"

The leather pauldrons abruptly settled comfortably into place as he finished his ministrations and Alessa rolled her shoulders under them experimentally.

"This," he explained, touching her right vambrace, "Contains an advanced metal composite that is much stronger than its weight suggests, in fact," he paused, looking at her in contemplation, "When we finish our mission, we may have to get you a workshop set up at the headquarters; it would be nice to have someone on site to work on the equipment I cannot take to the regular blacksmiths.

"Anyway," he continued, "you can use this forearm to block blows that would break any other armor. I find it a very useful technique. Most of the soldiers I encounter do not expect it," a slow smile spread across his lips, "and those that do figure it out are never in a position to go around telling tales." His confidence was astonishing and very likely entirely deserved. She wanted some that for herself.

He made some minute adjustments to her armor and then stood before her as she first buckled her sword and dagger to her belt, then buckled the belt onto her hips. The belt itself was quite wide and would likely serve as vital armor for her midsection.

"One last thing," he murmured, his manner going quite solemn. Reaching behind her, he grasped her hood and pulled it forward over her head. She regarded him as he did the same for his own hood. He first thought was that the view from within the grey folds was not at all impeded. However, going by what she could she of Ezio, others would have a hard time seeing the upper half of her face. The top of the hood came to a point, an unusual feature, to be sure, but the design allowed for freedom of movement and anonymity both.

"You ready?" he asked.

She nodded in response and they exited Leonardo's workshop the way they had entered.

* * *

It was near sundown and Alessa still marveled that she had slept the day away. Although it was probably a good thing she had, for she and Ezio were likely to be out for quite some time.

He procured some horses at a nearby hostler and they rode out of the city limits. Alessa had not ridden too often in her life but Ezio kept an easy pace and they cantered almost leisurely northeast.

Alessa began to get restless as the passed the lumbering hulk of the Colosseum. If they kept to this same road, they would reach her former home in the northeast of Campagna.

Her suspicions appeared to be correct as they passed the aquaducts and turned north, then dismounted a mile south of the district she had recently vacated. It was only then, after tethering the horses near a pigeon coop in a secluded courtyard of the district just south of her own former huddle of buildings, that Ezio spoke.

"Our goal tonight is to take down the Captain of that Borgia tower," he said as he pointed to the tower whose rooftop could barely be seen above the treetops in the darkening sky.

"_Ferdinando di Napoli_…" she said indistinctly, her breath a little bit short.

"Yes,"

"Good," she growled suddenly, a grin that was more a baring of her teeth slashing her face. Ezio smiled faintly at her before he turned away.

"Good girl," she heard him murmur.

He began jogging, his pace a little faster than she was comfortable with but it was steady. He stopped every so often for her to catch her breath. She held him back. It was yet another thing she would have to work on. Her life was beginning to gain some direction as she mentally added a daily run to her training in the days ahead.

They reached the familiar outskirts of the hamlet in the darkness between sunset and moonrise. Torches flickered in the soldier berthing areas nearest the tower, but the rest of the buildings were dark and silent. Alessa well remembered the rush to get work done before nightfall so as to fall into ambiguity in the darkness with the rest of the community. It was safer not to attract attention.

Unless attention decided to seek you.

Ezio started jogging, then sprinting, then quick-stepped up the wall of a nearby building. Alessa attained the roof using the stack of crates piled beside it. They moved quickly along the roof in a half-crouch. Ezio gestured to a short gap between the current roof and the barracks next to the tower.

"It's an easy jump, you'll make it," he said in a hushed voice. A short jog and he was over, he crouched, balancing himself with the fingertips of one hand, as his hooded face turned to watch her. . Alessa tried to do the same, but mis-timed her steps and had to turn around, face burning, and attempt the jump again. Yet another thing to practice.

She made the jump much less gracefully than Ezio, obviously, but she made it and rejoiced in the things he was teaching her. The continued their silent jog across the rooftop, then crept across on their stomachs to peer over the edge to the practice yard.

"That's him," Alessa whispered when she spotted, "_Filthy bastard_!" she hissed.

It appeared that their timing could not have been worse; the sentries were changing duty and the majority of the soldiers were in the vicinity.

"So many…" she breathed. She felt Ezio shrug,

"Not really," he said. "We'll be gone before the majority of them figure out what is happening- look!" he pointed. The Captain had broken off from the larger group with a typical squad of six: two spearmen, one heavily armored monster she had always referred to as a brute, and three soldiers carrying a mixed array of medium weapons.

"I think we will have you attempt an air assassination," he said. "You will jump from the roof onto your target. In my opinion, one of the easiest due to the fact that you are essentially falling onto your target and all of that momentum you build up makes for an easier kill."

"Just… like that?"

"No other way to truly practice," he said.

"Huh," she said intelligently.

The group was getting closer to their position. Ezio lowered his voice, his lips almost touching her ear.

"His armor fits badly. Aim for the shoulder just where it meets his neck. Your blade will glide right in and he'll be gone before he can even attempt to fight you off.

"You will take him easily," he said, his eyes glinting.

"But there are six others –" she began

"I will handle them," he replied, his gaze already hardening as he mentally mapped out his conquests.

Her body twitched and trembled with the sheer energy she was suddenly inundated with as she waited, ever so patiently, for the Captain to make his circuit of the courtyard. Ezio was also a silent mass of crouched energy beside her; she could feel his trembling muscles and the sudden heat he generated. He pulled himself upright and she mirrored his position. In identical poses, squatting, hand between knees, heads down, they waited. They would not make a silhouette on the roof; the torchlight did not reach where they waited.

She focused on the Captain, practically feeling her eyes dilate as she fixated on the moving figure…

Closer…

Closer…

She leapt suddenly, her instincts screaming at her to move, her arm drawn back, blade bristling from her fist. She saw a rush of white as Ezio streamed by her.

They scattered the group like leaves before the wind, her blade sliding delightfully easily through the paper thin skin just where Ezio said it would. His blade – no blades, he had _two_! – mirrored her own movements as he took out an axe-wielder and a spearman simultaneously.

She rode the body to the ground, feeling bones shatter under her as it broke her momentum. Extricating her blade, she felt the urge to close the already staring eyes and she stood, blade dripping. The whole thing had taken seconds.

A feeling, quite like lust, actually, flushed her skin and energized her further. She drew her dagger in her right hand, keeping her hidden blade out and turned to survey the scene.

She decided on the remaining spearman; her dagger would make his longer reach useless once she got inside his guard – not mention that he was the closest. On the balls of her feet, she crouched, daggers weaving, as she figured out how to get inside his – ah!

She darted inside his reach as he was a swinging the spear a little wildy – poor bastard was probably confused as hell – punched him square in the face with her reinforced knuckles and stabbed the hidden dagger into the side of his neck. She was a little surprised when the tip came out the other side, but then she ripped it out and lifted a foot to push him to the ground.

She swiveled rapidly to find another and saw Ezio moving like a fucking predator through the remaining survivors. He had the axe and was just smashing it into the crown of the sword-carrier's head. It stuck in the man's skull and Ezio simply let it go, the soldier dropping with the release of the weight, arms and legs twitching in a macabre manner

Without wasting time, Ezio scooped up a dropped spear and used it to block the upper-hand cut the brute was executing. The blow broke the spear and skidded off of Ezio's shoulder plate. As the brute struggled to adjust from his overshot momentum, she watched Ezio glance briefly at the wooden half of the broken spear before he abruptly turned toward his opponent, planted his feet and buried it forcefully into the man, just between the thigh plate and midsection plate, an incredible display of upper body strength. With amazing precision, he then punched the steel blade of the spear's point through the helmet's eye slit. Needless to say, all that heavy plate tumbled to the ground, the body within it no longer alive to support the load.

The remaining soldier turned and hauled ass. Ezio nonchalantly retrieved the axe by placing his foot on the downed spearman's face and wrenching the axe out with a single, sickening crunch. Then he hurled the thing. Alessa watched in amazement as it twirled slowly in mid-air once before burying itself in between the fleeing man's shoulder blades

"Bury the hatchet," Alessa murmured with a half insane giggle.

She turned to say something sarcastic to Ezio, but her words died before they were spoken. He seemed to be paying respects to the dead; methodically closing the eyes and murmuring over each body.

She waited in respectful silence for him to finish. When he stood and faced her, she was momentarily awed. He radiated skill and strength and deadly intent. He had just dispatched five men single-handedly in under a minute. And he had done it with two daggers and the weapons he had wrested from his enemies.

"Holy sh-"

He jogged toward her, spun her roughly and took off into the night. She shook off her wonderment and followed him back into the darkness.

* * *

**A/N: Noticed a few grammatical issues so I cleared those up and tried to make some transitions flow a little better. Figured I'd also add a quick thanks to flyingcrispi and LegendsAlmighty for leaving some love! Gonna take a brief hiatus; gotta get some gameplay in so I can figure out where I want to be in the game plot; I could totally use the wiki, but what fun is that? Oh, and I highly recommend the following youtube video - .com/watch?v=II_g4_LSSRA WOW! I've watched it like 10 times and STILL cannot get enough. Was very instrumental in crafting this first battle, too. So go give the creator some love!**


	6. Thieves and Minstrels

**A/N: The events and poem in this chapter inspired by haggard's version of "herr mannelig" youtube the sucker, it's AWESOME! AC belongs to ubisoft.**

* * *

The pain of effort was excruciating. Her muscles screamed for relief as she panted heavily. Her sword arm was near dead and she could barely raise her dagger hand to parry the incoming heavy blow on her reinforced forearm. Her opponent seemed to have unlimited reserves of endurance and she silently cursed him for it; she did not have the breath.

"Move your sorry ass!" he taunted. And of course it worked. With a silent snarl, she swarmed into him, her every thought focused on swirling her sword in a graceful arc laterally at his throat, arm and blade at a parallel to the ground. Of course her muscles had no intention of following the puppet- master's orders and she ended up barely managing a truly pathetic swipe that was condescendingly parried. The impact was not a very hard one, but her left hand had had enough, and the fingers flexed spasmodically.

Her sword clattered to the ground. God, she was a fucking idiot. All she had to do was get pissed off and then it was all charge into the fight mindlessly. Yeah, because that was_ really_ effective; she always ended up getting her ass thoroughly kicked.

Yup.

_Here we go_, she thought.

Sure enough, the long stave of her opponent slammed into her chest, was effortlessly and gracefully reversed in order to sweep her off her feet, ass over elbows. She lay on the ground, panting, still clutching her dagger, and flexed her left wrist. She was gathering the strength to surge to her feet when the blunt end of the stave appeared in her field of vision.

"Yield," her opponent demanded imperiously.

"Ffhorgh ughh," she grunted. A malicious smile spread over her attacker's features as he tensed in preparation to crush her throat. In desperation, Alessa twisted her body agilely such that she scissored the man's knees between her legs. He did not go down, but stumbled badly. It was enough. She scrabbled about a bit, managed to grab his trousers just above his knees and yanked with all her might. It was an ugly and awkward move, but he went down. She jostled her way up his body, straddling his chest as she brought both her daggers to either side of his throat.

"Yield," she rasped.

Her answer was a kick to the back of her head – how the hell had he managed that? – and she tumbled off of him. Now he straddled her. His weight made it difficult to breath. She struggled feebly for a moment but her arms were half under his shins and her legs pin-wheeled ineffectually as she could not rotate at the hips.

"Fine!" she eventually spat as her attacker gazed at her in smug satisfaction. "Fine, I yield!" She gnashed her teeth at the admission, but was rewarded by a sweet breath of air.

Her attacked stood and offered her a hand up, which she grudgingly accepted.

"You're doing better, your stamina is much improved," he said, clapping her companionably on the shoulder, "but you really need to stop reacting to taunts."

"Thanks for the advice," Alessa grumbled an affirmative and received a final hearty slap on the back before he moved away to retrieve his training stave.

Alessa, still trying to catch her breath, heaved like a bellows as she looked around for her practice sword. Oh. Had she lost it all the way over there? Huh.

"Alessa, join us at the Sleeping Fox tonight," her sparring partner, Marco, asked. Some of the other training men stopped their bouts and joined him in their invitation and Alessa felt herself smiling even though she was still pissed off at her failure.

She had been training with La Volpe's thieves for a few weeks now. She loved the hell out of them; all of her previous perceptions had been drastically wrong. They were amazingly diverse in their possession of skills, had a code of their own honor that they all fervently kept to, and were willing and patient teachers. With them, she worked on her climbing, running, and close-quarter fighting. She went to bed every night completely exhausted and, more often than not, she moved about her day with some sort of muscle pain. But she was noticing significant improvement in her body's abilities. She slimmed down, built strength, and found she was quite flexible and quick compared to the males.

She could perform the quick-step up a wall with ease now, could swing her sword with some technique and accuracy, but her forte was the very close hand-to-hand combat that characterized a dagger fight. Her speed and developing eye for strategy and timing was an excellent foundation, but many of the thieves were in possession of the same skill set. No, her knack for knife-fighting lay in the deep-seated desire she had to get almost uncomfortably close to her opponent and watch his expression change as she executed a maneuver that, in real life, would have been disabling or lethal. She relished the slow dawning of horror, consternation, and fear.

"Only if you promise not to keep buying my drinks, Marco," she said, "Last time, I don't even remember how I got back home,"

"That's because I carried you," Adriano, an older, whip-thin, and astonishingly nimble free-runner said, "Right over my shoulder like a sack of grain!"

"Yeah right," scoffed Marco, "You were too drunk to do more than puke in the fookin' ditch!" Adriano guffawed.

"You only know that, pup, because you were right there beside me!"

"Oh. Yeah," said Marco, a thoughtful look on his face. He chuckled at the fond memory and turned back to her. "So will we see you tonight?"

"Sure, I have some work to finish first, though. Are we meeting at sundown again?"

"Or earlier, if you think you can handle it," Marco sneered.

"You're right," she conceded, "I don't know if I'm ready for your brand of handling, brother." Marco sniffed and eyeballed her in mock disgust before flashing her a grin and sauntering off. Alessa snorted and gathered up her practice stave, returned it to a nearby rack, and headed back to her quarters.

She had been set up with a limited workshop near the thieves' guild headquarters while she gained a grasp on some of the more physical aspects of her assassin's training. During her free time, she assembled hidden daggers and painted. Leonardo had sent her the parts for the first couple daggers with instructions on how to forge the individual pieces for more. He had also caught her covetously eyeing his cache of half-finished paintings and teased out her long-time desire to try her hand at the craft.

She had completed two daggers so far, each one etched with a maze of unique knot-work and inlaid delicately with silver. Ezio had expressed to her his desire to expand the ranks of the Brotherhood to a total of twelve fully trained Assassins. She was fiercely proud of being his first apprentice and worked hard to deserve the title.

She had a meeting set up with Leonardo to discuss the manufacture of the composite metal vambrace in the near future and was also brushing up on her basic metal-working skills with the local blacksmith, who was a nice, older man that talked incessantly of his grandchildren. Alessa enjoyed the stories of comfortable, homey themes and hoped that the man would never go through the loss that she had.

She went out back to the well and drew up a couple of buckets of water to wash with. Taking one to her bedroom, she took the time to stretch her muscles thoroughly, shed her smelly workout trousers and tunic, and un-wrapped her breast bindings, wincing slightly as she lost some of the support they had given to her ribs. She really owed Marco a nice painful bruise or fifty.

Washing quickly, she pulled a fresh set of clothing on and settled at her workbench after setting the bucket outside for use in watering the communal garden. She got out a fresh piece of vellum and was sketching out the design for the next blade when she heard the smallest of creaks above her. Her head snapped up and she listened.

Silence.

But she knew he was there.

Leaping up, she darted to the stairway and bounded into his arms just as he descended the last step.

"Ufff," he grunted.

"Ezio!" she exclaimed, giving him a quick hug around the neck before dropping a kiss on his cheek. He took hold of her upper arms and held her at arm's length away from him.

"Look at you, _cara_," he said, "So quick on your feet now! I have heard that you are doing well?"

"I am," she replied, "They have been good to me here and look!" She gestured to her work with the hidden blades. "I have learned how to make the hidden blades."

"Excellent," he replied, picking one up and inspecting it with a discerning gaze and sensitive fingers, "I may have to have you work on mine. The detail is incredible."

He set the weapon down gently.

"Since you are doing so well, I think I would like to double the number; eventually I would like for you to have two blades. The second set will have to wait, though. Leonardo will show you a modification that I'd like to have included on the second blade,"

"Not a problem at all," Alessa replied, inclining her head slightly.

"What is this?" asked Ezio, reaching for the covered easel in the farthest corner.

"Ah, it's…" she tried to intercept him, failed. He whisked the cover off of her current work and gazed.

The painting was only roughly sketched out in sepia tones. Trees in the background were hazy, indistinct. The bird itself was caught in the act of swooping down into the mess of slashes that represented the nest. Talons were arched in preparation for landing, the wings slightly curled inward towards the bird's body, long flight feathers spread majestically.

"There's a nest atop the tower of the thieves' guild," she said, slightly embarrassed and babbling to cover it up. "The young is almost ready to leave."

"The Imperial Eagle," Ezio murmured. "Interesting choice of subject." He turned to face her. "You have potential, I hope you to continue this."

Her face burning, she covered the painting back up.

"It's good to see you, Ezio," she said, not quite changing the subject on purpose. "I've missed your lessons."

He smiled, turning the full force of his charm on her and she laughed nervously as he placed a hand to his heart.

"I am wounded, _cara_," he drawled mischievously, "that you missed the lessons but not the teacher! Perhaps there are some more… intimate… things that I can teach you, work on focusing that attention of yours?"

He practically waggled his eyebrows and Alessa burst into genuine laughter.

"So," he continued, "I have been working to find us some likely partners, and I would like you to come with me tomorrow morning to recruit him."

Alessa gestured for him to sit at her small table. As he spoke, she began preparing a pot of tea. It felt right to have him in her space, even if he filled it with his presence and vitality.

"I have been receiving reports of a mercenary turned doctor…"

"Wait… turned… doctor? How?"

Ezio shrugged

"Who knows, but apparently he is quite good at taking care of wounds. And his wife was the district herbalist before she… Well, she was out alone gathering the supplies for her trade when she was beset upon by the soldiers and…" Ezio growled to himself quietly and the steaming pot trembled violently in her hand before she set it on the table until she calmed herself. Ezio continued,

"He has been giving care to some of my men in secret. He doesn't ask questions. I have been meaning to speak with him; his skills are such that he would be a beneficial asset on the field. And he obviously has reason to hate the Borgia as much as you or I."

"No shit," Alessa growled, pouring his tea first, then hers. "So we'll go get him tomorrow morning. What if he doesn't want to make the vow?"

"I doubt it will be an issue," Ezio replied, not at all concerned. "He is quite the trouble-maker; he lives just south of where you did and even though Borgia control in that area is limited, he continually harasses those that remain. His name is Demasi…"

"Wait," Alessa said, "Dino Demasi?" At Ezio's nod, she continued "I've heard of him! He fights pretty regularly in the mercenaries' guild matches. He's supposed to be quite good. I heard he's a bit of a prick, though."

"Yes, well, he has reason to be."

"When did his wife… die?"

"About a year ago."

Alessa had nothing to say. She knew what it was like to have all of that anger inside. She also knew that Ezio was correct to be confident of Dino Demasi's eventual inclusion into the Brotherhood. They finished the tea in companionable silence and as evening descended, Alessa mentioned Marco's invitation. Ezio indicated his approval of the idea and Alessa cleaned up quickly.

It was a perfect mid-summer evening. The breeze was just that perfect degree of warm that actually felt cool after a hot day. The muted pinks and purples of the sunset were almost faded to the indigo of night. Ezio casually slung his left arm across her shoulders and, with her senses a little overwhelmed by the perfection of the evening, she laid her head against his shoulder, sliding her right arm around his lean waist to balance herself.

Enveloped in the clean scent of the air and in the strength of the man beside her, Alessa drank in the sensations with a heady bliss. Her left hand slid up to entwine with his.

"You fit so perfectly beside me," he mentioned offhandedly, his voice soft. Alessa did not comment. Too many thoughts were running through her head; the majority of them agreed with him. And yet…

The thought was so elusive that she lost it.

Instead, she pressed a kiss to his knuckles and they continued in silence.

Ahead, the Sleeping Fox was well lit and doing brisk business. When the door opened to spill out some revelers, Alessa caught a strain of music.

"Oh! A minstrel!" she exclaimed.

Beside her, Ezio growled, "Minstrels."

"What do you have against minstrels?" she asked in surprise. He was well educated in art and music and seemed to appreciate both; his disgust was a surprise.

"Just never mind," he muttered darkly. "It's not something that can be explained."

Alessa chuckled at the slight note of petulance in his voice.

The guild headquarters that doubled as a tavern was indeed packed tonight. Probably influenced by the presence of the entertainers. The singer was female, tall, statuesque, breathtakingly beautiful, and garbed quite elegantly compared to the crowd she was entertaining. She was accompanied by a single drummer and lute player. It was outwardly apparent that she was the leader of the trio as the instrumentalists sat in partial shadows. It was her voice that would be doing the entertainment tonight.

Ezio procured them a table in a corner by upending the bench a couple of drunk, nearly passed-out thieves were occupying. They tumbled to the floor and blinked about themselves in confusion before staggering to their feet and moving passively off elsewhere. Ezio gestured for Alessa to sit with a flourish.

Ezio walked toward the bar to find drinks and Alessa looked around the packed room in interest, searching for Marco or Adriano. Both thieves were nowhere that she could see and she smiled up at Ezio as he brought over a bottle of wine, beaded with condensation, and two mugs.

"Not the proper glassware for this vintage, but I imagine it will perform it's duty admirably," he said.

The wine was superb, whatever it was; Alessa could discern the subtle but distinct notes of the grapes and cherries used to make it. It was also very strong. The first cup was gone before she knew it and the subtle haze of drink softened her limbs and blurred the edges of her thoughts.

Ezio poured her a second cup as the minstrel began a new song. Sultry, slow, and somehow melodic drumbeats accompanied her. She had an incredible voice, pure and high. The wistful song was unknown to Alessa, but she was enraptured by the story.

_All'alba, prima che il sole sorgesse e gli uccelli cantassero la loro dolce canzone; La donna del troll della montagna con lingua falsa ed ingannevole propose al signore: (Early one morning before the sun did rise and the birds sang their sweet song; the mountain troll proposed to the fair squire. She had a false deceitful tongue. )_

Ezio casually sprawled back into the corner, knees apart, shoulders relaxed. Despite the fact that he appeared to be perfectly at ease, he looked like some lazing predatory creature. His eyes were unreadable, lost both in the shadows of his hood and his half-lowered lids. After a moment, Alessa lounged back against him and he lifted his arm to accommodate her, the warm weight settling comfortably over her shoulders. She sipped her wine and was lost in music.

_Herr Mannelig, Herr Mannelig mi vorrai sposare per tutto quello che io dolcemente ti darè? __Se vorrai, rispondi solo si o no. __Farai così o no? ( Sir Mannelig, Sir Mannelig won't you marry me for all that I'll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no. Will you do so or no? )_

She felt Ezio rest a cheek against her temple, his short beard rough on her skin. His breath was as heady as the wine and her heart decided to pound cautiously. Despite the overwhelming feeling of inevitability that she breathed in with every breath, she could not take her eyes off of the performers. She did not dare take her eyes off of the performers. She wished she had never settled back into his arms, but it was too late. Being held by him was like being bound by the slow, inexorable passing of time.

The lute player upped the tempo of the music. Upped the tempo of her heart.

_Ti darò i dodici mulini che stanno tra Tillo e Terno. Le macine sono fatte del più rosso rame e le ruote sono cariche d'argento.__(To you I will give the twelve fine mills that stand between Tillo and Terno. The mill stones are made of the reddest brass and the wheels are silver-laden. )_

Her senses were ablaze. The beautiful voice enthralled her. The hard body she rested against was no longer relaxed, but tense, muscles trembling finely. She smelled the exquisite wine as he breathed and the intoxicating wildness of his scent as he shifted minutely. Her vision was too sharp, too vivid as she watched the crowd fall under the sway of the singer's voice. She sipped her wine, ignoring her own trembling and focusing on the taste; it was delicate and sweet from with the fruits that had made it – and was not at all subtle as far as the alcohol content was concerned. The room spun slowly. She noticed that Ezio had set his mug on the table at some point.

_To you I will give the twelve great steeds that graze in a shady grove. Never has a saddle been mounted on their backs, nor had a bit in their mouths _

He nuzzled her temple, his lips a soft contrast to his beard and, finally unable to resist, she let her head loll back to look up at him. Meeting his gaze was like taking a punch to the midsection; the air flew out of her lungs. His eyes were too dark, too deep. Intensity and emotion that she knew she would never match made the pools of darkness seem slightly threatening. She wanted to fling herself into those menacing depths. She placed her mug on the table, hands trembling out of control, the wine slopping as she set it down. The excellent vintage sat, unnoticed beside Ezio's, as she let herself get drawn in by those eyes.

_To you I will give the gilded sword that jingles from fifteen gold rings. Strike with it in battle as you will. On the battlefield you will conquer _

She was not in any state to appreciate the subtle, but undeniable skill of the musicians or singer. Her strength was gone, her body lax from the wine; and so she was lost to Ezio's strength as he held her. She waited. God, those eyes! What was she thinking? She was not thinking; thoughts would try to form, thoughts of moving away, thoughts of how inappropriate this whole evening had been, silly little thoughts that were scattered before the enormity of his gaze on hers. She barely noticed his other arm come up so he could cradle her face.

_To you I will give a brand new shirt. The lustrous best to wear. It is not sewn with needle or thread, but crocheted of the whitest silk. _

Alessa could only clutch him helplessly as her frantic heartbeat seemed to thrum within her chest, a dull, burning ache spreading out from under her sternum. The edges of her vision blurred. His body was like steel beneath her fingers, no give, and she could only yield to it. Would she always be this way for him? Did he want her to be this way? Did she really care? Her lips parted; she couldn't breathe under his strength.

_Herr Mannelig, Herr Mannelig mi vorrai sposare per tutto quello che io dolcemente ti darè? __Se vorrai, rispondi solo si o no. __Farai così o no?( Sir Mannelig, Sir Mannelig won't you marry me for all that I'll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no. Will you do so or no? )_

Ezio's thumb feathered across her cheek, just along the scar, leaving in its wake a burning trail that had never awakened under his touch before. A slight sigh escaped him and he moved minutely. His lips touched her eyelid, her cheek. He retreated and considered her, his eyes dark with need.

The music drifted purposefully as the squire in the story considered his offer. The lute played questioning chords, single notes that hung lingeringly in the air and held the crowd in tense anticipation.

It was within this quiet hush and amidst the gentle, cascading notes of apprehensive tenderness that his lips brushed hers once, twice, so lightly that she thought maybe he really had not even touched her.

Then he put those thoughts to rest. He put all her thoughts to rest.

_Se tu fossi una donna cristiana riceverei volentieri regali così__. Ma io so che sei il peggiore troll della montagna figlio degli spiriti maligni e del demonio. __( Gifts such as these I would gladly receive if you were a Christian woman. But I know you are the worst mountain troll from the spawn of the water spirit and the devil. )_

As the male sang his verse in a clear tenor, Ezio kissed her with a skill and a fervor that couldn't have existed at any other moment in all time.

Ever.

No one could have been kissed in this manner because no one could have survived it. Alessa was sure that her heart would implode as his mouth moved over hers and she tried to process the beginnings of an onslaught of heady combinations of contrasts: dominance and responsiveness, violence and serenity. The spirit of the man was exposed by his passion and Alessa was overwhelmed by the revelation the emotion that drove him. As his mouth slanted over hers, she got a sense of an awful, deep-rooted sorrow balanced by unfathomable self-possession. Hate, duty, honor, violence, loyalty, lust, knowledge, sorrow, laughter, love: he was driven by all of it.

The lute faded out, leaving only the mournful drum accompanying the singer.

_Herr Mannelig, Herr Mannelig mi vorrai sposare per tutto quello che io dolcemente ti darè? __Se vorrai, rispondi solo si o no. __Farai così o no? (Sir Mannelig, Sir Mannelig won't you marry me for all that I'll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no. Will you do so or no? )_

One of his hands slid around her neck, his fingers spreading out into her hair, gripping her with a reverence that shifted from harsh fanaticism to an almost peaceful tenderness as she sighed contentedly against his lips. His mouth softened on hers in response and the heat between them changed as well, from a bright blaze that consumed all into glimmering coals that would burn with perfect, steadfast warmth through a cold night. Who was this man that carried so much passion within him? Who was he that he could drown her so completely in that passion: body, mind, and soul? Who was he that she didn't mind her loss of free will?

_The mountain troll ran out the door. She wailed and she shrieked so loudly, "Had I gotten that handsome squire, from my torment I would be free now." _

Haunted desperation tinged the singer's voice. The contrast between the innocent purity of the female's voice and it's despair was terrible in it's poignancy.

Those sounds were the other things that existed in the world with her and the man that gazed at her. She reached up to touch his face hesitantly, absolutely overcome. He let her for a moment before he leaned back down to nuzzle her, whispering something fervent that she didn't quite catch as her head arched back and her eyes closed.

_Herr Mannelig, Herr Mannelig mi vorrai sposare per tutto quello che io dolcemente ti darè? __Se vorrai, rispondi solo si o no. __Farai così o no?( Sr Mannelig, Sir Mannelig won't you marry me for all that I'll gladly give you. You may answer only yes or no. Will you do so or no? )_

As the singer meandered despondently through the final line, Alessa whispered his name.

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**A/N: Woof! Hope you like the updated, extended version. I was actually feeling a little voyeuristic there… *blush* LOL! It's melodramatic to say in the least but I hope I was able to give Ezio some emotional depth here.**


	7. Dino

**A/N: This introduction of Dino was inspired by music by Five Finger Death Punch – "Never Enough" and "Bad Company" Eff yeah! You'll see why! Hope you like him! Or hate him, the bastard, hee! I'm excited 'cause I've always wanted to have a character named Dino running around.**

**And let me know what you think of the damage control I've used to fix that damn mess I left my girl in last chapter. Sheesh. Thanks for the follow up review flyingcrispi, I kind of posted that last chapter for you, not gonna lie. And good to see you again, ecnal nogardnap, my brother!**

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The recollection that they were in public dissolved their fixation the moment when the appreciative silence following the music was shattered by enthusiastic applause. Ezio had regarded her with a solemn expression, slightly out of breath, and then abruptly released her.

"Go," he rasped.

She darted out the door like the tavern was on fire, bumping the table in her haste and knocking over the empty wine bottle. She had heard it rumble off the table and shatter on the stone as she fled through the door.

He followed, a stalking shadow provoking her speed; a dark, ominous shape that hastened her to false safety. She reached her workshop and bolted the door but knew it would not keep him away. Now that she was out of the public eye, she was a little calmer; she could not bear to continue whatever was happening with all of the keen eyes surrounding them.

"If you even _**think**_ of blaming it on the wine –" his voice growled from the shadows. Alessa gasped and pressed herself to the wall as he ambled into view. All too aware of his liquid grace, she closed her eyes.

_Jesus, how the hell had he gotten in so fast?_

"I'm sorry," she whispered. His steps halted, and then resumed, the heels of his boots no longer thundering into the floorboards.

"You will _**not**_ pity me" he ordered as he crowded into her, pressing his palms to the wall on either side of her face.

"I – I don't, I swear."

He stared into her eyes with the full force of his attention. She wavered a bit – it was like standing before the sun on the hottest day in the driest desert – but held his gaze.

"I would love to have you, I would love for you to take me," she whispered.

Those eyes widened a bit and then he leaned forward imperceptibly…

"But I don't think I am the one for you."

That surprised him. And then he looked less pissed off and more intrigued.

"Why?"

Alessa resolutely ignored the lyrical tenderness of his voice as it gentled; simmering anger smoothing

"I think that we could fuck, right now, and that it would be spectacular," she said, smiling a little as he raised an eyebrow and quirked up a corner of his mouth.

"But..." he prompted.

"But ultimately, it would be empty because I don't think that I will make you happy in the end."

"You truly believe that?" he asked, somewhat skeptically.

"I do," she touched his chest, just over his heart. "I will never hold this. And I will not sully what we have become by attempting to take it in that manner."

He regarded her intensely for another period of time. They could have been standing there for hours for all she could tell. An astonishing array of emotions rippled across his face: anger, hope, weariness, sorrow, contemplation…

"You," he said quietly, "are extraordinary."

She barely heard his footsteps as he walked away from her. Her heart had been at a standstill and suddenly started to make its presence known again. Her muscles were beginning to lose their rigidity.

Ezio hesitated, then spoke,

"But you are sorely mistaken if you truly believe that you will never hold at least a part of my heart."

She knew he was gone by the loss of his scent and the clamoring emptiness his incredible presence left behind. She knew because she could not hear him leave over the roaring in her ears nor see him leave because of the self-depreciating tears that would not stop flowing.

She had a hard time falling asleep that night because she was afraid that her instinct had been wrong. Was she being too arrogant in believing that she could not make him happy?

BREAK

He roused her before the sun came up. It was the silent, chill time just before the sun rose; when everyone in their right mind was still in deep sleep. She dressed silently into the Assassin hood and buckled her armor on with newfound practiced, efficient movements.

She walked at his left side without comment as they procured mounts for the day and set off down the road at a brisk trot. Ezio was lost in thought and seemed disinclined to speak. Alessa focused on improving her horsemanship; apparently she still sent "mixed signals" to the horse. The limitation made it surprisingly difficult to handle a well trained horse. She had been impressed to learn that it was actually the possession of fine muscle control to avoid doing this; she had always assumed that good horsemanship was acquired in direct proportion to brute strength.

It was late morning by the time they arrived in the district. And she was mentally exhausted, but finally getting the idea of sending instructions to the horse with her knees and with the barest touches of the reins.

As they rode into the village proper, Alessa began looking around uneasily. There should have been more people moving about; it was not anywhere near the mid-afternoon siesta hour. The cheerfulness of the late summer morning was broken here and there by muffled shouts and intermittent clanks.

"Hmmm," Ezio rumbled, lending an expert ear to the clamor.

"Looks like we've arrived just in time," he booted his horse into a gallop and Alessa followed him unerringly.

They tore through the deserted streets, heading directly toward the ruckus. As they rounded the corner of a building, Alessa spotted a lone man surrounded by a good seven or eight Borgia soldiers, including three brutes.

_This must be him_, she thought. _He's certainly done a good job at riling them up_.

He was a big man, tall, but not bulky. He probably weighed a good amount, but his muscle stretched over longer bones, making him appear very well proportioned. He used that height and reach to his advantage, fighting weaponless as he was.

He moved with less grace and agility than Ezio. Instead, his movements were abrupt, efficient and brutal. As Alessa watched, he kicked a spearman viciously on the lateral side of the knee and then stepped behind the hapless soldier. Back to back, Dino Demasi's arm snaked around the soldier's head, gripping the man under the chin and pulling up and back in a short, vicious tug that snapped the neck, the crack audible even over the pounding hooves of the horses and the shouts of the remaining soldiers. The whole thing had looked like a single movement.

Ezio leapt from his horse while it still galloped, sinking both of his blades through the backs of two necks in a flash. There was no way she would manage that; Alessa settled for hauling back hard on the reins, throwing her leg over the withers and sliding to the ground in a less ostentatious manner as her horse slid to a halt, haunches nearly touching the ground. Without a pause, she sprinted up to the closest brute, jumping up and kicking her back leg out to give herself some impetus. Her hidden blade slid in the spot left bare between his helmet and chest plate.

She must have missed because he did not go down right away. Her hidden dagger blade still buried in… something, Alessa swiftly pulled her knuckle dagger, reached back, and landed a hard right hook to the helmet at just the right angle, knocking it off.

Oh wait, she had got him; just a nick to his neck and then caught in the leather padding of his shoulders that more riled up than killed the man.

Shit.

She wrenched her dagger free and proceeded to kick him in the genitals as hard as she could with her reinforced boot. She did not expect it to really do anything, but he must have been issued armor from a second rate blacksmith because her boot actually bent the metal in. She felt the impact when the metal was stopped by the flesh underneath. As he went down, clutching himself in silent agony, she smashed her knee into his face. He stumbled to his hands and knees. Alessa leapt into the air above him, one arm flung up for balance and brought the heel of her foot down on the back of his head.

Fuck yeah, that worked.

She turned just in time to parry a wild swing from a mace. The heavy blow was agonizing as it rebounded up her dagger and into her suddenly painful hand. Gritting her teeth, she managed to let the mace slide past her. Over balanced, its wielder's guard was wide open.

Hello there.

Alessa stepped right up close. She bared her teeth and plunged her hidden blade up under the man's sternum, watching in cold fury as the soldier began to realize what had just happened. She turned sideways and ripped her hidden blade free, slinging blood onto the soldier that had been trying to sneak up behind her. He cursed vilely at her and she crouched, watching intently for his sword to reach its peak height. Then she darted in…

A big body came out of nowhere, crashing into the soldier, narrowly missing her blade.

The sword went flying, the men went flying, Demasi expertly flipping the soldier over his shoulder and onto his back whilst wrenching the head…

Whoa.

The man had some serious hand and forearm strength.

The soldiers were all down.

Breathing hard, Dino stepped away from her and Ezio with a smidge of suspicion then inclined his head in a terse movement, first to Ezio, then to her.

As her right hand began to throb, Alessa gingerly extricated her fingers from her dagger. Dino noticed the movement and moved toward her. He was a big fucker, and she backed away from him unconsciously. He followed her, intent on her rapidly swelling hand, and captured her wrist. He appeared to have no problems with personal space and Alessa stood there a little uneasily, shooting Ezio a slightly panicked look. The traitor just shrugged and came to their side to watch in interest.

Then, surprisingly gentle, Dino prodded the swollen knuckles.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, moving her hand. Alessa cursed and attempted to pull away from him.

"Yes! Damn!"

Dino did not really seem to notice her as she tugged at his grip; he did not seem to be even exerting any real effort to hold her in place.

"Stop being a baby," he said off-handedly as his fingers brushed over her knuckles. Alessa felt her brows crash down and her face crumple into a glower. Ezio guffawed in the background, and then coughed spasmodically. Dino ignored them both while he continued to paw at her hand.

He finished whatever the hell kind of torture he was performing and, still with the grip immobilizing her wrist, reached into a pouch at his hip, producing roll of linen bandages. Deftly, he wrapped her last three fingers individually, then the middle and ring finger together, then the pinkie to the rest. Over that, he finished un-winding the roll, distal to proximal, up past her wrist. He released her finally after tying a neat, expert knot.

Alessa snatched her hand back. And Dino finally looked her in the eye. She had to tilt her chin back to look at his face and it made her feel fucking ridiculous.

"It's a boxer's fracture and should heal within a few weeks provided you don't put a lot of pressure and strain on it," He eyeballed her insolently, as if he did not expect her to care about his stupid orders, and she bristled, opening her mouth to tell him where to shove his attitude. Ezio hastily interrupted.

"Thank you," he said graciously, giving Alessa a measured look. She barely was able to keep from rolling her eyes, barely, and grumbled something that might have been a thank you.

The big former mercenary turned his attention back to Ezio, something like interest and respect crossing his face.

"It is nothing, _messere_, I appreciate the help. If there is anything you need done to fuck up the Borgia, I'm your man." He eyed Alessa sideways, "even if it is just bandaging up the FNG."

"That's funny, I thought I was looking at the FNG," she hissed. Dino grinned.

"Saucy little hellcat aren't you?" he was amused, _amused! _

Alessa smiled coldly.

"Well if you're interested. I can show you my claws by sticking my blade up your…"

Her horse bumped into her from behind and Ezio coughed as he made an effort to appear as if he were having difficulty controlling the beast. The Master Assassin seemed to be a little phlegmy today; what a traitor! Both the horse and the man!

"I have a proposition for you," Ezio began, handing the reins to her. Alessa scowled and took them, retreating into her hood to brood. The horse made the moment perfect by slobbering all over her shoulder.

"Anything," Dino returned.

"I would be interested in procuring your services,"

"Done." Dino held his hand out. Ezio shook his head.

"The vow, once taken, is for life. No exceptions."

Dino seemed a little taken aback at that and he stopped and seriously looked at Ezio and Alessa for the first time. Alessa flushed as he took in her hooded tunic, the weapons at her hips. Ezio waited patiently while Dino gave him a once-over.

The man was deep in thought and Alessa had to respect that he was taking the time to think things over before brashly joining the Brotherhood. He looked around at the cooling bodies and Alessa could see him eyeing Ezio's forearms shrewdly. Apparently Dino Demasi was a man of some depth.

He was still a prick.

"I am yours," Dino said suddenly. "I'm well aware of the fact that I can't bring an empire down alone. And if this vow is life long, I gladly take it, and consider the sacrifice well worth it."

He bent to a knee, propping his heavy shoulders up with a fist on the ground.

"Well said, my friend," Ezio said, as the two locked forearms and Dino rose to his former height.

Goddamn tree.

Alessa's eyebrows raised, she was impressed, despite herself, at this man's casual assumption that the insidious influence of Rodrigo and Cesare Borgia would eventually be brought to naught. Unlike Dino, however, Alessa believed without a doubt that a single man could indeed take down an entire empire. It just depended on who that man was.

The men began discussing Dino's transition into the Assassin sub-culture. Alessa sighed to herself when Ezio assigned the man to work alongside her with the thieves' guild for the time being. Maybe she could go work with the courtesans in the meantime?

Meh.

Obnoxious as Dino was, he was a damn sight better than having some fat nobleman pawing at her. She shuddered to herself, somehow drawing the men's attention.

"We should disappear," Ezio said, "It may be a while before these bodies are noticed, but I would rather have you report in one piece, Demasi." Ezio whistled for his mount.

Nothing.

"Nag," he muttered, then mounted Alessa's horse, holding out a hand imperiously. Conscious of Dino watching them in unconcealed interest, she accepted Ezio's hand awkwardly with her left hand, used his booted foot as a stirrup and settled into place behind him. Ezio waved a farewell to Dino and then booted the horse into a gallop.

Alessa clutched his waist; finding quite difficult to balance. She'd be damned before she admitted it though. They rode to the closest stable and acquired a second horse. No longer uncomfortably perched on the horse's rump, Alessa was able to relax a bit.

"He is quite proficient, and his medical knowledge will be invaluable," Ezio finally said. Without thinking, she stated,

"He's a –" she broke off just in time.

Alessa had to admit that Ezio was right and some of her irritation faded under the influence of his obvious satisfaction. She took a deep breath, feeling her chest lighten, and smiled at him. Ezio also breathed a sigh of relief and they rode in companionable silence for a time before he spoke.

"I have been thinking on what you said last night," he began, holding his hand up when she tried to speak. "And I find myself equally as conflicted as you seem to be. I want you to know that I will always hold you in my highest esteem. But know this…" he leaned a bit closer to her, his saddle creaking with the shift in weight,

"_**I**_ decide who holds my heart. And if I decide that person is you, nothing you say will change my mind. Ever."

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**A/N: So I really felt like shit turning him down there at the beginning. And that last bit wasn't done quite to my satisfaction, but the rest of the chapter was ready so there it is.**


	8. The Hidden Blade

**A/N: This is kind of a transition chapter, trying to work on adding some character depth and practicing dialogue, something I have a hard time with. Hopefully not too boring.**

**Musical inspiration: Skillet's "awake and alive" kind feels like the assassin recruit theme song! Tarja, "Damned and Divine" I've used damned and divine as inspiration in my Dynasty Warriors fic, cause it's just so dark and poignant, and let's face it – our Assassins don't have a very cheerful day job**

**Much love to my loyal reviewers for your discerning taste! flyingcrispi, ecnal_nogardnap, and LegendsAlmighty :D**

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Alessa brushed a tiny streak of red across the drab browns and blacks that composed the fey little bird's body. Completely focused, she used the finest brush she owned to crosshatch the red with the still-damp black paint, recreating the red band of the real-life bird's wing. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead and hung just over her eyebrow, threatening to drop a stinging bead into her eye.

Holding her breath, she finished adding the splash of color, then sat back with a sigh. Absently, she brushed her forehead with the back of her paint-smudged hand and took in her work.

The painting of the little songbird had come to life rather quickly as her skill had improved. It was her first attempt at incorporating color into a painting and she regarded that little splotch of red with pride. The bird itself was a species commonly found in open fields so she had painted it perched on a bent stalk of grass. She regarded the image speculatively, thinking that adding some muted purples and yellows in the background would contrast well with the focal point.

She jumped a bit as a harsh knock rattled her door. Standing and stretching, she set her brush down and grabbed a damp rag. Walking to the door, she rubbed her hands free of paint and sighed a little at the loss of her quiet time.

She would not have minded Ezio dropping in unannounced; in fact, it was something he did daily now, for the past week. Arriving at all hours of the day – and night – she felt that he used her workshop as he did Leonardo's, a place for respite from the grim work he performed on behalf of the Assassin Order and all of Rome.

His presence had become very comforting to be around. He often spoke of strategy, fighting technique, and stealth, sharing his unfathomable depth of knowledge and experience with her. Other times, he seemed content to watch her paint, carve, or tinker with the growing cache of hidden blades while he sharpened or maintained his own gear.

The lust still burned between them, but for now, it seemed that Ezio was biding his time, watching, waiting; skills he was eminently proficient in. For now, he seemed content. She told herself that she was, too.

Alessa opened the door. The early morning sun was directly behind her visitor and she had to squint to make out his features.

As if the height wasn't a dead giveaway.

"Peace," Dino said, responding to whatever expression was on her face. He bowed slightly. He clutched an enormous bouquet of wildflowers, some of them still attached to roots that dribbled clumps of soil. They observed each other warily from either side of the threshold before Dino finally said,

"Well are you going to invite me in or not?" and thrust the clump of wildflowers in her face. Alessa was so astonished that she took them and stepped aside.

"I know we did not get off to the best of starts so I would like to introduce myself." He smiled in what she supposed he thought was a charming manner.

"Dino Demasi, Assassin, doctor by trade." She eyed him speculatively and then replied,

"Alessa Ricci, Assassin, metalworker."

"Ricci? Not any relation to Vito Ricci?"

"He was my husband," she said softly. Dino's eyes lit up in recognition, but then he frowned darkly.

"That was some serious bullshit what happened to him. Goddamn waste of talent!" he scuffed his boot along the floorboards in barely contained anger. Then turning away from her suddenly, he bowed his head, shoulders tightening under the folds of his new Assassin hood as he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. His apparent misery surprised her; she really could not keep up with his emotional outbursts.

His fingers tightened on the hilt and he drew the blade, turning to her and presenting it horizontally across his palms.

"Best blade I ever owned," he said fiercely, his face hardening into a mask of hard lines and planes. "I had been meaning to get in to see Vito and get one of those fancy ones that he started selling when you came along."

Alessa hovered reverent fingers over the sword, struggling with memories. She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, grieving for her husband.

"I can customize it if you'd like," she said hesitantly. Dino brightened.

"I'd like that."

"Not to be rude, but what are you doing here… really?"

"Didn't buy the whole attempt to mend fences?"

"Nope,"

"I didn't think so," he grinned at her.

Alessa took the flowers and set them into a bucket near the back door that still had a bit of water left in it.

"Mind if I look at your hand?" Dino asked, revealing his true intentions as he un-slung his now-familiar medical kit at his hip from the bandolier slung across his chest. It did not appear that he was going to wait for an answer as he started unpacking the thing at her workbench.

"Not at all," Alessa replied wryly. He was entirely focused on what he was doing and did not appear to notice her tone. She sat silently before him and he went to a knee. Ezio had given her some instructions that included keeping the hand elevated when she was not using it, taking regular infusions of ginger and willow teas, and using cool compresses on the swelling. She had thought the instructions strange coming form the assassin, but now suspected the man before her being the origin of them.

Dino expertly un-wrapped her hand, commenting,

"You don't wrap it very well do you?" Alessa rolled her eyes,

"Yes, because it's so easy to do it one-handed." He ignored her, continuing,

"You'll have to keep it splinted better if you want it to heal properly."

"Well maybe you should do it for me then," she said, not quite keeping the sarcasm out of her voice.

"Maybe I will," he said, gently moving her fingers and probing her knuckles.

"I wasn't being serious," Alessa said. He chuckled.

"Well I am. Even though you're one of the mouthiest patients I've ever had, you're right; I should be doing this for you."

Oh.

She had no comment on that. He continued speaking anyway,

"I think it's because you feel too much, you know? The sarcasm? It keeps people away from you so you don't have to invest emotionally in anyone."

"I don't like emotions," she replied coldly.

"Maybe just the bad ones? I know you feel everything too strongly. You can't hide it, Alessa, your face is too expressive. You need to let some of it out, share your burdens with someone real before your emotions start taking a physical toll."

"So what do your recommend, doctor?" she asked, not able to help the sarcasm. Now that the perceptive fucker had pinpointed exactly what was going on inside her, she wanted to hit something.

"You should go back, you know, say goodbye. It will help you heal, because no offense, you obviously have some major issues going on in that pretty little head of yours. I can go with you if you like."

She felt like she had been punched in the gut. But then, miraculously, the words that came out of her mouth were absolutely honest.

"I think I would like that," she said hoarsely.

He chucked her under the chin.

"Hey, no tears," he said. "I thought you were tough," but he was smiling slightly as he looked up at her from his work at her hand and she noticed that his eyes were not just brown, but flecked with green and gold.

"You just say whatever you want to, don't you?" she asked, not really expecting him to deny it.

"I'd rather be hated and attacked for everything I am," Dino said, re-wrapping her injury briskly and snugly, "Than to hide my true feelings behind false words."

"Some people have to hide how they truly feel because they cannot protect the ones they love from the repercussions," she replied.

He remained before her, shifting his weight back onto his haunches, and nodded slightly, expression speculative.

"You are correct. I can understand that, some people just want to survive. And that is how I was, until Angelina was murdered. Then I had nothing to live for. So it was easy to become the man you see before you now." He looked up at her eyes, blazing with fervor.

"And now I feel that I am awake and alive for the first time in my life; I have something to believe in, something to give my life meaning and structure. You and Ezio are my family now. And I don't have to fear for you; you both can very obviously take care of yourselves."

Alessa was surprised to find herself pleased at being included in his world. He held his hand out to her, palm up, and she slid her fingers into his. His thumb closed over her knuckles and they regarded each other in a perfect moment of accord.

"I am glad to find you both getting along."

Dino and Alessa both started. Dino rose to his full height and strode over to clasp forearms warmly with the Master Assassin. Alessa followed, accepted his one-armed embrace and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He leaned over to her ear and whispered,

"Please go get one of the hidden blades." Alessa fetched one of the blade-vambrace sets and stood next to Dino as Ezio regarded them both thoughtfully.

Both Assassin recruits waited in respectful silence until Ezio smiled,

"It is good to have such allies as you both to turn to for aid," he said bemusedly. "I think I don't quite know how to start using you; I've been alone for so long. Demasi," he said, while nodding at Alessa.

Alessa looked up at the big recruit as she unbuckled the vambrace.

"We are in need of exceptional tools to do our job," Ezio said, motioning for Dino to hold out his forearm. Alessa began strapping the hidden blade to the recruit's forearm as the tall man tensed with anticipation.

"Your blade represents the rich history of the Assassins, of the ancestors who went before us. It is the physical representation of your vow to the Order. And as of this day, it shall never leave your side."

Alessa finished tightening the buckles in silence. Then she quickly showed Dino how the mechanism worked. After a couple of demonstrations, Dino picked up the idea and the blade bristled from his big fist, an object of menacing beauty. She had inlaid his vambrace with an elegant stylization of the Assassin symbol and he eyed the whole device with satisfaction, turning and bowing to her slightly in recognition of her skill.

Ezio turned his attention to Alessa,

"If you can get changed, I have planned us an outing. Demasi, you brought a couple days' worth of provisions?"

"I have," Dino said, "The grocer is holding them for me."

"Perfect," Ezio said, "Then we're just waiting on you, _cara._"

* * *

Water crashed over the decks far below. Alessa swallowed thickly and turned her gaze back to the rigging she clung to. Not far from her, Dino was battling his own demons as he determinedly moved up, inch by inch.

She could have cheerfully throttled the Assassin that mocked them cheerfully from the crow's nest, not to mention the jeering sailors below them. Ignoring her roiling stomach, she doggedly reached up – hands on the vertical rope, feet on the horizontal – and dragged herself a little closer to her goal.

_Leisurely outing at sea, my ass_! She thought, wondering how she had been so damned stupid to believe Ezio when he had mentioned it on their way out of Rome. Yes, the trip had initially been kind of fun; she had never really left the walls of Rome before. A quick carriage ride to the coast before they had embarked on the vessel they now toiled on.

They had made it out to open sea before Alessa began to feel the first stirrings of the seasickness she was currently in the full throes of. She had barely made it to the railing the first time. There was nothing left in her stomach now. She spared a heated glance for Dino as he laboriously pulled himself up another bit, his eyes squeezed shut.

Yeah.

Son of a bitch was apparently afraid of heights.

Served him right for laughing at her misery down below.

He had made it a good eight feet up before the ship had wallowed a bit. Then, all of his large muscle groups had seized up. She almost felt sorry for him because all of that bunched muscle looked painful.

Ezio had scrabbled up the rigging like a bloody spider and awaited them above. Was there anything the man _wasn't_ good at?

They were actually almost there; although Alessa dreaded the crawling back down.

"Hurry the fuck up, Ricci," Dino grunted, apparently thinking that insulting her would boost his ego. "I don't want to wait all day up there while you take your sweet time."

"You'd better hope, I don't beat you," Alessa responded. "Because I so will shake the shit out of these ropes while _you_ take _your_ sweet time."

Dino responded with a strangled sound that could have been laughter or another taunt.

"You'd both better hurry up," Ezio called down, "Or I'll be dead of old age before you two make it."

"Let's get that fucker," Dino growled.

He and Alessa doubled their efforts, and finally, panting and wheezing - he trembling, she feeling like she maybe still had something left in her gut – the assassin recruits crawled awkwardly up the last stretch of rigging and gained the crow's nest.

"Finally," Ezio grumbled, slapping both of their backs. "It's lovely, isn't it?" He laughed uproariously at the baleful looks he received in response.

"No? Well, maybe it'll be better next time." He gestured to the white capped, ominous waves below them.

"Make sure you'd don't hit on the flat of your back or belly; it's most likely kill you. I'll see you back up here!"

And with that lovely parting remark, Ezio leapt from the crow's nest, performing a perfect dive. His body sliced into the waves neatly, surfaced quickly, and began swimming strongly back for the ship.

Alessa only had time to meet Dino's wide-eyed gaze of incredulity before she pulled herself up into position – waiting would only make her lose her nerve - and followed Ezio's example, wondering if maybe the fall could politely kill her.

_Leisurely outing at sea, my ass!_ She thought again as the water rushed up to meet her.

* * *

**A/N: Heh! I added that last part just so ya'll wouldn't think that assassin training is all fun and games. Thought of that scene whilst playing Brotherhood with the Naval cannon.**

**Hope you gained some insight into the OCs and I hope the dialogue was believable and in character; like I mentioned before, dialogue is hardest for me to do. I prefer action and scene setting.**

**So yes, back into the actual plot again next chapter! _Possibly_ introduce the next recruit if things go as planned…**


	9. Silvestro and Altair

**A/N: I'm sure you'll all recognize the mission from Brotherhood. I didn't mess around too much with the dialogue that was already there. Godsmack "Sick of Life," Epica's "Feint" Much love to ecnal_nogardnap and flyingcrispi, best reviewers ever! Original AC characters belong to ubisoft….**

* * *

"Oh come on," Ezio said maliciously. "It wasn't that bad."

Alessa rolled over, removing her face from the deck. Dino groaned as her calf landed across his throat. His arms and legs twitched spasmodically, as if he was preparing to heave her off, but then he went still. The effort was apparently just too much.

Demon Spawn just stood over them both, hands on hips. The bad thing about it was that he had done exactly the same amount of work they had done – and looked like he had just finished a short morning jog.

"I can't believe you made me do that," Alessa huffed, "My hand is broken."

Ezio chortled.

"I didn't hear your doctor advising against it."

Dino made an incomprehensible reply. But he did manage to shove her leg off of him. Alessa put it back; he was comfortable.

"We'll be back in port by morning, hope you ladies rest well."

"No ladies in here," Dino roused enough to grumble as his fingers scrabbled against her leg. Alessa mentally kicked him in the ribs. Her leg twitched in longing. It wasn't happening, though.

Too bad.

Still chuckling, Ezio left them in the dark cabin, sodden, sore limbs askew, and very quickly oblivious to it all.

* * *

Miraculously, the next morning, Alessa woke feeling quite refreshed. Despite the fact that she and Dino had shimmied up that rigging a full fifty one times (the fifty-first time was because Ezio said they couldn't), and despite her still nagging nausea and the fact that she had not eaten in a full day, and that she had spent the night lying full across the deck in a tiny cabin fighting for room with the long-legged behemoth sharing her space, her body was surprisingly re-energized.

She and Dino were silent, each lost in their own speculations as they rubbed oil into their weapons and leathers. They changed from the borrowed sailor garb into their Assassin hoods, each discreetly turning their back while the other changed, as the increased activity on the decks above them indicated that they were preparing to land soon.

"I can't believe I jumped off of the crow's nest every time yesterday," Dino finally said.

"I know," Alessa replied, "It's like he has no fear and he passes that on to whomever he pleases. I just don't know if we're lucky and blessed or ultimately doomed."

Dino laughed.

"Now that's some truth I couldn't have stated any clearer."

They had just finished pulling up their hoods when Ezio walked in unannounced.

"What's wrong, couldn't fit through the porthole?" Alessa asked a bit snarkily.

Ezio shrugged.

"I could try it next time. Surprise you right in your bed." A dark browed arched suggestively and Alessa sniffed.

Dino felt the need to reply,

"Naw, she was snoring so loud that you could have sent twenty of those heavy-soled sailors in here and she wouldn't have budged."

"Sweetheart that was _your_ snoring you're thinking of."

Dino rumbled in grudging agreement,

"Yeah, well, those weren't my own smelly feet that kept ending up in my own face, now were they?"

"No," Alessa replied, "Those were your hands."

Dino chuckled again appreciatively, raising said big hands up threateningly,

"I could just strangle you, you little bitch," he said fondly.

"The feeling is mutual," Alessa replied dotingly.

"This must be what it's like to have children," Ezio said with fatherly affection.

The three assassins moved out of the cabin, moving swiftly up the ladder to the main deck. Alessa's heart lifted as she saw how close land was.

It took a surprising amount of time to maneuver into port. Alessa was off the devil ship as soon as the gangplank was placed, ignoring the curses of the sailors. She took a deep breath of relief as Ezio and Dino followed at a more sedate pace. The men looked like a matched set of assholes as they ambled down the gangplank, identical grins all that were visible on their hood-obscured faces.

Alessa resolutely ignored them and fell into step beside Dino as they followed Ezio.

* * *

They took a barge the few miles up the river into Rome, just past the west end of Tiber Island. As they disembarked, Alessa felt a wave of vertigo pass over her. Dino caught her before she stumbled off of the dock and made a smart-ass comment about sea legs.

As they moved away from the docks, her legs steadied.

"Ezio," she said, "I respect you and I trust you with my life. But if you ever make me board a ship again…"

Dino laughed.

"You'd do it without hesitation, you little hard ass!"

Ezio smiled,

"I'll keep your preferences in mind."

They had just left the sounds of the docks behind when a soft sound caught their attention. They followed the sounds of weeping until they revealed themselves to be a little boy of perhaps eight, crying disconsolately just outside an alley right beside a pier. Dino and Alessa backed into the shadows of the alley as Ezio moved forward. His voice changed, deepened into a paternal tone of concern that she had never heard out of him.

"_Bambino_, why do you cry?"

"They're going to take my mamma on a boat ride. They say I will go on the next one."

Ezio hitched his trousers up and squatted down next to the boy

"Who?" he asked, his expressive voice visibly lulling the boy. The tears began to slow.

"A man from the castle came with guards and arrested us. He scared me."

Beside her, Alessa felt Dino tense, his hidden blade appearing over whitened knuckles. She put a calming hand on his forearm and leaned forward imperceptibly, listening.

"They are scary," Ezio concurred, "But you look very brave." The boy brightened, looked up at Ezio with total trust and a glimmer of hope.

"Will you bring my mamma back?"

Ezio nodded.

"Where did they take your mother?" he asked, his tone becoming businesslike. The boy pointed.

"Down that street."

"Good, do you have someplace to go for now?

"My uncle's"

"Go there. Do not stop to talk to anyone." The boy leapt to his feet and ran off, sprinting right past Dino and Alessa without even noticing them. They moved into the light, flanking Ezio as he stared off down the main thoroughfare the boy had indicated.

"I think I know who the boy spoke of," he said slowly, his expression forbidding. "I have had reports of a man called Silvestro, dealing in the slave trade."

Dino growled audibly, "I can't believe that there is still slave trade in _Roma_," he murmured.

"Not for long," Ezio said, grinning fiercely, placing one hand on each of their shoulders. "When I spot Silvestro, we will tail him to wherever it is he does his business. When I give you both the signal, you will take him."

"Not a problem," Alessa and Dino replied in unison.

They spread out and set off down the street, mingling with the crowd. Alessa and Dino watched Ezio keenly. When Ezio signaled her, Alessa began walking a faster, overtook Ezio and Dino, then jogged lightly down the street, over the bridge spanning the Tiber to the south bank, and seated herself casually on a bench near the next intersection.

Watching Ezio's body language, she finally figured out who their target was. Silvestro was a well-dressed man of average height with sinister features. His amputated left arm had been replaced by a metal claw and a large fur cape draped over his left shoulder, making him appear slightly hump-backed. Sinister features were made more so by dark, arched brows and a meticulously trimmed goatee.

He slunk across the wide bridge and then turned to look behind him, obviously suspicious. He stood quite near Alessa, not even noticing her as she pretended to pick at her fingernails. A quick glance down the street showed neither Ezio nor Dino in evidence. The man shook his head and headed west along the road paralleling the river.

Looked like she was up.

Alessa stood and stretched casually, then fell into step a good twenty yards or so behind the man, walking casually along the edge of the road, kicking at the pebbles there. After about a quarter of a mile, the man began to look suspiciously side to side again, and Alessa swiftly ducked into a group of citizens talking animatedly in a group of six. They ignored her hovering at their periphery.

Alessa saw Dino take over trailing the man. It was becoming apparent that Silvestro ran his base of operation somewhere within the Colle Palatino. When Silvestro was out of her line of vision, Alessa trailed Dino's swift form, taking to the tops of the archways and leaping with him over the ancient columns.

Ezio currently trailed the man from the ground; Alessa and Dino kept him in sight and hypothesized the direction Silvestro had gone by observing Ezio's movements into the crumbling ruins.

They halted when they heard what had to be Silvestro himself speaking, having a discussion with an unknown woman about Cesare using the threat of slavery to control the populace through fear.

Dino bared his teeth as they unsheathed their hidden daggers. He and Alessa crouched patiently on the top of a stone gateway, Silvestro just beneath them. Ezio stood silently in the shadows, arms crossed over his chest, listening to the conversation for evaluation later.

Alessa and Dino tensed as Silvestro and the woman took their leave of each other. They both watched Ezio intently, hooded heads tilted at the same angle, waiting for…

There it was!

They leapt simultaneously, blades back behind their heads, clothes rippling in the wind created by their freefall. With exact, synchronized movements, their blades pierced Silvestro easily and they all tumbled to the ground. Dino rolled over his shoulder and came upright in a crouch, his blade red to his knuckles. Alessa used Silvestro's body to cushion her landing.

Dino and Alessa stood, silently waiting, bloodied blades still out, glistening wetly, as Ezio strode into the light.

Silvestro was still alive and Ezio regarded him contemptuously as he gasped his final breath.

"_Requiescat in pace."_

A moment of silence fell, then,

"_Assassino_!"

"Fuck yes," Dino snarled as the first of Silvestro's guards came running into view. The three assassins grouped into a rough triangle, covering each others backs as they were attacking. Alessa blocked an incoming sword with her hidden dagger, and then kicked the bastard in the stomach, drawing her second dagger and plunging it into the man's back just below the nape of his neck.

Wrenching it free, she dodged another soldier's attack, elbowing him directly in the sternum and then smashing her hidden blade up under his chin.

The shrieks and groans of the dying piled up as she dispatched a third soldier, kicking him in the face with a well placed roundhouse, then spinning on her back leg, bringing her heel up and smashing it into the reeling soldiers temple. He dropped like a stone.

She approached a soldier who fought Dino with a vicious axe. Making a quick leap into the air, she brought him down with her hidden blade, her weight driving the man into the ground. She and Dino spun to face Ezio just as he dispatched the final guard. Both hidden daggers out, Ezio stabbed the man in a rapid-fire motion, four times in the chest.

Apparently all of her training was working for her; she was barely breathing hard.

Huh.

She felt sort of powerful. It was a heady feeling, making her almost giddy; her body was alive, muscles and sinews thrumming vitally. She practically bounced on her toes as Ezio debriefed them, sending her to the nearest thief outpost to enlist their aid in cleanup as he and Dino set off to free the people being held captive.

Jogging out of the ruins, she looked around, searching…

Ah, there!

A Borgia messenger was cantering down the road in her direction. She climbed quickly to the roof of a nearby building and waited patiently. She had seen Ezio perform this move a couple of times and had been dying to try it…

The messenger had not quite reached her when she leapt, seemingly into open air. The impact was less than she had expected, considering the horse and rider practically crashed into her as she was falling to the ground. She almost did fall, but managed to grab the courier by his satchel at the last moment. A quick stab of her blade and the horse was hers.

Settling into the saddle and kicking it into a gallop, she rode for the thieves.

* * *

She was exhausted; her mind was comfortably fuzzy as she drowsed quietly in the corner. Dino sat beside her, equally motionless as they observed the meeting of the Assassin leaders at the Tiber Island hideout. Alessa was loving her Assassin hood, no one could see her long blinks. Damn but they were a bunch of windbags! Who the hell was that Machiavelli guy? The man would. Not. Shut. Up.

She must have fallen asleep, because she woke up to bright sunlight. Someone outside was already working on swordplay, pretty vigorously, in fact. What was going on?

"Ilah! You said you'd come watch the fights with me, what are you waiting for?"

_Who the fuck was Ilah?_

Alessa let herself be led through a doorway out into the brightest sunshine she had ever had to squint against. Blinking furiously, she stumbled along passively, her sandals – _sandals?_ – kicking up sand. Very _hot_ sand.

Alessa was beginning to get a little frustrated when she realized that she must be dreaming.

Hell of a vivid dream, though.

She followed her dream friend through the sandy streets, past stucco buildings with tiny windows, up a steep trail carved in the side of a damn mountain. They passed through a formidable gate into a courtyard protected on almost all sides by sheer cliffs. A truly massive fortress rose majestically before her, as grand – or maybe more so – as the Castel Sant'Angelo.

The sparring ring before her was as familiar as anything she had seen and she felt comforted by this.

Whispers, barely heard, but louder than a screaming chant, murmured through the crowd.

_The Eagle…_

_It's the Eagle…  
_The crowd parted for him. A lone figure in white and crimson moved nonchalantly through the gathered people.

"They took away his weapons," the girl next to her breathed.

Alessa watched interestedly as the assassin entered the ring. She did not know what the idiot next to her was talking about; as she watched, he unsheathed a slightly curved dagger from where it had rested diagonally across his back. He had the same grace as Ezio, the same air of confidence, the same disdain.

She was entranced and moved through the crowd to get closer.

_Dio!_ But he moved _just like Ezio_; it was uncanny. Was she dreaming of Ezio?

He heart lurched in her chest as she watched him engage the man in the ring with him. There were no pulled swings, the blades they fought with were real, the edges flashed dangerously in the light. It was a sparring match, but taking a hit would not mean a colorful bruise; real injuries would be incurred in this ring.

Alessa watched the hooded figure dance around his slower opponent and gasped as the Ezio-figure released a hidden dagger. His ring finger was missing! Why was that significant? She could not remember.

She raised her dream-self's left hand and stared in shock at its five intact digits. Then she brought her hands to her face in trepidation as he suddenly leapt for his opponent, hidden blade flashing in the overly bright sunlight.

He flexed his wrist and the blade retracted just in time, but his opponent still took a hard punch to the throat. The downed man shouted something and the hooded man stood. He casually sheathed his curved dagger and offered his four fingered hand in aid to the downed man.

They fought a couple more bouts. Then the bigger man left the ring and another tried to take down the Eagle person. Alessa had managed to reach the fence surrounding the ring and rested her face in her hands, drinking in the movements, learning a thing or two about footwork, evasion, and timing. The man rivaled Ezio in overall agility, stamina, and strength.

She could have watched him forever, but apparently he could not spend eternity fighting.

The crowd was beginning to murmur in disappointment as he made it known that he was leaving. Time seemed to slow as he turned, his face becoming clear to her for the first time as a chance shaft of sunlight lightened the shadows within his hood. She was struck by the golden eyes, the familiar hard lines of the jaw, the scarred lips…

It **was** him!

It was…

She bolted upright, yelling his name…

"Altair!

"Altair ibn la-Ahad!"

And he turned to face her, expression no longer impassive but astonished, golden eyes blooming into darkness. But it was him. She reached out for him blindly, overwhelmed, for he was two people. Two distinct personas blurring before her.

"Altair…"

Her hands caught in his hood before she was able to take his face between her hands. And then she knew him. Altair faded back into the depths of her mind.

"Ezio Auditore da Firenze," she breathed.

* * *

**A/N: there's no indication so far that Ezio dreams of his ancestors, but I wanted to throw a tribute to Altair in there, plus Desmond did it at least once! Besides, a little bit of a twist to the storyline never hurts. We'll have Ezio make a revelation about that next chapter.**

**It is about to storm like hell here – I'm talking SNOW baby! I'll have to do some research on Italian winters and see if I can maybe give the assassins a snow day, heh! Or perhaps it would be fun to send them to Moscow, hmmmm….**

**Review, review dammit! I know you're out there and I'd love to hear from you!**


	10. Assassin's Legacy

**A/N: Short blurb for this chapter. Just because it's kind of weird and creepy and won't really fit in the rest of what I have planned for this next part of the plot. Musical inspiration is Evanescence's "eternal" and poisonblack's "the state" and of course inspired by all the creepy wind the death blizzard has gusting around my house! Whoa! Hope you guys enjoy the change of pace. And yeah, if you didn't already know, the AC-verse belongs to ubisoft.**

* * *

"Please say something," Alessa pleaded finally, unable to bear the scrutiny.

After her outburst, the meeting had broken up rather rapidly; everyone suddenly had somewhere to be. Dino had left her with a shrug, mouthing "Behave."

Big help there.

And it all had something to do with man sitting across from her. Frightened everyone else away. It was like he was some sort of tangible force of nature, like a positive pressure system; no one could really withstand his resolve. He radiated… something.

Anger?

No, he did not look pissed, but he definitely was not happy; there was something big churning behind those dark eyes.

Finally, he stood, moving about the room and methodically dousing all of the light. When a single candle burned on the big table in the center of the room, he walked over and closed the door. Pulling down a red banner emblazoned with the golden Assassin symbol, he tucked the cloth along the bottom edge of the door frame.

"Uh, Ezio?"

He made no reply, just sat down at the table, gesturing for her to sit across from him. He slouched back in the chair, rested his hands on his chest, regarding her in brooding silence before he reached out and pinched out the final flame.

The room plunged into complete darkness; Alessa could not see her hand in front of her face. His disembodied voice rasped through the darkness; she could envision him sitting there, still slouching, head lowered slightly, watching her.

"Now tell me what you see, _cara_."

_What the hell was he expecting her to do?_

"I don't –" She imagined him raising his hands, as he said,

"No words. Do not speak until you can tell me what you see."

What she could _see?_ The man was crazy, it was pitch black! She was getting a little irritated…

Wait a minute.

She strained, blinking rapidly, a slight headache settling into place behind her eyes.

"Ezio," she whispered. He did not respond, but she saw him sit up.

She could _see _him!

There he was, right in front of her, leaning forward in his chair. He was hazy, indistinct, but he glowed! No, that wasn't the word to describe it. A glow would imply that he gave off light and made his surroundings visible. No, if it was like a light then it illumined only him and distorted everything else such that all she could focus on was him.

"What the fuck is this?" she asked quietly.

"It is a trait an Assassin of the Blood possesses."

"So, not all of the Assassins are… of the Blood?"

"No, only those descended from the Original Line. We can recognize each other, especially with the Vision."

She leaned back in her chair, her mind struggling to assimilate the information.

"Huh. So does that mean that we are… what? Siblings? Cousins?

"Not inasmuch as you are related to any random stranger on the street. The Bloodline is quite dilute at this point. Separated by thousands of generations."

She was quiet. It was too big to comprehend, this concept he was trying to get her to grasp.

"How do you know this?" she finally asked.

"I have seen… things." And then he began speaking of pieces of Eden, and apples, and someone called Minerva. Alessa starting shaking her head, trying to deny it all.

"Ezio," she said, "I can't… I can't do it; it's too much. I believe every word you say, but everything I know, everything I have always been taught – well your truth goes against all of it. All of it!"

"I understand," he murmured. "And I do not expect you to accept it right now. But rest assured that you will."

Alessa giggled a little hysterically. She was sitting in the dark with a gleaming blue Ezio.

"Why do you think I have selected only yourself and Demasi to be my recruits so far?"

"Our wonderful personalities?" she said half-heartedly, too overwhelmed for sarcasm, but attempting it all the same. She was actually feeling a little bit like sobbing. Too much.

The saddest part was that it all made a crazy kind of sense. No wonder she felt like she had belonged with this man, with Dino, so quickly. Who else was out there?

"I can't do anymore tonight, Ezio," she whispered. "Please."

Silence.

She watched him lean forward. And she was able to both see and feel his lips brush her temple in the dark.

"Don't fear this, _cara_," he said, standing and taking something from a pouch at his side. A couple of clicks of flint against steel and he had the candle lit. She squeezed her eyes shut, squirming in discomfort as her vision shifted back to normal.

Ah_, Dio_, it was an actual physical change! Fucking weird! She pushed down the wave of panic that crested briefly.

"You'll get used to it," he said gently.

"When are you going to tell Dino?" she asked, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead, not for the slightest instant thinking of doing it herself.

"When he is ready," Ezio said, draping the Assassin banner over the back of the chair he had vacated. He opened the door and walked out.

Alessa sat there for a moment before opening her burning eyes. Dino was standing in the doorway, looking truly concerned for once. She was absurdly glad to see him.

"You okay?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a goddamn ghost."

"I need to go to sleep," she slurred.

"Haven't you had enough?" he asked, gently sardonic, and she managed to smile up at him. He stooped down a bit to help her stand.

She looked up at him, as if she were seeing him for the first time. She searched his face, known to her for only a couple of weeks but already more familiar to her than her husband's had been. Where did he fit into it all? She could tell he was getting uncomfortable under her scrutiny and softened her gaze.

"Damn, Ricci," he said softly. "You gonna be okay?"

She smiled up at him.

"I think I am."

"Good, because you are freaking me the fuck out. I have this overwhelming urge to put some leeches on you."

"I will stab you if you come anywhere near me with a leech."

He laughed and dropped a hard kiss on top of her head.

"That's what I like to hear. Don't scare me like that again and I won't call your bluff."

* * *

**A/N: Yup, like I said, short and, uh, sweet, I guess. I have to go to bed; more than likely I'll be up early shoveling my ass out so I can get to work. I never had much use for the Eagle Vision in the game, but I wanted to incorporate it into the fic 'cause it's an interesting concept. Hope I was able to give it some new life. Another tool in the arsenal can't hurt.**


	11. Tullio

****

**A/N: Whoa! We seriously are stuck at home until the plows go by. Crazy big drifts all over the place! Oh darn, must be fic time then. Let's start with some girl. (Sorry to any of the guys out there, I'm a chick, I enjoy girl talk!) No musical inspiration here, just wrote this whilst watching all the neighbors shoveling, LOL got mine done at 6am :D the AC people belong to ubisoft…**

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* * *

**

Alessa woke the next morning, dressed and weaponed up, then went in search of the men. She found Claudia going over some paperwork in the weapons gallery, leaning over the table and scratching frantically at paper with her quill intermittently as she shifted through the piles. She noticed Alessa entering the room and looked up briefly, smiling before returning to her notes.

"_Buongiorno,_" she said pleasantly.

"_Salve_, Claudia," Alessa replied, sitting in the armchair across from her.

"Did you sleep well?"

Alessa inclined her head, "I did, _grazie_. Where did Ezio and Dino go?"

"They're making arrangements to have the new recruit brought here."

"New recruit?"

"He was being held by Silvestro, they said he was beaten or tortured. He apparently hasn't said much. The thieves found him left for dead."

"Is he okay?" Alessa asked, accepting a tray full of breakfast items from one of the attendants with a nod of surprised thanks.

Damn, these people were good; she had not even known that Ezio kept servants here.

"I'm not sure; Ezio took Dino along to see if he was okay to move."

"Huh."

"So, I have a proposition for you," Claudia said.

"I'm listening."

"My brother is very good at what he does, but he has a roundabout way of gathering his information." Alessa waited while Claudia paused, her expression thoughtful. Alessa worked her way methodically through the food to pass the time.

Damn but she was hungry! She thought back and figured that it had been a good two days since she had had anything substantial to eat. Well, she was going to make up for it now. Her stomach even obliged her.

"So last night, Ezio decided that his next move is to take down Cesare's financial power; power that pretty much rests with one man. I believe that my girls have discovered who that man is, and moreover, I know exactly when Ezio should strike."

"So why don't you tell him?" Alessa asked, not bothering to finish chewing. It seemed that the more she put into her stomach, the more it asked for.

"I love my brother, but he is stubborn and thinks that he knows best. He can go about doing whatever it is he does. I have already asked him to borrow you for a short time. I have the feeling that our paths will cross at the same time."

Alessa made an appreciative noise, finally slowing down in her breakfasting.

"So what is going on between you and my brother?" Claudia suddenly asked. Alessa choked on her food, casting Claudia a baleful look as she recovered.

"We're not like that."

Claudia sent her a look of blatant disbelief.

"Yes, well, he has a soft spot for strong women, and if he decides he wants you, there's nothing you'll be able to do to stop it."

"Wow. Don't sugarcoat it or anything. Have you been talking to Dino? Besides, what makes you think I even want to be with Ezio?"

Claudia laughed shortly and raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"Why wouldn't you want to be with him?"

Alessa thought that over, chewing slowly.

"You know, Claudia, that's a damn good question."

"Well, whatever you say is – or isn't – going on, don't hurt him. My brother has survived through a broken heart more often then I like. He doesn't let it interfere with his work and that's one of his greatest strengths, to carry on when most others would have given in. But it makes me sad to see my brother alone."

"Maybe that is why he likes strong women," Alessa said, "Because they convince him that his work is more important than a single relationship. He chooses them, knowing damn well that he won't have to make that final decision alone - or at all."

Claudia nodded once sadly and Alessa continued,

"I may not be ffu – ah, sleeping with, er making love with him, but I will always be there for him. Always. I will never leave him."

A fierce light kindled in Claudia's lovely eyes and she leaned forward to squeeze Alessa's hand briefly.

"Thank you, _sorella_," she murmured.

A commotion interrupted the moment – a good thing too, because Alessa was feeling a little choked up and was not happy about it. She hurriedly scrubbed her face with a napkin and followed Claudia out to the big foyer.

One of the attendants was rushing over to help Ezio and Dino ease a third man down the short set of steps. The man's face was bandaged up and his left arm was bound to his chest.

"I have a room ready for him, _messeres_," she said.

"Hot water, _madonna_, please," Dino said over his shoulder.

Claudia followed as the men assisted the new recruit; he was moving his feet, but it was very obvious that he could not walk alone. They got him up the single flight of stairs that led to the long hall of bedchambers and into a room.

Alessa recognized it as the room she had spent her convalescence in. It had gained another table and a cabinet that Dino was going through familiarly. Alessa and Claudia moved forward to help Ezio settle the man into the bed.

"Get his boots off," Dino directed, grabbing herbs seemingly at random and tossing them into a mortar. He dropped another mixture into a clay mug just as the attendant entered the room with a steaming tea kettle.

"We'll need more," Dino said to her quietly. She nodded and left, setting the kettle beside him on a folded towel. Claudia followed her out, saying something about finding some more buckets. Dino poured the water over the leaves and roots

"I'm concerned about some of those cuts, they're very deep," Dino murmured, his brows drawing down in anger as he walked over to Alessa with the mug in his hand.

"He has a dislocated shoulder, it's been like that for at least a day; if you don't reduce it right away, the muscles spasm and lock into place and it's harder to do. That should relax him and make him sleep while I work on him. See if you can get him to drink it."

Alessa eased onto the bed and helped the injured man sit up. Dino returned to his inventory and began grinding the herbs in the mortar.

His arm flopped uselessly and Alessa did her best not to jar him, but he seemed to be in some sort of shock, his pale grey eyes somewhat glassy as he looked up at her in confusion.

"Come on _fratello mio_," she said quietly, "Drink this." She held the mug to his cracked and bleeding lips, wincing in sympathy as the warm liquid spilled over them.

He managed the whole thing and when she eased him back into the pillow, she looked up to see Dino standing there with a short knife in his hand. She stepped away from the man's side and went to stand by Ezio, who was sitting in the room's only chair. His forehead was crinkled with concern and Alessa put a comforting hand on his shoulder. The bunched muscles did not relax, but he gave her a small smile.

"Did you get his name?" she asked quietly as Dino began cutting the man's shirt off.

"He said his name was Tullio, but he's in a lot of pain, it's all he could tell me."

Alessa jumped when Dino spat a curse suddenly.

"What's wrong?" asked Ezio.

"He has burns on his torso. _Cazzo_! I wish we hadn't killed those bastards so quickly. Dammit, I should have looked at him more thoroughly. And we'll need more supplies."

He gestured to her and Ezio,

"Help me reduce his shoulder and then we'll finish."

The tonic must have been very strong. Tullio's eyelids were already fluttering, the long blinks signifying imminent sleep. Alessa moved to his uninjured side and squeezed his hand briefly, feeling heartened when he responded lightly. His body was slack and heavy and Dino made approving sounds as he poked around the man's injury with nimble fingers.

"Ezio, hold him here, Alessa, here, hold him firmly in case he moves" Dino directed their movements then gave the arm a hard tug.

"That's goddamn creepy," Alessa muttered as she watched the tendons and bones shift under the blood-spattered skin,

"It hurts like hell too, so don't ever let it happen to you."

"Thanks for the advice, I'll be sure to take that into consideration."

Dino walked over to the big table and scribbled onto a scrap paper. He brought it to Alessa. The herbalist just down the street should have all of this."

Alessa returned just as Dino had finished stitching the big cheek wound closed. Ezio was nowhere to be found. Dino commandeered the packages and packets and went to work on the chest burns. A row of steaming buckets was being rotated in and out of the room by the servants as they were used. Dino instructed Alessa to scrub her hands in one of the clean buckets and then instructed her on cleaning up the rest of Tullio's face.

Alessa set to her tasks and they worked in companionable silence. Slowly, Tullio began to resemble a heavily bandaged man instead of a hunk of meat as Dino finished cleaning and debriding the burns, then moved on to finish stitching the scalp and facial wounds.

Alessa regarded his skill with some awe.

"Where did you learn to do this?" she asked eventually. He glanced up at her briefly before going back to his needle and thread and intricate knots.

"By watching other _dottores_, mostly. You see a lot of wounds like this on a battlefield. Medicine is really a very hands-on field of knowledge so I got to practice a lot on my comrades in arms. Then my wife was an herbalist, she was fucking brilliant, you know? She knew things that most of the so-called herbalists and _dottores_ couldn't even begin to imagine. The knowledge was passed on to her by her mother. And I learned a lot from her."

Alessa shook her head in disgusted outrage at the waste of knowledge. Dino finished up and wiped his hands on a clean cloth, then dirtied yet another bucket of hot water cleaning his hands and forearms. One of the servants came in with two new buckets of water and took away two dirty.

"Why so much?" Alessa asked, gesturing to the steaming buckets.

"Cleanliness," Dino replied, "Is more often the determining factor in a patient's prognosis than any other part of the care. If the patient and the wounds aren't kept clean there is a significantly higher risk for infection."

Alessa shrugged. It was all new to her. Dino had her wash Tullio's hair while he impersonally cut off the rest of his grimy and tattered clothing. When Alessa had toweled the damp blonde strands dry, Dino enlisted her aid in changing the filthy bedding, showing her how to move the body efficiently so that a surprisingly little amount of actual lifting was involved.

She silently helped him pile all of the dirty linens and watched as he put the cabinet and table back into order.

"The servants will have to take care of him for the next couple of days while we're all out doing recon. They'd better fucking follow my instructions," Dino muttered.

Alessa went over to the bed and pulled the chair closer, taking a seat beside Tullio as he slept. She reached out and grasped his hand again, smoothing the short strands of his hair from his battered face.

Dino was still pacing and muttering, apparently concerned with the care Tullio would receive.

"You sound like an expectant father," Alessa chided, interested in the reaction the verbal poke would get.

"I'm pissed off!" he snarled. Then he looked contrite. "Sorry."

Dino walked over to stand at her side and she took his hand too.

"This whole thing is just… odd. Like he's a long lost member of the family finally come home. So it's like a personal affront that he was attacked, even though those Borgia bastards do things like this to people every day, this just feels… too close."

His grip tightened in hers, his free hand clenching into a big fist.

"I'm sorry," Dino said again, "I have to go… break something." He growled menacingly to himself as he left.

"Don't pick too big of a fight," Alessa called after him.

She regarded Tullio silently for a while, then leaned forward and kissed his forehead gently.

"Welcome home, _fratello_," she said.

* * *

It was late afternoon when they all convened briefly in the foyer; Claudia was anxious to leave and she embraced her brother briefly. Dino looked obnoxiously smug for some reason but would not elaborate for her. He was, however, much calmer than he had been earlier and Alessa surmised that he had found some Borgia patrols to vent his frustration on.

Ezio came to stand before her, those shadowed eyes blazing, and she stepped forward into his embrace, inhaling his clean, masculine scent as he pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

"Be careful, _cara_," Ezio said, squeezing her shoulder briefly after he had released her, and then he abruptly turned on his heel and left. Claudia arched an inquisitive brow at Alessa and Dino turned his head briefly to watch him go in mild surprise, then stepped forward and swept her up into a bear hug.

"Stay out of trouble, _tesora_, otherwise I'll have to come and rescue you."

"I thought you liked pretending to be the hero?"

"Not for you; you're too much of a pain in the ass."

"You give me so many reasons to love you," she simpered.

"At least one every day," he blustered. "But seriously though, don't get hurt. Remember the leeches?"

Alessa laughed.

"I'll remember."

"Good girl." He loped off.

Claudia was just walking out the door as Alessa had a thought.

"I'll be right out, Claudia," Alessa called as she jogged back up the stairs as if she had forgotten something.

She quietly entered Tullio's room. Dino had given him a second dose of the muscle relaxant and he slept deeply, healing. The ugly burns on his chest were open to the air, as recommended by Dino, but they did not appear to be festering. The cuts criss-crossing his face were clean and the stitches neat.

Alessa stood over him and concentrated, wondering if the whole thing worked when there was light…

Oh.

Yup.

The background sights blurred and she fixated on Tullio. Noting with satisfaction the telltale blue aura she let her sight return to normal, closing her eyes against the shift. Making sure her weapons and pouches were secure, she left through the window, performing a Leap of Faith into a haywagon below.

On street level, she raised her hood and made her way around the building to where Claudia was impatiently waiting.

"So what is it that you need me for?" Alessa asked as she and Claudia walked casually through the streets of Rome.

"I need you for what it is you are training to do: an assassination."

"Uh huh. Who?"

"Cesare's banker."

"Isn't Ezio working on that?"

"Yes, and I imagine that he will ultimately perform the assassination. However, I want you there, just in case. I think you will work well with my girls."

Alessa's brows crashed down.

"I will not fuck a Borgia pig."

Claudia laughed aloud, startling the nearby fruit vendor so that he dropped his basket. He cursed in their direction and went about rescuing his bruised apples from the flagstones.

"It's nice to have that choice isn't it?" Claudia asked when she had stopped snickering.

"What do you mean?"

"Many of my girls don't have the choice. They are forced into the life; most of them have children to support and no husbands to help them."

"Huh." Alessa could not think of a dignified response to that and left it alone, the concept new and alien to her. It made sense, but she did not like it. Not at all.

"Most of them don't have a problem with it," Claudia said, correctly interpreting Alessa's expression. "It's a job, a craft, just like what you do."

They were silent a while, Claudia wisely allowing Alessa to think it over. They walked deep into the western-most edge of the city, Claudia leading her up to and behind a tall, well-maintained building draped with red banners that looked suspiciously like blank duplicates of the Assassin banners at the hideout.

Claudia led her through a garden and into a walled courtyard. Balconies overlooked the lush garden, quaint benches, and twittering songbirds that flitted between the potted fruit trees.

The main room of the bottom floor was as opulent as anything Alessa had ever seen, the fabrics of the highest quality and all in deep jewel tones. The girls were incredibly dressed and Alessa could not help but envy their confidence and self-assured femininity.

"Come on, I'll show you where you'll stay until the party."

"What party?" Alessa asked.

"The one we're going to crash," Claudia said with a malevolent grin.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so finding a good, non-cliché Italian name is actually kind of hard. I picked Tullio because it's the name of one of the dudes in the cartoon El Dorado – I still laugh like hell when I watch that movie! And I thought I would be further along by now, getting a bit long-winded in here, sorry. Onward!**


	12. Assassination of Juan Borgia

**A/N: Don't laugh but I used shakira's "Hips don't lie" as musical inspiration, also lacrimas profundere "and god's ocean" for alessa and ezio. this is kind of a girl power chapter – something that really doesn't happen in the game, much less Renaissance Italy, so forgive me the artistic license; let's give some respect to the courtesans! This was a totally fun chapter to write, hope you enjoy! I was even able to have Ezio achieve 100% synch in this sequence! LOL fuck yeah!**

* * *

"There's no way people aren't going to notice this," the seamstress muttered as she flicked Alessa's hidden dagger contemptuously.

"That's for me to worry about," Alessa said.

"Besides," Claudia said, "No one will be looking at her forearms."

"Yeah, and if they did, they wouldn't be able to get past this!" Alessa leered, hold up her left hand and its missing finger.

The seamstress clucked in disapproval while Claudia rolled her eyes.

Alessa was taking a break from the crazy lessons Claudia's courtesans were subjecting her to - if you could classify standing draped in yards of fabric in a hot room with a bitchy seamstress who seemed hell bent on poking her with every pin she had as R & R.

"Anyway," Claudia said, "It doesn't matter because the completed costumes will include some cloth at the wrists, so it will be covered."

The seamstress muttered something and finally pulled all of the obnoxious cloth off of her.

"How much of that will still be there?" she asked Claudia offhandedly. Claudia winked.

"Not much," she said.

"Can I at least have a hood?" Alessa asked hopefully.

* * *

A couple of days later, they were ready. Alessa had gone through a truly heinous training regimen – dancing. Apparently, the Borgia assholes had brought over some insipid Spanish dance called tango and the girls were learning it. Requisitioning the few male courtesans, yeah, Alessa was not sure if that was the right word for them. What a revelation _that_ had been!

Anyway, using the males as partners, Alessa was subjected to the absolute idiocy of the whole thing. Their instructor, one of the older courtesans, Viviana, constantly nagged her:

"Don't pinch the men, Alessa."

"Your foot is not a brick, Alessa, it goes up quickly and lightly."

"Let the man lead, Alessa."

"Your face is very expressive, Alessa, make your body do the same thing."

"Graceful! You arch your back languidly, not like you're being tortured!"

Alessa felt like languidly punching Viviana in the face. See how that bitch liked _languid_ then. And that simpering idiot Dario, her dance partner, too. Just punch him right in his fucking grinning face.

But it was finally over and Alessa had been pronounced "proficient enough" to proceed with the plan.

The morning of the big event, the girls and Alessa rushed about to pack up the trunks and get it all taken over to the Banker's home. They followed by carriage and Alessa spent another afternoon of torture getting ready. She had had no idea how much effort the courtesans went through to make themselves "presentable."

It took fucking hours.

First the elaborately coiled hair, all arranged to look artfully messy. Then some kind of body hair removal with some rolled string.

Really? The arms too?

Her skin tingling, she fidgeted through the placement of the gown. Because the things could not just be buttoned up, oh no. Seamstresses had to actually sew them all into the things. Alessa appreciated Claudia's ironic humor; the girls all wore different colors, but Alessa's was pure white sashed in crimson.

Very nice.

The long skirts were slit to the upper thigh in panels. Standing, she would almost look respectable from the front. But the athletic dancing would reveal scintillating flashes of leg. The back of the gown was scandalous, elegant cloth crossed the upper back to hold the relatively high neckline up but the fabric plunged right down to the tops of her buttocks, leaving her back entirely bare.

Finally, one of the girls helped her apply kohl around her eyes and color on her eyelids. Alessa sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the mirrors were all on the other side of the room because she would probably faint in horror if she saw herself. She imagined that she looked ridiculous. She felt ridiculous.

Where are my shoes?" Alessa asked, holding up a pile of delicate silver chains.

The girls looked at her as if she was crazy and one lifted a delicate foot up.

"Fucking barefoot, are you kidding me?" Alessa bitched. "What happens when one of those morons steps on my foot and I kick him in the balls?"

A couple of the girls snickered.

Viviana, of course, was not impressed with Alessa's complaints.

Oh, and even better...

She wore the chains on her ankles. Great, that was a lot of protection.

She was so ready to stab someone. Where the hell was that fat banker? She moved amongst the girls as they descended to the big party. On their way out, Alessa spotted a dark haired man in some truly over-embellished armor walking through the doorway to the outer balcony overlooking the festivities.

Just when she was thinking how tacky it looked, he turned her way. Dark, intelligent, and suspicious eyes caught hers for a second before he returned to his discussion with the banker and –

Holy shit!

It was the pope!

She narrowed her eyes. The dark haired man must be Cesare and the pope was Rodrigo of course. Cesare glanced her way again and a jolt passed through her as his gaze raked over her and the rest of the courtesans.

_Enemy. _

The word thrummed through her in a physical manifestation of recognition.

He was suspicious and on edge, it was damn eerie, like he knew she was there, wanting to kill him so bad that she had to clench her fists in the folds of her skirt to resist the urge to flick out her dagger and recklessly go for it.

_How the hell did he know?_

A sharp elbow dug into her side and she smoothed the lines of her faces, pasting on a ridiculous, simpering smile as they all stepped outside into the night.

It took a second for her to recover as she got an eyeful of all the, er, flesh out in the open air. Some of the women appeared to be garbed in nothing but glued-on colored glass that flickered strangely in the torchlight. Others…

Okay.

Don't look at what was going on in the shadows.

"I thought this Juan Borgia was supposed to be a cardinal," Alessa whispered to one of the girls in confusion.

"He is."

Wow.

She was truly scandalized.

She kept her eyes to herself after that.

She made note of the number of guards, their positions, and their level of alertness. She listened to how the courtesans lulled them into complacent distraction, wanting to vomit and wondering how the men could take the comments seriously.

"That is quite a chest you have there."

"Can I feel your strong arms?"

_Seriously?_

These had to be the stupidest men she had ever had the misfortune to observe.

She felt a slight tingle on the back of her neck and looked up suddenly to a nearby rooftop.

She smiled.

Ezio and Dino crouched side by side, silent death from above stalking the revelers.

Her group moved into a large courtyard just as Cesare was finishing a welcome speech. She watched him disappear inside the Banker's home.

Music started, dramatic lutes and ecstatic drums, and Alessa found herself in the middle of a growing crowd of dancers. While she minded her bare toes, she kept an eye on the Banker, observing his movements.

Some time passed when she caught the edge of a white hood, prowling about the fringes of the crowd. She tracked the Banker, who was dancing with more enthusiasm than skill. When she looked again for Ezio, he was gone.

She spun, arms draped gracefully – she hoped – in mid-air. The final turn brought her face to face with the hooded figure she had just seen stalking the fringes of the crowd. Without a word, he took control of her and all of a sudden, the silly, overly dramatic dance took on an entirely different undertone and she understood why it was so popular.

He manipulated her movements subtly by the placement of his hands on her body, but she soon realized that it was ultimately the woman who held the man's attention and thus controlled the direction of his mind. If she moved her body a certain way, she could focus his attention on whichever part of her body she chose.

Ha! Alessa thought gleefully. Here was something she was better at…

Oh.

Wait.

He was responding on an instinctive level to her cues, but his eyes were actually on the ridiculously garbed Banker, Juan Borgia, glittering menacingly.

Huh.

Amazing. Here she was, all of her attention focused on Ezio, thinking his was equally engaged. And he wasn't. He truly was a Master Assassin; not allowing anything to distract him from his target. Alessa sobered quickly, feeling ashamed. She worked with Ezio to move them both toward the edge of the crowd, closer to the Banker.

She could feel Ezio's frustration in the subtle tightening of his grip when the man extricated himself from the dancing to go speak with some of the guards nearby. They walked away as a group. Ezio's face was impassive as he watched them. Alessa touched the tips of her fingers to his cheek so that he would look at her.

"They'll walk around once and then he'll go back in," she whispered, doing her best to keep her lips form moving too much in case someone had noticed them. "He's been doing it all night, taking reports from the guards." Ezio's lips quirked up into a pleased smile and he suddenly stopped dancing, dragging her behind him to a nearby bench, for all the world looking like a man overwhelmed by the risqué dancing.

She had barely settled herself in for the wait when Ezio's lips descended with resolved dominion over hers.

She was startled for a brief second, but then she reached up to cradle his face between her hands, arching her body in towards his, feeling the muscles of his neck and jaw strain as he kissed her urgently. It took all of the willpower she possessed to not get lost in Ezio's enthusiasm, even if it was feigned. She could not track Borgia's progress around the massive dancing crowd; the folds of Ezio's hood blocked her view. She felt his expressive hands slide up her bare back and gasped against his lips; understanding in an instant the allure Claudia had foreseen the cut of the gown would have.

Well, maybe she had not seen it happening quite in this manner. Or had she? Shit. The woman was as bad as Machiavelli.

Oh, hey. She could see Borgia approaching. She tensed, getting ready to jump up.

Ezio's hands eased back down to her hips, then, without warning, shifted to her thighs and lifted her like she weighed nothing. He sat back on the bench and hitched her over his lap, her knees settling on the stone bench on either side of his thighs.

Selfish man!

Now she could not see the target again. But she was willing to bet he could. She scraped her teeth along his lower lip, a little annoyed, and he groaned. He did not sound unhappy.

Take that.

She was trying to stay focused, but without a target in sight…

Damn, the man could kiss!

She was losing control again.

His head tilted back elegantly as he settled her more strategically over his lap, fingers biting into her upper thighs as Borgia moved close enough for her to see him with her peripheral vision.

"I'll bet he has to pay a fortune for that one," one of the guards muttered nastily as the group went by.

Ezio struck then. Alessa barely noticed the change of his muscle tension as he went from indolent lover to lethal fighter in an instant. He tossed her aside and she landed in a crouch, watching in satisfaction as he leapt in the air, activating his hidden dagger just as he was bringing his fist down to sever Borgia's spine. The flabby cardinal crumpled without a chance to even struggle and was dead before he hit the ground.

"_Assassino_!"

"Ah, music to my ears," Dino said as he rushed up to join them.

"Where have you been?" Alessa asked as she engaged a halberd-carrying guard.

"Enjoying the show," Dino grunted as he parried the swing of an axe.

Alessa would swear later that while stabbing the soldier before her, she most definitely did not envision Dino's face in place of her victim's.

An swordsman charged her and she spun to the side, swinging her leg up to crack the man on the side of her head with her heel as he passed her, forgetting for a moment that she was not wearing boots.

Ouch.

She cursed and plunged her blade under his sternum while hopping on her good foot.

"Shit!" she said, twirling to meet the blow of a sword. It was an awkward parry and the blade slid off her hidden dagger and bit into her upper arm. Reaching over, she pulled Dino's spare dagger in an instant, continued in the circular direction her momentum took her and swung her blade out to catch the soldier across the face. As he shrieked and dropped his sword, she scooped that up, sliced his hamstring on the upswing, reversed her grip and stabbed down into his chest as he fell backwards.

The three of them were an oasis of calm, surrounded by screaming people, all frantic to get away from them. It hampered the guards trying to get to them to attack.

Alessa used the brief respite to begin tugging on one of the smaller guard's boots.

"What are you doing?" Dino asked.

"I need something for my feet, cretin, what does it look like I'm doing?" Alessa said, tugging harder.

"Aha."

"Shut up."

"I kind of like the little slave girl chains, why don't you just wear those?"

"I said shut up!"

She got the boots and shoved her own feet into them; they were only a little big.

"Let's go," Ezio urged.

They clambered over the crumbling walls, easily losing the guards chasing them in the maze of alleys and dead ends.

They had crossed the Tiber and were heading for the Rosa in Fiore, the late night streets quiet. The only sounds were the assassin's soft footsteps and the crickets.

Dino stopped them in the shadows of a dark building.

"You're bleeding all over the place," he said. He held her injured arm out, then reached down and ripped off one of the panels from her skirt.

"Hey!" she hissed, swatting at him, he snickered and avoided her swing, holding one end of the fine silk in his teeth as he bound her arm.

"So, ah, do you think that blending technique would work if Ezio and I had done it?"

Alessa shrieked and burst into laughter. Ezio looked offended.

"I don't kiss ugly girls like you, Demasi," he protested.

"There are so many things wrong with this conversation," Alessa wheezed, overcome.

They continued on their way. Alessa had finally stopped laughing when Dino ruined it again.

"So how do you get out of that thing? I don't see any buttons or anything."

Alessa halted in the middle of the street.

What.

An.

Asshole.

He knew! The sonofabitch _knew_!

"I… ah... it…"

Her sputtering apparently answered the question and Dino's laughter bounced off of the buildings, echoing his glee to the sky.

Ezio looked like he was about to say something.

"Do not say it," she growled.

Ezio grinned.

"Are you sure –"

"Yes! Shut up!" she hissed.

She stomped off towards the Rosa in Fiore as the men fell into step behind her, chuckling amongst themselves.

As they rounded the final corner, Ezio tensed, and then began sprinting. His concern manifested into two tear-stained courtesans, one holding the other up.

"We came back with the money," she said in a daze, "They followed us home."

A panicked look spread across Ezio's face as the girl spoke and he bolted for the Rosa, bursting through the front door. Dino stopped abruptly behind him and Alessa crashed into him.

Bodies littered the floor in slowly spreading pools of blood. Claudia stood over them, a well used dagger in each hand and a smug expression on her face.

Ezio was astonished, and then he grinned in fierce pride.

"What?" Claudia asked.

"My sister knows how to wield a knife," he said, truly surprised.

"And I am ready to do it again," she said with some asperity.

"Spoken like a true Audtiore," Ezio said.

The siblings grinned at each other. And just like that, whatever tension had been between them dissapated.

Alessa brushed a finger under her eye, and then she elbowed Dino when he opened his mouth to comment,

"Not a word," she sniffled.

He leaned into her.

"You want to tell me again how that dress comes off?"

* * *

**A/N: I wrote that scene just for you, flyingcrispi, yes, _that_ one! LOL but seriously, that stuff has to stop… heh it's fun though. Don't know when the tango was invented, but most likely waaaay after this time period. Too bad, it exists in the AC-verse now, HA! So I have busted out like 7000 words or so in the last 24 hours and my head hurts, may have to take a couple days break.**


	13. Healing

**A/N: Poetry in the story is from the song "Come, Solitude" by Lacrimas Profundere. Other musical inspiration for some dialogue = "My Friend of Misery" by the almighty Metallica. AC characters are ubisoft-created. Again, love to my reviewers, ecnal_norgardnap and, loki2113, and flyingcrispi. Also, much love for my beta, Potzy375.**

* * *

Alessa was already feeling the effects of the wine Dino had given her as he prepared his instruments. She was slowly turning in a pile of human mush as she sipped and watched his efficient and brisk movements. They had one of the Rosa's rooms to themselves and he was preparing to stitch up her arm laceration. Alessa was sitting comfortably in a plush chair.

"How much stuff do you have in that bag? Do you jush carry all that around everywhere you go?" she asked, slurring a little bit. He glanced up at her and grinned.

"You have absolutely no head for alcohol, do you?"

"I have a perfectly good ability to ingest alcohol," she replied, making a colossal effort to enunciate.

Dino chuckled. "Uh huh, whatever you say." He poured her another glass and then pulled up a stool beside her, working from a small table.

"So why do you keep pouring it if I'm such a light-weight?" she asked, making a face.

"It'll be better for you this way," he said with amused gentleness.

"Okay," she sighed, taking another drink.

She was soon at that stage of inebriation where her lips and the tips of her fingers were feeling numb as Dino started scrubbing the area around her wound.

"Ouch," she mumbled vaguely, watching his facial expressions as he concentrated. She giggled.

"Dino?"

"What?"

"You make some funny faces when you work."

"Okay, no more for you," he said, whisking the glass from her hand and stowing it safely across the room with the wine bottle. "I think we've reached a therapeutic level of drunkenness. I don't want you puking all over the place."

She frowned. "I'm not a puker."

"Yeah, well, let's not find out how pretend that statement is."

"That's fair," she conceded. She rested her head on the back of her chair and closed her eyes. Dino finished cleaning her arm and then she heard the soft sounds of him threading the tiny, curved needle. When the point pierced her flesh, she tensed, glad now for the wine.

"You looked beautiful tonight," Dino said casually after a couple of passes of the needle and thread through her skin. Alessa peeked at him out of one eye.

"You've been drinking too, haven't you?" she accused.

He smiled as he continued to work on her arm. "I'm just making conversation."

She made a noncommittal sound, "I don't still have that shit on my face do I?"

"A little bit."

She watched him suspiciously, but apparently he did not have anything else to say on the matter and she closed her eye again. For a while, she endured the sting and tug of the procedure, focusing on the soft sounds of Dino's breathing and the soft snaps and pops of the fire in the fireplace.

She heard him snip the thread and opened her eyes to watch him dab the area with a wet cloth. He smeared a gooey, soothing poultice on the wound and then bandaged it up.

"You shouldn't have been fighting without the proper armor," he said offhandedly as he tied a knot.

"Oh yes, I should have just stood there and watched you then?"

"Sure."

Alessa scoffed, and then yawned. Dino packed up his medical supplies and brought her a damp cloth that she used to remove the makeup.

"Is it gone?" she asked.

He laughed. "You just smeared it all over the place. Here," he held out his hand and she gave him the washcloth. He knelt before her, knees on either side of her feet, took her chin firmly in his free hand and gently began removing the smudges from her face. It was a little overwhelming because, even kneeling, he was alarmingly big when he was that close. But she was drunk enough that the intimacy did not bother her.

He flicked the tip of a finger along her cheek, "All done. Last chance to have some help getting out of the dress…"

He ducked when she attempted a half-hearted swipe at him.

"I can do it myshelf," she slurred again, covering her mouth with her hand as she realized it.

"You sure? I could have it off of you in about two seconds…"

Alessa laughed, "Filthy swine, just send one of the girls in here on your way out."

Dino pouted. "As you wish." He chuckled as he slung his medical bag over his shoulder. "Just wait until someone gets in here to help before you go sawing at that thing with your dagger."

"Aye aye doc."

As he shut the door, she hoped someone would be in soon, because she was about to fall asleep…

Too late.

* * *

"You have to shift forward momentum into upward momentum! No hesitation! Do it again!"

It was a gorgeous afternoon. And all of that magnificent sunlight only served to mark the passing time as Alessa and Dino were undergoing an intense free-running circuit. Ezio was right behind them, ahead of them, beside them the whole time: cajoling, praising, but mostly insulting as he verbally man-handled bad habits and wasted movement out of their techniques.

Alessa was loving every minute of it. Most of her frustration was from her rapidly dwindling stamina and the conspicuous difference in strength between herself and the men.

Tiles slipped off of the rooftops under their feet, and they were filthy from the brick dust that came from their harsh impacts with the buildings they vaulted and climbed. Garbed in only light clothing similar to the thieves', Alessa and Dino were soaked with the sweat of their exertions and colorfully bruised from falls. Alessa had a good slice on one of her thighs from where she had crashed into the jagged edge of a broken tile. Dino had smashed his face into a sharp windowsill and blood had sheeted down one cheek and glued one eye halfway shut but still they persevered.

Ezio seemed on a mission; he was intense and harsh in his conditioning. But damn was he amazing to watch! He was clothed in his regular armor and weapons and still outpaced the two of them even though he was nearly twice her own age. Even with all of the extra weight, he was graceful, impossibly strong, and in possession of apparently endless reserves of stamina; able to perform feats that Alessa and Dino simply did not have the physical ability or intuition to do yet.

Finally they came down to street level. Dino let out an almost unnoticeable sigh of relief. Ezio turned to face them, grinning.

"You two ready to go again?" he asked with a glint in his eyes.

Alessa and Dino answered simultaneously and without any hesitation.

"Fuck yes!"

"All day long!"

Ezio laughed.

"Uh huh, you two are about to drop. Making you do anymore would probably result in one of your falling off the side of a building."

Alessa elbowed Dino in the ribs, "He's talking about you, Demasi," she whispered scathingly.

Dino reached out and pinched her arm, "Awww, then we'd never get to blend together on a bench, _tesora mia_,"

Alessa spat out an indecipherable response and Dino roared with laughter, "I think that's anatomically impossible!"

They began walking back to the hideout. Alessa tried not to limp; she dreaded getting her boots off and waiting for the giant blisters to heal.

It had been almost six weeks since the assassination of Juan Borgia. Already the amount of Borgia influence had noticeably decreased from the removal of the financial support of Cesare. Ezio had told Alessa and Dino that his informants had found out that Cesare was out of the city, along with most of his army, trying to seize more control of Italia.

"But he'll come crawling back when the funds stop rolling in," Ezio had said with grim pleasure. "In the meantime, we still have a lot to do. I have been communicating with Assassins in some of the other cities around Europe and they are in need of assistance. Our Order is in desperate need of growth. I will be sending both of you on missions from time to time to aid our Brothers in their missions and in recruitment."

Thus the vigorous intensification of their training. Ezio was relentless; waking them at all hours to go out of some of his own assassination missions, along with hours of sparring, free-running, and target practice. Alessa and Dino could now use throwing daggers with good accuracy and Ezio's mini-crossbow was being replicated in order for them to start using that as well.

Alessa had also trained with the courtesans briefly, improving her stealth and blending technique. Dino was getting over his fear of heights and was making great strides in rooftop free-running. He could stalk a rooftop archer easily with deadly efficiency.

It seemed to Alessa that the better she and Dino became, the more frenzied and unforgiving Ezio became in their training. She and Dino were physically and mentally exhausted but their desire to gain more knowledge was insatiable. They worked flawlessly as a team now; the three of them could dispatch a target so swiftly that incidental guard deaths were almost non-existent.

They entered the hideout.

"Tullio!" Alessa exclaimed.

The stocky apprentice turned toward her, grey eyes brightening briefly as he set down his quill and stood to greet them. He did not often venture out into the public rooms of the building and she was astonished and pleased to see him.

It had taken Tullio some time to recover from malnutrition and his burns. The first couple of days had been chilling as he had lost an alarming amount of weight. Dino had been furious, raging ineffectually at their enemies. After the Banker's assassination, they had slept in shifts and taken turns making sure the newest apprentice had a near constant input of fluids. Dino had said the danger of burns came from both dehydration and infection.

And indeed, the weeping burns had seemed to suck the life right out of the blonde man. Miraculously, however, the wounds never did get infected and after three days of painstaking care, Tullio had revived enough for Ezio to have a brief discussion with the man on his situation.

Tullio, of course, had agreed wholeheartedly to join their Order before descending into a healing sleep. He began to recover and Ezio had started Alessa and Dino's advanced training at that time.

"What are you working on?" Alessa asked, going to him and sitting beside him as Dino and Ezio headed deeper into the hideout.

"The same as always," he murmured, procuring a document from the amazingly thick pile of poetry he was always working on and offering it to her. His graceful handwriting was the perfect complement to the dark, but exquisite language,

_I break all tears in you  
For no time  
A cure will be always mine  
When destiny is now  
On silent wings I ride  
To return  
_  
_Your bleeding heart must burn  
To celebrate our faults  
I Swear I will come back  
Someday  
Bring all the grays away  
Oblivion arise  
Come, destiny  
Come, solitude_

"That's beautiful," she whispered, handing it back. He beamed briefly, grey eyes brightening into blue, heavily scarred face smoothing into an expression of self-satisfied pleasure, before he turned to dip his quill back into the ink vial and scratch more words onto a new sheet of vellum.

"I see you've had some good training today," he said teasingly, referring to her disheveled appearance.

"Something like that," she replied, flashing him a pleased grin. He did not often talk to any of them, but it was not because he was rude or stand-offish; Alessa sensed that it was just part of his personality. They all kept a careful eye on his mental stability but he seemed content. He did not have Dino's outspoken personality or Alessa's desire for verbal sparring, but he was extremely sensitive to their moods.

She stood and clasped forearms with Tullio, "I need to go change," she said. Tullio nodded and returned to his work.

She ascended the stairs to her room with a pleasant sort of weariness. The golden afternoon had receded into an indigo evening of assembled storm clouds. Alessa left her windows open; she liked the sound of the rain.

She jumped when she turned and found Dino standing in the doorway. He had cleaned his face up and was holding a square of gauze to his forehead. The ever present medical bag was tucked under his arm. Alessa chuckled,

"Always with the concerned doctor routine," she said, stepping behind a chair, hiding her bloody thigh.

He shrugged, massive shoulders lifting in a bored gesture. "Yes, but I'm not here for you. I'm here for me.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," he removed the gauze from his face, revealing an ugly, jagged laceration. "I want you to stitch me up,"

"What? Ewww, Dino, no!"

"Aww, come on, it's easy," he wheedled.

"No! Go to a real doctor!"

"I want you to learn."

"No you don't, you're just being sadistic!"

He ignored her, pulling out his tools and selecting the little curved needle. He held it up to her, "You get to stab me." The offer, coupled with his comically raised eyebrows was too much. She stared at him for a second, and then stomped over to him.

"Fine," she snapped. He grinned. "You are fucking odd, you know that?"

"It'll be good for you to learn."

"So you say. But will it be good for you?" her smile promised all sorts of pain.

He stretched out on her bed and drawled, "It's always good for me, _tesora_."

She laughed despite herself and began to follow his instructions. The damn wound kept bleeding, but she felt that she did a good job and sat back with pride some time later. It obviously was not done as well as something he would have done, but damn, she had done it hadn't she?

"Thanks," he said. "Does that need to be done, too?" He pointed to her leg.

"No, thank you, I've had enough with the needles today."

"Oh, too bad. Leeches?"

"I can always stab you with a big needle." Her dagger flicked out of it's vambrace and then back in.

"I'll consider it, but not today." He wrapped up his supplies and turned to her, his voice serious, "Thanks, and make sure you get that cleaned up. You'd really be pissed at me if I had to saw off your leg."

"Out of my room, Demasi," she said, laughing a little.

He ducked through her doorway and left her. Outside, the rain began to fall.

* * *

The next morning, Dino cornered her as she was returning her breakfast tray to the kitchen.

"Come on, let's go," he said, loping off and not looking back to see if she followed. So of course she did.

"Where?"

"You're going to get some closure."

She halted, her heart suddenly racing.

"No."

He stopped, turned and wrapped a hand around her wrist, "Yes,"

She resisted, planting her feet, "No."

He sighed and she almost caught the movement as he projected what he was going to do. Almost. He ducked down and swept her over his shoulder before she could avoid him. After trying a variety of escape moves, she finally gave up after he just hitched her more comfortably into place.

He set her down outside near the stables. Her heart did a back flip and resumed racing as she spotted Ezio and Tullio, already mounted, Ezio holding the reins of two other horses.

"Are you going to ride or do I have to continue carrying you?"

Alessa was shaking with barely contained fury.

"I don't want to do this!" she said, her voice breaking at the end.

Dino's face softened minutely, "I have given you time to come to me and request it, but it is unhealthy for you," he reached out to stroke her face, but she jerked her head away and mounted one of the horses.

"_Cara_," Ezio said softly. "You need this. You have not come to terms with your losses and it represents a liability to your work – to our work. Too much emotion puts you at risk of going against the Code. Not many who do such live to tell about it. And I am not interested in losing you in that manner."

Alessa did not say a word, simply turned her horse in the direction of her former home and kicked it into a gallop.

She raced along the roads once they passed out of the city proper. The men stayed behind her the whole time but she could feel them, their presence a tangible weight at her back. She probably looked like a madwoman riding that horse, her face twisted with fury so hot that it made her chest burn. Her breaths were ragged as she forced down the nausea that came along with the pain.

Her horse was lathered and blowing hard when she reached her former community. She patted the horse apologetically before she turned it over to the hostler. Then she stood outside the stable, staring with trepidation at the forge.

The community was bustling now that the Borgia soldiers no longer controlled it. A new blacksmith hammered away, but Alessa recognized the stable-owner. He apparently did not recognize her.

"Come on," Dino said softly. He led her down the road, past her former home, now occupied by a new family, into the lightly forested area just outside of the town. Ezio moved up to her other side and Tullio trailed them all. Alessa halted when they came into sight of the local cemetery. No one forced her into anything, and she continued forward of her own accord.

Ezio knew where he was buried and directed her subtly with a supportive arm about her shoulders.

She stared at her husband's grave marker, a simple stone with his name and his dates. It was a surreal moment and she felt a little faint but managed to steady herself, feeling the pain in her chest rise to almost intolerability. She looked away briefly to give herself a moment to recover and her eyes rested on the smaller stone beside Vito's:

_Infant Ricci_

Something inside her broke and she fell abruptly to her knees, hands clutching her lower belly. She sobbed once, a harsh, ugly sound and then they were all around her, heads bent in to hers, grieving with her. Alessa gave herself into their care and let everything out, let out the clawing pain from within, surprised that such intensity had not come forth earlier.

And to her astonishment, they bore it all with her and she observed with some awe the deep bonds that they had forged between them in such a short time. Their shared losses, their difficult and exacting work, not to mention all of the intimate moments they had all been forced to witness or share with each other - it all made those bonds enduring and unbreakable.

And thus, in the embrace of her Brothers, she became whole again.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, that was totally depressing and melodramatic, but I felt Alessa needed some closure before going on. Otherwise it just was kind of feeling like she went from one life to the next without any problems. **

**Also, voting is open: readers' choice to where the apprentices get to go for their first out of Rome mission... **


	14. Bartolomeo and the Mercenaries

**A/N: I may have caved to some reader's requests… But I'm not giving it up easy, make you fuckers work for it! LOL Music: Tarja's "My Little Phoenix" and Adelita's Way "Scream"**

**For the road trip, so far I have one vote for Malaysia and one for Barcelona. LOL I could make Malaysia work, it would take some thought, but I could do it! And Barcelona would have some amazing architecture to play on… I know they have some pretty baths too, er… ahem! Hurry, hurry, you can still request!**

**And BTW, I sort of awarded Bartolomeo a trophy in this one, heh, you'll see what I mean! AC belongs to ubisoft... Thanks to my reviewers, all of this is also for you! ecnal_nogardnap, flyingcrispi, loki2113, Owari and fizz shop!**

* * *

She must have fallen asleep. Or passed out. She listened to the cadence of the soft voices around her; the men were quietly discussing the plans for the next couple of days. It was Ezio who first realized that she was rousing and his face was the first one to appear in her field of vision when her eyes opened.

"_Cara_," he breathed, his voice radiating a sort of questioning concern.

She sat up slowly, her head was throbbing and her face felt puffy and raw. She pressed her hands to her temples, adjusting to the change in position. Her body felt like she had just come out of a fever that had been raging for days, but she felt… lighter somehow. Free. Released from something that she did not know had been chaining her.

Ezio scooped her up into his embrace, and she felt Dino's big hand settle on her shoulder, Tullio's graceful fingers brush her hair back and then rest on her arm.

Brothers.

She buried her face in Ezio's neck, receding into his hood as she tried to sort through her thoughts. He smelled good, soothing, and she was lulled as he invaded all five of her senses.

Ezio stood, taking her with him, his body her physical support as she began to surface from the depths that she had unknowingly wallowed in since Vito's death. She twined her arms under his, seeking and finding his warmth.

"I'll go get the horses," Tullio said. Alessa heard him take off into a jog.

It was silent for a time. Ezio's pulse beat lightly into her cheek, steady, resolute. Alessa finally took a deep, cleansing breath and turned to face her husband's grave, allowing the tears to fall.

_How could there still be tears?_

These were not bitter and painful, though. She shed them and they cleansed her as she gazed in deepest sorrow at the two stones proclaiming her lost family.

"Sleep well," she whispered to them. She looked up at Ezio; for once the closeness did not bother her. "Thank you for making sure they were taken care of." She looked over and Dino. "And thank you for making sure I was."

Dino gave her a deep nod of acknowledgment.

Tullio returned with the horses, but Alessa was too emotionally exhausted to manage the ride back. Ezio helped her into his saddle and settled into place behind her for the ride back home.

It was a curious thing, she mused dazedly as her eyes drifted shut of their own accord; twice now she had left her former life behind in Ezio's arms. But this second time she knew was going home.

* * *

She opened her eyes to blessedly soft moonlight. Her windows were open and the crickets were a lulling counterpart to her breathing. She had always found the night to be so peaceful. Now she performed most of her work within it.

She came to the slow realization that she was not alone. The dark, hooded figure sat beside her bed, back against the wall, also facing the window.

"Ezio?" she rasped. But even in the dark, she knew it was him before he spoke.

"I am here, _cara_, how are you?"

"I feel… okay, actually."

They sat in silence for a while and then she spoke, "Does the emptiness ever go away?" she asked.

Ezio took a deep breath before he answered; his voice echoing with his own haunted sadness, "It does not. But it becomes a part of you, sort of how you are now used to your finger being gone. For the majority of the time, it is simply there and you continue on with your life. But every once in a while, something happens that draws your attention to it, and the pain is nearly as bad as the first parting."

While she considered that, she felt his hand cover hers. Reflexively, her fingers entwined with his.

"I remember when I first met Vito," she found herself saying. "He came from Tuscany, his family sent him here because he was related to the local blacksmith, a nephew. Vito was the twelfth surviving child in his immediate family; his uncle had no children. I was maybe ten when he came. He was six years older and used to chase me out of the forge when I went to watch him.

"He wasn't the most handsome man, you know, but he had the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. He stopped chasing me away when I turned sixteen," she smiled at the memory.

"And then we were married a few years later, when he was able to work at his own forge. I waited for him. I hoped that our children would have his eyes. I guess I will never know."

"You do know," Ezio replied gently. "The answer is that they will not. Your children will not look like him, because he is gone. I too often wondered, ah… Cristina -" his voice roughened, and then broke off as his head bowed in silent hurt. His fingers tightened in hers.

"My first love is also gone," he said, his voice deep and grave. "But while she was alive, I also entertained the idea that our children would have had her eyes. Truth is almost always harsh, and it can make the years very lonely."

"But the Creed says that nothing is true."

Ezio nodded. "Yes, it does. But it refers to the truths as spoken by men. In our Order, Death is the only Truth."

He paused, the shadowed folds of his hood turning to face her. "Our enemies have done their best to break you; you have faced Truth, and will be the stronger for it. "

He was right. As he spoke, she could feel all of her anger and grief and defiance coalesce and become a grim resolve.

She beheld the shift with a kind of somber awe.

"No wonder you are so strong," she whispered.

Silence.

Alessa felt her eyelids getting heavy, "Ezio?" she murmured. He made a questioning sound. "I'm tired."

She felt him stand up to leave but retained hold of his hand.

"Stay," she said, the word softer than a sigh. She felt him pause, and then gently extricate himself from her grasp. She heard the soft sounds of him unbuckling his armor, of his weapons clanking quietly as he set them aside.

The leather of his hidden dagger's vambrace scraped her waist briefly, rough even through her nightgown, before his arm settled around her. She felt his lips brush the back of her head as he spoke,

"Go to sleep, _cara mia_."

It was not a difficult command to follow.

* * *

"I think I may be in love," Dino sighed in reverence as his bolt hit the target with startling ease.

"Just like a man, fixated by the potency of phallic objects."

"Just like a woman, to be jealous," Dino snarked.

Tullio grinned and elbowed Dino at the expression on Alessa's face. Dino grinned back and then both of them smirked at her with identical glee. She jammed the bolt into the crossbow with a bit more force than was necessary, then turned and shot it directly into the target dummy's crotch. Both men assumed immediate protective stances over their own man parts and made masculine noises of imagined pain.

"That's a good shot, _cara_, but the victim would make a lot of noise," Ezio drawled, appearing, as always, from out of nowhere. After recovering from her slight alarm – _why was she still so surprised when he showed up like that_? - Alessa casually drew a throwing dagger and hurled it – ah! She grinned in satisfaction as it buried in the dummy's throat. Her best toss yet.

"Hmm, maybe sever the vocal cords first next time; he wouldn't have still been standing upright to present that clear of a target," Ezio said in a sardonic form of his lecture-tone.

"Psh, that was an accident," Dino scoffed, jostling Alessa off to the side. Holding both his own and Tullio's crossbows out, he aimed quickly, fired…

"Ha!" Dino crowed in ecstasy as the bolts pierced either side of the dummy's face, not quite in the eyes but close. "God, if this thing was a woman, I'd fffuu- ah," Dino sputtered, glancing at Tullio for a split second and Alessa laughed,

"Don't hold back on my account," she said.

Tullio looked mildly offended.

"What?" Dino asked him, full of righteous indignation. "For her?"

Tullio's expression was scathing, "It's not right."

Dino scoffed, "Yeah I know she's not right, but we still like her."

"Hey!" Alessa pinched his tricep.

"Ow! Hey! No pinching!"

Ezio nudged Tullio with his elbow, keeping his arms crossed over his chest. "And you thought you were joining an order of fierce and hardened Assasssins, eh?

"But I think it's enough practice for today." Ezio turned slightly so that he could address them all. Dino got in one last tug of her hair and they waited expectantly.

"Tullio, I know you were going to work on some more free-running with the thieves, but I would like you to come with me tonight, if it is something you would like to do?" The stocky assassin nodded his head slightly, his new hood dipping down once as he went to retrieve his throwing daggers and bolts. Alessa and Dino turned their attention to Ezio questioningly.

"I have a friend that I would like to introduce you all to."

"Who?" asked Dino, cracking his knuckles. Alessa shuddered; his damn mitts were so big that the noise was very noticeable.

"Another member of our Order," Ezio lifted his chin at Dino. "You know of him, Bartolomeo d'Alviano."

Dino grinned. "Outstanding! Is he still running the fights?"

"He's in the middle of a grueling campaign against the French – of course he's still running the fights."

Dino was so ecstatic, he very nearly capered. Alessa chuckled at his exuberance.

"Oh, I am _so_ getting some! Tullio!" he called across the courtyard, then jogged over to go bother him.

"How are they working?" Ezio asked as he fell into step beside Alessa as she headed for the target dummies to retrieve her own ammunition.

"I think Dino gave a fairly succinct review," Alessa said with fond amusement. "On a serious note, they're surprisingly fast to load, and light."

"Leonardo is the best at what he does. Unfortunately, the Borgia know this too. After we meet with Bartolomeo, I need you and Dino to accompany me on a couple of missions; there are some potentially dangerous weapons of Leonardo's that the Borgia have the plans to. I am sure that they will be functional soon. I want make sure that they are never used against us."

Dino had collected her reusable bolts and handed them to her with a flourish and a bow.

"Let's go!"

So they went; drawn along by Dino's enthusiasm.

"Over the wall right there," Ezio said softly, when they had arrived at their destination. He chuckled. "I can hear him from out here."

"You get some sort of perverse pleasure from sneaking up on people, don't you?" Alessa asked, not really expecting him to confirm it.

Silently, the four of them scaled the wall, unbeknownst to the patrols above. In their defense, they probably were not expecting an attack from this direction, but still…

The apprentices hung just below the rampart ledge as Ezio scanned the area. At his signal, they hauled themselves over, took a few strides to cross to the inner wall, and then all four jumped into freefall.

Landing with the muffled thumps, they rolled over their shoulders to absorb the impact; the momentum propelling them all to their feet. Alessa noticed that Tullio was grinning fiercely; his free-running with the thieves was going well, apparently.

In the torchlit courtyard, a tall man was gesticulating wildly in his conversation with his men.

Ezio stepped out of the shadows, flanked by the apprentices.

Bartolomeo turned abruptly as one of his guards pulled his sword, then burst into noisy laughter.

"Ezio!"

After a round of animated male greeting rituals, Ezio held his arm out to Alessa. She moved forward and drew back her hood.

"Alessa Ricci," Ezio introduced.

Bartolomeo swept up her hand in his and bowed over it; Alessa enjoyed his apparent zeal for life.

"I wonder if you remember my father, _messere_, he used to work for you?"

"_Va_ _Bene_! Who was he?"

"Alessandro Lopresti."

"Sandro! Fuck yes I remember him! Damn good in a knife fight, cunning as the Devil! And quick! How is he?"

"He passed two years ago. Found him in his bed. He'd been having some issues with his left arm and leg the day before.

"I had an uncle who went like that," Bartolomeo said, "Just keeled over in the war room during his report! It's an easy death, no suffering. We should all be so lucky!"

Huh.

She had never thought of it that way. She stepped aside as Dino lowered his hood.

"Dino Demasi! Not surprised to find you turned Assassin! You made me a good amount of money in the past, my boy!"

"And I am ready to do it again!" Dino blustered. Alessa rolled her eyes.

"And Tullio Sozzi," Ezio finished.

Tullio and Bartolomeo clasped forearms.

"Sozzi? Sounds familiar, maybe my wife would know. I shall introduce you. Come in! Come in! She is inside, and has information for you, my friend," Bartolomeo planted a heavy arm across Ezio's shoulders, escorting him into the Barracks.

Alessa spent a moment trying to figure out what the constant roaring she could hear all of a sudden was. Then she was distracted by her introduction to Bartolomeo's wife.

Pantasilea was a surprising contrast to her husband: tiny where he was huge, soft-spoken where he was boisterous, ethereally beautiful where he was, well... She obviously adored him, though. She welcomed them all to her home with a quiet grace, then shocked the shit out of Alessa when she nonchalantly discussed Ezio's next batch of assassination contracts with intelligent detachment.

Apparently the pretty little bird had some depth to her.

Dino was fidgeting.

Noticeably.

Even Bartolomeo picked up on it.

"Come on downstairs," he said jovially. "I feel the need to make some money on you!"

Alessa had never seen Dino disappear so quickly.

Ezio and Pantasilea ignored them all as they trooped downstairs into a surprisingly large room. The mercenaries numbered over a hundred and every single one of them was yelling at the current fighters in the ring. It was deafening.

Dino was elbowing his way through the crowd, some of the meneven seemed to recognize him. Although when a giant white-hooded Assassin started pulling his shirt off….

_Now he wasn't…_

"Oh no, Dino, no, don't, ugh…"

He swept his undershirt over his head and Alessa groaned in mortified agony. Beside her, Tullio guffawed. The men roared as Dino vaulted the boards nimbly and stepped into the center of the circle, arms outstretched, feeding the crowd's need for drama.

"What an ass!" Alessa said, stifling laughter behind her hand.

But Dino, for all his obnoxious attitude, was an unstoppable force. With his height and reach, he simply overpowered unskilled opponents. With his surprising speed and agility, he outmatched those with skill. It was very interesting to watch; she found it amazing how much more primal and potentially brutal a bare knuckle match was when compared to real fighting with a blade.

Maybe blades made things too easy? Took the sport out of it?

She barely noticed Ezio sidle up beside her, leaning on his elbows on the boards, watching with interest as Dino executed a flawless rear throw, his opponent landing just in front of her. The man groaned and writhed in apparent agony. Dino came over and helped him up. The man even seemed to like it!

What the hell?

Then Dino noticed Ezio standing beside her.

"Come on!" he grinned. Beside her, Ezio smiled back, teeth bared in a predatory manner.

"Dino, you are a dumb fuck," she said to him.

Astonished, she watched as money changed hands. Ezio vaulted the boards and…

Oh.

Yeah.

Him too.

Taking the shirt off.

Alessa blocked the sight with her hands, and then peeked.

He was not a muscled as Dino; Ezio was more wiry. But he was far from scrawny-looking. Broad shoulders tapering into a supple chest and lean waist...

Not that she was looking.

Not at all.

They faced off and the crowd went eerily quiet. The men circled each other, hips shifting fluidly, fists loose, each crouched ever so slightly.

Dino, of course, could not wait it out; he attacked, one of those hoof-sized fists descending for Ezio's face with alarming speed.

It happened almost too fast for her mind to figure it out; Ezio weaved under the blow, punched Dino once in the upper belly. The next blow hit him under the chin with some alacrity and the final blow across the face. Dino clattered to the ground with an audible thunk.

_Holy shit!_

Dino whoofed through his breaths for a couple of seconds while the crowd roared and Alessa attempted to pick her jaw off the ground. She wasn't sure if she was shocked by the speed of the whole or the fact that Ezio had just beat the hell out of Dino without even appearing to try.

The crowd jeered good-naturedly as Dino staggered to his feet, weaving slightly at the knees and making big, obvious blinks.

"Okay! Okay! He took me in less than ten seconds." Dino struggled to stand, ended up hanging on the boards, waving his fist haphazardly at the jeering men. "But I bet five of you can't beat him in 50 seconds!"

There was complete silence, then pandemonium. Alessa was jostled as the men volunteered, were rejected, and then eventually selected and odds were laid down. Bartolomeo roared,

"All in! All of it! Everything in my pockets on Ezio!"

"_Merda_!" Alessa said appreciatively at the sheer amount of excitement in the room. She chuckled and helped Dino over the boards.

"Idiot," she whispered to him in glee.

"He hits like a goddamn hammer!"

"Have you learned anything?" she asked archly.

"Yes," he said, as if it were obvious. Alessa raised her brows. "I have a lot of practice before I get back in there with him!"

"You are hopeless," she laughed.

"Nope, just not quite as good as him." Dino gestured to Ezio as he crouched slightly, completely surrounded by men that were all nearly as tall as Dino and some noticeably more muscular.

Ezio, while lithe and obviously very fit, was the smallest of all of them. She brought a hand up to her throat protectively. Dino interpreted her gesture and gave her a rough hug around the shoulders.

"He'll be fine_, tesora_."

"You're sweating all over me," she vaguely, caught by the drama emanating from the crowd and the men in the ring. "And put a shirt on."

The timer was set and the timekeeper called ready. All the men in the ring tensed. Someone rang a bell. Alessa could not hear for the screaming going on around her. Dino looked like something deranged.

The five attackers all charged at once and her hands went up to cover her eyes. She peeked through her splayed fingers, though.

Ezio was speed and strength personified. The first man to reach him went down on a ridge-hand to the throat, the second to the back-fist that reversed out of the ridge-hand.

Just like that.

The first man was still squirming, but the second was knocked out cold.

The remaining contenders stepped back to reassess, but Ezio was on a mission. He took a flying leap, rear leg kicked back, back arched, and landed a hard blow to a temple.

Down.

He was out, too.

The final two were dispatched with similar ease. Ezio ducked under the first one's swing, punched the lower back, front kicked the other man coming at him. He spun the back-punched man around, ducked under him, and hurled him over his shoulder. The impact was not kind.

He dispatched the final man with a final throw, something she had heard her father call a shoulder wheel. Ezio essentially picked the man up in a shoulder carry, then dumped him across his shoulders to the ground, again with the impact.

Alessa found herself cheering and yelling with the rest of the simians. Dino was grinning fiercely. Ezio simply picked up his pristine white cloak and exited the ring. Bartolomeo could be heard gloating with his winnings.

"See, he's not even sweating," she said to Dino. She turned to say something to Tullio but…

And where the hell had Tullio gone?

* * *

**A/N: heh, I've been wanting to get Ezio and Dino in the cage for a while now. So there you go!**


	15. Smokebombs

**A/N: Poetry is from lacrimas profundere's "and god's ocean" Had to do a lot of thinking about this one… Change is ahead, readers beware! Heh, naw, I think you'll like it…**

**AC belongs to ubisoft**

* * *

"Did you have to take the shirt off too?" Alessa asked Dino laughingly as he washed his purpling face at a bucket.

Dino gestured at the current fighters in the ring, "No one wears a shirt in there. It's all bare knuckles and hairy chests. So why are you yelling at me?" His eyebrow suddenly hitched up and he gave her a smoldering grin, coupled by a truly obnoxious exhibition of his chest and arm musculature. "Unless you liked it?"

Alessa chortled, "Hardly."

Dino sniffed, "Uh huh, right, I didn't miss that look you gave Ezio. I _know_ you liked _that_. And I don't see you giving _him_ any grief. So I have to come to the conclusion that…" He sent a meaningful glance at Ezio, who was on the other side of the room, buckling his belt back on.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," she interrupted, feeling her mirth vanish.

"Huh," Dino said. "Don't need to, it's written all over your face. Shall I inform him? Just get all the drama out of the way?"

"He wouldn't believe, ah…" she slapped a hand over her mouth and Dino's brows shot up with glee.

"Aha! I knew it!"

"Whatever."

Dino scoffed, "He'll be good for you. And you'll be good for him. Lord knows you both have had enough loss to deal with in your lives."

"Oh my God," Alessa said helplessly, not believing that the conversation was actually happening.

"You are such a baby," Dino replied. "And frankly, I think you're both being dense - maybe deliberately obtuse is a better phrase. Hmmmm?"

"I don't deserve him," she whispered, aghast as she made the admission.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Dino insisted. "You're both human, he's an amazing fucking fighter, true, but he's not a god. You have some serious issues with relationships, you know that?"

"I do not! I only have issues because I spend my time with deviants!"

They were both yelling, their faces inches apart, fists clenched at their sides.

"See there you go, blaming it on everything else but yourself. Stop making excuses and go tell him that you love him!"

What.

The.

Fuck.

Alessa stepped back from Dino in shock, suddenly dizzy.

"I – I... I don't…" she stuttered, her thoughts effectively scattered.

"What the hell is going on?"

Alessa spun to meet Ezio's gaze and was suddenly nauseated.

"I, ah, I don't feel well; I'll be right back."

She raced upstairs.

Fleeing.

Dino was right.

He was a sadistic fucker, for sure, but he was right.

Dazed from the revelation, she wandered drunkenly deeper into the house, looking for an escape. It took a moment, but then, as she veered crazily into a doorjamb, Alessa began to hear strains of music from somewhere nearby.

Curiosity taking over, she followed the sounds. Eventually, she could hear a male vocalist crooning through high tenors and low baritones as he accompanied whatever keyboard instrument was being played. An organ?

Alessa had only ever heard the instrument played in churches and was intrigued that someone owned one in their home. Maybe Pantasilea played? She really could not envision Bartolomeo playing any instrument save for a sword.

The piece that was being played was haunting, poignant and Alessa stopped just outside the open door it emanated from, not wanting to interrupt it. Her hand on her heart, she listened. The keyboardist was incredible and did full justice to the slow, remorseful melody. The singer's voice was exquisite, and he had an incredible vocal range. The syllables were drawn out, but the words were clearly sung; each note hung shimmering the air before merging into the next one:

_Watch me fall against my will  
Holding my last breath of life  
Suffocated by divine  
Watch me fall against my will  
Losing my last drop of blood  
You buried deep inside your mind_

_I try to kill you with your poison love_  
_Falling in darkness_  
_Hope_

_You try to kill me and poison my heart  
Drowning in darkness  
Hope_

Something about the syntax of the words and the theme of the poetry struck a familiar chord with her and she eased around the corner, her breath stilling at the idea...

Tullio!

It was Tullio with the otherworldly voice. It was Tullio coaxing the exquisite melody out of the instrument. His fingers seemed to caress the keys as he finished singing and played out the remaining melancholy notes. The last note echoed briefly before silence fell. She heard Tullio take a deep, satisfied breath. Then he turned, looking straight at her.

"I'm sorry to intrude," she whispered, overcome. He stood, his scarred face expressionless.

"Don't be sorry," he murmured.

"You are incredible. Can…" she lowered her head, embarrassed, "Can you play another?"

"My works are not cheerful; there are not many who enjoy them."

"How could they _not?_" Alessa asked in outraged disbelief.

A brief smile touched his lips and he turned away from her to sit at the organ. His hidden dagger flashed in the light of the single candle briefly. His hooded head considered the keys in silence, his fingers hovering reverently over them. He brushed them lightly over the keys and liquid notes shivered into existence. Then he brought those expressive hands down to the keyboard and played.

_Dio_, could the man play!

Alessa sank onto a couch. Here was a master before her, playing for the sheer emotional value of the music. Music had always had a purpose before this; most of the music she had experienced had been for church, or to display the virtuosity of a singer's voice, or to lead a dance. But never, never had she heard it played just for it's own sake. The difference was indescribably vast.

His voice, when the time came, soared above the organ notes, and Alessa's breath left her in wonder.

Ezio came in, silent as always, and watched in dark stillness. She met his amazed expression briefly as he came to stand beside her. Tullio finished the song and sat for a moment, obviously overcome.

Ezio spoke when Tullio finally turned to face them, "Who are you?"

Tullio's expression became guarded; the sensitive artist disappearing under a scarred mask of indifference.

"Fine," Ezio said. "When you are ready to talk, we are here. Be ready tomorrow for the next mission." Tullio nodded once, and then turned back to the organ, fingers outstretched in preparation for another song.

* * *

"What'd I miss?" Dino asked, eyes narrowing speculatively, as Ezio and Alessa came back into the main room of Bartolomeo's home. Neither answered. Ezio turned his attention to the big table, rifling through the papers there. Dino gazed at him suspiciously, and then shrugged.

"When are we leaving for the mission, _maestro_?"

"Tomorrow; we will stay the night here, and then we need to gather intelligence on the locations of Leonardo's war machines. We will also have to make travel preparations; I suspect that they are not being assembled within the walls."

"_Va bene_," Dino said. "I'll be down at the fights for tonight."

And he was gone.

Alessa turned to Ezio to make a comment on Dino's apparently insatiable desire to be among knuckle-dragging, shirtless mercenaries and was silenced by his dark eyes, intent on hers. She swallowed convulsively, wondering how much of Dino's and her argument he had heard.

"Come with me," he said, turning abruptly and walking out the door. She followed him across the street to the Barracks tower and up as he scaled the building effortlessly. It took her a bit longer; as it was one of the tallest buildings she had ever climbed, the height was a little unnerving.

Eventually, she made the top, flushed, triumphant, and out of breath. It was quite late and the moon was full. With the moonlight unimpeded by surrounding buildings, it seemed as bright as day. Ezio was sitting at the edge, legs dangling over the side of the building, facing the twinkling lights of the sprawling metropolis to the east.

At this height, the slightest breeze was quite noticeable and Alessa approached the edge carefully. She eased down and scooted forward to sit next to him, close enough that they touched at arm and thigh. His arm slid around her, pulled her closer. Their heads tilted in; hers resting on his shoulder, his resting against hers. She entwined her fingers with his where his hand rested flat on the roof on her other side.

_Dino, you prick!_ she thought. Despite her and Ezio's physical closeness, there was a tension between them now that had not been there before.

"So who do you think he is?" she asked, doing her damndest to dispel it.

"Hmmm?" Ezio seemed distracted.

"Tullio."

"I'm sure we will find out in time," Ezio said absentmindedly.

Alessa waited, tense with apprehension. Eventually Ezio sat up and faced her. He was silhouetted by the moon behind him; she could barely make out his facial expression. Tentatively, she shifted her vision…

His eyes were fathomless.

Hastily, she shifted back to normal vision, scooting back and rubbing her eyes.

"Ezio?" she whispered, unsure.

The moonlight gilded the planes of his face as he pushed his hood back. She felt him lean in, lips parted slightly.

"Ezio, I –"

"Be quiet," he murmured.

His hands came up to her face, fingers tightening subtly as he angled her head gently to complement the cant of his. His lips brushed over her face reverently before descending on hers.

His intensity warmed her and she melted into him, her fingertips sliding tentatively up his chest, bumping over the hard ridges of his armor before she settled her palms over his jaw. Her hands tightened involuntarily and he groaned against her lips before backing away from her.

Resting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes. Retaining his hold of her, he panted once, twice, then

"I'm sorry, _cara mia_, I can't –"

His lips captured hers again, this time with a violent edge. Alessa, surprised by the contrast, nevertheless responded to it; her hands went up into his hair, gripped the strands between her fingers, intent on pulling him closer.

Ezio, however, interpreted the move differently and moved away immediately. He sprang to his feet, fists clenched at his side, face apologetic, chest heaving, avoiding her eyes. She had never seen the Master Assassin appear so out of control; it was unnerving. Out of breath herself, she stood.

"What the hell?" she asked, confused.

"You tried to pull me away, you-"

"Ezio," she said softly. "Shut up."

He stopped gesticulating and his gaze snapped back to hers, eagle-sharp and penetrating. She stepped forward into his embrace, welcomed him into her own, and the moonlight was a joyous benediction above them.

* * *

"So, ahh…"

"Shut up, Dino."

"Quiet, Demasi."

Dino chuckled to himself; smug bastard. Alessa could not help a private smile as she ducked her head, hiding her expression from the perceptive Assassin.

They were riding out of the Barracks to meet Ezio's first contact. Dino was obviously in a self-congratulatory mood as he flashed Alessa an "I-told-you so" grin. He reined his horse closer to hers as Ezio and Tullio trotted out ahead.

"Soooo…?"

He drew the word out.

"God, Dino, you're like a thirteen year old girl."

"I've been compared to more depraved creatures," he shrugged. Alessa chuckled.

"I don't kiss and tell," she replied with feigned haughtiness.

"Yeah that had to be all that was going on, although you both looked pretty pleased with yourselves when you went to your separate rooms."

"How do you know we stayed there?" she asked coyly.

Dino guffawed.

"Touché, however, you're too much of a prude to make me believe otherwise."

"Yes, well thank you," she replied drily.

"Not a problem," he replied airily.

The followed Ezio south, just past the Colosseum. Alessa, Dino, and Tullio reined their horses into a halt, leaning forward to rest their elbows on the saddle horns while they waited. Ezio swung a leg over the withers of his horse and handed the reins to Alessa after he slid to the ground. The apprentices watched in feigned laziness as Ezio approached and then spoke with his contact.

Ostensibly facing the duo as they talked, Alessa was in actuality scanning the area for possible attackers. Dino and Tullio did the same; their casual formation looked sloppy, but in reality, between the three of them, they had a full panoramic view of the area.

Ezio returned.

"The patrol is southeast of here," he said as he got into the saddle, addressing the three of them as they continued their lazy-appearing respite. "The Captain has the information. You will not kill him until I obtain it from him." Short nods from the apprentices and Ezio turned his horse in their intended direction, booting it into a mile-eating canter.

They neared the southeastern-most section of Rome's walls before Ezio slowed his horse. Ground-tying the four horses, the Assassins checked over their equipment, moving gear from saddlebags to body harnesses and quivers. Dino was especially alarming; what with his size and the number of bristling objects he was able to comfortably hang off of himself with all of that extra surface area.

Alessa laughed abruptly, "No one will miss your arrival!"

Dino gave her a withering glance, "Sweetheart, this is not a stealth mission, this is an intimidation mission, so don't tell me you wouldn't piss yourself if you saw me coming."

"Ooooh and modest too," she cooed.

"Do they ever stop?" Tullio asked Ezio in a not quite discreet undertone.

"I don't think they have ever stopped," he replied, grinning.

They finished their preparations and continued toward their destination at a light jog. As Alessa settled into her stride, she could not help but compare this outing to the first job Ezio had taken her out on. Obviously the company was different. But she was amazed at the skills she had acquired in the short span of months that had followed:

A crossbow on her back that she knew how to shoot. Throwing knives that she had only ever half-heartedly tossed at a target before harnessed innocuously under her arms along her ribs. A new confidence and physical strength that she had never imagined she would possess. She could easily keep up with the men, and would still have the breath to fight in whatever skirmish lay ahead.

And Ezio…

Whoops, no need to get distracted.

A group of mercenaries were waiting unobtrusively in a curve of the land. Ezio tossed the leader a bag of money as he jogged past and they fell into step with the Assassins.

"They're just on the other side…" the leader warned.

Crossbows were loaded on the run and as they crested the hill the Borgia patrol came into sight – an entire platoon. The mercenaries began sprinting while the Assassins took aim, fired.

Four soldiers dropped instantly, legs folding abruptly under them as they fell heavily to the ground, one body actually tripping its former comrade-in-arms. Sheathing the crossbows, the Assassins fell into a deadly sprint, five hidden blades emerging from hidden sheaths. Alessa leapt and stabbed, dispatching a spearman before he could turn to confront her. A puff of smoke burst up around them and she coughed, her eyes tearing.

That was new.

_Who the hell had a smoke bomb_?

She ignored her streaming eyes and burning breaths. The soldiers were completely stunned, staggering about in coughing fits, and were ridiculously easy to dispatch.

When the smoke cleared – Alessa laughed a little to herself; _so that's where the phrase came from!_ – Ezio was already down on one knee over the Captain, who appeared to be dead. Ezio passed his fingers over the staring eyes as he extricated his dagger from the corpse.

"_Requiescat in pace_."

He stood, the remnants of the smoke swirling about his ankles as he walked away from the battleground, intently reading a blood-stained document. Looked like he found what he needed.

Alessa, Dino, and Tullio began looting the bodies - pocketing florins, vials of medicine, trinkets with resellable value - and then dragged them off of the road. Alessa paid the mercenaries to notify the thieves' guild so the weapons and armor could be retrieved and taken to the Tiber Island hideout. She joined the men as they returned to their horses.

"So where are they building the first war machine?" Dino asked.

"In a fortress out in Colli Albani," Ezio replied, folding the document and storing it in a belt pouch.

"What are they building there?" Alessa asked.

"A machine gun," Ezio said.

The apprentices looked at each other blankly, and then turned their inquiring expression to Ezio, who shrugged. "It apparently shoots multiple bullets at a high frequency without having to reload."

"Huh," Alessa said to herself, struggling to imagine the tactical advantage of that. Slow horror dawned over her and she shuddered as a chill went down her spine at the thought of such a weapon in the merciless hands of Cesare Borgia. The memory of his intelligent, cold eyes flashed through her mind. _Enemy._

"So when do we get some of those smoke bombs?" Dino asked Ezio, who chuckled.

"Liked that did you? We can get some when we get back."

They loaded their horses and made the pleasant ride out to their destination, making camp outside one of the Castelli Romani. Their site, near the edge of a precipitous cliff, overlooked Lake Albano; the drop would give them an escape route that not many would follow. The massive lake stretched out into the distance, the far side hazy. According to legend, one of the peaks in the area contained a volcano, but Alessa could not discern a difference in the various crags.

The flora in the area was riotously green and vineyards were everywhere.

Ezio left briefly to gather intelligence on the fortress and returned by early evening. The apprentices had the camp set up by then and were arguing about who would stand what watch shift in the night.

"There are a lot of soldiers," he said grimly as they gathered around him. "I am going to go in alone; we'll attract less attention that way. I'll destroy the plans and the prototypes, but I want you all on standby outside the main gates. Just in case."

"Just in case what?" Dino asked.

Ezio shrugged, "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

* * *

**A/N: Was that cliff-hanger? Sorry; too much more than 3000 words and I get lost. Plus, all of that took a little longer than expected in real time. Of course, with the big plot change, I guess this chapter probably deserved to be a little lengthier, but cliffhangers are fun every once in a while. Anyway, what do you think? Believable prelude to a relationship? HaHa! Dino is a master! Also, I was intrigued by the big lake you could see in this sequence in the game, so I looked up the real location – gorgeous! I think the gang will be spending a little extra time here…**


	16. Markku and the Machine Gun

**A/N: Thanks to my reviewers, flyingcrispi and ecnal_nogardnap as always! Love you guys! And welcome Akeira! Also thanks to my beta, Potzy375 for working on this chapter... Also, if you like the recruits from AC:B, check out Liebchen-chan's apprendistato - you'll be glad you did!**

**Metallica inspired: "Ain't my Bitch" and the insane "Toxicity" by System of a Down; you'll soon see why… Onward! AC belongs to ubisoft**

* * *

Golden, mid-morning sunlight streamed through the leaves of the trees. Birds and other tiny creatures skittered through the foliage. Beneath Nature's daily routine, the apprentices had been waiting for about an hour, watching intently for unusual activity at the massive closed gates.

A concussive blast resounded through the valley, shattering the peaceful quiet and startling flocks of birds and the apprentices alike. As Alessa worked to soothe her bucking horse, a geyser of flame rushed sky-ward before plunging back down to earth to release dense clouds of billowing black smoke. Shouts and screams competed with the roar of the flames inside the walls.

"Whoops, looks like might be our 'just in case'," Dino said, sawing at his reins as his horse fought to flee. He chuckled to himself. "Ezio doesn't do anything half-assed, does he?"

Sure enough, the main gates crashed open, emitting a large wagon containing a strange-looking apparatus in its cargo area. Smaller than a cannon, but much larger than a rifle, the thing squatted menacingly in its wheeled base. The horses pulling the thing appeared to be half-mad with fear; the driver was having a hard time controlling them as they galloped frenziedly.

Ezio suddenly appeared over the ramparts. The apprentices watched him turn and aim at something down below, left arm straight, sighting along the guide on the inner arm portion of his left vambrace. A single shot rang out and another, smaller explosion gave birth to a whole new cacophony of chaos within the walls.

He sprinted across the wall and leapt, arms out before him, seeming to fly for a brief moment, before landing on a mounted patrolman who had just reined his horse out of the way of the escaping wagon. A violent thrust of his hidden blade and the rider was unceremoniously dumped to the ground. Ezio booted the horse and fell into place behind the wagon.

Droves of mounted soldiers began pouring out of the gates just behind him.

"_Merda_!" Dino shouted in alarm as they all booted their own restive horses into a gallop.

Loud reports sounded and dirt sprayed up into the air just in front of Ezio's horse.

"_Cazzo_! They're shooting at him!" Alessa yelled as they rode to intercept the thing. "Let's distract the gunner, but don't get behind it!"

The apprentices fell into place just ahead of the wagon. The gunner was intent on aiming at Ezio, who was riding in an insane zigzag in an attempt to avoid the bullets were which being shot at an alarming rate.

The driver of the wagon saw them and shouted something to the gunner, who began laboriously turning the gun on its swivel point. The Assassins, however, were too far ahead of the wagon to be threatened by the gun's limited range. Ezio took the opportunity to boot his horse into a true gallop and was able to overtake the wagon before the gunman could realize this.

Leaping spectacularly across the gap, Ezio landed in the wagon, immediately stabbing the gunman with his left blade. The blade must have caught in bone, because he could not immediately extricate himself. The driver took the initiative as he watched Ezio give an unsuccessful tug and attacked. Ezio, unconcerned, stabbed him with his right hidden blade. The driver slid off the blade and tumbled to the ground. Ezio put his boot on the gunner's hip and contemptuously pushed the man off his blade. The gunner staggered back, hands to his throat. Ezio shot him with his pistol, and then turned and jumped into the driver's seat, not watching the gunner tip off the back into the path of a mounted rifleman with Ezio in his sights. The horse panicked and veered, unseating the rifleman; the potentially lethal shot veered wide.

Ezio worked to steer the wagon through a small hamlet, trying to avoid the citizens as they scurried to get out of the path of the out of control horses. The apprentices, in the meantime, did their best to pick off some of the pursuing riflemen who were shooting wildly into the crowd in their haste to hit Ezio.

They made it safely through the village and back into the wilderness. Ezio stood and gestured to Alessa. She sheathed her crossbow and he tossed the reins to her. Jumping nimbly into the back of the wagon, he quickly surveyed the weapon and must have ascertained how to work it. Taking the position of the gunner, he quickly loaded the thing and strained to aim it at the Borgia riflemen that were just now emerging from the close confines of the village.

Ezio fired calmly, aiming and rapidly taking down their pursuers as Alessa gritted her teeth and did her best to guide the snorting, crazed wagon team. A bridge loomed up ahead, spanning a yawning chasm over a channel of the lake.

Dino and Tullio made the bridge, crossed it, and split apart on the other side. They pulled their mounts to a stop and worked their crossbows as Alessa started over the wooden planks.

The bridge rumbled and began to sway alarmingly as the violent motion of the wagon strained its weak engineering. Alessa felt nauseated as she turned to look behind her, watching in numb horror as the supports at the far side of the bridge snapped with an ear-splitting crack.

Ezio, for his part, continued shooting, trusting her to make it across.

With grim resolve she pulled her sword and slapped the rump of the nearest horse of the wagon team with the flat of the blade. The animal squealed and put on a burst of speed, practically hurling itself forward.

Alessa was close enough to see Dino's and Tullio's appalled expressions as the flat portion of the bridge behind her tumbled into the water far below. Swallowing hard, she crouched low over her mount, urging more speed out of the animal. The loud reports of the gun and the tumultuous implosion of the bridge combined to make one absolutely disorienting sound.

The wagon gave a great lurch as it flew over the crumbling bridge and onto solid ground and Alessa nearly wept with relief. Triumphant yells issued from the men as Tullio and Dino rode in to flank her.

"I'm out of bolts!" Dino called.

Half-dazed, Alessa tossed her remaining ammunition to him.

"Contact left!" Tullio shouted as lighter shots rang out around them.

Ezio swung the gun around and fired. Dino and Tullio took out the stragglers at the edges of the groups as they rode into view. Another hamlet appeared. Dino and Tullio ran out of bolts. Alessa could only ride and pray as Ezio endlessly pelted the pursuers with machine gun fire. Stray bullets zinged by at an alarming rate as the Borgia riflemen began shooting for the apprentices as well.

Alessa jerked involuntarily as one of them grazed her thigh, leaving a burning trail of blood behind. The horses veered and the side of the wagon smashed into some scaffolding. Appalled, Alessa could only helplessly watch chunks of shattered lumber fly past Ezio as he struggled to regain his balance from the unexpected jolt.

"_Ma che cazzo?_" Ezio snarled, his arms pin-wheeling. Their mad dash through the village drew out another batch of soldiers, again mostly mounted rifleman.

"How many of you are there?" she heard Ezio mutter as more soldiers galloped into view. He maneuvered the gun with ease now and picked them off methodically. The last rider went down and Ezio released the gun, vaulted over the barrels in the back. Alessa watched in stunned incredulity as he leapt from the driver's seat to the hitch pole between the horses. Arms out for balance, he effectively kicked the pin loose out of the hitch and the pole crashed to the ground as the wagon skidded wildly and flipped over.

Taking careful aim, he shot at the wagon and Alessa ducked as the thing exploded spectacularly. Ezio leapt nimbly onto one of the horses.

"_Il monde é migliore senza di te,"_ he said (The world is better off without you.)

Without the wagon behind them, the team horses were soon calmed and the Assassins moved off the road into an open space within the trees to assess before returning to camp.

"God in Heaven," Dino said with dazed reverence, "That was insanity!"

Laughter, interspersed with attempts to catch their breaths, responded to Dino's comment. They were all filthy and sweaty, bleeding from numerous wounds, out of ammunition – and damn lucky to be alive. Ezio unhitched the trembling, blowing horses from their harness as Dino checked over everyone's wounds. Miraculously, none of them had been hit square on, only grazed, although they would carry the scars of the encounter for the rest of their lives.

"We need to move head back to camp," Ezio said. "We don't know who is still out there."

No sooner had the words left him than the sounds of hoof beats, walking, reached their ears. The apprentices melted into the brush and gripped throwing daggers, watching with the approaching rider intent gazes, who held his arms out unthreateningly.

He reined his horse to a stop before Ezio and dismounted. He was tall, moved with athletic vigor, and had slightly tip-tilted green eyes set in a broad-featured face. He wore simple clothing smudged with what appeared to be soot, with a well used leather apron over top.

"The blast freed me from my cell," he cackled maniacally, "I was intrigued watching you walk right into their stronghold, destroy all their hard work, and then set off an explosion and walk out unscathed! So I followed! It took me a bit to find a way around that bridge you destroyed, but you left a trail a blind idiot could follow!"

Ezio crossed his arms over his chest, "Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Markku Loikkanen. I specialize in chemistry, ballistics, and explosives. Those idiots thought they would brow-beat and intimidate me into improving their ordinance," Markku spat, narrowly missing Alessa's boot. She edged away from him.

"Oh I improved their formula alright. Ha! Not damn likely! Bloody idiots! I actually made their mixtures worse!" He tittered a bit and then his expression altered suddenly, transitioning into something deadly serious. The sudden change was unsettling.

"I figure - since they were the ones who came in, killed my apprentices, and thought to commandeer my services - that they could stand to have their weapons downgraded. I was working on a solution to take them all down," here his eyes glinted briefly with a manic gleam, "But unfortunately, with only inferior materials to work with, I was considering the alternative that I might have to be consumed with them." He arched a brow meaningfully.

The apprentices watched this whole encounter with confusion – was this man a threat or an innocent? His intentions were hard to read. He also had an accent, one none of them were able to place.

Markku prattled on though, "But you have done my job for me; I think you very well may have cleaned out the entire battalion! So, with my former work destroyed, I will be required to start my studies from scratch. I would like to offer my services to you_, messere_," the man said.

Ezio considered him and gestured for the apprentices to come out of hiding. They moved fluidly out into the open to flank Ezio, hands on sword hilts, watching the newcomer with distrust.

"You don't know what you are talking about," Ezio said. "The only vow I would accept is to my Order."

"Ah yes… _Assassin_." Green eyes practically glowed with intelligent fervor.

Ezio's head snapped up, fixing Markku in his sights. Alessa watched as his wrists flexed almost imperceptibly. She fingered the throwing dagger she had just replaced seconds ago. Markku continued speaking, the cadence of his words becoming singsong.

"I know who you are, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, they spoke of you there, the Borgia men. They fear you; they say you walk in the night, a demon, all-knowing, all-powerful, in command of eldritch creatures of darkness."

Dino elbowed her, "Hey that's you! A creature of darkness!" he whispered. Alessa flicked his ear.

"It's plural, cretin," she whispered back. "That's means it's you too." They snickered together.

"So, you said chemistry?" Tullio asked, "Are you an alchemist?"

"Alchemist," unfettered disgust rippled across Markku's features, "Alchemist?," he spat, "A bunch of psychotic ninnies, if you ask me!"

Alessa coughed. Markku eyed her askance, and then continued when she recovered.

"Why would anyone want to turn regular substances into gold?"

"Why indeed," Dino muttered in an aside to Alessa. Markku beamed at him.

"Exactly! Why indeed? Gold is an utterly useless, inert substance, incapable of doing anything except to look pretty. Now this…"

The apprentices' hidden blades shot out as Marku's hand disappeared into a pouch. He froze, hand still hidden in the leather bag at his belt, took in the grim faces before him – and Ezio's impassive one – and then burst into laughter.

Nonplussed, the apprentices looked to Ezio, who gave them the smallest shake of his head. The blades disappeared.

Markku raised an eyebrow, and then brought his hand up. Curious now, Alessa peered into his hand…

"That's dirt," Alessa pointed out.

He shoved it into her face, "Does this _look_ like dirt?"

"Uh," Alessa capitulated, backing away from the insane man. Markku grinned at her, that mad glint returning to his eyes. Squatting, he piled the dark mystery substance on the ground.

"It's my own concoction," he staged whispered to her as he pulled a tiny glass vial out of another pouch and eased the minute cork out with his little fingernail.

He held it out to her, "Wanna smell it?" Alessa's answering look could have frozen over Hell itself.

"Your loss, _bella_," He inhaled the fumes with enthusiasm. Alessa giggled as Dino crossed his eyes and twirled his finger slowly by his ear.

"Ahhh, how I love the smell of ethylene glycol dinitrate!"

Alessa watched Markku's pupils dilate, the black swallowing the luminescent green of his irises.

Whoa.

The psychotic bastard replaced the cork and set the vial carefully into the pile of dirt… er, whatever it was.

"There you go, my lovelies," he crooned. He stood, his expression abruptly transitioning into something that resembled focus.

"Okay we need to move away, very far away,"

Dino looked totally disgusted, "Um, it's a tiny vial in a pile of dirt."

Markku shrugged, "Whatever you say, short stuff."

The four Assassins watched the man jog away in total disbelief. Ezio eyed the man, the innocuous set-up at their feet, and his apprentices. Then he hitched a shoulder in bewilderment and followed the man. Totally confused, the apprentices did the same, collecting the horses. Alessa noticed then that one of the wagon horses was lamed.

Markku led them behind a stand of huge old oak trees quite a distance away; Alessa could not even see the weird little setup anymore. Markku informed Ezio to shoot the vial and then hunkered down to the ground, watching with unrestrained anticipatory glee.

Ezio sighted, shot, and…

The explosion towered into the sky, even more spectacular than the initial one back at the fortress. The flames were blue and white and Alessa could feel the heat scald her skin even from the distance. The towering pillar of flame collapsed upon itself and a sudden, concussive force threw them all, except Markku, to the ground.

And that was all. Sticks and small branches began clattering to the ground all around them and Alessa realized that her ears were ringing. She sat up slowly – all she could see of the affected area was a flattened ring of charred wood lying on the ground. White smoke meandered into the sky but other than that, nothing appeared to be burning.

The chemist was chortling again, jumping up and down in place in ecstasy. Alessa got to her feet and held out an arm for Dino, who must have been hit with something; he was looking a little dazed. Concerned, she gestured for him to stay down and amazingly, he did. He held a hand up to indicate that he was okay, but she got to a knee beside him just in case.

Ezio got to his feet, his expression indicating that he was deep in thought. Alessa watched him, wondering what he would do. The chemist continued to caper:

"I can make more for you! I can make it less destructive, more destructive, and isolate it to combust a specific type of material!"

Ezio's eyes flickered – did hers do that when she used the sight? – and he came to a conclusion.

"_Va bene_, Markku Loikkanen," Ezio said gravely. "Are you willing to submit, of your own free will, to the Assassin's Creed?"

The man giggled, his laughter tinged with an insane edge and he dropped to a knee. Then he stopped laughing, his eyes snapped up abruptly to meet Ezio's gaze with a frightening, burning intelligence and his voice deepened into an intense baritone, wholly serious in an instant. Alessa watched him nervously, tense from his questionable mental stability.

"_Maestro_," Markku said.

Ezio's slow smile was utterly rapacious as he accepted his newest apprentice's oath.

* * *

**A/n: Thanks to Potzy375 for coming up with the idea of Markku! And you all thought Dino was going to be the class troublemaker! The apprentices were kind of less bad ass in this one just because Ezio does this whole thing on his own in the game, so I could only give them an assist rather than a goal. Heh.**


	17. Philanthropy and a Dream

**A/N: Transition chapter here, folks, bear with me. Long hiatus, I know! Been sick, replaying ACII for kicks and gigs, playing God of War III. Man, I've been lazy! And sick! Thanks to my most loyal of reviewers, flyingcrispi and ecnal_nogardnap and also HikariNoTenshi-San (good call on the dynamite!), Narsha (I don't know what would have made those blood vessels dilate LOL :D), and Wolfman-053 (hey, they snuck into Leo's building! give me a break! hee!) for leaving some words behind. I'm impatiently waiting for the new DLC to come out this month so I can incorporate it into the story. Hope you guys like how I interpret the thing; I'm really trying hard to keep the story accurate while avoiding just telling the story exactly the way it is in the game *cough* Bowden's novelizations *cough* Anyway, onward! AC belongs to ubisoft**

* * *

Alessa sat upright on a ragged inhalation of air. As she looked around a little wildly in confusion, she decided that a bad dream must have startled her awake. Dino was a slumbering hulk nearby in his blankets and Ezio was absent, probably out on watch. Her heart was pounding and that unknown feeling of absolute terror was still disconcertingly near. Fumbling with her blanket, she untangled herself and got to her feet. Navigating by the light of the waning moon, Alessa quietly moved out of the camp's perimeter and stood at the edge of the cliff.

Far below, she could hear the water of the lake lapping at the rocks. A trail of moonlight was reflected in the vast expanse of water; the surface seemed as smooth as glass. The combination of sight and sound was exceedingly tranquil. She sat, legs resting on the steep incline of the cliff. Slowly, she felt her heart rate slow and her breaths even out to normal. The feeling of dread faded until she began to feel a little childish for being frightened of unknown nightmares.

She heard quiet, familiar footsteps, and then Ezio was standing beside her. She smiled up at him as he lowered himself to the ground beside her.

"You just finishing watch?" she asked softly. He made a noise of affirmation. "You should go to sleep," she continued.

"You are not sleeping," he murmured as his arm went around her and tucked her into his side.

"I can't sleep," she replied.

"Neither can I," he admitted.

"Huh. So here we are.

"Here we are," he concurred.

"Does becoming an Assassin incur a side effect of insomnia?"

"I always find it difficult to sleep after a big mission. It's as if my mind refuses to turn off, even if my body is done." She felt him smile, his lips near her ear as he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "If I'm at the hideout, I hunt down Machiavelli and make him talk to me - puts me right out!"

Alessa snickered as his amusement rumbled through his chest, and then she settled more comfortably into his warmth. They turned their attention to the lake before them in silence. She liked this… silent communion with him. It was both peculiar and wonderful; they could each take their unappeasable weariness and meld it together, creating a kind of mental rest that she, at least, could not get elsewhere.

"So what's next?" she eventually asked. Surprisingly, she felt the urge to yawn. Ezio's presence, coupled with the dark beauty of the lake in the moonlight had calmed her mind. She blinked sleepily as she turned her cheek into the curve of his neck.

"We continue work on destroying Leonardo's machines," Ezio replied.

"Tullio and Markku aren't coming with us?"

"Tullio still needs to master the basics of free-running and sparring before I can work with him on advanced skill sets. And Markku, of course, is just at the beginning. I would also like Markku comfortably settled in his own workshop – away from people; that will take some time to set up."

She felt his head crane back to look down at her, "You look like you're ready for sleep now," he commented.

She nodded her head against him. He chuckled and released her. She rose unfocusedly to her feet to trudge back to her bed under the stars, glancing back once to see the Master Assassin continue to gaze out at the silent lake. She turned to her side in her blanket and could just make out his solitary form sitting, silhouetted by the moon, dark head bowed in its hood. Her thoughts transitioned; he had been caring for her, teaching her, supporting her for the past months. And now all of sudden, she wanted to be his strength, his solace, his comfort – just as he had been, and would continue to be, hers.

Unsettled, she closed her eyes, but the figure of the Master Assassin remained an infallible vision in her thoughts, limned in a glowing blue aura.

So much for sleep.

* * *

"Keep me awake half the night with your tossing and turning and now you're going to sleep in?"

"Uggghhh, go away Dino," Alessa said to the giant, booted foot that was disturbingly close to her head.

"Can't go away until you wake uuuuuuup," he taunted, digging a – was that his _sword_? – into her ribs.

Forcing her body to move, Alessa rose, fixed Dino with as nasty a look as her bleary eyes could manage – yup, that had been his sword hilt digging into her side – and picked up her blanket in preparation for packing.

The rising sun had barely tinged the horizon pink, but it was definitely time to be moving. Ezio wanted to make a final sweep through the area to make sure that Borgia influence was clear. Alessa knew she could look forward to a long day in the saddle.

She heard Dino chuckle as he went back to his work. Ezio was putting tack on the horses a bit away from camp. Alessa had just finished packing her saddlebags when she heard Dino curse vividly.

"You okay over there?" Alessa asked absentmindedly.

"I think a bullet must have grazed my hidden blade," Dino griped. "The mechanism is broken."

Alessa walked over to him as he removed his vambrace and she took it to inspect it.

"It's no big deal, I can fix this before we leave."

"Really?" he asked, just barely keeping the skepticism out of his voice. Alessa rolled her eyes at him.

"Yes, really."

She went to her bags and rummaged through them, producing a well wrapped bundle of parts and tools. She settled to the ground cross-legged and as she unrolled the cloth, Dino came to his haunches beside her, watching with interest.

"You really bring all of that with you?" he asked as the cloth opened to reveal the tiny, neatly aligned tools and carefully wrapped magnifying lenses she felt she could use in the field. Alessa flicked a meaningful glance to his bundle of medical gear, and then raised her eyebrows at him. Dino grinned.

Admittedly, she had gotten the idea from him lugging his medical supplies around everywhere he went. She'd be damned if she admitted it to him, though. It was bad enough that he had figured it out.

She laid the vambrace open before her and went to work, removing the bent gears and replacing them with new.

"This hit really close," she murmured.

"Tell me about it," Dino muttered as he pulled back his sleeve to reveal a spectacular bruise that had bloomed along the inside of his forearm. "We were lucky yesterday. Every single one of those grazes I cleaned up on the four of us could have easily been serious wounds with a smidge more accuracy on the Borgia's part or the tiniest movement in the wrong direction on ours."

Alessa nodded as she twisted a miniscule screw into place. "Here, try this," she said, handing it over to him. She waited while he buckled it on and gave his wrist an experimental flex. The blade shot out with a _schink_! and then an unexpected click. Dino flexed his wrist to retract it and the blade stayed extended.

"Give it back," she said, "I'll just have to adjust it; just be careful it doesn't retract…" She helped ease it off of him, laid it on the ground before her again, and manually initiated the mechanism that retracted the blade. The vambrace jumped with the recoil and she went back to work, settling a lens over her right eye and hitching herself up onto her knees to bend over the device.

"Is it fixable?" she heard Ezio ask from the other side of Dino as he approached.

"Yeah, she's got it. Lucky for me she hauled her tools all the way out here!"

It only took her a few more minutes to have the blade back in usable condition. Then it was a quick matter of getting saddlebags onto horses and scattering the remains of their camp before they set off on patrol.

It took them the entire morning to backtrack to the now-abandoned fort. Amazingly, commerce was already reappearing as the people of the Castelli Romani found themselves out from under the rule of the Borgia soldiers. Alessa found it absolutely incredible that people who had been under such crushing rule for so many years could almost immediately begin rebuilding their lives and improving their well being. It gave her hope for the future.

Ezio and his apprentices rode openly through the streets of the little hamlets and were not accosted by a Borgia patrol once. Ezio stopped at a tailor shop to make a purchase and found out from the shop owner that the battalion had been recalled to Rome overnight.

"This is excellent news," Ezio said to them as he returned, handing each of them a square of black silk. "It means that our successful assassination of Juan Borgia is coming to fruition; they can't replace the majority of the battalion we were able to destroy out here becuase thier finances are in shambles!" Ezio was positively gleeful.

"Uh," Alessa said intelligently as she listened to Ezio and tried to figure out what his offering was for. Ezio showed them how to arrange the silk within their hoods to pull across their faces. With the hood shading their eyes and the mask across the lower half of their faces, they would be absolutely unidentifiable.

"And it helps with the smoke," Ezio said, winking at her.

Dino got the thing on; with his hood, height, bristling weaponry and intense eyes peering over the dark cloth, he appeared truly menacing – stalking death anthropomorphized. At least until he began waggling his eyebrows and chortling in what Alessa supposed he intended to be malicious amusement.

They loosened the masks and let them lie across their throats as they continued their patrol. When they came to the destroyed bridge, Ezio dismounted and handed his reins to Alessa. Workers were already bringing materials and building temporary cranes. Ezio made his was unerringly to a harried-looking man who was scribbling notes into loose sheaves of paper mounted on a board. Ezio spoke with the man for a few moments before he detached a pouch from his belt. Alessa saw the glint of gold wink from it as he handed it to the man. After giving Ezio an expression of sheer incredulity, the man very nearly upset his paperwork in his unrestrained glee at the offering.

Ezio retreated with a slight bow. Alessa could see his private grin as the men behind him suddenly re-doubled their efforts in response to the exuberant shouts of the overseer. She silently handed him his reins and he mounted. Wanting to address her suspicions, she asked as they began riding,

"You know the mysterious benefactor that has been working at rebuilding the city, don't you?"

"I do," he replied drily, confirming her suspicion.

"How do you do it?" she whispered.

"I collect income from the shops I invested in."

"The shops?"

"Well, you know that the majority of commerce had been halted by the Borgia, right? As each area was freed of influence, the shopkeepers had little money left to re-open with. I supplied them with a modest loan to get them started and now they return the favor." He chuckled a little at her expression and she hurriedly shut her mouth. "I grew up in a family of bankers, _cara mia_; it is as natural as breathing for me."

"_All_ of the shops in _Roma_?" she whispered.

"More like ninety percent of those that are currently open," he said offhandedly.

_No big deal. _Alessa appended silently.

"There are still a few areas to free," Ezio continued. "The shops there can be easily added to my current businesses."

_Dio_, no wonder he could afford to re-build bridges. He could be lazing about like an indolent prince if he chose. Instead, he led this life of purpose and self-sacrifice; working himself ceaselessly to lend aid to people he did not know. People like her, who would have ended up with nothing, would have just… ended. She watched him moodily as he rode a bit ahead and barely noticed Dino settle into place beside her.

"Well at least you admitted you loved him before you found out that he was rich," Dino said dryly. Alessa gave him a withering look and continued to brood. Dino, of course, ignored her and continued, "Well if you don't want him, I'll take him?" She finally chuckled and Dino joined her with his own unrestrained booming laugh.

After a few more stops in increasingly busy hamlets, Ezio pronounced himself satisfied with the economic health of the area and they turned toward _Roma_ late in the afternoon. At this rate, they could make it back to the hideout by moonrise. Alessa was thrilled; she had not had a chance to work on any of her secondary duties for a couple months now, what with Ezio's relentless training sessions bludgeoning her into a deep-boned exhaustion every night - or daybreak, sometimes. Maybe she could start a new painting or embellish some hidden blades before Ezio's contacts found the location of the next war machine. She had some new design ideas she was itching to get onto paper.

Or not.

She recognized the Marco of the thieves' guild as he leaped off his horse and ran to meet them as they rode through the gate into _Roma_'s walls. He slapped her calf in greeting as he bypassed her to confer briefly with Ezio. Then she watched him leave just as swiftly, vaulting onto his horse from behind and riding off towards the city proper. She saw Dino pinch the bridge of nose between his thumb and forefinger. Apparently he had been looking forward to a little R & R himself.

"There's an inn nearby," Ezio said, "We'll sleep there tonight. We won't be able to obtain the location until the target goes on duty tomorrow morning."

Ezio procured a room for them and the apprentices took their belongings up while Ezio went to re-supply. He returned to find Dino and Alessa tucking into dinner. Dino kicked out a chair as Ezio set the bundles in heap with the rest of their bags, pouring Ezio a glass of wine as Alessa dished up the remaining food onto a plate for him.

"So what's next?" Dino asked as they finished eating and sat back in their chairs to linger over the remaining two bottles of wine. Ezio slouched back, resting his arm along the back of the empty chair beside him as he regarded the both of them. He sipped his wine, pausing to genuflect, then set the glass on the table and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His hooded head came up to regard them both as they waited expectantly for his answer. An impish glint came to his normally serious eyes.

"Have either of you ever wanted to fly?"

"You can't be serious?" Alessa asked, not believing the first thought that came to her mind.

"I suspect that is where our next target will send us. I used a prototype of Leonardo's flying machine fourteen years ago in Venice to complete a mission. It appears that a new model is available."

"Fly?" Dino was stuck in disbelief. Alessa, however, had never doubted any word that passed Ezio's lips. Not to mention that she had only painted birds so far for a reason.

"Fly…" she breathed in wonder. Ezio glanced at her and the feverish gleam in his eyes softened a bit before he grinned fiercely.

"This machine, however, has the delightful added feature of a light cannon. I'm sure you don't need too much of an imagination to guess how useful it would be in a battle."

"Provided you could get someone to man the thing!" Dino sputtered, still appearing to be wrestling with the concept of actual flight.

"How does it work?" Alessa asked, leaning forward over the table, hands clenching and unclenching involuntarily on the tabletop. Ezio looked at her, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"You would love to pilot the machine, wouldn't you," he said. It was not a question. "You crazy girl, you would do it if I let you!" He laughed abruptly.

"Who's crazy?" Alessa asked, raising an eyebrow at him pointedly, and then she grinned, in perfect accord with Ezio, who shared the moment with her before sobering.

"I am sorry, the flying machine is difficult to control." Alessa felt the unrestrained giddiness drain out of her. Ezio responded, "One day, _cara mia_, I'll find a way for you to fly, I promise."

"This is a very weird conversation," Dino said to no one in particular.

"So it's updrafts?" Alessa asked, ignoring him. "And I imagine you'd have to start from a tall building?"

"You've put some actual thought into this before, haven't you?" Dino asked. "Ezio is right, you _are_ crazy."

"It's not much different from jumping from the crow's nest, is it?" she asked innocently. Dino bared his teeth at her playfully. Ezio chuckled and took another swallow of wine.

"Your assumptions are correct," he replied, as he poured them both another glass. "The last time I used the machine, creating the updrafts was a major issue. Although I imagine the addition of the cannon will solve that problem."

"Wow," Alessa sat back in her chair, draining her glass. She was light-headed from both the alcohol and the thought of the machine. Absolutely amazing to think that humans could imitate flight. She had been watching birds enviously since her youth; it was probably why the Leap of Faith had been so easy for her.

The Assassins stayed up for a while longer, enjoying the company and the vintage, before Ezio reminded them of the next day's plans. Preparations for bed were made quickly as the three of them selected one of four beds in the room and began disarming themselves, draping all manner of equipment and weapons over the bed posts. Alessa downed two more glasses of wine; no way was she going to be able to sleep without it – Ezio had given her too many things she had to think about in too short a time.

While Dino needled her, Alessa could only manage a sloppy, inebriated grin back at him before she flopped to her pillow and slept, dreaming of demon wings and blades in the dark.


	18. The Road to Valnerina

**A/N: Chapter got some muscial inspiration from"The Black River" by The Sword. OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG, totally ready for the DLC set to release on March 8! heh, probably have to take a break from writing to work on that; I wonder if my boss will let me off work? heehee!**

**Thanks to my most loyal of reviewers, ecnal_nogardnap and flyingcrispi. And also to HikariNoTenshi-San, Shamazaki, NightShade07, Anna, and disciple65!**

**As always, I write 100% synch on the official missions, this one was ridiculously easy. but I STILL haven't reached 100% synch on the next chapter's mission *rawr!* frigin' war machines! AC belongs to ubisoft**

* * *

Alessa woke to a flash and an almost immediate crash of thunder. She heard a curse and looked over to see that Dino had bolted upright in his bed, hidden blade extended, tunic loosened and askew, dark hair wild in unkempt spikes. She burst into laughter and sat up leisurely, stretching as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. The room was dim; sunlight should have been coming through the closed shutters.

A quick glance towards Ezio's bed revealed nothing but neatly made covers.

Figured; already up and about and neither she nor Dino had been the wiser for it.

Alessa went to the room's single window and pulled open the shutters to reveal a torrential downpour. It was definitely past sunrise, but the clouds had darkened the day's light significantly.

"Nice," she muttered sarcastically to herself, thinking of the sodden ride she had to look forward to. She eyed her bed with longing, but began making her preparations for the day. Dino, muttering to himself about rusty blades and mildewed leather, had drawn his hood over his unkempt hair and was re-packing his saddlebags.

Alessa had just finished braiding her hair and had pulled up her own hood when Ezio entered. A flash of lightning flickered over the Master Assassin, casting his shadow on the wall behind him. Water dripped from the edges of his hood and his boots were caked with mud. A puddle began forming around him, but he was oblivious to it – or perhaps he just did not care. Alessa was just glad she did not have to clean up after him.

"Good, already up," he commented, "Ready to go?"

He tossed an oiled pouch to each of them. Alessa opened hers to inspect the contents and found three clay spheres within, small enough to be concealed in her palm. She and Dino looked up at Ezio with identical expressions of curiosity.

"Your smoke bombs," Ezio prompted.

"Ha!" Dino crowed, drawing one out and drawing his arm back in preparation to throw.

"You hit me with that thing and I will kick you right in the balls," Alessa warned, cocking her foot back.

"No fun," Dino pouted as he put the thing back into its pouch. "How does it work?" he asked Ezio as they secured the pouches to their belts.

"Upon impact, the two chambers within the sphere break open and the individual chemicals mix and produce the smoke. It's an extremely fast and volatile reaction and if you're not prepared for it, it can actually stun you for a moment. Just don't get any on you; you'll get one hell of a chemical burn."

Not fifteen minutes later, the three were riding a trio of disgruntled horses east towards the Coliseum. A cluster of buildings huddled at one of the main crossroads just south of the ancient structure and this was their destination. The rain subsided suddenly just as they stopped at a thief outpost to keep their horses and belongings safe – Alessa had to shake her head in amazement over that oxymoron. Then they took to the rooftops to search for their target.

"A lot of civilians," Ezio murmured, as he observed the people moving around below them. The cessation of the rain had brought out larger than usual crowds anxious to begin conducting their business for the day. As the sun regained it's mastery over the sky, the wet rooftops began to steam a little. Alessa tugged at her collar unconsciously as the humidity began rising to uncomfortable levels.

"Looks like I gave you those smoke bombs just in time. Remember that they have to be thrown with a good amount of force to break them."

"Yeah, no throwing like a girl, _tesora_," Dino needled.

Alessa opened her mouth to respond scathingly but Ezio snapped his fingers impatiently at them.

"Not now," he said matter-of-factedly. Alessa and Dino subsided instantly. They maneuvered across the rooftops until the patrol groups came into sight, seemingly headquartered within the market square. The apprentices moved up to either side of Ezio and they all watched in silence for a time, observing the soldiers' movement patterns.

Each was posed in what Alessa privately referred to as gargoyle-on-a-roof; back on their haunches with hips low to the rooftop, almost, but not quite sitting. Their arms fell between their knees, hanging over the edge of the roof and providing an upper body counterbalance to the deep squat. It was a restful pose, but she could jump or flip herself to hang over the ledge in an instant.

"Can you tell which one he is?" Ezio eventually asked. It took Alessa a moment to realize that he was speaking to her.

"Er," she mumbled as she scanned the soldiers, giving her particular attention the mounted men. She looked for more opulent armor or rank insignia but they were all outfitted as basic patrol sergeants. Ezio leaned into her slightly. Dino, on his other side, appeared not to notice.

"Use your vision," he prompted gently.

She obeyed and a sheet of darkness spilled over the view before her. After a moment, the milling soldiers appeared again, limned in red…

No, wait!

One was a blazing gold, leaving a faint trail of light to follow as he moved through the buildings and weaved through the civilians,

"_Ma che cazzo_!" she whispered, as her vision turned back to normal. _Now_ she could see their target; could pick him right out of the crowd even without his glowing aura.

"How - ? What… That's cheating!" she finally pronounced, hissing her disapproval. Ezio had to choke back a laugh, tears forming at the corners of his eyes with the effort. Finally, with a gasp, he said,

"Try to look at it as another tool in your arsenal."

"Who's a tool?" Dino asked distractedly, still watching the soldiers churning through the mud below. Ezio ignored him and outlined their attack:

"I'll go in and start the fight; hopefully the civilians will scatter. In the meantime, I need you both to take out the mounted patrols; they're pesky."

Dino guffawed and Alessa choked back her own laughter. The mounted patrols were heavily armored, carried crossbows and various other weapons of the stabbing and crushing sort. They would be deadly to any ground force.

Pesky indeed.

Ezio swung over the side of the building and dropped lightly to the ground as the apprentices departed in opposite directions, pulling their masks across their faces, each heading towards either end of the huddle of buildings to intercept the riders.

Careful with the still wet and slippery rooftops, Alessa stalked her target as he patrolled casually below her, her hidden blade unsheathing as she neared him. Her body trembled with energy, her heart pounded with the anticipation of the conflict; she was almost giddy with the rush.

Fucking life and death.

She had superior weapons and the advantage of surprise - not to mention Ezio's peerless training - but she was still mortal. Each time she ventured into a battle could be her last. The near brush with the rifle fire had taught her that.

It was glorious.

And strangely enough, it made her feel more alive.

She waited at the edge of the rooftop, unnoticed, as the rider ambled her way. Waiting for the right moment, her thighs screaming as she held herself up a bit in a crouch preparatory to a leap, she suddenly heard a commotion as Ezio engaged the ground troops. Her target heard it as well and abruptly reined his horse around.

Swearing furiously in her head - Alessa could not spare the breath - she moved into a sprint across the rooftops. A gap, punctuated by a broken column loomed ahead of her. Not thinking about it, she retreated into Ezio's training sessions, trusting his advice. She could almost hear his confident baritone in her head, painstakingly telling her what her movements would be to get her across that tiny landing space and onto the rooftop beyond.

Reaching the edge with perfect timing, she leapt out into space. She had not yet started freefall when her palms landed square on the flat surface of the column. Not allowing herself to come to rest, she propelled herself forward with her arms, giving her body just enough momentum to get her feet squarely on the flat surface, before leaping from the column to the next rooftop. She landed just at the edge and fell back into a run.

Her target had disappeared and she looked around with ardent focus as she ran, startled to finally notice him riding at a gallop just behind her. She snarled in satisfaction, activated her hidden blade, and leapt off the roof at an angle. Her blade stabbed him transversely through his skull – _whoa, that was weird feeling_ – and then she shoved him off of the still galloping horse. She managed to get her feet in the stirrups and tore through the crowd towards the fight.

She burst into the open area, fumbling with her pouch of smoke bombs. The remaining smoke of Ezio's bomb had indeed cleared out most of the civilians, but the guards had already regained their awareness and were rushing towards Ezio as he ripped his dagger viciously across the throat of a hapless soldier. Despite the brutality, he was still poetry in motion.

Alessa, on the other hand, was more like a direct kick to the balls; she rammed her horse right into the bulk on the swarming soldiers, trampling a couple of them for good measure. She managed to hurl a smoke bomb with enough force to produce a thick cloud of stinging, obscuring black smoke and leapt onto a soldier as her horse reared.

She pulled her second dagger from her belt as she extricated her hidden blade from her enemy's neck. Blades weaving, she moved into the fight, kicking the back of a knee here, slashing both blades across a throat there.

She got clear of the smoke cloud, tripping over a writhing body as she moved into clear air. The mask had worked perfectly. She caught her breath as Ezio dispatched the final soldier. He was parrying blows with a spear and had to leap backward from a wild sword swing. Before the soldier could recover the lost ground, Ezio abruptly switched his grip to the end of the spear and stabbed it out across the distance. His torso twisted sideways and his rear leg came up to give him those last few inches of reach and he stabbed the point of the spear into the guard's face.

After giving the spear a contemptuous push, the soldier fell backward to the ground. Ezio and Alessa came together, back to back, as they surveyed the scene, blades out, watching for reinforcements.

Sure enough, hoof beats sounded, and they turned as a unit to face the incoming rider. In a single, seemingly choreographed movement, Alessa and Ezio pulled their crossbows, aimed, and hit the rider simultaneously. The horse veered off as its rider tumbled to the ground.

"Awwww, come on," Dino griped. "I _had_ him!"

The big Assassin had just reined his horse to a halt at a nearby intersection, his forearms scarlet to the elbow from whatever private battle he had engaged in, when a quartet of guards burst from one of the streets.

"Aha!" she heard him crow as he leapt from his horse, landing on the first of the guards to reach him. Kicking the downed guard viciously in the head, Dino did not watch for the twitching of the body to stop before he waded into the remaining three guards, hidden dagger and sword almost imperceptible blurs as he used both to good effect on the trio.

Ezio watched impassively and then turned to the downed overseer, who was groaning and writhing on the ground a short distance away, the only Borgia soldier still alive. He must have incapacitated the man before Alessa had arrived. She walked over to Dino; Ezio's communion with his kills just before death unnerved her. He was like some angel of death bestowing peace upon the dying as they gasped their last breaths. Amazingly, most of them seemed to accept their fates as meted out by the Master Assassin.

Most of them.

It was the ones that struggled against death that made her skin crawl; she had felt that ineffectual rage at one time. And she had no desire to revisit the feeling, even second-handedly.

Dino leaned down and bumped her shoulder with his before they clasped forearms in fierce delight to have emerged victorious. Then they turned to watch Ezio, just as he was running his fingers over the corpse's staring eyes.

He stood and they walked forward to meet him.

"Loot the bodies," he said coldly. "Then alert the thieves to come and get the weapons and armor," He gestured to the tower that could be seen over the rooftops of the buildings surrounding the square. "I will meet you there."

Alessa and Dino did as they were told, and soon Ezio met them at the thieves' outpost building. The apprentices were out back at the well, stripped down to their undershirts, washing the blood from their hooded tunics and their weapons.

"So what did you find?" Dino asked, tilting his chin at the heavy leather satchel Ezio had slung over a shoulder, but not pausing in his scrubbing of his tunic.

"Directions to the fort, patrol reports, some financial records, good information. Some of it will go to Machiavelli and La Volpe to update their intelligence reports," Ezio said as he set the bag down and began removing his armor. The hooded tunic came off and Ezio joined them at the wash basin as they finished cleaning up in silence.

After a quick oiling of their weapons, the Assassins donned their now clean, but still damp tunics. The local head of the thieves' guild had readied their horses and supplies and Ezio thanked the man for his assistance with a pouch that clinked heavily.

They headed north, and were passing by the Coliseum, when Dino asked,

"Where?"

"Valnerina."

All Alessa knew of Valnerina was that it was large valley containing the River Nera, before the river eventually fed into the Tiber. According to Ezio, the fort indicated on the documents he had retrieved would be a good ten day's ride in one direction. The trek would be fairly rigorous as they had to make their way through some mountainous regions to get into the valley.

They bolstered their provisions and then passed through the gates and were out of the walls of _Roma_ once again by early afternoon. They had just entered the foothills of the Apennine mountain range when Ezio called an early end to their day. The sun was barely beginning to cast the long shadows associated with it's descent as Ezio picked an out of the way campsite tucked in the hills a short distance from the main road.

The reason for the early camp soon became apparent once they had had a quick roadside meal and set up their site for the night. At Ezio's request, the apprentices removed all of their weapons save the hidden blades and daggers. They then engaged in a training session reminiscent of Ezio's hardest free-running circuits.

Alessa's breath soon burned in her chest as Ezio manhandled them mercilessly with dagger drills and endurance calisthenics, performing everything right along with them. The sun slipped over the edge of the sky before Ezio gave them any rest, and that was only a prelude to sparring sessions with him.

Alessa found herself circling him warily; tenser than if she had been facing an entire platoon of soldiers alone. He made a couple of half-hearted swipes, testing her defenses. Their daggers came together with heavy clangs of metal-on-metal. Even those test slashes were heavy enough to numb her palms with the impact. She itched to release her hidden blade, but she wanted to see how far she could go before –

Oh shit.

He darted in suddenly, a quick tap of his elbow hit her right wrist and she lost the ability to grip the dagger. It clattered to the ground and he was on her before she could get her left arm up to parry his second blow. They tumbled to the ground, knocking the breath out of her as he brought both of his blades to her throat, eyes glittering with the heat of battle, but expression impassive.

Ezio eased off of her, retracting his blades and settling to his haunches beside her as she sat up, wheezing to catch her breath. She was pissed off and it affected her ability to breathe. She could not meet his gaze for once as she struggled against her anger.

"I will work with you on pressure points," he said. "You most likely will never be strong enough to take down a man of equal or greater skill without that knowledge."

He stood and offered her a broad-palmed hand. Warm fingers closed around her own as he helped her to stand, pulling hard at the last second so that she bumped into him as she gained her feet. Chest to chest, his wild scent swirled around her, mixed with the smell of steel and leather and clean sweat. She was still furious that the man could defeat her so easily but at the same time…

All of a sudden she wished Dino was not around…

She felt a dark, smoldering heat come to her gaze as she looked up at Ezio from under half-lidded lashes. He answered with a slow, knowing smile and reached for her…

"Ahem!"

They both started and then glanced over at Dino, who was fidgeting with his discomfiture. Alessa felt her face flame, but Ezio only chuckled in masculine amusement – and was shortly joined by Dino.

Traitor.

Shaken and frustrated for numerous reasons, she took a seat outside of the impromptu sparring circle they had unconsciously been working in. She unpacked her oilcloth in preparation to rub down her blades, but first began to stretch her screaming muscles as she watched the men get over the tension and regard each other solemnly before unsheathing their daggers.

It was, again, a short dance of defense-testing before the men eventually engaged properly. It did not take long before they strained against each other, muscles and tendons standing out starkly even through their tunics and leggings; Ezio's head just barely reached Dino's chin and yet he was able to meet the big Assassin equally in the struggle of brute strength. The leather of their armor creaked as they labored against the lock they had their daggers in.

Then Ezio spun away suddenly from the clinch, feet quick as Dino tried to recover. Ezio's right hidden blade appeared to plunge first into Dino's back and the left hidden blade into the lower portion of Dino's throat as Ezio swiftly ducked under Dino's arms; Alessa saw Ezio retract the blades at the last second.

Still, she breathed a sigh of relief as Dino only gasped for breath, much as she had. Ezio clapped Dino heartily on the shoulder as the big Assassin glared malevolently for a moment.

"You will need to improve your timing – your strength and size are great assets, but those qualities will also work against you when it comes to speedier opponents."

And each night, he did exactly as he said he would. Each evening, before they could sleep, Ezio ran them through increasingly grueling sets of calisthenics and dagger drills, improving the speed and skill of their close quarter fighting abilities – and then he worked with each of them personally on individualized patterns and knowledge, working on weaning out their particular weaknesses.

And a week later, they made it through the treacherous but beautiful mountains and descended into the Valnerina. They camped for a day while Ezio scouted the fort and surrounding hamlet and in the golden afternoon sunlight, they prepared their horses for a hasty retreat.

That was how Alessa found herself standing on the roof of a rustic chapel, Ezio to her left, and Dino to his left, as they surveyed the scene below.

* * *

**A/N: Still trying to make Eagle Vision fun. I think we have to get Dino on board with it soon. Also, if anyone has any favorite killing moves they would like portrayed, let me know. There's so many to choose from and I get distracted trying to decide which one I want to use! Oh, BTW, Alessa's column jump was inspired by some youtube videos of parkour movement, notably the _saut de chat_ or cat vault. Cool stuff.**


	19. Demon Bird of Valnerina

**This chapter's musical inspiration was Kamelot's "march of mephisto" and poisonblack's "never enough." Sorry, it's a wee bit shorter than the others, but it was pretty fun.**

**I just have to say; I love my reviewers - you guys rock the eff out! loki2113, Shamazaki, ShadowMarkX007 (I have at least 2 more ladies in the works), ecnal_nogardnap, flyingcrispi, HikariNoTenshi-San, Nightshade07, and disciple 65 – you guys got a good list of moves started; I'll be working them into future chapters; thanks SO much!**

**So, BTW, it was WAAAAY easier for Ezio to get 100% synch than for me to get 100% in this sequence, just sayin'**

* * *

It was nearing sunset; the quality of light was that distinctive golden color that marked the end of a perfect day and gilded everything with comfortable warmth. The day had been characterized by that inexplicably ideal temperature, not too much humidity, with a mild breeze that only accentuated the flawless weather. Alessa and Dino had spent it buying supplies for the ride back to _Roma_ and packing the horses in readiness for a rapid escape from the area.

Alessa felt a little guilty; while she and Dino had been enjoying the sunshine and working on easy tasks (_shopping_ for chrissakes!), Ezio had been prowling the area, confirming patrols and troop numbers. They had rendezvoused, eaten a late, light lunch and were now in search of the head engineer in charge of the plans that Ezio needed to destroy completely along with the actual machine.

The Assassins crouched on the church roof now, watching an alarming number of Borgia engineers go about their business outside the fortress. The local tavern was doing brisk business as the engineers' work was completed for the day. Alessa felt a slight pang at the livelihoods that were going to be ruined as a direct result of the upcoming assault.

"So," Ezio began, his dark eyes scanning the crowd intently, "There are multiple machines this time, all in various stages of completion, and located in the smaller fortified foundries scattered about nearby. Four total. We need to interrogate the head engineer, discover where the original plans are kept, and determine the location of the completed machine. I can use that to destroy the others quickly."

"What are our duties, _maestro_?" Alessa asked.

"Make sure no one escapes," Ezio replied, his brows coming down forbiddingly over his eyes, leaving no room for any alternative.

Alessa felt the grim cloak of duty settle familiarly over her and turned her attention to locating the head engineer. She spotted their target a few moments later, but was distracted by a muffled oath from Dino.

She switched back to normal vision just in time to see Dino tipping over the edge in slow motion.

"Fuck, Dino!" she blurted in alarm. Ezio reached out and steadied the big Assassin. For a moment, Dino shook his head blearily, finally cursing to himself quietly as awareness came back into his eyes.

"I didn't… you – fucking disorienting, _maestro_, you could have warned me!"

Alessa grinned to herself at his surprise, glad she had not been the only one to look like an idiot whilst acclimating to the eccentricities of Eagle Vision, as Ezio termed it. She wondered idly when the initial revelation had taken place.

"Did you see him?" Ezio asked Dino.

"Yeah, still can," Dino nodded in the general direction as their target turned a corner.

"Let's go, then," Ezio said, as he leapt off the church. Alessa and Dino followed suit, the Assassins rolling as they hit the ground to absorb the impact. The apprentices moved nonchalantly away from Ezio's company and ambled off between some buildings, keeping an eye on the Master Assassin as he tailed the engineer.

He made the process look easy: he did not duck into crowds to blend, he assimilated seamlessly into a group; he did not scuttle behind a building, he made the movement look entirely natural, appearing only to be a villager suddenly having forgotten something back home. Alessa envied his easy disregard, for it was exactly that quality that made him invisible to the highly suspicious engineer.

The man eventually made his way to a quiet courtyard. Alessa and Dino scurried up to the rooftop as Ezio nonchalantly entered the secluded area with unconcealed menace. Following the sound of the sudden blurt of alarm from the hapless engineer, the apprentices crept to the edge to settle in and watch Ezio work, rather impassively, and unbeknownst to the engineer.

Dino winced minutely in empathy as Ezio's fist connected once, twice with the man's jaw before he gripped the bigger man by his lapels and shook him like a rag doll.

"Give me the plans." Ezio prompted in a merciless voice.

"No, I will not!" The apprentices sucked their breaths in unison at the engineer's denial. For just having been brutally attacked, he seemed to know exactly what it all was about.

Undeterred, Ezio head-butted the man viciously, turning his head away to avoid the splatter as blood spurted and then sheeted down the man's face.

"Stop! Stop!" he cried. Dino made a satisfied sound as the engineer brought his hands to his face to try and staunch the flow.

"Where are the plans?" Ezio asked again, his voice unchanged.

"Past the guards. In my house. It's the last one," the engineer's words were slurred as he spoke through his broken nose.

"And the machine?" Ezio asked softly, malevolently. Alessa's skin prickled at the detachment in his tone.

"In the tower on top of the fortress."

There was a bad little moment where Alessa thought Ezio would slaughter the man despite his resentful cooperation. He shook the man again and then tossed him effortlessly to the ground.

"_Grazie_," Ezio murmured scathingly.

"You should kill him," Dino said offhandedly from the rooftop as the three idly watched the man stagger to his feet, finally gain his bearing, and begin running away in earnest. "He's going to tell the guards; they'll be looking for us."

Ezio shrugged and Alessa chuckled a bit at his disdain.

"Then don't be detected," Ezio said, his teeth flashing in a grin.

"Ah, of course," Dino said blandly, but his own grin revealed his anticipation of the challenge. And they could banter all they wanted, but only Ezio could be sure he would not be discovered. Dino skulked. Alessa skulked. But Ezio flowed into a space like he belonged, like an errant breeze through an open window. If Ezio wanted to blend, no one would see him; he revealed himself exactly when it pleased him.

Ezio crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the two of them gravely.

"I'll get in the fort alone. I need you both to patrol the roads. Again, I suspect they will try to escape into the mountains with the prototypes when I start attacking. You will make sure this does not happen."

An odd sensation swept unexpectedly through Alessa; she felt like it was very likely that she would never see him again. As she stood there, struggling with the feeling, the men clasped forearms and Dino stepped back. She swallowed past her mild panic and stepped forward to give him her farewell.

"You can count on us,_ maestro_," Dino said from behind her with unexpected seriousness as she looked up into Ezio's eyes. "Don't crash," he added with a strange mixture of mischievousness and sincerity.

"I'll do my best not to," Ezio replied with a quirk of his lips, looking down at her. Dino's footsteps indicated that he was giving them some privacy as they faded around a corner.

Ezio did not speak; he gathered her up, his arms tightening around her possessively. Her breath left her in an exquisite rush of pain as he crushed her to him, the silent ferocity meaning more to her than any words could.

"I know you won't crash," she whispered fiercely against him. Her arms came up around him, fingers tightly gripping the folds of his tunic at his shoulders. He held her for a short time in silence before releasing her, reaching out to brush gloved fingers along her cheek lightly.

They walked around the corner of the building to meet Dino, who was staring up thoughtfully at the main tower of the compound, hands on his hips. The contraption at the top could not be seen clearly, but now that they knew the machine was up there, it was not hard to imagine it.

Ezio took his leave of them and their mentor was swallowed up by the crowds moving towards the fortress squatting above them on the hill. Alessa found herself speaking,

"I'd do it for him, but I don't think I'd succeed like he will."

"You have an unrealistic amount of confidence in him."

"I don't think it's all that unrealistic; he's done it before." Dino made a noncommittal noise.

"Don't lie to yourself, _tesora_, you'll set yourself up for disappointment. You have to remember that there's no force on this earth that can halt death."

Alessa did not answer; she did not agree with Dino's statement, but she did not have an answer, either. There was something that haunted Ezio, a sort of cold detachment surfacing when he thought no one was looking at him.

Dino and Alessa pulled their masks across their faces and set to work.

* * *

Disguised in Borgia archer gear, Alessa and Dino watched the main tower on the crest of the landscape-dominating hill. There did not appear to be any unusual activity at the height of the tower, but it was getting late. The moon was bright enough in the sky to cast shadows.

They had waited for the fall of darkness before taking over the archer tower at the furthest end of the valley, nearest the pass out of the valley and into the mountains. Anything that came by could be halted by crossbow fire. Their three horses were tethered and ready to go just below them. The Borgia archer's bodies had been looted and dumped at the forest's edge. All they had to do was wait.

Neither apprentice was having any success; Dino was fidgeting out of control and Alessa could not stop pacing. Then…

"Oh! There he is!" Dino gestured to her excitedly and she dashed over to the railing. They both leaned, as if it would help them see better, and squinted. The distance was too great to see more than just a bit of activity.

"_Madre de Dio_!" Dino suddenly said, crossing himself reflexively.

Alessa craned her neck back to stare in wonder as a great, bat-winged creature took flight over the valley. She knew intellectually that it was just Ezio, but damned if it didn't look like a white-winged demon in the moonlight. She did her best to ignore the chill that crawled up her spine.

A booming shot rang out, echoing weirdly off the hills. An answering burst on the ground revealed itself to be another archer tower combusting from within. Ezio swooped down towards the flames, the wings of the machine caught in the updraft, and he soared higher into the sky.

He circled the valley a few times, sometimes lighting the ground to give himself lift, other times concentrating his fire on the workstations scattered across the valley.

"We should have taken out more towers," Dino murmured, as the flames from the multiple fires lit the crazed efforts of Borgia archers.

"We couldn't have," Alessa said, unable to take her eyes off the flying monster, er, Ezio. "Those patrols riding through would have noticed more than one tower being out."

Dino grunted in reluctant agreement, then pointed suddenly,

"Look! Our turn!"

A couple of wagons burst from two of the roaring bonfires that had been foundries. The apprentices slid down the ladder of the watch tower and mounted their horses, preparing to ride out and

"No, wait!" Alessa pointed as Ezio banked the flying machine sharply to intercept the escaping wagon closest to him.

"Damn, he's good with that thing," Dino said in awe as Ezio managed to shoot down both wagons, using the updraft from the resulting fires to maintain height. Alessa felt a little ashamed as her arrogance in thinking she could pilot the thing. It obviously required incredible attention to detail, coordination, and imperturbable will.

Another two wagons burst forth from the two other foundries and were taken down with similar ease.

"I think he's really getting used to that thing, maybe we should keep it?" Dino asked carelessly. "Aha!" He pointed with undisguised glee. "There's one for us."

A lone rider galloped from the main fort, riding directly for them, heading for the pass. Alessa and Dino booted their horses and rode straight for him, crossbows out as they leaned low over the outstretched necks of their horses.

"Whoa! Pull back! Pull back!" Dino shouted in alarm.

A dark shadow swept over them and Alessa cowered, feeling a hopeless sort of vulnerable terror wash over her, making her limbs weak, some primeval portion of her brain reacting to the threat from above. Hastily, she and Dino turned their horses in the opposite direction, the animals squealing in terror as Ezio banked and swooped over them again. Apparently the messenger wasn't going anywhere.

It was the shadow - that winged shadow was goddamned terrifying and despite herself, Alessa squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, giving voice to her fright.

A booming crash produced a concussive force that blew Alessa and Dino from their horses. As she hit the ground, Alessa instinctively tucked her head and fell. Her free-running training most likely saved her life as she was able to spread out the impact of her fall. She lay for a moment, gasping, casting about mentally to recollect her scattered thoughts.

She sat up slowly and watched numbly as Ezio aimed the flying machine directly towards the archer tower she and Dino had just occupied. He swung his body away from the machine in a graceful arc, diving to the ground and rolling a couple of times. As she watched, he came to a stop in a low crouch, his head ducked low, propped up on a fist on the ground, shoulders hunched against the imminent explosion. The machine crashed spectacularly into the tower. The remaining gunpowder ignited in the impact and she felt the explosion just before the resounding boom rolled past her.

Debris flew harmlessly past Ezio's hunched form and pattered to the ground around her. The roar of the flames was deafening this close and Alessa scuttled backwards away from it. Ezio merely stood, hitched a shoulder to align his pauldrons and began walking away from it all, his mission successfully completed.

"_Addio, amico mio_," he murmured rather fondly. He did not look back though.

Alessa got to her feet,

"Ezio," she whispered, shaken. It seemed impossible but he was entirely unscathed. Her hands raised, her fingers itching to touch him, to make sure he was well, but he appeared preoccupied and she decided against it.

Once she was sure of his physical well-being, she began looking around for Dino, and eventually found him nearby, groaning and cursing as he got to his feet, having landed in a thicket of prickly bushes. As she helped to cut him free, sawing at the tough stalks with her dagger, she began laughing a little crazily to relieve her tension.

Dino popped free with a particularly juicy curse and began picking thorns out of his clothing. He eventually began tearing the Borgia archer armor off in disgust, hurling each piece to the ground, giving the helmet a satisfying kick. Alessa continued to chortle, tears in her eyes; the two of them making a spectacle but unable to do anything about it.

"Almost pissed myself there at the end," Dino guffawed.

"I know, I thought we were going to blow up with that messenger," Alessa wheezed. "Ka-boom!" She spread her fingers and waggled them in pale imitation of flying debris. They leaned on each other drunkenly, overcome with relief and giddy with the dregs of their adrenaline. The gallows humor only made it worse.

Ezio had rounded up the horses. Miraculously, none of the animals had been injured or lamed in the explosion; they were all showing the whites of their eyes though.

"You two going to make it?" Ezio asked, one eyebrow arched.

"Never a doubt," Dino blustered manfully as he mounted his horse. Alessa got a foot in the stirrup of her still dancing horse, her remaining hiccups of flighty laughter making it harder to bounce into the saddle.

Safely seated in their saddles, Alessa and Dino followed Ezio onto the road.

"Too much excitement for you two, eh?" Ezio asked sardonically as his apprentices recounted the amazing flight with unrestrained excitement now that the initial shock was wearing off.

"Fucking legendary!" Dino stated with matter-of-fact exaggeration.

"Demon bird of Valnerina," Alessa chimed in.

"Using it's magical powers to spontaneously cause the combustion of…"

"Hundreds of vile Borgia archers in a single night!" Alessa finished.

"It was more like fifty," Ezio muttered.

"Hundreds!" Dino insisted.

"This is the last time I take you two anywhere," Ezio said sternly, but Alessa caught his pleased grin before he retreated into his hood.

Behind them, the wreckage Ezio had created with his flying machine burned brightly enough to light the horizon for half the night as the Assassins escaped through the mountains.

* * *

**A/N: What would you guys think of possibly doing a couple of chapters from Dino's POV? Would it be too much of a switch? Maybe if I titled each section with his name?**


	20. Mad Scientist and the Two Lovers

**A/N: Taking a break from the war machines, so here's some background and character-building. Will start doing some POV switching next chapter. Musical inspiration is HIM's version of "Wicked Game"**

**Been busy; working on three chapters simultaneously, and working diligently on the DaVinci Disappearance. Lots of material there to keep this fic going on and on, WOO! So the next two chapters are percolating, but i still haven't finished the DLC, I am SAVORING.**

**HikariNoTenshi-San, ecnal_nogardnap, disciple65, Nightsjade07, Demon-Kagetsuki, flyingcrispi, Shamazaki, Anna, Wolfman-053, ShadowMarkX007, and Narsha. You guys kick ass and I'm so glad that you enjoy the fic! and as we all know, AC belongs to ubisoft...**

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

It was the middle of the night eight days after the destruction of the flying machine when Ezio and his two apprentices wearily approached Tiber Island. They had forgone an evening of lessons and ridden straight through into _Roma_ rather than stopping for the night and arriving late the next morning.

Alessa's heart lifted as she spotted the high, blocky towers of the warehouse-turned-hideout. The nights were getting chilly and she shivered a little in her hood as she did her best to stifle her yawns. Even Ezio was slouching a little in his saddle as they crossed the bridge onto Tiber Island, the horses' hooves seeming overly loud on the paving stones in the silence of night.

They handed their mounts off to the bleary-eyed hostler and slung their heavy saddlebags over the shoulders. Their steps picked up in pace as they trooped down the stairs and entered the main floor of the hideout.

A single torch lit the dark, cavernous foyer; the battered red Assassin banners appeared to be fluttering slightly in an invisible breeze as the flickering shadows gave the impression of movement. Alessa and Dino grinned at each other; it was good to be home. Both apprentices covered their hearts with their right hands and bowed respectfully to Ezio. The Master Assassin accepted their deference with a solemn nod and continued deeper into the building. Alessa could not even muster the energy to heckle Dino as they half-heartedly jostled each other up the stairs to their rooms.

Entering her room, she dropped her saddlebags just inside the door. Her windows had been shuttered during her absence and she did her checks to make sure no one had entered the room in her absence, finding everything to her liking. Locking her door, she opened her shutters, letting in the cool night air to dispel the faint smell of disuse. Too tired to do more than unbuckle and remove her larger weapons, Alessa fell onto her bed and was asleep almost instantly.

* * *

**_Alessa Ricci_**

"Who the FUCK has been in my medicines?"

Pissed-offedness reverberated through Alessa's half-asleep state. Alessa stumbled out of her room and peeked down the hall just as Dino stormed out of the unofficial Assassin medical room, packets of herbs spilling from his hands.

"_Jesu_, Dino, you look like shit," Alessa observed as he stomped down the hall in her direction. His hair was wild with what she was beginning to recognize as normal for him when he first woke up, he still had a few day's worth of travel-stubble, and his eyes were bloodshot.

He snarled something in response and swept past her, heading downstairs. Intrigued, she followed him. He beelined for the kitchen, the attendants scattering before the big Assassin as he swept through their space like an enraged archangel.

Alessa settled a hip on the edge of a countertop and crossed her arms, watching him as he rattled through the pots, getting water ready to boil.

"You, ah, you alright?"

"Hangover," he grumbled.

"Hah?" she blurted, confused. "How the hell are you hungover? We went straight to sleep after we got in last night…"

"Never mind," he muttered darkly, resting his hands on a countertop and hunching over, head hanging down, shoulders bunching as he supported his weight on his hands. He face scrunched up in a grimace and he ran one big hand over his features, pausing to massage his forehead.

"Uh huh," she said, eyeing him skeptically, maybe he had bumped his head? Then she shrugged; he seemed to be functioning alright and the man could not keep his mouth shut for long. She would hear about it sooner or later.

She left Dino behind in the kitchens with his herbs and teapot and went back up to her room to dress properly. Raising her hood as she traipsed down the stairs, Alessa was pleasantly surprised to see Claudia walking gracefully down the entrance stairs.

"Claudia!" she called out. The older woman glanced up and gave her a smile, eyes a little strained – she probably was just finishing up her work day, er night. Otherwise, the woman was just as elegantly coiffed as always.

She removed a light cloak to reveal a gown of deep red, more burgundy than the startlingly bright crimson that Ezio often included somewhere in his garb. The rich cloth was embroidered tastefully in black and gold and the bodice managed to be both modest and flattering to Claudia's still youthful figure. The skirts were made of silk in the same color as the bodice, the subtly clinging material making the ensemble just a little less proper than what the average noblewoman would wear. The dark gold lace confining her hair was interspersed with beads of jet that winked subtly in flashes of pearled light. The woman's attention to detail coalesced flawlessly to result in the exquisite representation of wealth and discerning taste Claudia portrayed. Her confident and elegant carriage only accentuated her presence.

"I heard you were back," Claudia said as they embraced briefly. "How are you _sorellina_?"

"I could have used some more sleep," Alessa replied drily as they linked arms, walking convivially into the art gallery to sit on a comfortable bench. Moments later, one of the attendants arrived, carrying a tray of victuals, while another came in behind her, setting a low table down before Ezio's sister and apprentice. The women nodded their thanks and Alessa prepared the cups of tea, first for Claudia, then herself.

"My girls have located the overseer for the next war machine," Claudia. "He'll be doing patrol tomorrow afternoon, just east of the gate in northern Campagna."

"Your information is very up-to-the minute," Alessa observed, impressed. Claudia shrugged.

"We have been keeping an eye on his movements, in anticipation of Ezio's return to _Roma_." She sipped her tea delicately, grimaced, and reached for the honey pot.

"Have you seen Ezio yet?" Alessa asked. Claudia raised an eyebrow impishly, stirring the golden substance into her tea.

"I would have thought he'd be with you?"

"I haven't seen him since we got in last night."

"Hmm. Well, I'm sure he'll be back shortly. He has so many different bolt-holes; it's hard to say where exactly he goes to rest."

"If he takes the time to rest," Alessa said, a little forlornly.

"Well," Claudia said matter-of-factedly as she set her teacup down, "I hope that you will be able to help him with that, sooner rather than later. I don't need to steer you along, do I?" Claudia grinned as Alessa gave her a baleful look.

"I think I can manage," Alessa muttered, squirming a bit in mild embarrassment and doing her best to ignore the gleeful glint in Claudia's fine dark eyes.

The women chatted for a time before Claudia excused herself. Alone, Alessa slumped back against the wall, legs sprawled out in front of her, one boot crossed over the other ankle, her tea cupped loosely in her hands as she stared at the painting on the wall before her.

Finally, she stood, waving to an attendant as she went back into the main room. Maybe she would go spend some time on the roof…

"Markku," Alessa said as the newest apprentice loped in. He appeared to be mentally stable today, his green eyes bright with intelligence as he nodded to her genially.

"You're a bit of a blacksmith, right?" he asked her directly, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Sure," she said, falling into step beside him as he gestured for her to follow.

"Well, Leonardo came by with some things for Ezio and we discussed a composite metal he had once worked with. Ezio had the original formulas, but they were destroyed in the attack on his villa. I think I can replicate the metal with Leonardo's base, but I'm not good with the actual metalwork. Would you be able to forge some armor for Ezio? His sister has requested it; she is recreating some family heirloom armor that was also lost in the attack last year."

Alessa made a statement of concession as they headed out of the building and into the streets, walking through the crowds to a building she presumed had been set up as Markku's workshop, a lone building near the river. It had a lovely little courtyard overlooking the water, but was otherwise unassuming. She entered, interested in how this unusual man worked and was surprised to find the shop devoid of clutter.

Tools and materials were neatly labeled, packaged and stored. She walked up to a cabinet full of powders, marked 'flammable', and was amused to see everything laid out in alphabetical order, labels all facing the same direction, bottles lined up perfectly.

"Have a bit of an obsession?" she asked sardonically.

" 'S not," he replied, taking a single vial down from another cabinet, this marked 'caustic.'

She followed him to a work bench. Again, mortars and pestles were immaculately clean, arranged neatly in order of size, each made of glass.

"What are you working on?" she asked, standing idly by while he collected a few more vials from other cabinets.

"Some variations of the smoke bomb. I like the idea of the mixing of chemicals to produce a reaction, but a little burst of smoke is no fun."

"Anti-climactic," Alessa agreed blandly, having a sinking feeling of where he was heading.

"Exactly! So instead of just releasing smoke, why not release fire? Or a blinding light? Or exploding shrapnel?" He darted over to a trapdoor in the corner, collecting something from the darkness below.

"Huh," Alessa said, drawn in despite herself, "So you can make things that do that?"

"Of course! It's the testing that becomes a problem. Fine-tuning the formulae for practical use is a long process."

"Ah –" she started, getting a bad feeling as he returned to her with a couple of small pouches marked with different colored slashes of paint.

"So you can take them out and test them for me!" He beamed as he presented them to her, proud as a new father. Alessa gingerly reached out and grasped one by it's drawstrings. Her hands trembled; was it going to explode or something equally horrible if she moved too quickly? Markku cackled and dumped the bags into her arms. Alessa stifled a yelp of alarm as she scrambled to keep them from falling to the floor.

"So yes, they work find on the shooting range, but we need to test them in _the environment_…" he raised his eyebrows meaningfully as Alessa tried not to panic. She was standing there cradling death-by-explosive and it was damned unnerving.

"The environment?" she asked weakly, doing her best not to make any sudden moves as she laid the packages gingerly onto the workbench.

"Yes, on a mission. No better people to test them on than Borgia trash."

Alessa, for once, couldn't agree more with him.

"Fine," she said. "But I want to test them on the range first myself."

"Let's go," Markku said, scooping up the bundles intrepidly.

Alessa followed at a safe distance.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

"Throw it! Throw it! Hurry before it kills us!" Markku crowed with manic exhilaration.

Alarmed, Alessa threw the thing with all her might and ducked behind the wall. A surprisingly large explosion sent a geyser of dirt and rock into the air.

"_Merda_," Alessa breathed in admiration, a slow grin forming, her eyes narrowing in speculation. "Quick! Give me another!"

"Faster next time, girl," Markku explained as he passed it to her, "You have until the count of four once you pull the pin."

"That might be good information to share next time," she pointed out. "You know – _before_ it explodes in my hand."

"Mouthy," he tsked. "Just throw the fucking thing. Watch what it does to that target dummy."

Alessa concentrated, pulled the cork, gave the thing a quick shake and hurled it. It landed about a foot short of the dummy but pulverized the thing anyway, metal pieces shredding the cloth and straw sack representing a chest.

Gruesome.

She pulled another from the pouch, brushing the cool metal with the pad of her thumb as she looked it over. The workmanship was crude, but maybe she could work with him and make the vessels? Creating a hollow, spherical shape would be an interesting challenge.

She put the metal bombs away and pulled open the second sack, not bothering to hide her greed.

"What's this one?" she asked, holding out a clay sphere similar in form to the smoke bomb and slashed with a splotch of red.

"Fire bomb," Markku said. He moved out into the open area of the shooting range and surveyed their surroundings. "It's a self-lighting accelerant. Throw it against that stone wall over there so you can see how it sustains it's own burn…"

Alessa hefted the sphere a couple of times and threw it as Mrkku turned to pull another out of the bag…

The light of a thousand suns filled her vision, blinding her. She clapped her hands to her eyes with a sound of pain and fell right on her ass. It was extremely painful; she literally thought her eyes were going to fall out of her head as the light subsided, leaving behind great starbursts of after-images across her vision.

Gasping, she fumbled to her feet, hands still over her eyes.

"What the fuck?" she snarled, her hidden blade flicking out as she resisted the urge to stab Markku. "_Cazzo_!" she growled as she closed her eyes, the agony just barely subsiding.

"Oops," he said sheepishly. "But, at least we know it works on people! Can you describe exactly to me how you feel? Do I need to work on the formula?"

"I'm done for now," she growled, furious.

She heard him cackling to himself as she stalked back to the hideout and smiled despite herself. He might be an unpredictable, bizarre fucker, but he couldn't hide that fierce intelligence. Those green eyes of his practically glowed with it, much like Leonardo's. She had the feeling that, although he handled his inventions with apparent carelessness, she suspected that each was crafted as painstakingly as her own work. Something about the over-exaggerated cleanliness and organization of his workshop gave her the impression, even if his attitude did not.

She rubbed her eyes until they teared.

_Merda_, but that had been painful! She was still blinking away the haze on her vision when she arrived back at the hideout. Feeling a little on edge from the adrenaline Markku had invoked, she decided to climb the building – give her body a chance to burn off some of the energy. She had just pulled herself over the edge when the roof door opened to reveal Ezio.

"What's wrong?" he asked, "Couldn't just take the stairs?"

Alessa stared at him and burst into laughter, "I already used that line," she said, grinning at him.

"So now you understand that some days, one just doesn't want to use the stairs?" he asked mischievously.

She answered by rushing past him, vaulting onto a crate and up to the next level, intent on beating him to the highest point of the building. He passed her in the final stretch as she scrambled for a handhold at the roof's edge and held a hand out to her to assist her up.

Invigorated, she plopped onto the edge overlooking the buildings to the curve of the Tiber where it turned from running south to east on it's way to the sea. Ezio eased down beside her.

"Claudia has discovered where the next overseer will be patrolling tomorrow," Alessa said as he curved an arm around her.

"Yes, I have spoken with her," he replied.

"When do we leave?" she asked.

"I would like you to stay here, work with Markku on some missions. Dino and I will take Tullio out of the city and see how much he has learned."

"Sure thing," she said, hiding her disappointment. She had had either Ezio or Dino with her on missions for a while now and was apprehensive to be without one or the other.

"I know you'll do fine," Ezio said, touching a fingertip to her chin to tilt her gaze up to his. "I want you to report to Machiavelli tomorrow so he can go over the missions with you."

"He'll be here?"

Ezio nodded, regarding her steadily.

"Markku has been busy," she said, wanting to leave the subject.

"Is he capable of everything he promised he'd be?"

"And more," Alessa said, smiling a little.

She described the newest additions to the arsenal and discussed with him some of the tactical advantages they hoped to gain. The sun was beginning to throw long shadows when Ezio stretched and made mention of dinner. The two clambered back down to the rooftop door, Alessa darting ahead to open it, when suddenly Ezio grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her into his arms.

She felt the cool eastward-facing stone at her back as he pressed her into the wall. He regarded her with glittering eyes for a moment before his head tilted and he leaned down to kiss her, his mouth deliciously tentative at first and then hardening fervently. His hands eased down to her hips, and then slid up into the curve of her waist before he pulled her closer to him.

She went to him willingly, the heat of his mouth on hers making her giddy. Her hands crept up his chest to push his hood back so she could put her fingers in his hair, gripping the silky-coarse strands so she could pull him closer. She felt one of his hands slide under her tunic, questing around to her lower back and she arched involuntarily with the sensation as his fingers traveled up her spine. They broke apart, panting, to regard each other from up close for a scant moment before she went for him again.

His vambrace scraped against the stone wall with a metallic screech when his hand came up to span her throat. The leather of his gloves was rough on her skin and his lips were a velvety, startling contrast as he trailed them over her jaw and down her neck, moving his hand out of the way, his fingers bumping past her shoulder to brace himself against the wall. His lips moved further down her neck to brush over her collarbone and she felt his teeth through her shirt...

Then he stopped.

"Wha -?" she gasped.

"I'll not tup you like a whore in the dirt," he whispered, his hands clenching her briefly before they moved away to either side of her, resting his forehead on the wall beside her as he struggled to control himself.

"Ezio," she growled in frustration and mild exasperation.

He stepped away from her as she reached for him.

"You are worth waiting for," he murmured. His expression was a blend of her own frustration and apology. Sighing, barely mollified, she straightened her clothing as Ezio turned away, his fists clenching at his sides.

Alessa's eye narrowed and she stepped up behind him, leaving off tucking her tunic back into her trousers. She placed her hands on his back, his warmth seeping through the coarse fabric of his Assassin robes into her fingers.

"Ezio," she whispered, resting her cheek against his broad back and sliding her hands around his waist.

"Come on," he said abruptly, taking one of her wrists and pulling her along behind him as he crashed through the rooftop door and up a set of stairs she had never had never noticed before. She had to jog a little to keep up with his long strides or risk having her arm pulled off.

It appeared that there was a room at the top of the tower. A single door beckoned at the top of the stairs. And it was very private. A slow, anticipatory grin plastered itself on her face as he manhandled the door open.

And then he stopped, just inside the threshold, his shoulders hunching as she crashed into him.

Christ, what was it going to take for her to get –

Oh.

So here was the other half of Dino's drinking binge the night before, perched comfortably on his knee in the over-sized chair.

Dino and Claudia were just turning to view the interruption with identical expressions of indignation. Alessa kind of knew how they felt under her astonishment.

Claudia's eyes were a little muddled as she looked first at Ezio, then Alessa. Then they cleared and she smiled, shifting in Dino's lap to press an almost chaste kiss down onto his smiling lips before she stood regally to face her brother. She appeared as composed as always, not at all the worse for wear even though Alessa was sure Dino was not a… subtle lover.

Claudia!

He was SO in trouble!

Dino unfolded his long body to tower over Ezio's sister, placing himself between her and the perceived threat.

The men faced each other and the tension skyrocketed in the room. Alessa actually felt the temperature drop as Dino and Ezio faced off. It was unnerving how Dino had picked up some of Ezio's mannerisms: both men widened their stances imperceptibly, hands falling loosely to their sides near their weapons, heads tilting down slightly to hide their eyes from their opponent. Concerned, Alessa moved to Ezio's side, touching his biceps briefly as she sent a meaningful glance in Claudia's direction. Ezio's sister understood and she moved to stand in front of Dino. It was almost comical as Dino continued to glare over her head; she looked like a child trying to restrain a snarling wolf from it's prey.

"I don't think I need to go into the detail of how I will make you suffer if you hurt her," Ezio sneered, baring his teeth in a feral smile. Dino grinned as well, the smile somehow just as menacing.

"Likewise," he said, tilting his chin at Alessa.

"Oh really," she scoffed. Claudia tried and failed to hide her giggle at Alessa's disgust.

The siblings regarded each other, seeming to commune in silence for a moment before Ezio turned on his heel and left the room. Not sure what to do, Alessa fell back into the comfort of humor,

"So you're feeling better then?"

* * *

**A/N: Yup, totally went for the OMG moment there, so what ya'll think of that, heh.**

**Also, what's everyone's favorite armor/colors/outfit? I can work them in to the story – and Ezio will be acquiring all of the side mission armor eventually. My favorite combo is the Seusenhofer armor with the Roman gilded onyx colors.**


	21. Yet Another War Machine and Machiavelli

**A/N: Okay so I used "crying like a bitch" and "I stand Alone" from godsmack to get a feeling for this one. Also, gotta let you all know that I start roller derby and hockey again next week so I will be BUSY! Updates will probably be a week or two apart. I do NOT plan on putting this on hiatus! heh, there's WAY too much stuff I need to write about and and some new recruits to get on board. Also looking for another beta, if anyone's interested, PM me!**

**Once again, I have a kick ass group of reviewers who make me glad that I am writing this! BlackShadowWolf, ShadowMarkX007, Narsha, ecnal_nogardnap, Shamazaki, Demon-Kagetsuki, HikarinoTenshi-San, Nightshade07, and flyingcrispi; effing love you guys!**

**AC belongs to ubisoft, but Dino belongs to me. AH! er, yeah... yeah, gonna go with that!**

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Dino heard Claudia sigh almost imperceptibly in relief as Ezio stalked out of the room, taking that frigid blast of menace with him. He was feeling a little more relaxed himself; Ezio could not match him for height and reach, but the fucker was wily as hell and more than a match for him in strength. Plus, the normally calm Master Assassin had looked a little crazy-eyed there for a minute.

Alessa followed the hooded shadow, glancing back once to meet Dino's eyes, one fine, dark eyebrow quirked in mild amusement at the cluster fuck he had gotten himself into. He sent her a conspiratorial grin back. Her teeth flashed in a smile and then she ducked her head to hide it, closing the door softly behind her.

_That's right_, he thought encouragingly_, Go distract that cranky bastard with those great big eyes._ Dino would lay his life down for Ezio in a heartbeat, but right now he was not feeling particularly favorable towards the Master Assassin. On the other hand, Ezio probably had not been bring Alessa to this place to talk, so Dino felt a little guilty about that.

But not too much.

"Come here, _bellissima_," he coaxed, sitting back down as Claudia began to pace. "I don't know why you're so worried; she'll calm him down, he'll think about the whole thing, and come to the conclusion that you're good for me."

"I don't know why my brother still thinks he has to coddle me," Claudia huffed, ignoring his jibe as she plopped down onto his knee, her arms twining idly around him as he eased back into the cushions.

"Mmmm?" Dino said, nuzzling her neck, momentarily distracted by the incredible softness of her skin and her subtle perfume.

Claudia snapped her fingers impatiently.

"Focus," she said and Dino raised his head to grin at her.

_What a woman!_ She was nothing like his Angelina had been. And he found himself to be just as intrigued by Claudia's fierce independence as he had been with Angelina's fey shyness. He figured himself for some sort of masochist; just loved a fucking challenge. It would be easier to love someone like Alessa, who was just as helplessly candid as himself, but no. Dino Demasi just haaaaad to fall for women who held themselves just a smidge more aloof than he should like.

Turned out that the chase was disturbingly tantalizing.

"You and your mother are all he has, _piccola_," Dino said, serious for a moment. He smoothed the frown lines gently from her forehead as he gazed down at her lovely face, allowing his fingers to caress her cheek before he gathered her back up into his arms and tucked her under his chin. She felt nice in his embrace; strong, capable, yet still somewhat vulnerable. "Just know that he does it out of love and ignore him when he gets like that. And then we can count on Alessa to distract him," he added thoughtfully.

"I'm not helpless," she insisted, "He needs to realize that. I thought he had already realized that. And Ezio doesn't get distracted unless he wants to."

"Just a thought, I don't think it has anything to do with you being able to fight. And for what it's worth, _I_ don't think you're helpless," Dino raised his eyebrows hopefully and got the snort and swat he had been expecting. Growling menacingly, he said, "You keep abusing me, woman, and I might decide to take you over my knee."

"Really?" she purred, her beautiful eyes narrowing dangerously as reached up to touch the angle of his jaw with a fingertip. She had amazing eyes, luminous as burnished copper. An involuntary shiver went through him as she gave him just a hint of her fingernail. "Because it seems to me that you are not very well-behaved yourself."

"You assume correctly," he whispered raggedly, his hands settling over her hips to draw her closer.

"Indeed?" Claudia whispered against his cheek, her lips brushing his skin. "Shall I show you just how wicked I can be?"

"I've never wanted anything more," he responded, meaning every fucking word.

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

The apprentices were mounted and ready to go for once before Ezio arrived. Dino fidgeted idly in his saddle while Tullio slouched motionless over his reins, holding the reins of Ezio's horse impassively; the man had patience and focus in multitude. It would make him a damn good assassin. Dino was truly interested to see how his training would manifest out in the field.

Ezio appeared abruptly, just all of a sudden in the saddle like a damned apparition and Dino had to work hard not to startle. He settled for a whispered curse of envious admiration. Then he manned up; sat up straight and decided to take the initiative. He wanted to get this thing about Claudia settled before Ezio decided he had less than honorable intentions and tried to settle it with fists – or a blade in the dark. Hell, Ezio didn't even need the dark.

"You know, _maestro_…" Dino began, but Ezio stopped him with a placating hand, a mischievous grin brightening his broad features.

"It's alright, _fratello mio_," Ezio said, "Claudia has had a hard life; she has not been allowed to be a normal woman because of my family's history. So I know that you will ensure that she is happy." This last statement was not a question, but Dino did not have a problem with it. As long as the little hellcat wanted him around, he did not have any intention of leaving.

Then he smiled to himself. Had Alessa had anything to do with Ezio's return to equanimity? Little vixen! He turned to say something to her before he came to the realization that she was not coming along on this mission. Nonplussed, he settled himself more comfortably into his saddle and frowned. He figured that she was technically his senior in the Brotherhood and remembered that she was to meet with Machiavelli today to discuss her first solo mission. He felt his previous content unexpectedly dissipate as he realized that she would likely be gone for a while. He guessed that he had always figured that they would be partners of a sort in the field. Of course, _always_ was kind of an al-encompassing, unrealistic mindset.

His musings continued as he rode out with Ezio and Tullio, over the Tiber Island bridge and into Campagna. They rode steadily north and Dino missed the banter. Tullio was a rather subdued, somber guy and Dino had never really talked with the man before except when the man had been still healing from his numerous and vicious wounds. He knew Alessa liked him, supposedly was a talented musician but he was standoffish as hell. But Alessa, whether she would admit it or not, was actually a pretty gregarious soul, and seemed to get along with all of their allies. Dino, however sensed a dark depth to the man that he was hesitant to breach.

_Time to focus asshole_! he thought to himself as Ezio abruptly reined his horse off into a cluster of ruins. They had reached their destination already and Dino mentally kicked himself. Brooding like a depressed teenager the whole way! He was lucky he hadn't been hit by a Borgia arrow. Would have deserved it too.

The three men dismounted and checked their gear quickly. Dino still had his first pack of smoke bombs and had been keen to use one since Ezio had given them to him before the mission in Valnerina.

The men completed their preparations and stepped out of the shade of the ruins and onto the causeway, searching for their target. The recruits flanked their master, and all three Assassins fell unconsciously into step as they slowly focused on the upcoming battle.

Soon enough, Ezio made a hand signal as he spotted their target. They had been discussing creating a system of the silent signals during their training sessions and were apparently going to try them out immediately. Dino had introduced them to the simple commands he had learned as a mercenary.

Ezio flitted off into an alley as Tullio and Dino continued walking nonchalantly right into the patrol. He and Tullio split to either side of the two columns of soldiers and Dino let one shove him rudely as he brushed past the first patrolmen. The dumbasses were finally getting suspicious as Dino and Tullio allowed themselves to be heckled unperturbedly, taking the harsh shoves and rude comments without notice.

It was fucking beautiful, like he and Tullio were thinking the exact same thing at the exact same moment. They ceased their inexorable movement forward and turned toward the patrol group, hidden blades flashing simultaneously as they stabbed their first victims through the throat.

Pandemonium.

Dino had to whirl away from the overhead swing of a brute's axe. The moron missed him and hit one of his own men instead. Dino continued in his circular movement, using the momentum obtained through the return arc to bury his hidden blade viciously in the brute's face. Blood spurted out through the helmet's eye slits as Dino wrenched his blade free, kicking the dying man out of the way to get at a snarling spearman.

He parried the swing of the pole with his hidden blade, then front kicked the wavering pole as it's wielder attempted to bring it back up. The pole flew up in the air with some force and the soldier lost his grip. Dino spun for the momentum and kicked, his heel catching the fucker in the knee. Another spin, another kick, this one higher, hitting the ribs. Dino felt the bones shatter under his boot as the soldier garbled out something in astonished pain. A front kick the unprotected face and that one was food for the crows.

There was something Dino liked about the undiluted brutality of using his body as a weapon. He had been a big guy all his life, always larger than his peers and always having to be careful with his strength and his long limbs. Thus the fights at Bartolomeo's – gave him a chance to use the full of his strength and size without worrying about the injury that would be incurred on whatever idiot who had decided to test his strength against him.

Working as a mercenary had also given him an outlet for his strength and his desire to utilize it. During his time as a hired fighter, he had gained a good background in weapon use, but he had not given his abilities full vent until Ezio had come along and plucked him out of the spiraling nightmare his life had become.

Fucking Ezio! The man had honed him deliberately, the Master Assassin giving him tools and knowledge that had actual increased his strength and given him creative new ways to use it. Instead of stagnating his abilities as his time with the mercenaries had inadvertently done, Ezio had made him even more lethal, teaching him how to use his body to it's fullest potential.

And what potential he had!

So as Dino waded deeper into the swirling mass of pissed-off patrolmen, he was indulging himself the violence, his body humming with power as he parried, blocked, and stabbed. Once or twice he smashed his fist into an unprotected face, the single blow usually enough to send the hapless soldier to the ground to twitch.

Unfortunately, he wasn't invincible and he arched in pain as something sliced into the unprotected flesh over his kidney. Feeling his lips peel back from his teeth, Dino spun to meet what looked like the patrol overseer – their main target. The heavily armored bastard hefted a nasty-looking two-handed sword. Dino squared off against the man as a thought struck him.

Ezio would want to handle this guy. Much as Dino would love to go hand to hand with this fucker, he was no interrogator. He's leave that to those with more patience. So he backed up slowly, giving the impression that he was giving himself room while simultaneously leading the cocky bastard out into the open.

He had no sooner got the man out into the middle of the street when a single shot rang out. Dino startled at the sound and spared a glance around for an enemy rifleman. Finding nothing, he turned his attention back to the overseer. The man had stopped moving, his arms slowly lowering the big sword.

Dino tensed, anticipating a rush attack. The overseer continued to stand there and then he slowly toppled over, hitting the ground with a clang. Shrugging, Dino turned to engage the leftovers and found Tullio leaping into the final patrolman, the stocky Assassin's blade sliding into the man's throat like it belonged there.

Dino turned back to the downed overseer to see Ezio standing over the body.

"What, didn't want to interrogate him first?" Dino asked, letting his hidden blade slide back. He hadn't even drawn his sword.

Or used a smoke bomb!

_Cazzo_!

In reply, Ezio stooped, his hidden blade flashing out as he sliced a leather scroll case from the heavily armored overseer's belt. Ezio met Dino's gaze, the Master Assassin's eyes giving nothing away as he tossed the case to Dino.

"Good shot, by the way," Dino said as he rummaged through the thing. There was a lot of good information in there, but he found the document he needed and waved it at Ezio, who had walked over to speak briefly with Tullio.

"Looks like we get to go on a boat ride! Wait until I tell Alessa… Wait – what the fuck is this thing?"

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci **_

Alessa stepped silently into the armory, where Ezio's scholarly peer was working on some paperwork. She was still a little frustrated after yesterday's emotional back and forth. Ezio had not been very happy about the whole Dino/Claudia shocker and then Machiavelli had arrived and stolen the Master Assassin practically out of her grasp for long-winded, closed-doors meeting that had excluded her. She had had to go vent her various frustrations by playing, er, experimenting with Markku's various explosives.

"_Maestro_ Machiavelli," she said when he looked up. She had lowered her hood in deference to his rank and waited in what she hoped was a patient pose while he finished scratching notes on a missive. He eventually indicated for her to sit before him as he set aside his missive to dry and began the process of sealing another that had already done so.

"So," he began without preamble, finally tenting his fingers under his chin and regarding her calmly. She fidgeted a little under his scrutiny. His eyes had that same burning drive that Ezio's did, but his were colder somehow, detached. He gave her the impression that he had already singled her out her for fuck-knows-what and went right into his judgment: "Are we going to have a repeat of Caterina Sforza with you?

"Who the hell is Caterina?" she asked, taken aback by the topic of conversation and already irritated with his veiled superciliousness.

"You don't know who she is?" he asked, eyebrows raised inquiringly. He sipped his wine genteelly.

"Obviously not, since I don't generally insist upon my ignorance unless I mean it. You know what, never mind. I don't want to know," she stood, preparing to walk out. _What the hell was this nonsense?_ This was supposed to be a discussion of her next mission.

"Why not?" he asked mildly, "Don't want to hear about Ezio's brief preoccupation with her?"

"No, actually, because I don't want to look at you sitting there like a puffed up, pompous crow, trying to manipulate the feelings I do have for Ezio into something that better fits your plans. It won't work and it will just piss me off."

"Indeed," he said, his expression betraying nothing. It was actually pretty impressive.

"Yes! In-fucking-deed!"

"So you just think I'm talking to you about this for nefarious purposes?"

"You haven't given me a reason to believe otherwise," she said softly, pitching her voice low so she would not snarl at him and reveal herself to be the uncivilized fiend he obviously had decided she was. Yeah, that was her: goddamned viper in the nursery.

"Well, my dear, I do apologize for that. You have to understand that it is in my best interest to be sure of the survival of the Assassin Order. And Ezio's health and well-being is the keystone to said survival."

"I thought you were the leader of the Assassins," Alessa grumbled, sitting back down.

"A transitory post. Ezio defers to me – for now. But I would be remiss in my duties if I did not foresee an Assassin Order in the near future with Ezio as it's Master. His work here in _Roma _has directly affected the exponential growth in numbers and power that we are currently enjoying – here and across Europe." Machiavelli leaned forward over the table, pushing his paperwork to the side as he gave her his full attention. "So you can see where I would be… interested in anything, or anyone, who could adversely affect our continuing expansion."

"Fine. I understand your concern. But know that I would die myself before I would do anything to hurt or hinder him. And I can guarantee that I speak for Tullio, Dino, and Markku as well. Plus, I don't think you're giving Ezio himself enough credit; the Order is his life."

"I believe you, but I don't think you understand the full import of who Ezio is to my Society," Something about his expression subtly changing to make her trust that he spoke plainly. She sighed in resignation.

"I think I do," she said a little waspishly. "But do I really need to know about this Caterina?" She tried to keep the aversion she felt for the subject out of her tone. She was not sure if she succeeded. What did she care of Ezio's past relationships? Alessa suddenly had to work very hard to keep herself under control as the sudden urge to stab the faceless Caterina swept through her sinews and muscles.

"Only that Ezio may have tried to disguise his feelings for her with the affirmation that she would be his powerful ally. The _contessa_, in the end, did not reciprocate his feelings. But for a time, he was focused on her with such a single-minded intensity that I feared him losing his focus on the big picture."

Alessa did not have anything to say to this; she sure as hell wasn't asking Machiavelli what was wrong with the woman that she did not think Ezio was worthy of her affections. Maybe she was married? Alessa decided not to follow that line of thinking and made a noise of confirmation, wanting Machiavelli to get on with it.

"Of course, Ezio is a follower of the Creed, and Caterina has ordered the deaths of innocents, thoroughly shattering the First Rule. She is still an ally, but she is not an Assassin and will never fully understand our ways."

"Look," Alessa said, meeting Machiavelli's gaze levelly, ready to end the conversation. She knew she should be affording the man more respect, but he was the one mucking about in her personal life and questioning her loyalties. "I made my vow to the Creed. My loyalty is to the Creed. My second loyalty is to Ezio. Whether you like it or not, he saved my life and has given me the knowledge and ability to stand up for what I believe in. I am a simple person, with simple ideals. My mind will never attain the intricate political and social machinations that I am told you are capable of. So rest assured that my life is devoted to the Creed… and to Ezio. Nothing else and no one else. Ever."

She was breathing hard, having stood up and leaned over the table, fists clenched as she bitched at Machiavelli.

The well-mannered man stared at her for a moment, shrewd eyes narrowed as he processed her little speech in his labyrinthine mind.

"Duly noted then, recruit," he murmured, expressionless. Alessa eased back into her chair, shaking a little still as she worked to rein in her ardor. "To business then," he continued, pouring a second glass of wine and setting it before her with a polite flourish.

"Once Ezio has finished destroying those infernal war machines, you and the big one – Dino Demasi? You both will be going on your first mission out of _Roma_." He selected a few documents form the stacks before him and slid them to her. "It will take some preparation, you have a lot of research to do in the meantime. And a good portion of that research will have to be done when you get there."

Intrigued, Alessa, pulled one closer, scanning the decoded messages that had been couriered back and forth for the past few months.

"What language is this?" she asked.

* * *

**A/N: Randomly – what was everyone's reactions at the end of AC:B – you know, THE END? WTF? Just 'cause I want to make sure I wasn't the only one who bitched for a week straight to whomever would listen to me… LOL and that absolutely tantalizing bit at the end of the DLC**

**FYI - Gonna combine the final two war machines, so the recruits get to go on a little road trip, er boat ride.**


	22. More Bombs and More War Machines

**A/N: I listened to We Are the Fallen A LOT during this chapter.**

**Shout out to my reviewers, cause I's loooooves you! ecnal, my brother!, CrazyGunFire, flyingcrispi, BlackShadowWolf, HikariNoTenshi-San, Narsha (soon we'll have some depth on Tullio!), Lucan07, Shamazaki, Anna, ShadowMarkX007 (TANK! archnemesis! the key to 100% is continuously circling whilst shooting, and yes it's fucking maddening!), and Assassin'sCreed superfan. You guys all kick ass and you give good suggestions.**

**let's see, the AC orginals belong to ubisoft, but I get Alessa, Dino, Tullio, and Markku as MINE! my owns... my preciouses...**

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

"Russian?" Alessa repeated. "Why Russia?"

Machiavelli sipped his wine, set the glass gently down, and pushed a detailed map of the European continent towards her.

"It was a difficult decision as we have requests from multiple cities, namely Barcelona. But winter is a problem with Moscow and, including preparations, the goal is to have you leave no later than two months from now. Even then, you'll have to travel through some nasty weather, but you'll be going with a guide and should therefore only have to finish out the winter season if all goes well. Not to mention we're blind in Moscow right now. Spain can wait until next summer; we still have a presence there."

Alessa was silent as she perused the documents in the leather portfolio. The sheer amount of information within the folder was astonishing, a veritable treasure trove of knowledge. The thought struck her that she was part of a bigger association than she could have ever dreamed of – and was fighting against an enemy that was more powerful than she could have imagined. Goosebumps bloomed over her skin as she struggled to take in the enormity of the responsibility she was being given. And she was only viewing a small piece of that whole; at least three more portfolios, stuffed full of documents, rested at Machiavelli's elbow.

Missions.

Fuck, they really needed more recruits.

From what she could garner from the sheaves, an Assassin by the name of Pietro Antonio Solari had gone missing. Sent to Moscow as one of a group of architects, the Assassin brother had been a spy in Prince Ivan Vasilevitch's court.

She stared at the tattered original documents; the characters of the Russian language differed somewhat from the Roman letters used in Italian writing. It looked like they used some characters similar to those in the Greek alphabet. She didn't have a fucking clue what sounds they represented, though. And long words! She wondered what it sounded like when spoken.

"Do we have a translator here in _Roma_?" she asked distractedly, tracing the letters with a curious finger. Could she learn to speak this?

The door burst open and Alessa nearly fell on her ass as she leapt to her feet and stumbled over her chair, hidden blade flashing out.

"I need you!" Markku exclaimed flagrantly as he continued into the room at her. Alessa back-pedaled, lowering her arm hastily so she would not stab him. The startled grimace remained on her face, just shifted into one of exasperation.

"Markku, what the hell?" she exclaimed. Out of the corner of her eye, Machiavelli merely leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes glittering as he watched the exchange with interest. And Markku - the man did not really seem to notice – or care – that he had interrupted anything. He was even worse than Dino when it came to getting what he wanted. He simply continued forward, eyes ablaze with whatever he was getting ready to accost her with.

"New things to show you!" he clamored, his energy washing over her in a tangible wave as he settled a long arm over her shoulders, trying to get her to go with him. He overwhelmed her with the sheer force of his will, green eyes gleaming with enthusiasm as he grinned down at her, oblivious to Machiavelli as he continued to babble about a metal mixture she vaguely recalled him talking about just the day before.

She reached up and took his face between her hands, giving his head a little shake. What she actually felt like doing was grabbing him by his ear a dragging him out of the room by the thing. The image made her choke with suppressed laughter. Especially as she was sure that he would not go easily. She wondered idly if she dared to probe a pressure point. Would it piss him off? Hell, he probably wouldn't even bat an eye.

"Markku. Shut. Up," she said, trying not to laugh as she released him. "I'll be done shortly and can come help you then."

His eyes narrowed as he gave her the full of his attention. Then he looked pointedly at Machiavelli and grinned.

"Are you sure it'll only be shortly?" One eyebrow went up inquisitively over a gleeful eye and Machiavelli's brows crashed down. Alessa gulped. _Great! He was going to be pissed now!_ And she didn't think that Ezio would be very happy with all of the disrespect flying around. Oh well. Niccoló Machiavelli could and would very well speak up and defend himself if he didn't like it.

"Ten minutes?" she asked beseechingly, turning fully away from Machiavelli to give Markku the grin she had been holding back. His expression sobered in response in a rare moment of lucidity and she felt her smile soften as those slightly tip-tilted green eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Okay, come to my workshop, I really do need your help."

And then he was gone.

Alessa fell into her seat with a sigh of exhausted relief.

Machiavelli was still frowning and Alessa shrugged at him.

"That one," Machiavelli said severely, "needs a leash and a muzzle."

Alessa snorted.

"He's brilliant," she replied, shrugging. "But I honestly don't think he has any impulse control. And then there's that phrase that talks about madness and genius toeing the same line?" She gave Machiavelli a wry smile. "You're pretty intelligent yourself aren't you?" She beamed at him even as she inwardly cringed.

_Stop talking, you imbecile_, she told herself. _He's not Dino; you can't keep giving him grief!_

Machiavelli's eyes narrowed.

"I don't know how you get away with the cheek, recruit," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft.

"So we were talking about translators?" Alessa asked innocently, desperately trying to steer the conversation back into some semblance of civility and failing miserably in the attempt.

Then, apparently despite himself, Machiavelli huffed out a breath in what she supposed was a chuckle and they bent their heads to the paperwork.

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Dino held the rough sketch out to Ezio as the Master Assassin approached him, Tullio at his side. Dino clapped Tullio companionably on the shoulder as the shorter man fell into place beside him. The black mask hid his scars well, but made those pale eyes stand out vividly. Dino inconspicuously watched the too bright eyes gazing impassively out over the material. Whatever Tullio had been before he had become an Assassin, he had not been a fighter. And Dino was experienced with new recruits and their first kills; some did not handle it so well.

Under his palm, Tullio's sturdy shoulder gave an irritated hitch. Dino shrugged and turned his attention back to Ezio.

_Moody bastard!_ He thought. _I'll sic Alessa on him; I know he talks to her. _Funny how he didn't really feel like asserting himself with Tullio; he usually didn't have a problem giving people his opinion. Was he getting soft or was he learning that there were times when it was appropriate to be subtle? Was there a difference?

"What the hell is that thing?" Dino asked Ezio, whose forehead was crinkled in concentration as he read through the document.

"Leonardo called it a 'tank,'" Ezio said slowly as he puzzled over the thing. "Heavily armored, outfitted with multiple cannons, a vehicular nightmare that can run down the most heavily armored ground troops, shoot down barricades, and only takes three men to operate."

"Is that all?" Dino could not help but ask. His back gave a twinge and he ignored it.

"It takes multiple, close range, _direct_ cannon blasts to disable it," Ezio admitted, one eyebrow rising in malicious humor.

Oh.

Well if that was all it took...

Hoof beats sounded and Ezio jammed the papers into the scroll case, hurriedly tying the thing to his belt as the apprentices moved to intercept the potential threat. A single rider wearing La Volpe's colors barreled around a corner, galloping for them.

"Ezio!" the wiry thief called as his horse slid to a stop. "We have the location of the final overseer!" Ezio turned and gestured for Dino and Tullio to go back and prepare the horses, and then entered into conversation with the mounted thief.

Moments later, Dino and Tullio cantered out of the ruins, sweeping by Ezio. Tullio tossed the reins as Ezio leapt into the saddle on the fly, the man making it look easy.

Dino fell into place behind Ezio and they eased into a gallop; they must need to make good time. The Master Assassin pushed the horses hard, and the poor beasts were foaming and blowing by the time they had raced nearly clear across all of _Roma_ to damn near the southwestern gate.

Their target was holed up in some run-down stables, the area swarming with brutes and other various heavy-weapon-wielding infantrymen. No lightly armored tavern guards here.

Ezio opted out of a surprise attack; Dino and Tullio fell onto either side of his horse's flank and the three Assassins crashed into the thick of the soldiers, scattering them like a kick to the teeth.

Dino practically fell off of his horse in his haste to engage and get his blade into some Borgia-serving fucker's flesh. His sword was nearly alive in his hands as he pulled it, his hidden blade out as a sword-breaker.

His first engagement was as natural as a bird taking to flight; his sword came up out of it's sheath, and then fell to swing into the closest soldier's knees all in the same movement. The soldier went down hard, ass over elbows, his leg nearly severed at the joint. Keeping the circular momentum of the big sword going, Dino swung the weapon through it's natural path, his hands on the hilt just barely guiding the bastard to where it wanted to go, the sunlight flashing along it's length at the height of it's arc.

Potential energy multiplied kinetic energy as Dino combined the blade's freefall with his own strength to bury it in the downed man's chest. Metal plate, sternum and ribcage shattered under the blow and Dino only really felt the impact when the blade hit the cobblestones beneath the twitching soldier. He winced minutely as he felt a sheet of warmth spill down his lower back as his movements aggravated his wound. He wondered uneasily what was doing back there.

Unfortunately there was no time to do anything about it.

Dino spun into a defensive stance in time to see Tullio slice his hidden blade across a throat, the violence of the movement so forceful that it spun the target around, arterial spray very much in evidence. Apparently the unprotected back was irresistible and Tullio, teeth bared in an absolutely feral scowl, stabbed the man directly between the shoulder blades. The stocky Assassin lifted a foot to shove the dead man contemptuously off his blade and then a quick swipe of his hand had his mask back over his face as he darted at another soldier in the process of stalking the whirling nightmare that was Ezio.

The Master Assassin, in the meantime, had lost his sword in a body somewhere and was currently circling a heavily armored mace-wielder empty-handed. The soldier with the mace grinned fiercely, thinking he had the upper hand.

As if the fucker had a chance against white-hooded Death stalking his doomed ass…

The man swung with a good amount of force and practiced skill, but he was no match for Ezio, who darted to the outside of the soldier's reach and kicked the man in the lower back. The soldier's grip loosened on the weapon and it tipped nicely into Ezio's expectant grip. A quick, brutal stab of the blunt weapon to the gut practically folded the man in half, and Ezio swung the weapon in a full circle to gain momentum, the head of the mace smashing under the soldier's chin. The fucker actually went airborne and landed in a messy heap. Ezio tossed the mace aside and went for another opponent.

Ezio's left hidden blade stabbed through the side of a totally unprepared soldier's head. The soldier's knees locked and instead of waiting for the body to fall, Ezio swung down with his other hand, his gauntleted fist smashing into the nape of the dead man's neck. Dino heard the spine shatter over the noise of the battle as his grim-faced _maestro_ manhandled the body off of his blade.

Fuck him, but the Master Assassin was brutal! Merciless. An unstoppable force. Utterly vicious. It was goddamn inspiring. Dino hefted his sword, squaring off against a goon with a war hammer.

And then the pike-men on horses showed up.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

"Markku..."

"What?" he asked absentmindedly between giggles, his long, dexterous fingers dancing over the mysterious pouches and vials at his belt as he eyed their surroundings speculatively.

"No explosions."

"But –"

"No."

"Come on…."

"No! _Cazzo!_"

Markku huffed in irritation and Alessa let out a quiet, slow sigh of relief. La Volpe had sent Marco to the hideout looking for Ezio. Marco had informed her that the thieves had discovered that the final overseer would be going off duty in less than an hour. Machiavelli had released her and she had sprinted to find Markku.

Unfortunately, the district they needed to infiltrate was actually swarming with enemy soldiers. She and Markku were currently trying to find a way through the maze of dead end alleys and haphazard ruins that characterized the southwestern fringes of _Roma_ without being detected by the heavy patrols. She probably shouldn't be surprised that he wanted to make something explode; she could tell he was getting frustrated.

Hmmmm, maybe that was actually a good idea…

"Oops, better run, _grulla_!"

Alarmed by the sincere agitation in Markku's tone, Alessa leapt a full one-eighty and ran as fast as she ever had, a mind numbing terror giving her speed as she counted the unknown seconds to detonation in her head…

_Fucking Markku!_

She skidded around a corner just in time, feeling the heat from the sudden detonation rush past as Markku hurtled around the corner just behind her and crashed into her, both of them tumbling to the ground, tangled limbs impacting the buildings flanking the narrow alley as the roar of the explosion echoed through the region. Almost immediately, shouts rang out from multiple locations around them.

"Up!" she hissed. They skittered to their feet and she led Markku up a stack of crates, propelling herself upward to grip a window ledge. Her booted toes scraped frenetically against the stone as she scrambled up the wall and she grunted as she clambered over the edge. Breathing hard from exertion and adrenaline, she spun on her belly to reach down and assist Markku the last few feet, meeting his feverish green gaze in a half-daze.

They got to their feet, Markku pacing around her, a huge grin plastered on his face. Her heart pounding, she gave him a rude gesture with both of her violently trembling hands.

"_Oops!_" she hissed. "Are you _trying_ to kill me?"

"Oh hey," he said gravely, stopping abruptly in mid-caper, "Want to try my knock'emout bomb?"

"What?" she growled, distracted by both his abrupt change in topic and his unsettling ability to change his emotional overtone in an instant. Then she heard the sounds of the guards tromping through the crumbled streets below, the footsteps getting nearer.

"Watch this," he whispered menacingly and something in his voice drew her curiosity.

As one, they peered over the edge of the roof, Markku twitching with his excitement as the soldiers began to rush into the area to investigate the explosion. He pulled a now-familiar sphere from a pouch, this one slashed with white paint. He presented it to her with a dramatic flourish before making a big spectacle of aiming at the clueless soldiers milling about below. Then he frowned as he began to actually concentrate in earnest.

He flung the thing and it burst apart as it hit the ground amidst a particularly thick group of the soldiers, a whitish mist blooming outwards in a spherical formation. Alessa watched in confusion as the hapless shoulders that were engulfed in the cloud staggered about weakly for a brief moment and then fell to the ground. Some of the men at the periphery of the now dissipating cloud were reeling but did not go down.

A brief glance spared for Markku revealed the long fingers slowly ticking off the seconds that passed, his intent expression only half-revealed by his hood. Alessa returned her attention to the men below and watched in wonder as the soldiers who had not been affected pulled their still-upright, but definitely giddy comrades away from the downed men.

The Assassins on the roof and the soldiers on the ground watched in equal interest as the downed soldiers eventually began to move, and then sit up blearily.

"A variation on the ether-induced nap," Markku finally said and the Assassins backed away from the edge. "Looks like it takes them out for about twenty five seconds if they get the full dose! Not bad!"

Alessa plopped back on her ass, and then fell onto her back, flinging an arm over her face, withdrawing into her hood. She really couldn't keep up with the guy: one minute he was mincing about like a fucking lunatic, _accidently_ setting off bombs; then he was revealing some amazing weapon all nonchalantly, like knocking out fifteen people instantaneously was standard procedure; or he was all deadly serious and scared the hell out of her with that manic intensity.

_Ignore, ignore, ignore…._

Groaning, she dealt with it and sat up. Floundering through mental exhaustion, she turned on what she would ad infinitum call the Markku-filter.

Ah, bliss!

Blocking out his babbling, but making sure he was following her, she leapt to the next rooftop. Slowing slightly to confirm a slight 'thump' as he landed safely, Alessa made her way over the rooftops towards their destination.

With a good portion of the patrols still sorting out the explosion and ether-bomb, they made quick progress through the ruins and the familiar clash of steel on steel soon became noticeable.

A trio of mounted pike-men was riding toward three familiar, white-hooded figures.

"Not a chance!" she snarled. Markku made a brutal sound of agreement and they leapt to the ground, rolling to absorb the impact. Alessa was astonished to see that Markku had un-sheathed his crossbow in mid-fall and came to his feet ready to shoot. Alessa used her momentum to move into a sprint as the pike-men veered away from the three Assassins still battling the ground troops, heading straight for her and Marrku.

Sprinting for all she was worth, Alessa barely noticed the closest pike-wielder's astonished expression as she sprinted up a pile of rubble onto a broken column. Making a difficult left turn mid-sprint at the top, she flung herself into space, her legs tucked to her chest, a hurtling body with an unerring blade. She crashed into the rider as he struggled and failed to raise his pike to intercept her. Her figers closed comfortably around her blade as she punched it through the skull and wrenched the fucker out of his saddle.

She wheeled her captured horse around, seeing Markku calmly take out the other two with his unwavering crossbow, and made for her comrades. She turned just in time to see Ezio kick a brute in ornate armor in the forearm as the man slashed at him with a hand-and-a-half sword. Kicking her horse into a full gallop, she charged for what was left of the brawl. Ezio had just disarmed his opponent when another rider galloped around a building behind him, a crossbow held out at Ezio's unprotected back.

She heard Dino shout in alarm, still caught up in his own clinch and saw Tullio move to intercept the rider, but the Borgia crossbowman had singled out Ezio.

_Oh God! _she thought_, He could pull the trigger at any second_.

Gritting her teeth under the pressure, Alessa galloped forward determinedly, her stolen horse responding beautifully to the subtle commands she gave it with her knees. She pulled a smoke bomb from a pouch. Her trajectory was swiftly calculated as she rode directly at the mounted crossbowman, hoping her all too serious intent of a direct crash distracted him and threw off his aim. She wasn't bluffing either; if she missed this throw, she would gladly take the hit for Ezio.

Not wanting to wait any longer, as Ezio was still battling the brute, she flew by the Master Assassin engaged in battle and hurled the bomb, reining her horse hard to the side to avoid the head-on collision.

Her aim had been true, the burst of acrid, stinging smoke burst into being practically under the other horse's nose. The animal squealed and went berserk, unseating its rider. Praying to any god that would listen, she eased her feet from the stirrups and leapt from her still galloping horse onto the dazed crossbowman.

The impact was much harder than she had expected and her face crashed into her target's helmet as her blade entered the man's body. The resounding clang that invaded her mind was her forehead hitting metal, followed by a multi-colored burst of pain, and then instant dark.

* * *

**A/N: a suggestion of shamazaki: translations... _Grullo/a_: silly; _Cazzo_: I've seen it used interchangeably for multiple four-letter words!; _maestro_: master**


	23. The Sewer and Taariq

**A/N: ****Listened to AC1 soundtrack while writing this… Last scene should be a reflection of that, was especially influenced by the piece "The Bureau"…**

**Regarding Markku's inventions: I do understand that they're totally unrealistic. But so is Eagle Vision and genetic memory. LOL The AC series IS a partial fantasy. However, I never planned on his inventions taking center stage; they are mostly for humor, to be sprinkled throughout the plot for a bit of fun, especially while he is integrating into the team. Try to view in that way. He will be developing his own fighting style as I work on him. But continue to expect random explosions and weird inventions; I'll eventually work in a limiting factor, all in good time. Some of Dino's future medicinal endeavors will likely prompt similar responses – again, these will most likely be used for humor, not for miraculous fail-safes in the plot. That being said, I appreciate the honest responses; it ultimately improves the story and proves that you're paying attention, so thank you! *babble***

**Thanks guys, for getting me to the triple digit review number! Your continued support is an inspiration: ShadowMarkX007, Lucan07, donotunderlinenyname, Narsha, ecnal_nogardnap, Shamazaki, assassin'screed superfan, and flyingcrispi**

**ubisoft owns it all!**

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

Darkness. It was like a soft blanket wrapping her, enveloping her body from head to toe, it's velvet folds rasping against her skin. Alessa struggled against the shroud; it was like trying to surface from a deep dive into a heaving sea.

A sharp pain pierced her arm, focusing her attention. It came again, sharp, insistent, and then a dull fire formed at the center of her chest, burning pressure turning into real pain. She made a colossal effort that catapulted her out of the darkness and into consciousness; her eyes popped open to reveal four male faces marked by various expressions of concern ringing her field of vision. White hoods blocked out the sunlight, softening the glow and forming a sort of protection of her to sensitive eyes from the harsh glare.

Dino's face loomed closest and his eyes narrowed in speculation as her own rattled in her skull like stones in a jar. Her face throbbed and she closed her eyes, her lids seeming to become alarmingly heavy.

The chest pain began anew, quite acute this time, and this time her eyes snapped open, the smoky, grasping fingers of unconsciousness dispersed by scalding embers of pain. Dino was rubbing his knuckles briskly over her sternum, but stopped immediately when her eyes met his.

"Dino!" she raged, her voice coming out as a weak croak. He was lucky her head wasn't giving clear instructions to her arm. As it was, her fingers had curled into a fist in preparation to…

Yeah, she wasn't going to do a damn thing right now. She settled for a good glare. Dino grinned charmingly. He peeled back one of her eyelids and then the other, observing her reaction to light.

"All that drama; you seem to be perfectly fine, _tesora_," he said, his tone sardonic, but his smile softened into one of relief, the gold-speckled mahogany eyes softening minutely. The other Assassins drew back; Markku's head had been the one directly blocking the sunlight and his tip-tilted green gaze was replaced by the less forgiving golden sun. Alessa squeezed her eyes shut.

She felt Dino's big hands help to support her head and lower back as she sat up, a painful rush surging through her skull as she went vertical.

"Dino," she groaned, placing a hand to her chest as it throbbed, "What -?"

"I pinched the hell out of your arm, but you wouldn't respond. Sternum rub usually does the trick. My version of smelling salts. Works better."

Alessa took stock of her body. Yeah, the back of her damn arm really stung too. She sighed, firmly told her aches and pains to settle the fuck down and let Dino help her to her feet. Her arm went around his waist for balance.

Dino's lower back was sticky and once she gained her feet, she pulled her arm away at the unusual dampness, to reveal her forearm covered in his blood. Alessa staggered away from him.

"Dino!" she blurted in alarm, holding up her hand. She noticed that his skin was a little paler than usual. All sorts of pissed off went to battle with concern and she struggled with the urge to both smack him for being so stupid and to coddle and soothe him like an injured child.

"Time to go," Ezio said firmly, forestalling her decision. The horses had already been rounded up and Alessa heaved herself into a saddle, startled when Ezio vaulted the beast's rump to land behind her. She turned to confront him –

"No words," he snapped, settling her into place before him like one of the saddlebags, one arm locked tightly around her middle. Alessa pouted briefly as he clucked the horse into a canter, and then slumped in the effort to control her pounding headache, glad for his support but not quite injured enough to foist off embarrassment at his compulsory assistance.

They rode south, away from the hideout, and stopped at a ramshackle building to let Dino bandage up his wound and to watch for any pursuers. Tullio and Markku went out to watch the area from the rooftops. Alessa slumped to the ground, sitting against a wall in the corner, head back, eyes closed. Her headache was dull now, but her face throbbed with persistent intensity and she dreaded the inevitable swelling that was worsening by the minute.

She jumped slightly when Ezio knelt beside her. Dino's muttered curses continued in the background as the Master Assassin gently took her jaw in one hand, the other coming up to press a cool, damp cloth against her swollen cheek and eye. Alessa settled her hand over his, the tips of her fingers sliding through the roughed ridges of his knuckles, settling into the gaps between his splayed fingers as she pressed the blessedly cool relief against her face. Ezio sat with her for a brief moment before extricating himself to go assist Dino; going by the increasing vulgarity of his muttering, he was having some trouble.

Alessa could have sat there and rested for longer, but Ezio was anxious to return to the hideout and they did not tarry long. They collected Tullio and Markku and rode to a nearby stable to leave their horses. Fortunately, they were packed lightly and each only had a single saddlebag to carry.

Mildly confused – were they going to walk the rest of the way? – Alessa nonetheless followed the Master Assassin perfunctorily. Dino was walking with a slight hitch. They had both really fucked up. Hopefully recovery wouldn't take too long.

They had stopped. A sewer cistern was nestled amidst a cluster of buildings and Alessa idly watched Ezio tinkering with the grate.

Wait.

No they weren't…

Yes they were.

The recruits watched their master hold the gate open with a flourish, all four of them eyeing the grungy stairs that led into darkness dubiously. One eyebrow went up over an acerbic eye, Ezio's expression giving no quarter to their squeamishness. Alessa shrugged and thonked down the stairs determindedly, slipping once on something that was better left unclassified. Someone chuckled nervously behind her and then the men followed, their heavy footsteps echoing in the encroaching darkness.

Alessa attained the bottom of the stairs and inched her way to the side, not daring to touch the walls as the full force of the stink assailed her nose. She didn't dare breathe through her mouth, though. She pulled her mask up over her face. The men came down the stairs and flanked the entry to the sewers. Ezio trailed them unconcernedly, turning a couple steps into the complete darkness to fiddle with something.

Torchlight flred into existence and Alessa relaxed a little when she saw that the sewer tunnel was quite large. A cache of well-used torches were stacked neatly in a tiny alcove, but Ezio only used the one.

A travelling system through the sewers. Alessa felt like an idiot for not having guessed about it before; anyone who controlled the veritable maze of tunnels beneath _Roma_ would have a distinct advantage in moving about the sprawling city.

Ezio seemed to travel the labyrinth with ease and Alessa was impressed at his recall of the route; the tunnels were absolutely undistinguishable from each other. Then Alessa noticed the subtle pattern etched into the stone at the intersections.

Huh.

Made more sense than committing the great sprawl to paper, where their enemies could get a hold of it. And she imagined that the key to decoding the symbols was spread by mouth; information set to paper was dangerous. Their most recent targets had been idiots for doing so.

Eventually, Ezio brought them to another set of stairs, extinguished the torch, and added it to that particular entrance's collection of illumination devices. Clever, clever thieves.

It had to be the thieves that had mapped and catalogued this malodorous secret. The mercenaries didn't possess the subtlety and the courteseans were master blenders and didn't need the tunnels.

Ezio had brought them straight into the basement of the hideout.

_How had she not known this was here?_

The recruits all took relieved breaths of clean air once they gained the surface. They trooped into the armory, Ezio dumping a scroll case and a sheaf of blood-smeared documents from his saddlebag onto an empty table.

She had forgotten about the overseer!

Chagrined, Alessa leaned over the table with the men as Ezio brought them up to date on the war machines.

Dino waxed poetic on the tank, simultaneously praising it's concept while speculating gleefully on the details of it's destruction.

Markku had all sorts of opinions for the naval cannon – had to be shouted down when Ezio stated that it had to be destroyed.

Tullio remained silent, as always, arms crossed over his chest, scarred face impassive.

Ezio produced an absolutely gorgeously rendered map of _Italia,_ swept a battle-grimed finger down the western coast south of _Roma_, pointing out their destinations. Alessa felt her stomach heave at thought of getting on a ship. She swallowed reflexively a couple times.

Then she excused herself calmly…

And had to go vomit in private.

Once she was sure that her stomach was going to behave for the time being, she went to return to the armory and was snagged by Dino, who dragged her unresisting self to the med room. He practically slung her onto the pristine bed and went to the fireplace, stoking the flames and setting a kettle in to boil water.

That done, he played with his herbs and roots before picking up a candle and walking to the bedside.

"Look at me," he said clinically. He waved the flame in front of her face, his eyes intent on hers, made her make a couple of different strange movements with her face.

She didn't know what the hell he was doing, but he seemed to be gathering information from her responses. He brought out his dagger, held the thing by it's sheathed blade, and tapped the hilt into the crook of her elbows and at her knees, grunting in satisfaction when she jerked reflexively in response.

"You'll be fine," he finally pronounced. "But if you puke again, you let me know."

"How did you - ? Never mind." She brooded for a moment, then "What about you?"

"What about me?" he asked, fiddling in his supplies.

"How's your back?"

"It's fine," he grumbled. "Shallow slice, just bled a lot. Lucky for me."

"I think you're full of shit," Alessa said.

"I can undress and show you," he turned to look over his shoulder at her and leered. "I know how much you love to see me with my shirt off?"

"Show me that you're full of shit? Go ahead," she murmured, her face like stone, " But what will I tell Claudia?" Dino guffawed.

"You're right; she'd probably kick my ass. So maybe you just need to leave it alone then, eh?"

"Not a chance," Alessa said, "You have to sleep sometime." She lowered her voice in approximation of his. "I can always get the leeches."

He ambled back to her, a mug of something that probably tasted like dirt and a nasty-looking poultice in his hand.

"On your back," he ordered as he stopped, towering over her.

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," she responded as she lounged back into the pillows.

He grinned, setting things onto the stand next to her. Reaching out to draw the candle closer, he plopped down onto a stool and hitched the thing closer. She winced minutely in anticipation of his touch as a big hand reached out to gently probe her face. She closed her eyes.

"No breaks," he said after a moment. She felt the soothing warmth of the poultice touch her skin. It had a slightly astringent smell, but was not unpleasant. Dino had her press it against her face and after a moment, the warmth turned into a blissful numbness. She felt the pain ease and her entire body relaxed from the tension she had not known existed.

He seemed to know exactly when the stuff started working. She felt him lift her up, supporting her shoulders. The brim of the mug touched her lips. And she drank. She swallowed the brew down before the taste could hit her tongue. Then he let her be while he cleaned up. She heard the door ease open and recognized Ezio's measured, confident steps.

"How is she?" she heard him ask.

"Mild concussion," Dino replied, "She'll be fine as long as she stops trying to head-butt opponents wearing helmets. "

"What about you?" Ezio asked, his tone severe.

_Ha!_ Alessa thought.

"Nothing more to do for me. The wound's too shallow for stitches and it's just going to have to heal by itself."

Ezio grunted and then he was at her side. She lifted the poultice from her face and he recoiled slightly.

"That bad, huh?" she asked ruefully.

"Naw, you make grotesquely swollen look gorgeous," came the reply from across the room.

"I love him," Alessa said to convince herself that it was true.

Ezio grinned, his eyes on her but speaking to Dino,

"Are you done with her?"

"Yeah. Go to bed, _tesora_."

Ezio walked to the door, turning his head to give her a meaningful glance before walking out into the hall. Alessa stood carefully, placed the poultice back over her face, and followed. She bid Dino good night as she passed into the hall. She saw Ezio turn the corner further down the darkened passage. When she reached the corner, he had disappeared.

Alessa stood outside the wide open door to her room for a time, considering the darkness within. Then fatigue took over and she went in, shutting the door behind her with her foot. She made her way to the window and opened the shutters, letting the purple-tinged light of the gloaming into her room.

She could not hear him, but damned if she couldn't feel his presence.

"Sorry I left in the middle of the planning," she murmured as he came up to stand beside her. Their shoulders brushed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You did not miss much," he said, regarding the view of the city outside her window. "Just the assignments for getting our supplies ready." He turned and embraced her briefly. "Get some sleep, _mia cara_, you'll need your strength for the ship." He looked down at her and grinned, "I'm sorry I can't acquiesce to your request from a while back."

"Thanks," she replied drily. "I suppose I'll manage." But she smiled up at him.

It was hard to watch him leave that night.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci **_

The sun had greedily kept all of it's heat to itself when it had descended for the night and she shivered even in her cloak as she made her way quietly through the slumbering village. Moving into a jog to warm herself up, Alessa told herself that her shivering was most definitely from the chill of desert night and not from anticipation.

_Wait,_ _what? Desert?_

Her thoughts skittered around her confusion and her body continued doggedly towards her destination.

Had she seen this place before?

The road that threaded up the cliffs into the fortress was empty at this forsaken time of night – and if the Assassins were out, they weren't making themselves known. She shrugged off the feeling that she was being watched.

Once she attained the top of the ascending path, the view of the sky abruptly spread out above her. Transfixed, she switched directions and headed to the cliff's edge. Standing there, with nothing but yawning space before her, the sky looked huge without the sun in it. The spread of stars was inconceivably vast. Alessa had never seen such an amazing view – maybe in the mountains of Valnerina had she seen the sky like this, but not at this scope. She felt like she could reach out and brush the twinkling lights from the velvety sky like grains of sand caught on cloth.

Suddenly, an arm snaked around her hips and another came around her throat and she was pulled back abruptly against a warm body. He held her just a little too tight for comfort, but the sensation was most definitely not one of pain. Her breath hitched in her throat as he bent his head to her, lips brushing her cheek as he spoke.

"You're out late, girl," he rumbled.

"Am I?" she heard herself ask airily, resolutely ignoring her increasingly weakening knees. Her heart gave a jerk as his hands splayed out, fingertips digging into her hip and shoulder, confinment turning into a vehement caress. She didn't feel like she needed to be fighting, indeed, her body was giving her altogether entirely different cues.

"It's after dark," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft, "Are you not worried about Assassins?"

"The Assassins protect us from the things in the dark," she replied breathily. "I do not fear Assassins, but maybe you should..."

"Indeed?"

She laughed finally, unable to keep up the charade. She turned in the man's embrace, smoothing her palms over the white fabric covering his chest.

_What was happening?_

Alessa simply could not control her actions; it was like she was in this place only to watch.

And what a view!

"Are you sure you won't get in trouble for sneaking out?" she asked hesitantly, resolutely not getting distracted by his lips – all that she could see of his face from the combination of darkness and white hood.

"Any trouble will be well worth it," he said gravely.

She slid her hands down his arms, fingers bumping over the hidden blade at his forearm, to twine her fingers with his. He winced minutely as she bumped the still raw stub from his ring finger amputation. Then he gripped her when she tried to let go.

"It's fine," he said as she looked up at him apologetically. More of his face was revealed as she looked directly up into his hood; a bold nose complemented those expressive lips, and sharp cheekbones gave his face a feral cast.

She reached up to brush his hood back, feeling one corner of her mouth quirk up in an anticipatory manner as the handsome face was revealed in it's entirety. He made her work for it, and she had to balance herself with a palm on his chest as she went all the way up onto her tiptoes. Her lips parted, but something, some other presence caught her attention.

And then she gasped in alarm as a human-shaped blot of inky darkness separated itself from the shadows behind him.

Her Assassin shoved her behind him as he spun to face the silent figure, falling into a loose fighting stance. Then he suddenly stiffened, dropping hastily to a knee before the black-robed figure. Despite the subservient posture, he still swept a hand back to touch her at the knees, keeping her behind him. Alessa bowed her head as he rose to his feet and stepped all the way behind him, she put one hand on his lower back to let him know where she was. She stayed away from his sword arm, just in case. Her heart pounded.

"Taariq ibn Tayyib Al-Faraj," the black-robed man intoned, the rich cloth of his vestments whispering luxuriously with his movements. The ebony hood shadowed his face, making him seem slightly sinister. His voice was low, clipped, and mildly disdainful, "I thought you were on duty tonight."

Alessa peeked around her protector's shoulder and practically salivated when she focused on the other man's armor. Beautifully embellished in a style unfamiliar to her, it was dull black. By the effortlessness of the man's liquid movements, the pieces appeared to be very light, but she had no doubt that they would stop a crushing blow with ease. Curious, she stepped out from behind her protector – Taariq? – unconsciously trying to get a better look at the artistry.

Both men ignored her as she inched into view.

"My watch does not start for another two hours, Grand Master," Taariq began.

"But it is forbidden to leave the fortress on your night of duty," the Assassin Grand Master said severely. Taariq remained firm under the hidden gaze.

"I will take my punishment," he said quietly, his arm coming back up to sweep Alessa behind him once again.

"And ten lashes will be worth a few minutes' tryst?"

Alessa's head snapped up and she muscled in front of Taariq to face the black-robed Master.

_Hell no he wouldn't!_

"Please don't," she heard herself say. "I will take his punishment; it was my idea to meet tonight."

She heard Taariq curse softly and he slipped an arm around her abdomen to pull her back against his side, his other hand coming up to cover her mouth.

"Ignore her," Taariq said, "I will take double the punishment."

Silence.

Alessa reeled at the casual assumption of accepting brutal physical abuse for practically no reason. These people had a sense of honor that was beyond what she currently accepted in her value system.

Then,

"What is your name, girl?"

Alessa shuddered at the tone. It contained the barest hint of curiosity, but that tiny thread of emotion was nearly buried by cold detachment. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as Taariq moved his hand to let her speak.

"Ilah – " Alessa cut herself off, confused. But then her name rolled off her tongue, the sinuous syllables perfectly formed. "Ilah bint Zahar Al-Khalil."

"Zahar? Your father was a good Assassin, Ilah. Now what do you think he would have done had he found his daughter out in the middle of the night, alone with a man?" The tone was mild and curiosity was at the forefront now.

"My father would have beat me until I couldn't sit for a week," she replied truthfully.

A grunt of acknowledgement. Silence again. Taariq's arm tightened subtly.

"Take her home, Al-Faraj, and then I expect you to report to me at dawn."

"But – " Alessa tried to say. Taariq acknowledged his master with a curt nod and began to drag her away.

"Taariq!" she protested. As she passed the motionless Grand Master, she looked up into that hood – and was struck dumb, her struggles ceased.

"Altaïr!" she whispered the name to herself and a sharp pain stabbed into her skull. Wincing, she looked up at the intimately familiar face again. Strong chin, scarred lips, regal jaw – all the same. Bold nose, the broad cheeks, the forbidding brows – an exact match. Only the eyes were different, the color not right, but the shape was the same, and those fathomless depths were very familiar.

"Ezio…?" she whispered, going limp in Taariq's embrace.

The last thing she remembered was looking up at that blanket of stars, unable to view the face of Altaïr ibn la-Ahad without experiencing an eerie sense of dislocation, without being able to figure out who she herself was. Alessa closed her eyes, summoning the darkness to reset her thoughts.

* * *

**A/N: ****Yes, sorry, I needed an Altaïr fix, been dabbling in AC1 the last couple of days.**

**Also, I have a couple more ideas for OC recruits, who will be entering the stage very soon, but I am also interested in reader ideas for specialties/personality types. Will give full credit and make that "your" recruit if I use them in the story.**

**Okay, okay, going somewhere in the plot – next chapter starts out with Dino's POV on the ship heading to Monte Circeo**

**_tesora_: sweetheart/treasure**


	24. Infiltrating Monte Circeo and Napoli

**A/N: Holy crap, it's been a while. Sorry, I am absolutely exhausted when I get home these days - got no friggin' mental energy left after work, yikes. I do appreciate those of you who are hanging around, though, very much!**

**So, some insight into Dino's mind – sorry if this sounds way off, gentlemen in the audience, I kind of have to guess about a man's mental meanderings. :D I did incorporate some of my own thoughts into his musings – ones I had whilst playing the game, so I hope you enjoy that nonsense! I did notice that Dino has a tendency to mentally babble. Also tried to capture a little bit of the darker side of Ezio's abilities, make him a little ominous, all specter-of-death 'n' stuff. Not sure if this chapter is as polished as it could be but I'm done with plot and want to move on...**

**AC-verse belongs to ubisoft, yadda, yadda...**

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Dino rested his weight on his forearms as he leaned over the railing, watching the light of the crescent moon dart through the darkness of the waves. As he considered the heaving black water, he was still congratulating himself for his fantastic bedside manner. He was a _hell_ of a doctor for having successfully aggravated and distracted Alessa enough to get her to down the tea he had liberally dosed with sedatives. She had been suspicious as hell when he had brought her the brew to 'calm her stomach.' Not that he blamed her, she had been right, but he had goaded her mercilessly to the point that she had forgotten her initial misgivings.

That being said, he was still a little uneasy for making her sleep so much so soon after her concussion. The injury hadn't too severe so he figured the benefit outweighed the risk in this case. He had only been able to watch her at the railing for a mere hour before he had manfully ditched his misgivings and sedated the hell out of her.

He also hoped the deep sleep would get rid of those crazy dreams she'd been having ever since playing chicken with a fully armored horseman. Not one of her smartest ideas, but one had to respect the recklessness and the willingness to have one's head potentially crushed.

Stubborn bitch.

He grinned to himself. Yeah, she'd be pissed when they reached their destination, but he planned on being long gone with Tullio and Ezio when she came to. Let Markku deal with it. Dino had already given Markku enough of Alessa's sedative to last until they got safely into _Napoli_. He almost felt bad for Markku but he figured anything Alessa would say or do would be saved for Dino's own benefit when next they met.

He left it alone finally and began to mentally toy with the details of the upcoming mission; he and Tullio were going to _Monte Circeo_ with Ezio as the preliminary reports of the area indicated that they would have to do a lot of climbing in the mountainous terrain to gain access to the machine. Since he and Tullio were the strongest climbers they would go. Alessa and Markku were going to sail ahead to _Napoli _to investigate the ship yards and ascertain the location of the naval cannon. He, Tullio, and Ezio would meet up with them after the tank was destroyed.

It was kind of nice, here in the night on the sea. He wondered idly if perhaps he could get Claudia out on a ship to show this to her. Without her brother hanging around. Yeah that would definitely be a priority. The suspicious bastard always seemed to show up at the most inopportune moments…

Anyway, women liked pretty things, didn't they? Angelina had adored flowers and Alessa certainly had a child-like fixation with colorful birds. For Claudia, however, Dino figured that the nighttime sky at sea was better than giving her a bunch of flowers that were going to wilt anyway. Plus, she had enough material wealth; there was nothing like that he could give that she probably didn't already have. And those damn stars were really bright and kind of fascinating; he sort of wondered what exactly they were…

Yeah, it was a good idea; get her away from the city and all the politics and bullshit that she had to deal with. She was a beautiful woman with a good heart who had worked her ass off her entire life with little thanks for it. Ezio was too hard on her. But she had never let her brother down, had she? Fuck no she hadn't, because she was so incredibly strong.

He could imagine the petite woman in one of her elegant gowns - no, even better, cloaked and hooded as an Assassin, as dangerous and beautiful as a perfect blade - at the rail beside him; the delicate arch of her throat and the pale curve of her cheek gleaming as she gazed up into the sky…

"You should sleep," Ezio's calm baritone burst his reverie like a flock of startled doves and Dino jumped slightly, feeling a quick streak of guilt – like he had actually gotten caught ogling the man's sister right there in the moonlight.

Dino scrubbed his face with a hand in an attempt to focus and faced Ezio, who mimicked his position at the railing.

"Just thinking, _maestro_," Dino said, leaning back down on the railing companionably beside the Master Assassin. He saw Ezio nod.

"She'll be okay sleeping like that?" The tone was only clinically concerned but the man's shoulders tightened subtly and the cant of his hooded head gave the impression of discreet anxiety.

_Aha!_

'_You should be sleeping,' my ass!_ Dino thought with a gleeful mental grin.

Looked like the hardened Assassin really did have a thing for the crazy woman who was currently below-deck snoring like a respiratorily-infected goat.

_Awwwww. How fuckin' sweet was that?_

Of course, that was the pot calling the kettle black, wasn't it? He'd been standing here like a besotted idiot not a moment ago planning a romantic getaway with said hardened Assassin's sister. He sighed.

Women really made things complicated.

"I didn't use the alcohol that's the usual vehicle for that type of drug – it's a different blend and it's why I have to give her so much. But I'd rather have her sleeping than puking," Dino reassured the man. Delicately, of course. No need to let the guy knew that he knew.

Wait.

Was this… subtlety?

It was painful, whatever the hell it was. Dino hitched his shoulders uncomfortably.

"Mmhmmm," the shorter Assassin rumbled at the dark sea. "You think Markku is going to be capable of taking care of her?"

"He'd fucking better," Dino snarled reflexively. Startled by his outburst, he fell quiet, took a calming breath, and tried for humor instead. "I feel kind of bad for the guy when she wakes up in _Napoli_, though. Maybe we should take that blade off of her?"

Ezio gave a truly evil chuckle and then changed the subject.

"Ready for our swim tomorrow?"

"It'll be a challenge," Dino admitted, diving into the subject change fervently. Ezio made a noise of acknowledgement.

"The climb should be easy, though; rock is less… fickle… than sea."

Dino could only hope so and made a noncommittal noise; Ezio's idea of easy didn't exactly coincide with his own idea of easy.

The village port at the entrance to the pass into _Monte Circeo_ had been swarming with the colors of their enemy; the number of soldiers on the ships in the harbor alone had had even Ezio frowning thoughtfully. So they had bypassed the little port town and headed out to sea while they decided on another method of getting to the fortress.

The crew on this particular ship consisted mostly of former thieves; the Captain had actually suggested the plan that Ezio had eventually accepted. The retired thief was intimately familiar with this portion of the coastline.

Dino, Tullio, and Ezio would swim to shore at an inhospitable portion of the coast; jump ship, so to speak, to avoid detection by any vessels patrolling the area. Once they made land, they would find themselves on a "beach" consisted of a rocky strip of land at the foot of a sheer cliff. The climb would be arduous, but the Assassins should be able to handle it.

The Captain said that they would then be able to take a short walk through the woods to the fortress where the war machine was being manufactured.

Nothing like an arduous swim, a grueling climb, and a stealth mission through unfamiliar forested terrain to warm a man up for the real work.

"You're right_, maestro_," Dino said suddenly, "I think I'll hit the rack."

Not that he was worried about the mission.

Not a chance in hell.

…

And Ezio didn't have to chuckle so smugly, either.

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Dino found himself at the railing again, this time the view was awash in the hazy pre-dawn light and grey mist. The sailors had taken in the sails, and the ship barely moved through the water as the three Assassins considered the stretch of sea between themselves and land. Their weapons, armor, and tools had been placed in an empty water barrel for transport to shore. They wore close-fitting clothing that narrowed to almost skintight at the wrists and ankles. A single dagger was strapped across each chest, along with a single hidden blade at each left forearm. No boots, no armor.

"No heroics," Ezio said, his brows low and forbidding. "You get tired, you take a break." He looked different without his hood, smaller somehow, but no less deadly; sort of like swapping a claymore for a dueling saber.

Dino and Tullio each nodded once. Dino rolled his shoulders as Tullio and Ezio heaved the barrel full of gear over the side. The thing thunked against the side of the ship and splashed into the water, bobbing to the surface a second later. Three smaller splashes followed as the assassins slipped into the water, arms crossed over their chests and feet crossed at their ankles.

Dino surfaced, took up the tow rope and began swimming with sure, even strokes towards shore. A flicker of trepidation curled through his gut even as he settled into a rhythm; what had looked like an easy swim from the ship was in actuality a brutal test of his endurance and strength. Although the sea was calm, it was still a vast body of water that heaved and rolled with intimidating power. It was goddamn unsettling, like the water was actually some sort of massive sleeping beast that Dino had absolutely no control over.

After a while, his muscles began lagging and he passed the rope to Ezio, falling back to hang onto the barrel. Stabilized by the floating supply cache, Dino kicked strongly and was able to catch his breath.

They rotated the duty between them, working flawlessly as a team as the sun turned the sky pink. By the time they made shore, the sun was well above the horizon. Dino and Ezio hefted the barrel between them and they made swiftly for the shelter of some rocks up the beach.

Once they were safely in the rocks and out of a potential scout's sight – and out of reach of the soaking waves that thrashed after them, as if the sea was throwing a tantrum at their escape – they were all exhausted and all three of them planted ass to sand. Dino sprawled backwards, arms and legs momentarily deadened, his chest heaving. The swim in had taken over an hour and he never wanted to do it again.

Ezio let them rest for a bit before he sat up to wedge the barrel open with his dagger, spilling their equipment out onto the sand.

"Get dressed," he said, scooping his gear out of the pile and taking his own advice.

Dino felt immeasurably better when he was dry and had strapped his last piece of armor on. As they dressed, they had munched on heavy traveler's bread and chugged down a good portion of their water supply in preparation for the next part of their mission.

Dino slung the giant coil of rope over his shoulder, watching Tullio beside him deftly tying knots into a trio of shorter lengths. Ezio stood slightly apart from the two of them, hands on his hips as he surveyed the cliffs that reared up before them, getting an idea of their path up and across the face of the cliff. The ridge above was heavily forested and would indeed provide good cover once they gained the top.

Tullio seemed to know exactly what he was doing and had swiftly created a knotted mess of his rope that turned out to be a rig that went about their hips as a harness. Tullio had knotted heavy steel rings into the harness and he handed Dino the end of a coil of rope to feed through the rings. The three men threaded themselves together like beads on a necklace.

Curious, and wondering how the hell Ezio had known the stocky Assassin possessed this skill, Dino watched Tullio scramble up the first stretch of rock while Ezio fed the rope up to him. The apprentice dithered purposefully for a moment, looking like a bloody spider hanging off the side of the cliff, before signaling for Dino to follow. He shrugged and heaved himself up, finding the combination of fierce concentration and physical effort to be a satisfying challenge.

He heard Ezio follow him a moment later. The rope slid continually around his hips as they shuffled up the face of the cliff in shifts and the three of them fell into a rhythm; Tullio leading the way to tie them off, Dino following, and Ezio at the rear to untie Tullio's safety knots.

Another grueling span of time passed before they gained the ridge. Dino stumbled into the trees and slumped down to rest, dragging the last canteen out and gulping the water down. Tullio was also quite winded and plopped to the ground beside him to. Ezio, apparently unaffected by something as trivial as a difficult climb up a sheer cliff, began coiling the rope with steady hands. Dino felt a fleeting urge to hurl the canteen at his unaffected master.

Rested once more, they stashed the climbing gear up in a tree and made their way carefully through the trees. After their previous efforts, the trek through the old growth forest was easy. Dino had the overwhelming urge to banter with Alessa about walks in the park and the lack of pretty company. He knew somehow, with Ezio and Tullio, it wouldn't be the same.

What a self-absorbed, whiny bastard he was becoming! A morning without his partner and he was starting to mope. Again! Yeah, he really needed to talk to Ezio about getting him and that mouthy female back together on a team. He missed the hell out of her

Unexpectedly Ezio halted, his abrupt tautness signaling that he was suddenly on full alert. The man looked vaguely cat-like – it sort of reminded Dino of coming across one of those big tomcats as the mean bastard stalked something unseen in the shadows of an alley; while Dino knew that the creature wouldn't pose an actual threat to himself, he still would get an involuntary shiver at the deluge of predatory presence. So while he logically knew that Ezio wouldn't suddenly turn and stab him right in the fucking throat, he edged carefully away from the Master Assassin, just in case. A bead of nervous sweat trickled down his spine.

The Assassins waited in silence and Dino flipped his vision to see if he could spot something significant. God, but that really squicked him out; he was still getting used to the creepy physical shift and brief disorientation associated with the change.

Luck!

Their target, the head architect and engineer of Cesare Borgia's tank unit was right in front of them, starting to amble up toward the fortress, flanked by couple of brutes. They couldn't have come out of the forest at a more perfect location. As he got a lock on their target and shifted his sight back to normal, he wondered idly if Ezio was actually in possession of a sixth sense that was the equivalent of some sort of preternatural homing device. Dino had to make a huge effort to focus when he was distracted momentarily while he pondered the possibility.

Following Ezio, the apprentices stalked the target through the village, ghosting from dappled shadows beneath towering oaks to the more comfortable darkness of shadows cast by buildings. Blending with the crowd was difficult for Dino simply because of his size, so he was rather fond of shadows or solitary nonchalance – plopping ass-to-bench as it were. Tullio blended well in groups, as long as no one caught a glimpse of his heavily scarred face.

Dino wondered how the target could remain oblivious of the silent specters haunting his steps. It had to prompt those random chills across the back of one's neck; those instinctual defense mechanisms that humans had learned to ignore. Dino knew better; he listened to his instincts now.

And that was why _**he**_ was the hunter.

Their luck ran out as they approached the fort; as the architect passed through the gates, the heavily armored soldiers of the engineer's security detail signaled for it to close behind them. Dino and Tullio were hard-pressed to keep up as Ezio, entirely unconcerned, suddenly turned to sprint parallel to the fortress wall, searching for a second entrance.

And damned if they didn't round the corner and encounter a highly fortuitous stack of crates that some lazy worker had left out conveniently for the Assassins to scurry up.

It was almost too easy.

Entering the fortress was simple and the Assassin's found themselves crouching on the rooftops overlooking a secluded courtyard. They began a silent, crouching jog over the roofs, but did not have to go far. Apparently their quarry really didn't listen to his instincts – either that or he was dense as an oak.

_Really?_ Dino thought incredulously as the man rounded a corner.

The idiot had ditched his burly guards.

Too bad.

Ezio didn't hesitate. The man vaulted over the edge of the roof and landed quietly behind their quarry. With a contemptuous shove, he booted the oblivious engineer in the ass, sending the man sprawling. Dino envied Ezio's menacing detachment as the Master Assassin reached down casually to grip the engineer by his lapels and drag him to his tiptoes.

Ezio didn't lose momentum as he presented the guy with a nasty little right hook, followed by a condescending backhand. Then Ezio shook the man like a wet blanket before getting to business and letting his hidden blade ease almost gently against the now gasping throat.

"What do you want?" the engineer barely had the presence of mind to ask.

"Where are the plans for the weapon?"

"On a table, at the opposite end of the fortress."

"And the device itself?"

"I am not sure, but you need three people to work it."

"_Bene_," Ezio murmured, tossing the man away from him and glancing up at his apprentices speculatively.

"What a horse's ass," Dino observed in an aside to Tullio as they watched the engineer stagger away. "He's led the construction of the thing for who knows how long, but has not the faintest idea of where the finished product is stored? And he can't be a little more specific about the plans?"

"Perhaps the man knows more and our _maestro _should have been a little more convincing?" Tullio's eyes narrowed as his dagger flickered out, the steely slits tracking the diminishing figure. Dino grinned in response to the bloodthirsty greed in the normally stoic man's eyes.

And Alessa thought he was just a sensitive poet with a gentle soul.

Yeah, and people could fly with demon wings… or…

Damn…

He needed to update his idioms.

Then he shrugged.

"Oh well, Ezio only needs to be pointed in the right direction," Dino replied, "He doesn't need specific instructions like the rest of us mortals."

"What mortals?" Ezio asked as he re-joined them on the roof.

"_Us_ mortals," Dino clarified, gesturing to himself and Tullio.

Ezio scoffed and swept his arm out to indicate the entire fort.

"We'll be notorious now; the guards will be looking for us."

"He doesn't like it to be too easy for us, either," Dino stage-whispered to Tullio as the trio slunk across the roofs.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

She was getting tired of wallowing in and out of unconsciousness…

She struggled to put a hazy cacophony of images into chronological order: Markku, good-naturedly hauling her up some stairs, talking nonsense the whole time; Ezio speaking softly to them in the soft lantern-light of the lazily rocking ship, going over tactics and logistics of the next two missions; Altaïr and Taariq facing off calmly in the darkness; Tullio humming to himself as he sat near her bedside and scribbled verses onto parchment; Dino goading her into drinking… something...

_Who the hell were Taariq and Altaïr?_ Warmth and affection curled through her mind at the thought of Taariq, almost mindless devotion at the thought of Altaïr. Memories of infinite desert skies and…

Wait...

_Fucking Dino! _The thought roared through her head, snarled edges catching the misty cloak of sleep in thorny claws and shearing it back abruptly.

Images scattered as her conscious mind wallowed and then hefted itself into clarity, much as a horse would lurch to its feet after a good roll in the dust; scatterings of memories billowing away from her mind much like said dust would stream off the horse after a good shake.

Alessa opened her eyes warily. It was dark; a single candle guttering in a far corner barely illuminated enough for her to see. Alessa tensed but did not feel the sickening rocking of the ship. Cautiously, she concentrated on her body; her stomach was magically calm, her head blessedly free from pain, her vertigo completely gone.

She breathed a deep sigh of relief and sat up experimentally. A breeze gusted in a half-open window, bringing with it a salty humidity. Stumbling as she got out of bed, she made her way to the window and looked out. She could see the tall masts of ships bobbing gently in the harbor not far from her current location.

They had arrived, then.

It seemed that all of the rest had done her some good. She stretched luxuriously, banishing any residual stiffness from her body. She cast about in search of more light, successfully lit a candelabra…

What the …?

Opulence of the like she had never experienced surrounded her. Although she was not sure how she and the other recruits were supposed to keep a low profile in such a luxurious inn, she could enjoy the scenery for the time being. Her room was quite big and seemed to be decorated in an understated theme of black and gold. It was a little masculine for her taste, but she appreciated the irony – black and gold were the colors of the Auditore family.

Heavy gilt-framed paintings and mirrors lined the walls. Heavy furniture made of dark woods crouched in the candle-thrown shadows. The couches and chairs that delineated a comfortable sitting alcove were upholstered in heavy gold cloth that accented the richly embroidered covers and draperies on the massive bed.

Luxurious golden curtains were pulled closed at even intervals along the walls, one of the sets of curtains was pulled back half-way; she had looked out that one. Curious, she went to a particularly wide set of curtains to pull them back, revealing a set of finely carved doors opening to a covered balcony.

She stepped outside into the cool night air to take in the lush potted plants and wicker chairs overlooking the sweep of the city as it rushed down to the harbor. They were actually further from the water than she had originally thought; the inn sat on high ground and gave only the appearance of proximity.

A sound caught her attention and she tensed slightly, flexing her wrist in preparation. Alessa stepped lightly back into the room, keeping to the shadows.

A colorfully garbed maid was moving briskly about a section of the room she had not yet explored – it appeared that she could dine in her own room away from the other customers.

Relaxing, Alessa lowered her arm and walked into the light.

The maid squeaked a bit and jumped. She recovered masterfully and a friendly smile came naturally to her little face

"He _said_ you'd most likely be awake by now, but…"

The girl was like a hummingbird, flitting about with a determined energy that raised Alessa's heart rate just watching her. The girl's hands fluttered as she rapidly and skillfully arranged the covered platter and carafes and utensils onto the fine tablecloth.

"_Päällikkö_ Loikkanen will want to know you're awake!" she twittered once she finished. And with that, the little maid bobbed in a quick curtsey and darted out again, leaving a dumfounded Alessa alone to eye the food with both longing and distrust.

_Jesus, where the hell was she?_

* * *

**A/N: _Päällikkö: _Master**

**So I tried a different tack here, made the story more introspective when it came to going into the tank mission - just felt the previous two war machine missions were barely more than a narrative of gameplay. LEt me know what you think...**

**Also working on the next few recruits, you guys got some good ideas out there; I will eventually get back to you if I decide to use your ideas.**


	25. Monte Circeo's Fort and Markku Explains

**A/N: OMG! Read some teasers on AC:Revelations… *squeeee!* BOMBS! 300+! OMGOMGOMGOMG It's on, ALL SORTS OF Donkey Kong! Watch them be kinda boring in the games, but not here, brothers and sisters, 'cause I'm going all sorts of ape-crazy…. Think between you guys and myself, we can come up with that many different types of bombs? No research allowed – just fore-knowledge and our creativity… Bring it on!**

**My reviewers, you are all awesome! Thabit, Shamazaki, flyingcrispi, anonymous, HikariNoTenshi-San, Assassin's Creed Superfan, Narsha, and calypsosxrx. And all original AC-verse characters belong to ubisoft**

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

So, 'at the other end of the fortress' was officially the worst intelligence report ever. Dino felt like going back and stabbing the moron just for being so maddeningly vague.

Although from their enemy's perspective, the guy had done a good job withholding.

It was an interesting thought – the idea that the other side might have an opinion on matters; almost made him wonder how the Assassin Order was conceived from the viewpoint of a Templar.

Almost.

As far as he was concerned every single one of those fuckers deserved the death coming for them.

After some inventive deduction on Ezio's part, they finally located the engineer lab, a lightly guarded but heavily locked building. The locks were nothing to the Master Assassin; the man disarmed them so easily that Dino almost didn't realize the things were even going to be a hindrance.

Good trick, that.

God, but did he have to be good at _everything_? What a little prick!

No wonder Alessa was infatuated; hell, Dino himself was half in love with the guy.

When he wasn't riding first class on the inferiority caravan.

He and Tullio followed as Ezio walked into the place, bold as day, and started tearing plans off the walls and tossing them into the coals at the small hearth. Dino felt a grin split his face and he geared up for some mindless destruction. He cracked his knuckles before beginning; it was nice to let loose every once in a while.

Dino did manage to shuffle purposefully through the workstations first, pocketing items of interest, giving sheaves of paper a cursory once-over for information of interest before consigning them to the fire.

He noticed some of those fancy magnifying lenses that Alessa used in her work lying on top of some papers. Wordlessly, he rolled the delicate equipment up into some fine vellum and shoved the bundle into a pouch, telling himself it wasn't a peace offering for giving her the drug-induced equivalent of a sucker punch. Because he was sure she had some absolutely delightful revenge planned for him in _Napoli_. But that was the thing he liked about her; she gave him exactly the reaction he needled out of her. Her brutally honest reactions were paradoxically both refreshing and familiar – and consequently she was the closest brother-in-arms he had ever had.

So yeah, give out a sucker punch; expect a covert kick in the balls in retaliation. That was the way it was between them and he never wanted it to change.

A little present to convince her to soften the coming blow wouldn't hurt, though.

The important work attended to, he dumped one of the workstations over with a gleeful shove. Stepping deliberately on glass inkwells, his boots pulverized the delicate bottles and spilled the colorful liquids all over the place as he cheerfully razed his way over to the next station. For a brief moment, Dino reveled in the chaos before a not-so-subtle clearing of the throat caught his attention.

"Whoops, sorry, _maestro_," he said, off-handedly dumping the final table onto it's side for good measure.

Dino surveyed the demolished workshop with personal pride as Ezio finished shoving some documents into a satchel. Then the trio ducked out a back door into a narrow alley. Tullio's eyes twinkled briefly at Dino over his dark mask as he jerked his chin toward the pouch Dino had stuffed the lenses into.

"You know she's still going to be pissed at you," the shorter Assassin observed, his voice dry, but his eyes were still bright with amusement.

Dino grinned, more startled than anything, and shrugged.

"It's all about distractions, _fratello mio_," he drawled sagely. "No matter how pissed at you she is, if you give a woman a shiny object, you can be sure that her wrath will succumb to feminine greed instead."

"Just be careful said shiny object isn't something she can stab you with," Ezio mentioned over his shoulder. A coin flipped suddenly into the air towards him and Dino caught it, confused. One of Ezio's heavy brows arched over an eye in challenge before the Master Assassin turned his attention back forward as they began to jog quietly through the deserted alley.

"I bet that she doesn't get distracted. Women don't forget. Ever."

"Bet taken, _amico mio_," Dino said, grinning.

Ezio had never been married; he didn't know the first thing about women. Dino was sure of it.

Tullio guffawed and Dino smugly slipped the coin into the pouch with the lenses.

Focusing back on the mission, Dino fidgeted next to an impassive Tullio as Ezio halted and scaled a wall to the fortress's innermost courtyard, gesturing for them to follow a moment later.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

She was still dubiously eyeing the food when the door burst open.

A startled curse left her as she leapt away from the table, crouched slightly, hidden blade bristling.

Markku, massively unimpressed by her reflexes, merely made his way to the table after kicking the door shut behind him. She clicked her tongue derisively and lowered her arm, letting her blade snick back into place. She stalked over to him, waving him out of the way as he helped himself to her food. He did eventually shuffle aside after a brief shoving match where he tried and failed to grab some of those absolutely perfect grapes in the exquisitely gold-inlaid bowl. He did manage to snag the carafe of wine and a glass before retreating to settle himself into one of the exquisitely gilded dining chairs across from her.

"I was going to drink that," she grumbled, removing the lid from the food tray.

"Water only," he gestured to a pitcher next to her beaded with condensation. "Dino doesn't want you drinking alcohol right now."

Her breath left her in an irritated huff.

"Dino," she growled, pouring herself a glass, "Is a walking dead man." At least it was cold. And clear. Markku chortled.

"Poor bastard," he agreed casually. "He really just wanted to keep you from being miserable."

"No, he wanted to keep me off the mission," she corrected, dishing herself up a light dinner.

"Bah, they weren't going to take you anyway. Unless you can swim across miles of open sea and climb monster cliffs before even getting to where they needed to go; that takes the big muscles." Markku held his long arms out and flexed. "Even_ I_ didn't rate an invitation."

"Do what now?" she asked, cold blossoming throughout her chest. Markku sighed with the affectionate patience of an exhausted parent and poured himself a glass of the wine as he explained the infiltration methods their absent companions had required to gain access to the tank unit.

"Are they okay?" she asked, "Did they make it?"

Markku shrugged.

"You mean you didn't stay to make sure they at least made it to shore?" she half-shrieked.

"Oh stop. You know they're fine," Markku said dismissively. "We couldn't exactly hang around to make sure – not and risk being recognized or attacked by all the damn Borgia naval units hanging around the area."

She pressed a hand to her chest, knowing she was over-reacting, but terrified. She didn't know Tullio too well yet, but she would be devastated if she lost him. And she didn't even want to think about Dino… Or, _Jesu Christu_, Ezio…

God, she couldn't do it again. She couldn't…

Something hit her square in the forehead and she looked up, startled. Markku was beside her, his hand still up and his middle finger cocked back against his thumb in preparation to flick her again.

"Hey," he said, his voice calm, "Knock it off, they're fine. They're probably already done with the mission. They'll be back here in less than a week if they decide to travel overland. Sooner if they're able to get a ship."

She nodded and convinced herself that it would be true.

They were fine. Finefinefinefinefinefine…

"So, uhhh, Markku?" she quested, as she settled herself, "Where the hell are we?"

He gave her a withering look as he re-seated himself.

"_Napoli_," he responded, rolling his eyes as he sniffed the wine he had poured himself. He took an almost dainty sip, grimaced, shrugged, and then poured himself a full glass.

"Okay?" Alessa raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to elaborate. Instead, he took a full sip and grimaced some more.

"Lord, that's foul," he said mildly, holding the glass up and eyeing the blood-colored liquid within, "You'd think I'd rate better than a '96 vintage."

"Markku!" she snarled, ignoring the slightly strident edge in her tone, "Where the hell are we?"

"I told you," he said with that tone of profound patience again, "_Napoli_ - we arrived late last night, maybe early this morning."

"Why are we _here_, though?" Alessa clarified with what she hoped was also a patient tone, gesturing to the opulent room. Markku was, after all, a little socially inept. He gave her a concerned look.

"Does your head still hurt?"

"Wha-?" she blurted, not entirely sure if he was being an ass or not.

"_Na – pol – i_…" he enunciated. Alessa frowned, gritting her teeth.

"My brother, if you do not tell me right now why the _hell_ we are sitting in this high risk inn, I swear that I'll –" She cut off when he started laughing.

"You think… that we're staying… in an _inn_?" he wheezed.

"Where else would we be staying?" she asked, feeling somewhat discomfited at his amusement at her expense.

A slow, utterly self-satisfied grin made his eyes gleam. Alessa raised her brows, waiting.

"I, my dear," he said without even a hint of modesty, "Am a genius."

"I'm beginning to think that you're a jackass," she growled.

"A noble and misunderstood animal," he intoned. Alessa huffed and tucked into the light repast before her, waiting for him to elaborate. She hoped he was going to elaborate or she was going to jam her fork in his eye. Markku stood, still carrying that damn glass of wine and occasionally sipping with mild disgust as he slowly paced.

"Ezio had tasked me with getting you to a comfortable place to recuperate before we set up a headquarters for our information-gathering. So how better to do all of that than at the bosom of those we seek to infiltrate?"

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Dino gained the rooftop to find that Ezio had dispatched all three archers with throwing daggers. The one directly opposite their location was an especially good kill; hard to chuck even a throwing dagger across that kind of distance without losing the force necessary to make a wound. Much less kill the guy.

The courtyard was filled with a squad of Borgia soldiers crowded around an open air cell. Dino couldn't make out who they had contained. Beside him, Tullio grumbled with anger; Dino wasn't sure what would happen to anyone whoever tried to cage the guy again.

"Oh! Let's get them, _maestro,_" Dino whispered, feeling his muscles bunch and fill with heat as he flexed in anticipation. The leather straps of his armor creaked minutely under the strain. Dino gripped the hilt of his sword.

"More are coming in," Ezio whispered back. "Patience. When they get into the courtyard, I'll close the gate and trap them. As soon as I do that, we take them all…"

Dino chuckled menacingly in agreement and Tullio rumbled a furious assent. The masked Assassin was trembling with his rage and Dino shifted away from the unsettled man. The man's unrest was mesmeric and Dino preferred to remain clear-headed. He and Tullio watched Ezio sprint silently over the rooftops to the gate.

Sure enough, a second squad of soldiers passed into the courtyard and Ezio became a blur of action.

It was incredible to watch: the Master Assassin dropped silently to the ground from the roofs, walked nonchalantly to the gate gears, and before any of the soldiers knew he was there, he had kicked the mechanism that controlled the gate. The powerful blow simultaneously snapped the wooden handle off the gear mechanism and released the gate to slam shut. No one was getting out through that gate for a while.

Dino and Tullio were in flight an instant later, each man landing on a bewildered soldier to dispatch him quickly with their hidden blades. The delicate tool retracted into grey-sleeved wrists as they each pulled sword and regular dagger. Tullio was a silent, black-masked whirl of menace and Dino deliberately moved away from him, drawing out a couple of sword and axe-men with his taunts.

The first soldier attacked and Dino side-stepped efficiently. He punched the guy just under the chin and as the head was flung up, he jammed his dagger under the exposed chin. Dino moved the bulk of his body in a swift arc, leading the man by the dagger hooked into the fragile flesh, and flung the man to the ground. The body tripped one of it's companions and blood from Dino's dagger's blade made a crescent of red spatter across the new attacker's leather chest armor. Dino grabbed the stumbling man at the base of his neck and rammed his face into the nearby wall once, twice, and a third time. The body slid to the ground, leaving an ugly smear behind.

His attackers had scattered at his brutal attacks and were now warily surrounding him. Dino kept his back to the wall and feinted, but none took the bait.

As he waited for his group of Borgia soldiers to find their balls again, he caught a glimpse of Ezio nearby. Ezio was a study in efficient motion. The Master Assassin was aggressing on a spearman and in a sudden, startlingly quick movement, he took a step forward, planting his forward leg solidly and stabbing both hidden blades through the spearman's face.

Ezio jerked his arms straight down and back and in a continuation of the same movement, he stepped backward with his front leg, grabbing the spear out of the dead man's lax hand as the body fell.

He fell into a sideways low stance to stab an incoming attacker through chest with the spear. Continuing in his momentum, Ezio shifted to face the hapless man and with a powerful hitch of his shoulders, jerked impaled man towards him. As he came upright from his stance, he actually lifted the hapless solider a bit before hefting him away. By some sheer luck, the point of the spear caught and held in a crack in the stones. The speared man wriggled helplessly as he slid grotesquely down the upright shaft.

"That's fucking weird," Dino muttered to himself. To console himself, he taunted one of his own attackers into actually doing something and swiftly dispatched the idiot with a clean blow of his sword.

Ezio's attackers, in the meantime, were watching warily as Ezio pulled his sword in time to block the incoming swing of a heavily armored axeman. Ezio snapped a front kick out into the man's gut, folding the guy in half with the powerful blow. Then Ezio pressed his left fist to the back of the man's skull.

Two things happened and Dino was hard-pressed to figure out the exact sequence of events: a quick loud, shot rang out and then the soldier was rammed face first into the ground from the force of the bullet's passage, his head leaking all sorts of disgusting.

It was apparent that Ezio's little hidden pistol worked damn well at close range.

Dino got distracted for a bit when his remaining opponents decided to swarm him all at once. He was hard pressed to parry all the incoming blows. He snapped a heavy kick to the side of one man's knee, shattering the joint so that the guy screamed and went down. Dino kicked him in the head for good measure – didn't want to get stabbed in the foot if the guy decided to stop caterwauling and start aggressing again.

His final attacker spun on his heel and ran like hell as Dino started toward him. Dino's fighting dagger wasn't ideal for throwing, but he did it anyway. The heavy blade buried itself into the fleeing man's back. The guy staggered but didn't drop. It did however, slow him down enough for Dino to bring his sword down into his skull from behind. He knelt to retrieve his dagger and assess the battle.

Tullio was a fucking nightmare from hell as he stalked his remaining two opponents. As Dino watched, the stocky assassin shifted his grip on his dagger to a solid under-hand, stabbing a soldier twice in succession, just under the sternum. Tullio used the body as a fulcrum to spin and slash horizontally across the gut of an incoming attacker, and then darted behind to sever the tendons at one knee. The soldier went down with an ugly blurt of pained denial. Tullio continued through his swing, spinning and bringing his dagger down to slash diagonally across the back of the dying man's neck for good measure.

The man's customary black mask was down and his teeth were bared in a feral snarl. The multitude of scars criss-crossing his face stood out starkly in his strained expression. Blue eyes no longer sparkled with mirth, nor were they their normal grey of impassivity. They were pale, washed out, almost like the sickly periwinkle of the drabbest of winter skies. And they burned with an unfathomable frosty hatred.

"Deep waters don't run still, do they?" Dino murmured, not wanting to startle Tullio as the man struggled to control himself.

Not even five minutes, three men against two full squads.

Oo-rah Assassins…

"Get that out of the way," Ezio barked imperiously, indicating a body blocking the cell door.

"_Nessun problema, maestro_," Dino said cheerfully, picking the fucker up by his belt and tossing him aside.

"Back up, gentlemen," Ezio said to the two mercenaries crowding the door. Ezio took aim with his hidden pistol and shattered the lock with a single shot. He assaulted them with questions about the location of the tank, information they were eager to give him. One of the mercenaries glanced back into the cage.

Dino could see a downed man in the back corner.

_Cazzo!_

Ezio eyed the injured prisoner, his recruits, and the two mercenaries. Finally he indicated Tullio and one mercenary to accompany through the hidden passage to secure the tank. Dino would administer to the wounded man with the remaining mercenary and follow once the injured man was able to be moved.

Sighing, hoping he wasn't going to miss _all_ of the action, Dino unslung his medical satchel and began to work.

* * *

**A/N: Sooooooo, I have never actually gotten truly pissed off at one of my characters – EVER. But Markku? Yeah, I was getting pissed off at him whilst writing that little back-and-forth about their location. Heee! Too fun! Thing is, I can't tell if he was being deliberate or not…**

**Also, bonus for you, as of 5/15/11, I went back to chapter six and extended the "Herr Mannelig" scene. The additional verses are not in the Italian-sung version by Haggard, but are in the original Swedish ballad. You should youtube the Haggard song and listen; I tried to fit the timbre of the music to the mood of the scene…**


	26. Mountain and Urban Recon

**A/N: Once again and as always, thanks to my reviewers! Flyingcrispi, ecnal, thabit, assassin's creed superfan, anonymous, HikariNoTenshi-San, Shamazaki, underline my name, daywalker, and syados…**

**And I've neglected to mention a thank you to all you readers in general; I know there's some that don't review and that's totally cool. I don't do it all the time myself. Thanks to you all too! You rock!**

**AC stuff belongs to ubisoft…**

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

"_What?_" she hissed, dropping her perfectly crusty piece of bread into the shallow dish of fragrant oil. Markku grinned briefly, and then abruptly his casual and self-satisfied demeanor changed. His random pacing took him out of the direct light and shadows leapt across his face, making those startling, tip-tilted green eyes look vaguely demonic.

His voice changed too, from smug liveliness to serious detachment in the space of an exhalation. Alessa shivered as the skin at her nape prickled. The facial expression, the tone of voice – it was like being with in the room with an entirely different man. She pulled her robe closer about her and watched him warily.

"I worked here in _Napoli _before they arrested me and put me to work on the machine gun. I told you before that they murdered my assistants – _training accidents_ - they tried to tell me. They killed them, imprisoned me, tried to intimidate me into experimenting with explosives to further their ends; I was left with _nothing_."

Alessa was quiet as he paused. His focus turned inward and a flash of grief marred his intensity. It was gone just as she noticed it; making her wonder if it had even been there in the first place. What had he lost? Or maybe _whom_ had he lost? He continued, his tone becoming almost recitative in his effort to remain detached.

"To answer your question, we are currently guests in the home of a Templar sympathizer. He is one of the city's Lords and directly involved in Cesare Borgia's politics."

"What the - " Alessa started, alarmed. She tapered off her startled inquiry at Markku's blunt stare. Jesus but the guy was spooky when he was serious.

"I worked for him previously, on different projects. He is greedy for what my skills can give him, and will allow me full access to his warehouses at the docks to outfit his trading vessels with upgraded weapons." Markku grinned, the baring of his teeth unsettling in the flickering candlelight. "We couldn't be better set up to gather intelligence."

"You've got to be kidding me," she replied in scathing disbelief. "It can't be that simple."

"Well, yes and no…" He took a breath, smiled; it seemed genuine this time as his expression relaxed into it's normal lines. "You, _tyttöni,_ are actually something I had to explain away. But it worked out even better than I hoped."

Alessa raised her brows, inviting him to elaborate.

"I escape my forced prison labor unscathed and return with a mysterious woman? How to explain it away without being too dramatic and likely to catch suspicion? So. It turned out to be my advantage to have you as additional baggage; otherwise I could never have secured this fantastic little love nest for us."

"Oh hell no, you didn't – " she began. Markku beamed.

"I sure did! Brought my new bride back to the city I worked in to re-establish clients and find a new patron. Baron Orsini was more than happy to accommodate us in exchange for a few week's worth of my research. What better cover than to be a newly married couple hidden in our room for all hours of the night and early morning? No one would dare disturb us!"

Hysterics threatened and Alessa crammed them down, squirming uncomfortably in her seat as she struggled to contain her glee.

"You're bloody serious aren't you?" Frenzied laughter made a successful bid for freedom. Oh well. "You're serious!" She couldn't stop. What made it even funnier was the slow disintegration of the man's self-satisfied expression.

"But Markku, they're not suspicious?" she gasped, "How would you have escaped? You were a forced laborer for the Borgia, won't they give you up?"

"I told them the truth; the big scary Assassin came and destroyed the place. I was an unwitting and innocent victim of the whole incident." He gave a brief, but fantastic and entirely feigned expression of affront. "And while ostensibly, Orsini may be an ally of Cesare, these noble types only support each other based upon what display of power the other is able to demonstrate; show any sign of weakness and they'll turn on you. With Ezio whittling away at Cesare's power base, the Borgia supporters are becoming skeptical of his true control here in _Italia_."

"Huh. So what happens when we finish our mission and have to leave?" Her breath was coming easier as she focused on the issue, "You'll never be able to use this cover again."

He sneered.

"I _have_ a _maestro _and strong allies, and the Baron is _neither_. What's the likelihood of me ever needing to use that part of my life ever again?" He shrugged, "This was convenient and we might as well use what little advantages we have. Not to mention having this man's money paying for a good supply of materials I could use."

"Well, my masterful _husband_," she teased, still chuckling, wiping away the last tears of her mirth. "Let's go find out if your plan is going to work. Now how sure are you that this isn't a trap?"

The green eyes lit up.

"Well now, the uncertainty, that's what makes the whole thing fun, isn't it?"

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

This was bullshit.

When you attacked with lethal intent, you made sure your kills were clean. It appeared that whichever soldier had done this to his prisoner had intended the poor bastard to die a slow, agonizing death in a prison cell.

Fucking.

Asshole.

Dino really hoped that it had been the guy whose face he had smashed into the wall.

"How... bad?" the dying mercenary managed, his breaths coming with difficulty.

"Can't tell," Dino lied. "If you can swallow, I have something for your pain, give me a minute."

He drew the other merc aside. The man looked disturbed now that the excitement of being freed was over. Dino didn't blame him; most people weren't too comfortable with imminent death.

"When did they... do that to him?"

"Yesterday afternoon," the guy said quietly.

"He doesn't have long then."

The mercenary nodded; Dino had only confirmed what the man had probably suspected. He dug through his pack for a small piece of sponge that had been wrapped well in a tiny oiled pouch. Within the dried material were powerful sedatives. Dino had made a tincture of a combination of the strongest soporifics and then let the alcohol solution soak into the sponge. Allow the thing soak and then air dry and you had an easily portable, mildew-proof sedative that only required soaking in water to make a fresh dose.

"They had him tied up when they stabbed him," the guy said suddenly, impotent fury making his muscles go rigid. Dino was silent as he soaked the sponge in a small, shallow bowl. Words didn't do shit at times like this. At least not any words that Dino could manage. Action was needed, something for that questing rage to batter at.

Dino crouched beside the injured mercenary and patiently squeezed the liquid onto the parched lips. Normally, he would dilute the stuff to dull pain, but it didn't matter what dose this guy received.

Didn't much matter when your guts were hanging out; at that point, anything you ingested became poison.

It didn't take long for the pain-wracked expression to relax and the glassy eyes to close with the relief. Dino didn't stop dosing the man. The other mercenary came to sit beside his dying comrade in silent vigil.

Dino put the sedative away.

And they waited.

Death came swiftly and easily. Sometimes, that was all a healer could offer.

Dino still hated it. He could deliver death in less time than it took to blink. But life, now that was an elusive thing; no matter how hard he worked, prayed, willed for a lethal injury or terminal illness to heal, sometimes there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Sighing, he packed up his things, feeling suddenly drained. There hadn't been much reason to unpack anything, but the methodical familiarity gave him something else to think about.

"We'll have to leave him behind," Dino said, briskly. The mercenary nodded, jaw set, and ducked out of the prison cell. Dino followed, then turned,

"_Requiescat in pace_," he muttered.

He and the mercenary jogged out of the compound.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Antonio Fabbri. You?"

"Dino Demasi."

"Thank you for easing Sergio's pain."

Dino grunted in acknowledgement.

Antonio indicated the direction of the passage his other companion had already taken Ezio and Tullio to. Wasn't too hard to find. All they had to do was follow the bodies.

"So what's with the hoods?" Antonio asked as they passed a body that had probably been Tullio's handiwork; damn, he had nearly severed that guy's head in the process of cutting the throat. Dino told himself to remember to sic Alessa on the guy. Tullio obviously had some issues to work on.

"What did you say?" Dino asked distractedly.

"The hoods? You in some sort of brotherhood of warrior monks or what?"

"You could say that it's a Brotherhood," Dino replied cryptically.

Fabbri scavenged a pair of mismatched swords and then led him into a nondescript building near the front gate. The fort had been cleared out of soldiers; there had been at least two epic brawls that Dino could tell as Ezio and Tullio had made their way out. Hot sunlight gave way to the cool silence of underground as Dino followed Fabbri down a couple of flights of stairs into a dead end containing a covered well.

It _had_ been covered, anyway. Dino hopped in, slid down the ladder, and made his way into what was most likely a passage used for storage and potential escape route during a siege. They passed through a couple of open gates before they began hearing voices up ahead.

Dino drew his sword and crept forward, intent, focused.

"Leonardo expects me to maneuver this? No instructions. Of course," Ezio's tone was affectionately peeved.

Dino grinned, slammed his sword back into it's sheath and scrambled.

"Hey!" he called, "Don't you dare leave without me!"

He hustled up the ladder just as Ezio was climbing onto the contraption. Dino eyed the thing dubiously; they were supposed to get _into_ it? His _maestro_ paused, holding the hatch on top open expectantly as Dino forced himself to stop gaping.

"The pass through the mountains takes you straight to the main foundry," Antonio told him, pointing one of his swords at the massive doors that led outside. "Good luck."

"Where are you going?" Dino asked as the other mercenary joined Fabbri.

"We'll be picking off the stragglers," Antonio said with a humorless smile. The man gave Dino a short nod, hefted his swords meaningfully and then he and his companion were gone through the tunnel, back into the main fort.

So this was a tank?

Dino circled it, noting with appreciation the finest cannons money could buy bristling from the entire circumference. But what did one _do_ with it? He climbed on top, surprised at the sturdiness of the planking and the quality of the metal reinforcement. At Ezio's urging, he squeezed himself in through the man-sized opening and descended into the machine.

It was already stuffy inside. Tullio was scowling ferociously as he acknowledged Dino with a brief nod before returning his ire to his cannons. Dino considered the steering mechanism and the remaining cannon battle-station, wondering which would have more leg room. Then he was jostled aside.

"_I'll_ be steering," Ezio said imperiously as he climbed in and reached up to swat the hatch closed. "Be quick with your shots. I don't want a single scratch on this thing when we're done."

"But I thought we were going to destroy it? What does it matter if we take a minor hit here or there?" Dino asked distractedly, cursing as he struggled to fit his legs in the tiny compartment. He managed to wedge himself in place such that he could move his torso enough to access his three cannons and the ammunition.

"Well, yes, however, it's too easy if we take damage. Want to make it a bit of a challenge don't we?" the Master Assassin said mischievously, his eyes bright with gleeful anticipation.

Dino chuckled quietly to himself; Alessa got that same depraved giddiness when the opportunity for dangerous activity presented itself. No wonder the two got along so well; they were both thrill-seekers - the more potentially deadly, the better.

"Oh yes, give it that extra little bit of pain in the ass, fantastic," Dino scoffed, rolling his eyes as he loaded his cannons and stirred the glimmering embers in his coal box.

At least Ezio was turning the thing to let him take down the gates. And then it inched forward tentatively. _How was he making it move by itself? _Dino shrugged. Not his problem.

Hell yeah. He felt the urge to roar with gleeful laughter as he took aim at the great wooden doors with the monster cannon. They could crash and burn in this thing and whatever battle awaited them would still be epic…

_Dio_, this thing was going to be even better than his crossbow!

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

"Fun? Alright. I'll try anything once. And I really like this room; I can't wait to see the rest of the place. But Markku," she frowned, hoping she was getting the right amount of serious across, "If _any_ of this puts the Brotherhood at risk, we're out of here. Got it?"

"It _won't_," he insisted.

"Alright, let's go then," Alessa said. "Where's my stuff?"

"What? Now?"

"Well, we're not going to be disturbed right? So I'm not going to sit here and watch you drink that shitty wine all night, nor am I interested in giving that bed the workout that the entire household thinks it's getting, so reconnaissance starts immediately."

Markku sighed with what she was sure was every ounce of petulance he could muster.

"Fine, let me get us settled in for the night," he looked askance at her posture, slouched across her chair, one leg thrown over the arm. "I don't even know how you can find that comfortable," he waved at her imperiously, "Go… look virginal and wifely or something."

"Umm, I think both of those roles together are what one would term an 'oxy_moron_.' Just saying is all; you're supposed to be the genius?"

"You should never doubt it," he agreed, not even going for the opening she had given him. She sighed. She really missed Dino.

Who she still had to come up with some revenge for, naturally. Oh the decisions...

Not the time to get distracted.

Alessa chugged down the rest of her water, now tepid – she wasn't going to admit that it went down easier than the wine would have - and swept off to plop onto one of the couches. This put her somewhat in shadow. Perfect. There was no way in hell she was going act like the wide-eyed new bride Markku was hoping she would play. So she settled for a mysterious figure in half-light.

Markku rang for the maid and the bubbly little blonde returned quickly to collect the dishes. As Alessa watched with amusement, the girl peered up at him shyly through her lashes. Surprisingly, Markku didn't seem discomfited at all.

In fact, he leaned down to whisper something in the twit's ear so that she giggled and blushed furiously and almost knocked over the new wine decanter she had brought. Alessa rolled her eyes but then sat upright with new curiosity when Markku spoke out loud.

He had deepened his voice into a resonant baritone and his usually subtle accent became quite noticeable – a graceful drawl that softened his consonants. Each word's emphasis shifted as he placed stress on the first syllable. His vowels lengthened strangely. But the resulting sound was oddly elegant and appealing. He finished outlining his wishes for the next morning and the maid curtseyed and left.

And then suddenly he was speaking in the manner she was used to. But which was his true voice? Or had she not even heard him speak truly yet?

"Who are you?" she asked slowly. He grinned at her sheepishly.

"I who I always have been," he replied. "Accentuating my foreignness makes me less of a threat to them. For some reason, having an accent makes said accented person oblivious to their conversations. Good way to remain advantageously placed to hear things one shouldn't."

"And your foreignness is…?"

"I come from _Suomi_, at least my father did." He quirked his head to the side at her still questioning expression. "Finland - to you barbaric southlanders."

"Huh. No kidding? So you were born here?" He nodded.

"Born here, spent some time in my teenage years in the, er Fatherland." His voice became wistful and he sat, distractedly pouring himself a glass of the new wine. "They say that one retains a preference for the landscape into which he was born. So I should prefer _Italia_ and it's warmth, the golden hills, and luminescent sky. But I found that I vastly preferred my father's homeland. In _Suomi_, there is the silence, the tranquility, the harsh beauty of snow and ice. The long summer days when the sun is still bright at midnight. The blue and silver waters of the thousands of lakes…" he drifted off, eyes staring with longing at nothing. Alessa spoke quietly.

"So why don't you just go back?"

"My skills are in higher demand here," he replied distractedly. "Materials required for my trade are more easily accessible, as well as access to research."

He didn't speak any further and Alessa decided to stop pressing him. She was frankly astonished that he had told her so much about his past; man was downright chatty tonight.

In a moment, he was back to his twitchy, grinning, manic self and he tossed her Assassin garb to her from a large satchel that had been under the bed. She felt immeasurably better as she pulled her hood over her forehead and she followed Markku outside into the night through the balcony doors. They kept to the rooftops until they had left the noble district far behind and then he led her to the harbor.

Alessa recognized their ship out of the many that were anchored at the docks and wasn't surprised when Markku led her on board. The sailor on watch saluted them casually. Markku returned the salute with a grin and a jaunty flourish. Her weapons had been kept in their cabin on board and she made quick work of strapping her hidden blade onto her forearm and her dagger onto her belt.

"No sword?" he inquired, holding her longer blade up.

"I never use it," she replied. "I'm better with the daggers and the sword sometimes gets in the way of free-running."

"La ti da," Markku nattered, lifting his pinkie and replacing her sword in the chest. He handed over her crossbow and it's pouch of bolts.

It took them the whole of two hours before they found the right warehouses. From their rooftop vantage, she could see, all too easily, that the buildings were heavily guarded: doubled sentries on all doors, heavily armored patrols passing through the alleys and streets at irregular intervals, and a highly efficient and communicative rotating squad of rooftop archers.

"Well that's just precious," she muttered scathingly. They would need to do a lot of work of subtle interrogating to figure out a weak link. The Borgia's soldiers in _Roma_ could learn a lot from these.

Surprisingly, however, the seaward-facing portals were less guarded. The four war ships in the harbor might have something to do with that. But if they could just get in, they could escape in that direction if they were prepared to swim.

As she eyed the nearest gate speculatively, a sudden thought occurred to her; her eyes widened and she spun to confront Markku.

"NO. EXPLOSIONS."

He gave her a massively offended stare and placed the vial back into his belt.

She snarled something vile and watched him a moment longer before she returned her attention to the puzzle before her.

They just needed a sliver of a mistake, a tiny chink in the armor.

That was all an Assassin needed.

* * *

**A/N: My tribute to the third mercenary in the cell. Anyone else see him? They just left him there without a thought.**

**Sorry for the wait! Was totally trying to do some historical research on renaissance era politics in naples and ditched the effort; took a ton of time that I just don't have. Left only the reference to one of the noble families. So, so sorry for the lackluster dialogue!**

**_tyttöni: my girl_**


	27. The Tank

**A/N: Thank you reviewers! ecnal - always, my brother! assassin's creed superfan, lucan07, EpicKlauke, HikariNoTenshi-San... much love to you guys, you rock my world! And flyingcrispi, all I got to say to you… "move out the way bitch!" LOL**

**korn's "ya'll want a single," sick puppies' "you're going down" and BFMV's "my fist your mouth her scars" yup, rocked the eff out this chapter**

****Shamazaki has most awesomely agreed to be my beta! So fook yeah for tighter plot and better grammar!**  
**

**Also, I have to inform everyone that I absolutely cannot stop watching the Revelations trailer. Just FYI. Over and out.**

**Oh yeah, where would we all be without ubisoft?**

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Dino had never been one for over-dramatization...

Okay, maybe sometimes he exaggerated a bit. But this tank thing had to be the most obscenely ass-kicking piece of machinery ever invented. He had sat at his station, a little befuddled by the enormity of the concept before Ezio's command to move forward urged him into action.

And they had not stopped since.

The cannons were amazingly compact; they possessed an extremely powerful shot for their size, as evidenced by the doors that shattered apart rather satisfyingly when Dino took aim and lit the fuse. The swivel mechanisms for the cannons were such a marvel of engineering that Dino was only required to use one hand to aim.

His stomach made a curious sensation as the thing suddenly moved forward on it's own at a startling speed.

How did it move?

The science was beyond him and he decided not to waste any more time thinking about it - mostly because a squad or two of the maroon and yellow clad soldiers of the Borgia family had appeared. Milling just beyond the heavy door whose wreckage they were now passing easily over, the soldiers all seemed to stop and stare in disbelief as the tank rumbled towards them.

Dino tensed; would the thing just run them over? How effective was it at stopping regular hand-held weapons? Would they cause damage? And most importantly, would Ezio throw a fit if a spear nicked them? One better not, damn it.

A dark chuckle huffed out of his chest. Ezio was crazier than Markku if he thought they were going to get out of this without any damage…

Wait.

A huge grin strained his features as Dino prepared his second cannon for firing.

They were running_ scared_. Half of them even dropped their weapons in their haste to haul ass out of the way. It was almost comical, especially as the heavily armored brutes seemed to almost scamper out of their path.

No one even tried to stop them and Dino took that as an answer. The tank was impervious to the attacks of ground forces.

It was almost incomprehensible.

Ezio called out that a cannon was just ahead and Dino hustled to get his mind on his work. Peering through the opening right above the cannon, he could just make out a barricade ahead with a flurry of activity going on behind it.

"Not today, boys," Dino informed them, lighting the fuse of his second cannon and aiming carefully at what appeared to be barrels of gunpowder stacked just beside the enemy cannon. The resulting explosion would have had Markku slack with lust. Dino was able to make out stone, lumber, and bodies flying outward in all directions from the main blast.

The machine rotated constantly as it moved forward, giving Dino time to reload and take a couple of breaths while Tullio took his turn in the hot seat. The design was such that impetus of the shot transferred energy to the mechanism that propelled the deck to rotate so that the next cannon was facing whatever constituted as 'forward.' It was a useful tactic in their case as long as they didn't give their enemies a chance to get behind them. No problem, Dino hastily pulled his crossbow and picked off anyone the explosions missed.

Ezio didn't give them any chance to really catch their breath or the slow the wild spinning in their heads, he moved forward relentlessly through the gauntlet of barricades and soon Dino was pouring sweat and breathing like a winded horse as he loaded and shot, loaded and shot, working frantically to keep the enemy in front of them. His movements became almost as mechanical as the machine itself as he settled into a rhythm.

The Master Assassin was a madman at the helm, abruptly moving laterally when needed and lurching forward at what was probably the maximum speed the tank could go. Dino would have hated to get on a wagon piloted by this guy. Ezio had a good view of the scenery around them and gave a nearly constant stream of positional reports interspersed with delighted cursing. He was having _fun_…

The man was a lunatic!

They hurtled around a bend in the mountainous path and a trio of various blurted curses escaped as a fully functional enemy tank came into view. Dino very nearly jumped in his surprise when his brain decided to interpret what his eyes were seeing. His heart rate doubled in a second as he fired off a startled shot.

"_Cazzo_!" he spat in self-loathing as he worked to aim and fire his next cannon before Tullio got in range of the thing. He scored a hit just beside one of the cannon on the other tank and noticed that someone inside had been hit.

Dino would have laughed under other circumstances; he was actually treating the thing as if the machine itself was a cognizant being, a crawling, bristling menace, snarling at them with bursts of cannon fire. It was hard not to, the thing looked like some bizarre skulking creature out of a nightmare from this perspective. He felt like a flea on the back of one of two snarling, circling wolves. No, wait, he felt like a gnat; fleas were hard to squish.

He could kind of understand why the first set of soldiers had run. Smart.

As he fired his last shot, he called back to Tullio,

"Don't aim for the big target! Aim for the gunners at the cannons, you don't need a direct hit, you can take them out with just a glancing blow – it'll keep us from being shot at!" He ignored that fact that his voice was sounding a wee bit anxious.

He wasn't worried or anything, he just didn't want to disappoint Ezio and take any damage.

Yeah, he was sticking with that.

Dino's mouth was dry as he and Tullio worked the cannons frenziedly. They were hitting it pretty steadily but it was requiring more hits to kill the damn thing than Dino had initially thought. And they were running out of space. Ezio was straining at the steering mechanism but their machine was coming around too wide – they were going to run into the cliffs…

Tullio's last shot brought Dino around to face the now limping tank. He lit his three packed cannons all at once; if one of his shots didn't take out the last cannon on the other tank, they would either be hit or run into the cliff face…

Dino leaned to the side as he fired, every muscle straining uselessly, as if he could control the outcome of the next couple of breaths just by will alone. A steady stream of pray-like curses spilled from his lips in a soldier's entreaty for good fortune …

One of his shots must have gotten through the armor as the other tank suddenly imploded – must have hit an internal gunpowder supply. He swallowed thickly and eyed his nearby ammunition barrel, then resolutely ignored the thought that was trying to scare him.

Knowledge was a real bitch.

The Assassins were silent and Dino kept his relief to himself, wiping a hand across his brow as he panted to catch his breath. Even the tank seemed to take a second to adjust as the speed decreased noticeably. Dino reloaded his cannons in the interim, in a mild daze as he recollected his thoughts.

Then Ezio chuckled, the sound menacing and delighted all at once.

The laughter touched something in Dino and he grinned up at his_ maestro_,

"Think there's another one to beat the hell out of?" he asked.

Tullio laughed shortly, the sound foreign to Dino as he had never heard it out of the quiet man before. He looked over at Tullio, whose eyes were shining with dazed mirth. Dino saw that the man was in the same state of being as himself – overwhelmed and blazing with triumph – and grinned at the man in a perfect moment of rare accord.

"Forward!" Ezio howled.

Dino once again turned his attention to his task as the tank lurched forward and crabbed up a slight incline. The surroundings began to look as if there was a building or buildings nearby and sure enough, they rounded the final curve in the canyon to reveal the massive wooden gates to a small fort. Plumes of smoke writhed into the sky above the walls and Dino realized that this was the main manufacturing center for the tank.

He figured they could expect another working tank inside.

Ezio wasn't stopping and Dino took a shot at the gates; one of the doors was blown off its hinges whole and Dino wondered what kind of destruction debris of that size would do.

Ezio, madman that he was, drove them straight in and Dino wasn't surprised to see a tank coming for them from across the –

_Mierda_! There were_ two_!

Dino snarled as the three tanks began to circle each other in some sort of fucked up children's game of marbles.

The Master Assassin was a marvel of calm now. Gone was the playful sparkle in his eyes, he was wholly intent and focused. Damn the man, but he had been just_ playing_ before.

It really wasn't right.

With masterful handling, Ezio moved them in a steady lateral trajectory, keeping them out of the combined crossfire of the two tanks while simultaneously allowing the best range for their own shots to score hits. The three Assassins were yelling constantly at each other now, calling out instructions and locations, encouragement and curses as they worked to make and avoid hits.

Dino hollered wordlessly in triumph as the first tank collapsed from within.

The suddenly, with a final, echoing blast, Tullio's last shot went wide of the remaining tank, hitting a stack of powder kegs, the resulting blast destroying the final tank.

Silence fell as Ezio brought their tank to a grinding halt…

"HA!" Dino crowed into the quiet, exultant beyond anything he had ever felt before. He pumped his fist in the air enthusiastically, only to whack it against the inside of the tank. The space was way too small to contain his glee and he very nearly capered as he extricated himself from the tank, catching his foot on the edge and stumbling slightly before regaining his balance and leaping to the ground. His feet were a little unsteady as he got used to being on solid ground again after the mildly disorienting rotation and bumpy ride the tank had offered.

Ezio and Tullio exited in a more dignified manner.

The fort around them was a smoking ruin, the foundries had been destroyed, and it didn't appear that any of the survivors – if there were any – were going to be making an appearance soon. Ezio was eyeballing what appeared to be materials warehouses with not a small amount of greed.

God, the guy was cold. After all the excitement, he was already silently assessing the gains to be had. Then he turned to Dino and Tullio.

"We need to destroy it."

Dino very nearly pouted – that insane piece of equipment was too amazing to…

His frantic thoughts calmed at the resolute expression on Ezio's face. His_ maestro_ understood the benefits of the use of this machine in their war against the Templars, but he was more concerned with the consequences. Dino felt a chill go up his spine at the thought of one of these things rumbling through a village. It was all very well to go gallivanting around through the unpopulated mountains and shooting at Templars, but to bring this where people, innocents, children would be…

Dino looked around and was rewarded with a glimpse of cannons atop a couple of the guard towers…

_Now they had to have heard them coming, why hadn't anyone shot at them from those?_

Oh well, that was their stupidity. They probably thought that the Assassins wouldn't be able to take out two of their tanks at once.

Big mistake.

Each Assassin manned a cannon above and did what was right. Dino was both disappointed and relieved to have destroyed the thing. The rubble didn't look so spectacular anymore, but now it couldn't be a weapon in the wrong hands, either. He wondered if it would even have been safe in his hands. He didn't go after innocents, he didn't kill when he didn't have to, and he was becoming uncomfortably aware of the concept that perhaps some of the Borgia soldiers didn't see things in black and white the way he did. But then wasn't too much power always a force for corruption? Where had he heard that and why did it resonate so truthfully? And if it was true, should he worry about Ezio? The man was almost inhuman sometimes in his skill. What indefinable aspect of a man determined whether or not he would let power corrupt him?

Dino figured that he lived in a glorious time of progress, both for the physical world and the human mind. And while these inventions of Leonardo's could most definitely be considered progress, Dino couldn't help but wonder if growth was good if it was used by tyrants to control the populace. Invention and science were dangerous things these days, he mused as he descended the stairs to join his companions.

For it seemed that mankind insisted on using science to further war, and that the best inventions started out as articles of war. And why was war so perpetual? Was it perpetuated by tyrants, or allowed because the general populace didn't rally against it?

He himself was a killer, he knew it and he was accepting of that fact. He was a tool in a world that needed him. But he was also heavily trained and in possession of - he hoped - an honorable outlook towards even those enemies that would not think to extend the same courtesy to him.

Put something like the tank or the machine gun in the hands of someone not in possession of any empathy for human suffering, or in the hands of an untrained, ignorant anybody…

Well, that was a scary fucking thought now, wasn't it?

* * *

**_Alessa Ricci_**

"No, no," he said impatiently, as Alessa's face scrunched up involuntarily.

_Yuck!_

"You pair the_ grana padano _with the Barbaresco," he shook his head, appalled by her lack of knowledge. "Can't you at least tell the whites apart from the reds?"

Alessa grumbled something rude under her breath, swished water in her mouth to rid it of the soured taste the cheese had given the wine, and started again. She popped a small piece of the crumbly cheese into her mouth,

"Don't know how it's going to make a difference," she muttered just before she took a sip of the sweet-smelling red Markku had shoved at her…

_Madre de Dio…_

The crumbly cheese was vaguely sweet, hinting at some sort of lush citrus fruit. And despite its saccharine bouquet, the wine was a dry red, and its spices and notes of cherry made a miraculous combination with the cheese.

"How do you know these things?" she asked, trying to inconspicuously cram more into her mouth and going for the wine again.

"I _told_ you, I worked with these people and their types before. And there's nothing more these nobles like to do more than enjoy their food, their wine, and their high-brow discussions. Since I don't do much of the latter, being an idiot foreigner and all, I made sure that I received my full share of the former. Now try this. It's called_ mascarpone _and you'll want to pair it with one of the dessert wines."

Their reconnaissance had yielded an inside contact and a tentative schedule for infiltration. All they awaited was Ezio's return. Their contact, Eduardo, had stated that the underground waterway they would use to get in would require a skilled free-runner to navigate the sporadic scaffolding and support beams without being detected. Markku had taken all of two seconds to state that he was woefully unqualified to manage the free-running. At least he could be unashamedly honest when he needed to be.

So they waited, filling their time by playing the roles Markku had placed them in and checking in with their contact. She had to admit that he had had a good idea. They had the evenings, nights, and early mornings to themselves. And while they had taken precautions to set the room up to alert them if anyone had entered in their absence, their traps remained un-sprung when they returned to their rooms via the balcony in the darkness before dawn.

Markku had performed splendidly, grabbing what sleep he could when the chances presented themselves so that he could work every day without fail. It placed more of the burden of maintaining intelligence on Alessa's shoulders, but it worked. And she didn't mind; there was something quite freeing about the skulking in the dark that appealed to her. While she didn't let herself get deluded by false visions of grandeur, she did enjoy the fact that she was in possession of forbidden knowledge, gathered by her own skill.

Ezio and his allies had molded her to be entirely independent, had aided her in acquiring the freedom that made it possible to improve herself. And that growth only encouraged her to seek more knowledge, to push her abilities into real skill; it was a wondrous cycle.

During the day, while he was playing mad scientist, Alessa had been subject to the whims of the baron's wife, who had taken the female Assassin under her wing. The woman, while ostensibly the wife of a Templar, did not appear to be privy to their doings and seemed to be perfectly harmless. Despite appearances, however, one couldn't be entirely sure, so Alessa, against her natural inclination, had adopted a quiet, shy demeanor for the farce. It was easy; the woman loved to chatter so all Alessa had to do was drop a noncommittal sound of appropriate tone to encourage the woman to keep going.

Their little maid was also quite sweet and talkative. The girl had an obvious crush on Markku and Alessa had to work mightily not to fan the flames of that situation. Too bad, it would have been fun.

The baron was hosting a large gathering that very evening and expected Markku and Alessa to make an appearance. As such, Markku had the day off from his work and was spending his time instructing Alessa on the eccentricities of genteel life.

"Just don't stuff your face like that tonight," he said as she chugged back the last of her Barbarasco. She gave him a baleful look and chucked a grape at him. He leaned over to catch it in his mouth, snagging it at the last second but over-reaching and nearly falling out of his chair.

"No tossing the food either," he grinned, chewing obnoxiously. She laughed. They would make quite a pair in their current incarnation. And as much as she complained about dealing with the clothes and the inane prattle, she was enjoying the challenge – which was this party tonight presented, an opportunity to work on a very different type of information seeking, seen but unseen, sort of akin to how the courtesans gathered intelligence. She just had to figure out a way to get her hidden blade into her sleeves.

In the meantime,

"I'm bored," she said suddenly. They had had a good night's sleep for the first time in days so both of them were well rested and had nothing planned in the meantime.

"Want to go see if we have any messages from Ezio?" he asked, tossing another grape in the air and catching it in his mouth. Apparently he had found a new diversion.

She shrugged and they rose as one. They were dressed casually in a simple tunic and gown appropriate to the roles they were playing. But despite the basic cut of her gown, Alessa felt encumbered by the fabric and felt naked without her blade; the dagger sheathed at her ankle just wasn't the same.

They left their room and made their way through the gorgeous _palazzo_; Alessa still hadn't quite gotten used to the simple opulence of the place. Markku placed a conscientious and protective hand at her back and she smiled up at him dotingly, trying not to laugh, as a pair of maids noticed them and made appropriate greetings.

"Please tell the mistress of the house, if she is asking, that my wife is wanting for me to take her shopping before the festivities tonight," he said in that alter ego accent of his. Alessa wanted to roll her eyes at the syntax mess he deliberately made.

Show-off.

The maids loved it, however, and could not make assurances fast enough as they giggled and tittered their way out of hearing.

"I really don't know how you do it," Alessa said to him as they made their way through the gardens and out into the streets.

He grinned at her disarmingly.

"That doesn't work on me," she reminded him.

"Keep telling yourself that," he responded.

She wasn't going to stick her tongue out at him.

Nor was she going to kick his shin.

She settled for a haughty sniff.

They had been keeping their weapons, armor, and Assassin garments on the ship – even if their bedroom at the Orsini_ palazzo_ seemed secure, neither of them were taking a chance.

The thief-turned-sailor crew recognized them easily now and were used to their comings and goings. Markku stopped to chat with one of them whom she recognized as one of Markku's fellow pyromaniacs.

Not a good trait for a sailor to have, really.

She went below decks and went into the cabin the Assassins kept. She heard a noise and turned around to make sure Markku wasn't in the hall before she locked the door.

Tullio appeared in the passage before her like an apparition in the gloomy light, his hood down, in the act of brushing a few blonde strands from his forehead. She gasped in delight. He inclined his head with a brief smile and then his eyes widened as she darted at him. The force of her embrace knocked them back against the bulkhead as he caught her in surprise and she squeezed him to her.

She looked up over his shoulder and saw Dino and then Ezio descend the ladder. Relief coursed through her, dispelling the dragging sense of foreboding that she didn't know had been plaguing her since she had awakened in_ Napoli_ without three of her comrades. Dino was bitching about something as he ducked his head to accommodate his height in the cramped space, his brows drawn forebodingly together in a familiar manner. The red mark on his forehead explained the whining.

Both men looked up and saw her at the same time as she released Tullio and she flew past the blonde Assassin and into Ezio's arms, which came around her in a manner most gratifying. He was dirty and smelly from his time in the field – all three men were looking somewhat bedraggled – but she couldn't have cared less as she pressed a clandestine kiss to his jaw, the action hidden by the volume of his hood. Her relief was crashing down on her like a deluge and she was thinking about gulping back a few relieved tears –_really?_– when,

"Oi!" she heard Dino bluster, "Where's mine?"

Bless the man's timing.

Ezio released her. She turned, only to find herself scooped up into Dino's arms so he could scrape his cheek deliberately along hers, his stubble like a wire brush against her skin.

"You look so much better, now that you're not puking all over the place," he observed, when he set her down.

"Awww,_ ciccino_," she cooed, pinching his scruffy cheek with affectionate enthusiasm, "I missed the sensory delight of your dulcet tones of bullshit." She leaned closer to him and sniffed. "Oh, I'm sorry, that's**_ you_**. Never mind."

They both began talking at once, trying to beat each other to telling the events of the last week in a jumble of over-excited gestures and non-chronological highlights of their adventures.

"What are you wearing?" Dino asked suddenly.

"Some people call them dresses," she said acerbically, straightening said gown self-consciously and narrowing her eyes.

"But why are you wearing it?" he was totally confused and she suddenly realized that he was asking in earnest, not because he was trying to start a taunt war. Ezio broke in.

"There must be a good story to this." He gestured to her, eyes twinkling in the dim light of the ship's belly, "Go get changed and meet us above deck. We need to discuss this in private."

Markku had arrived in the meantime and clasped Ezio's forearm as the men greeted each other. His green eyes flickered across the three travel-worn men before him and then glanced pointedly at Alessa before he spoke.

"I hope you're not expecting the same response from me," he said with mock disdain.

This time she did stick her tongue out at him before ducking into the cabin to change.

* * *

**A/N: ciccino: slang, a sarcastic, but heartfelt, term of endearment**


	28. Infiltrating the Dry Dock

**A/N: "Lucifer's Angel" from The Rasmus was in my head a lot while writing this.**

**Much love and thanks, as always, to my reviewers: Assassin's Creed superfan, ecnal, shamazaki, and flyingcrispi - you guys are fantastic! and also to Serebranka and Dophin2ii, welcome and I hope to continue to enjoy! Also much thanks to all of my readers for getting me to 15K hits and 100K words! Not much by other stories' standards, but I think it's a hell of a lot of love!**

****Shamazaki, my beta, is responsible for getting me to do a little better scene setting in this chapter.****

**Once again, as we all know, original characters and plot belongs to ubisoft...**

* * *

Alessa and Dino stood in a quiet, out of the way corner of the main room of the inn, waiting while Ezio secured a room, baths, and an early lunch.

"Swimming in by sea, are you crazy?" she murmured, running her hands over Dino's forearms and then gripping his wrists to make herself stop. Her hands wanted to continue to roam, to make sure he was really there and in one piece. She had had that niggling fear that maybe something had gone wrong and for some reason, the thought that one of them very easily could have drowned had shaken her badly. As it was, Dino had some new tension marked in the lines of his brow. But he hitched a massive shoulder dismissively and gently extricated himself from her grip.

Across the room, Markku called to them that their room was ready. Dino slung his arm companionably around her shoulders as they followed their comrades up the stairs.

"Bah, it was easy."

She snorted.

"I bet you had some second thoughts once you jumped in, hmm?"

"Maybe," he said evasively, a mischievous glint making an appearance in his hooded eyes as he held the door of their room open for her. "I have something for you."

"Pilfered right from the trembling hands of your hapless victims, no doubt?"

"No doubt," he replied with a grin, handing over a package of fine, but hastily wrapped vellum.

"Such a gentleman – oh," she purred, revealing the set of exquisite magnifying lenses. They were flawless; she'd never owned a set so well-made. She brought the gift – loot – covetously to her chest and wandered out onto the balcony to inspect them in the light.

"Greedy, eh, _maestro_?" she heard Dino say, his voice fraught with undertone. She didn't hear Ezio's reply.

The Assassins had rented a private room at an inn fronting the coast. A hefty sea-borne breeze cooled the late morning sun that glared even through the heavily over-grown arbor. Dappled shadows created by the lush foliage slanted across Markku and Alessa as they waited. Inside their room, Dino, Tullio, and Ezio began performing their post-mission ablutions. Outside, on the top-floor balcony, Alessa started work on their hidden blades; sharpening, oiling, and adjusting as she grazed distractedly on an early lunch. Markku sat in a chair facing the sea, a glass of wine in his hand, long legs stretched out before him, feet crossed at the ankles as he silently considered the waves.

Ezio finished before his apprentices and wandered outside, vaguely threatening with that loping grace of his. His functional and somewhat grimy whites had been replaced. A new sash threaded through the downward slashes of the inverted 'V' of his belt buckle, the ends tumbling down in a startling crimson rivulet at his right hip.

Alessa glanced up at him and smiled as he settled himself into the empty chair beside her. She set down her tiny screwdriver and handed him his newly sharpened hidden blade. As he buckled it onto his forearm, she poured his wine, and then returned to tinkering with Dino's vambrace. His brutal fighting style abused his equipment like no other and she was in the process of replacing a pair of damaged springs.

Markku scraped his chair across the meticulously stained wooden decking to face Ezio from across the table. She and Markku proceeded to outline their findings while the Master Assassin ate and she worked. Tullio and then Dino joined them as they took turns relaying the information they had painstakingly gathered.

"We'll finish it now, I think." Ezio decided when they paused. "There's no need to wait." The apprentices, having had established that Alessa would accompany Ezio into the dry dock, had been getting ready to delve into the most opportune time to strike. Instead, they stared at Ezio blankly. The Master Assassin shrugged.

"It will be a test of your endurance," he said to her, easing back in his chair and sipping his wine genteelly.

"Excuse me?"

"An Assassin is unique for our possession of stamina and versatility," he said calmly, watching her over the rim of his glass as he twirled it idly by its stem. "You have trained for months now and you are more than ready to show me you possess these traits."

"By… How?"

"You must be able to go from one mission to the next without pause for reflection or rest sometimes. Your hosts are expecting your presence at a gathering later this evening. Can you infiltrate the warehouse with me, destroy this machine, and return in time for the ball?"

His tone was playful and he smiled, but his posture indicated that he would only accept one answer.

"But the gathering tonight isn't even important; Markku could just say I'm sick."

"Today it isn't. But say, for instance, you had the need to perform two very different missions in a short time span. Is one more important than the other that you could just cancel it?"

It made sense, and she was ashamed for her insolence. She just hadn't thought of the frivolous activity as a mission. The men were watching her, Dino looking especially pensive and seeming to gaze past her.

"Then let's go," she said suddenly, the prospect of the challenge invigorating her. She was rewarded with a pleased and mischievous grin from the Master Assassin.

Now that the mission was looming just before her, the hours of the afternoon suddenly seemed like too few when compared to the interminable stretch she had been anticipating only moments before. Preparations suddenly became a flurry of activity.

She wrote a quick note in code indicating that the Assassins were ready to infiltrate. She gave the inn's stable boy a silver florin to deliver it to her contact, Eduardo. Markku excused himself and disappeared with a promise to return quickly. Dino and Tullio went scarce and she discovered them snoring away inside their room. While she waited for a reply, she finished Dino's blade and began working on Tullio's.

She'd have to take a look at his technique; he seemed to do a lot of slashing with the weapon. While the double-edged blade could perform those particular types of maneuvers, it was more of a stabbing weapon. Slashing put a lot of stress on the anchoring points; Tullio would need to have an entirely new blade forged if he continued.

Eduardo responded quickly, his note indicating in roundabout language only she or Markku would understand that his shift would begin in an hour. He would meet her and Ezio at a previously agreed upon location just outside the heavily guarded dry docks controlled by the Borgia.

She finished Tullio's blade and took it quietly into the darkened room. Rummaging quietly through her duffel, she gathered her equipment and took it out to the balcony. She was glad that she had just worked oil into her climbing gloves; the leather had been getting a little stiff. The gloves were especially made to be both supportive and flexible, but that flexibility depended on good preventative care. She considered her bare fingertips as she pulled them on. Her gloves were customized to protect her stub; the thing still hurt sometimes with unexpected impacts.

Markku returned.

"Here," he said, casually tossing a bag of questionable contents at her. It didn't have the hard heft of his bombs but something sloshed ominously within.

"_Jesu_! Careful!" She set it aside and edged away from it until she figured out what was within. "Where'd you get, ah…" she gestured vaguely at it as Ezio inched close and poked it warily, "…this?"

"I made them," the 'obviously' was implied in Markku's tone.

"When?"

At the question, he chortled, eyes brightening.

"What do you think I've been doing this whole time? I used his supplies, his workers, and have been diverting the finished products for our use. Orsini's stockpiles of 'new' explosives contain regular old gunpowder." He winked at her conspiratorially. "_Weakened _gunpowder; my reputation will suffer after this!" He was positively gleeful.

"Filthy thief," Alessa said with an appreciative grin. Like a proud mamma she was…

"The baron's raw materials were extensive; his lead engineer is a man after my own heart! I've been working on this formula for a while, but lacked a particular substance that is difficult to purify. It's very similar to Greek fire and added to the cannon ammunition will burn even wet objects."

Alessa eyed the innocuous-appearing leather satchel suspiciously.

"Uh huh, and what happens if it gets on one of us?"

"_Ei ongelmaa_," he drawled, producing a pair of oiled pouches and passing them over. "Cloth soaked in vinegar. It will interrupt the chemical reaction."

After that, Markku made himself scarce, leaving to attend to the details of their clothing for the evening.

It was silent save for the questing breeze from the sea. Alessa faced into it, dismantling the messy bun she had twisted into her hair that morning and allowing the wind to blow her hair out of her face. She weaved it into a tight braid, tied off the end with a red cord and tucked it into her tunic. She was idly wondering what it would be like to just cut the whole thing off when she heard the soft, unmistakable sound of Ezio pulling up his hood. She stilled as his arms came around her. He smelled incredible; clean skin and fresh linen.

She let her head fall back into the curve of his neck and jaw, reaching up to cover his hands with her own. The hard edges of his armor against her back pinched a little. But the discomfort vanished when she turned her head slightly to find his lips waiting for hers. She lost her breath for a moment as he invaded her senses.

His hand splayed out across her upper abdomen and curved around her ribcage, gentle but inescapable pressure turning her in his arms so that he could hold her properly. For a moment all was bliss, until the buckles of their spaulders caught on one another. She felt him smile against her lips before he retreated slightly to disentangle them.

"I can't believe you're ready for another mission already, aren't you tired?" She asked, sliding her free hand along his chest to rest over his heart as he gently worked their armor apart. He didn't answer right away as their tangled buckles came free. He cupped her face in both of his hands, brought his forehead to hers to look directly into her eyes.

"I find that being with you, like this, is quite restful."

"Oh," she breathed, a small exhalation of pleased surprise.

He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and released her.

She pulled up her hood and they took to the rooftops where their passage went unnoticed by the citizens of _Napoli_.

* * *

Ezio dove into the stagnant water of the canal without hesitation. Alessa grimaced with barely contained revulsion; it took every ounce of her willpower to force herself to drop into the water.

As the water that contained a good portion of the city's filth enveloped her, Alessa wondered why the hell she had been so excited to start this mission.

They moved through the greasy liquid as quietly as possible, trying not to alert the attention of the patrol on the nearby dock. The lone guard sauntered lazily in their direction, but apparently mistook them for just another bit of garbage floating along the slight current.

_Dio_, but it was disgusting!

She focused with a massive effort, ignoring her utterly offended sense of smell and the slimy feel of the water on her skin. The guard turned to walk his post in the opposite direction and the Assassins shifted forward, primordial predators out of the deep.

She grimaced again when Ezio suddenly went under; she marked his passage by a slight 'V' of ripples on the surface of the water. The guard stopped suddenly and Alessa halted her approach, forgetting her misgivings enough to sink down so that only her eyes were above the water.

The guard eyed the quietly shifting water before him with suspicion and his hand went to the hilt of his weapon. Alessa brought her hand to the surface, disturbing the water with a quiet splash. The guard looked around warily at the soft sound, correctly trusting that prickle of cold at the back of his neck. His gaze seemed to focus on her as she let herself float into the shadows. It was his final mistake, taking his attention away from the water in front of him.

Ezio surfaced from the murk and in a single fluid movement, he grasped the boards of the dock with one hand, pulled himself up and buried the blade of his other hand in the guard's gut. Horror made an appearance on the guard's expression as he was heaved over the side, but the man sank without a sound, hampered by the weight of his armor.

Alessa shivered.

Hell of a way to die.

She heaved herself up onto the dock next to Ezio. Water sheeted from them as they eyed a second soldier who patrolled the next set of docks. Alessa pulled her crossbow. Water dripped from the weapon as she loaded it and held it out. She shot the guard as he paused at the edge of his dock. His knees buckled slowly and he pitched over the edge.

They were fortunate to have gotten rid of the bodies so far. From what she could tell of the patrols, they kept in excellent contact with each other. She and Ezio still had to infiltrate and escape with the Naval Cannon before an entire battalion was alerted when the next roving patrol came through. The rovers did not run on a set schedule so it could be five minutes or five hours before the missing guards were noticed.

She could see Eduardo in the distance and pointed him out to Ezio. Her informant was waiting with admirable casualness; stalling for time as he scribbled notes onto a writing board next to a gondola. They dove in the water. She didn't hesitate this time; maybe the shock of entering the filthy water would improve.

Nope.

The water was still nasty.

Eduardo turned to face them in mild surprise as they climbed out of the canal. Drops splattered noisily on the weathered planks. Alessa was walking forward to greet her informant when Ezio stalked past her to move aggressively toward the engineer.

He caught the man up by his lapels and shook him. Eduardo was hitched up onto his tiptoes without having to expend any effort.

"Where are the plans." It was not a question.

Alessa hurried forward to stop the man-handling, concerned for Eduardo's safety. She halted when she caught a glimpse of Ezio's focused expression. Her fists bunched at her sides as she forced herself to remain aloof. She turned abruptly away from the men to scan the area.

"You must stop Cesare," she heard Eduardo say anxiously. "Peace _messere, _I will help you."

"_Grazie_." The Master Assassin's tone was remote as he let the engineer drop to his feet. Eduardo fumbled with his documents before tossing them into the gondola and hopping in – rather hastily.

A chill passed through her body as she turned to consider the man before her, intently watching his target begin to move away. Like a cat watching a mouse. Less than an hour before, he had held her with such gentleness and esteem. His brusque treatment of their informant, a potential ally, was jarring. When he finally turned his attention to her, she struggled to school her expression and failed.

"You must never fully trust an informant," he told her, correctly interpreting her look. She could only nod. She'd have to think on that; he was right, in a way. However, she wasn't sure if she would lose part of her humanity if she compartmentalized that strongly. At the same time, she'd been distancing herself from killing to such an extent that she wondered if perhaps she _had _become too aloof.

Of course that indifference could be considered of sort of mental and emotional armor, too.

She was now thoroughly confused.

Eduardo was working for Templars, yes. That technically made him an enemy of free will. But she knew he was forced to do the work that he did. To keep his family safe. To protect his livelihood. It was a theme that seemed all too common. So did that make him an innocent or not?

Ezio had been the voice of experience when he had told her that the rules of the Creed could be more complex than they first appeared.

Into the water again – it was getting less repulsive the more she wallowed in it – swimming with sure, even strokes. They used the gondola as cover, but otherwise did not interact with Eduardo as he paddled across the canal and steered the gondola into an arched waterway that tunneled into the dry dock at the heart of the Borgia warehouse district.

The first part of the tunnel was quite dark and Alessa allowed her vision to change as she swam. Ezio appeared like an azure ghost beside her as she followed the faint trail of golden light into the darkness.

Torchlight appeared and she returned her vision to normal, watching but not hearing the guards as they conducted Eduardo through a gate. A series of handholds allowed them to clamber up the rough-hewn walls and gain the heights of the rafters.

Water streamed from their clothes and armor as they eased along the narrow beams. The guard heard the rhythmic dripping and looked around for the source of the sound. Ezio was on him before he thought to look up. The Master Assassin had darted forward and leapt onto his target before she had even noticed. His attack was silent save for the impact, and even that was muffled.

Alessa continued forward and passed over the gate. She spotted the second guard and leapt from the rafters to assassinate the brute as he fiddled absentmindedly with his sword belt.

Extricating her blade and shoving the body into the water, she heard Ezio creeping about above. She attempted to step up the wall to gain the lowest beam.

_Merda_! It was too high!

As she looked around for an alternate route up, Ezio dropped to the ground beside her.

"Look," he instructed, gesturing to a lower beam that was too far away from the dock to simply jump for. She watched in curiosity as he stepped up the wall just like she had, but then shifted his momentum at the height of his reach to leap gracefully to the side, grabbing the beam and pulling himself up. The combination of techniques gave him more height and greater lateral range for his jump. It was complicated though – she would have to switch from forward momentum to upward and then lateral in order to do it.

Clenching and unclenching her fists as she concentrated, Alessa imitated him; surged up, almost slipped as her ankles and knees protested the sudden twist, but was able to hurl herself sideways into space. She just grasped the beam as she began to fall and pulled herself up. She perched for a second, her heart thudding with triumph. She saw him give her a quick grin from within the shadows of his hood before he moved ahead towards the gondola, leaping effortlessly from beam to beam.

Alessa did not wait; she quickly mapped out her own path and then started. This type of movement required constant momentum to get across the wide gaps; following someone could be dangerous if the person running ahead was slow.

They wouldn't have that problem here. In fact, she was falling behind. She pushed herself but too much speed would increase her risk of losing her footing. Ezio possessed the incredible timing and coordination that had to be honed by years of experience she just didn't have.

They performed a similar attack at the second gate. The next stretch of tunnel was longer and they had to coordinate their efforts carefully to avoid notice from the guards patrolling the narrow walkways below. They settled into an alternating system of teamwork that was quite efficient; one would pause to shoot while the other continued on after Eduardo.

In their economy of movement, the Assassins had gotten ahead of their informant and were approaching a third gate.

How many bloody checkpoints did the place need?

Ezio slowed down and signaled for her to move up to his left. The scaffolding creaked faintly as the Assassins crept stealthily above the dark waters of the underground canal. In a more pragmatic part of her mind, Alessa was glad she was over water, even nasty water. One of these days, the wood or metal she trusted her life with would be rotted or rusted through.

She firmly told that little voice to shut the hell up. Then she slapped it for good measure.

The tunnel split and the Assassins were out of beams to run across.

Into the damn water again.

They assassinated the guards and escorted their informant through. Eduardo moved through the open gate, indicating to a smaller wooden door in the walls of the tunnel.

As she clambered onto the dock, for a split second, all she could think of was the fact that she was going to be oiling her blades and leathers for hours.

Oh, and she never wanted to swim in city water again.

The access door led them into a dank warehouse style room punctuated by stone support walls. The place was mostly empty, by the smell it probably flooded a lot. It was quite dark; only a few torches sputtered sullenly here and there. She and Ezio kept to the corners and the shadows as they moved through. She was stepping lightly enough but her feet squished in her boots; she felt like she was making enough noise to alert even the most distracted guard.

But apparently she wasn't that loud at all.

She eased around a corner to find herself face to face with a startled patrolman. She only had a quick second to process the wide blue eyes of a young Borgia soldier before she thrust her hidden blade up under his chin. She wrenched her blade down and back, gasping with her surprise and falling into a defensive crouch as she looked around for his partner. Standard patrols usually roved in pairs or trios.

Her muscles were coiled with tension and she jumped slightly when Ezio appeared. She let herself relax and her hidden blade retracted back into her vambrace. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her kill. His armor and clothing was more finely made than the average soldier's. His eyes were still open, more startled than horrified by death. And…

"So young," she breathed. Guy looked like he'd barely been old enough to shave.

Ezio came over, his face impassive. He nudged the body with his toe, and then dropped to his haunches beside it. Shifting the crooked pauldrons, Ezio revealed the image of a cross flanked by what looked like a sword and a leafy branch stitched onto the uniform. He looked up at her.

"Inquisitor," he murmured. "This… boy has done some bad things in his life."

Alessa put the halt on her racing thoughts. She was totally disgusted with herself; caterwauling like a knock-kneed rookie.

"Forgive me, _maestro_," she said, bowing her head with her teeth clenched. She hated having weak moments.

_Hated _it.

He smiled, but it was without humor.

"Sometimes it is good to question our actions. But not in the middle of a mission. _That _will get you killed. Save your reflection for afterward."

She nodded and tugged her hood further over her eyes. She wasn't crying.

Was. Not. Crying.

The Assassins dispatched two more patrols before finding the next door and finding themselves in a small tunnel. They had to be getting close; the floor was covered by a thin layer of briny seawater. Alessa suspected that their current location was one of the tunnels used to flood the dry dock.

She really hoped no one pulled the switch up above.

She could faintly hear voices ahead and stopped suddenly when she recognized Eduardo's. It seemed as if one of the guards was harassing Eduardo about the completion schedule. They crept down the dimly lit tunnel, blades out, until they were quite close to the opening. Ezio listened to the movements of the soldiers just outside for a moment and then stooped to pick up a small piece of mortar that had crumbled from the tunnel wall. He gestured for her to get behind him.

They both eased back into a slant of shadow, breathing quietly as Ezio casually tossed the bit of rock to roll across the tunnel floor.

A couple of the voices stopped talking and Alessa heard the footsteps of the soldiers as they walked towards the tunnel.

"Carlo! Stop screwing around and get your ass back out here!" The guard ducked into the tunnel and Ezio's arm was like an iron bar slanted across her torso as he leaned back. She crouched further into the shadows, wondering what the hell he was doing.

"Oi! Carlo?" The guard was close enough for Ezio to reach out and touch and still he did not see them. Alessa breathed slowly through her mouth in an effort to keep her breathing silent; she was sure he would hear her heart pounding. She felt Ezio tense for a split second before he jabbed his right hand out almost too fast for her to see. She saw his hidden blade flicker across the guard's upper arm just above the elbow.

"Ow! Dammit!" The guard backed away from them suddenly and she heard a curious query from outside the tunnel. Ezio's arm eased off of her and she let out a slow sigh of relief as the guard stumbled back out into the light, clutching his arm.

"What the fuck happened?"

"I don't know, I –"

Alessa and Ezio peered around the corner to see their target reeling a little bit at the mouth of the tunnel. He swayed dizzily, putting a hand to his head for a moment before he suddenly starting yelling in terror, slapping frantically at his arms and legs.

What the hell?

Apparently the soldier's comrades were thinking along the same lines as herself and were collecting around their frantic brother-in-arms as he battled unseen demons. Alessa gripped Ezio's arm in surprise when the afflicted soldier suddenly drew his sword and began swinging wildly.

It was at this point that Ezio burst into action, hurling a smoke bomb directly into the midst of the grouped soldiers and darting out into the resulting chaos. Alessa was concerned about the wild swings of the crazed soldier, but he appeared to have lost all strength. He sank to the ground as she burst into the plume of smoke just after her _maestro_.

The battle was sickeningly brief.

The smoke cleared to reveal that they had emerged into the dry dock containing the Naval Cannon. The craft itself looked surprisingly fragile; the cannon mounted on board looked anything but.

They climbed the ladder the main level to find Eduardo wringing his hands in consternation. Ezio ignored him and stalked over to the engineer's workbench to begin throwing documents onto the torches. Alessa followed, eyes narrowing in speculation as she gazed at the engineer. He moved slightly away from her.

"Sorry, Eduardo," she whispered, pulling the dagger at her belt. His eyes widened in horrified disbelief just before she kicked him in the lower abdomen just hard enough to double him over. She swiftly hit him in an overhand swing with the hilt. The man tumbled to the ground, unconscious, scalp already bleeding onto the floor. There was no need to leave him unscathed; the fact that he survived might still give his masters reason for suspicion. She silently wished him well.

"We have to flood the dry dock," Ezio said, looking up and assessing the cavernous interior.

Alessa couldn't see an obvious way up to the mechanisms that allowed sea water in, but Ezio jogged across the room to investigate a likely switch. He fiddled with the mechanism but only managed to raise up a lift that would take supplies to the second story balcony.

"What's going on down there?" a suspicious voice queried from above. Alessa tensed as a brute on either side of the room peered over the balcony.

In a smooth movement, master and apprentice backed into each other, drew their crossbows, aimed and shot. Alessa's target slumped over the railing and hung like a macabre festival decoration. Ezio's target reeled and crashed spectacularly through the wooden railing to land with a loud clang on the floor before them.

"The lever to control the flooding of the dock must be up there," he said to her, pointing straight up. "We need to hurry; if the guards are as good at communicating as you have observed, someone will be by to check on things."

"And we've left a hell of mess behind us," she agreed.

They gained the second floor via the lifts. It was a slightly disconcerting as the hanging platforms swayed with any movement; they had to allow the things to stabilize before leaping to the next. Alessa was actually glad to find herself crouching on a creaking but steady rafter.

"Take care of that for me," Ezio murmured, gesturing to a final, single guard leaning casually against the wall beside the flooding mechanism, cleaning his fingernails with a dagger. She drew her crossbow, leaning her shoulder against the cool stone wall to aid her stabilization on the beam as Ezio darted toward the bored guard across the way. She aimed and fired, taking him down before he even noticed the assassin heading his way.

She swung to the ground as Ezio completed the circuit of free-running and approached the main lever for the floodgates. With a great roar, water flooded into the dry dock and set the machine afloat. As she approached the vessel, she saw Ezio dive from the second story balcony, his body a graceful arc as it cut into the water.

She dove in a second later and they hoisted themselves up on either side of the ship-killer. She grinned to herself.

At least this time the water was clean.

* * *

**A/N: _Ei ongelmaa_, Finnish, no problem**

**A couple more scenes and then we're back in Rome, where I have a few goodies planned before my recruits head off on their first solo mission!**


	29. The Naval Cannon and The Party

**A/N: writer's block plague me at every turn, but I think you'll enjoy the finished product! Music inspiration included "the omega suite" maroon, epica's 'classical conspiracy' album which may or may not have contained a Pirates of the Caribbean cover …**

**Once again, I thank my loyal reviewers: TLMonkey, Dolphin2ii, Shamazaki, Assassin's Creed superfan, ecnal, and flyingcrispi!**

****Shamazaki stood beta for me and again is responsible for more detailed setting; I'm not allowed to be a slacker!****

**Also, I added my OC's stats to my profile page; will be building on it as I add recruits and detail to the story. I need to get moving, Revelations comes out in 4 months and I still have a lot of ground to cover in this fic! Which reminds me, AC belongs to ubisoft...**

* * *

The great gate leading out to sea rose ponderously as water filled the dry dock. Alessa slung her pack down as Ezio tossed his to the deck before her. She opened one satchel in preparation to stuff the cannon mouth with Markku's accelerant.

"Let's see if you can bite your master's hand, shall we?"

Alessa glanced up at the sound of Ezio's voice as he took the tiller. He was looking intently out to the horizon as he steered the craft out into the open water. She followed his gaze out over the waves in the bay where four ships bearing familiar flags were anchored.

She laughed incredulously as she pointed out to sea.

"You think we're going to take down all four?"

"Easily."

Oh.

Well alright then.

The cannon was a marvel. It was engineered to shoot multiple cannon balls. They were a little smaller than what she had ever seen before – maybe the size of both of her fists. As Ezio moved them through the water relentlessly toward their first target, she rushed to load the cannon and take aim. The wind over the water combined with their speed and the spray of the sea was exhilarating.

"The sails," she heard Ezio yell to her. "Aim for the sails and the whole thing will burn!"

She nodded and waited until they were a little closer; she wasn't sure of the thing's range and didn't want waste ammunition. She also wasn't sure how Markku's additive was going to work. When she could clearly make out the soldiers milling about on deck, she lit the fuse and aimed, hoping she had the right angle of trajectory set up…

Her first shot was damn lucky. She had loaded the thing with five balls of shot. She hollered wordlessly in delight as they burst into flame and ripped through the heavy sails of the foremast like a dagger through rotted cloth.

Fascinating.

The accelerant seemed to stick to the cloth and the flames spread like the whole sail had been soaked in pitch. She probably didn't need to set the other two alight to sink the ship, but it looked like Ezio wanted her to do it anyway as he steered them deftly out of the path of the archers that were lining up at the doomed ship's railing.

She re-loaded, jumping when cannon fire from the ship roared past them to hit the sea, producing a great plume of water. Heated droplets sprayed over her as she spun the cannon around to take aim at the sails amidships. She found herself laughing with an almost maniacal abandon as she was drenched yet again by another near miss from an enemy cannon. She waited until they were in range and fired. Her angle was too low and she only managed to take down the archers conveniently lined up at the railing.

Oh darn.

She chuckled to herself and loaded the cannon again, Ezio keeping her in perfect range. They took down the final two sets of sails in short order. The fires had become a roaring inferno onboard and the remaining soldiers and sailors were abandoning ship frenziedly. She could feel the intense heat at her back as Ezio banked their craft and they left the doomed ship to its fate.

Alessa's heart felt like it was going to take flight as Ezio drove their craft towards the three remaining ships. Even now, she could see the porthole covers being removed and cannons appearing broadside on the nearest galley.

Her hands were surprisingly steady as she stuffed the muzzle of the cannon preparatory to the next shot. She felt their forward momentum begin to slack off a bit just before Ezio stepped to her side.

"My turn," he said, that calm, impassive expression on his face that indicated he was about to give something his full attention.

And not in a good way.

She backed off of the cannon immediately and took the tiller. It took her a moment to figure out the slightly more complex steering mechanism but she eventually got back into a rhythm. It took all of her concentration to steer the craft in the roiling waves and a pang of nausea swept over her.

Ah, hell.

She threw all of her concentration into rowing the damn boat. Pulling on the tiller with all her might, she banked the craft to let Ezio get a successful shot onto the first ship. Ignoring the steadily increasing waves of dizziness, she managed to keep them just ahead of the cannon shots. Arrows _plopped _harmlessly into the water around them, sounding like a shower a deadly pebbles; they were just out of range.

She brought them in a wide arc around the cluster of ships, heading out to sea before swinging around to bring Ezio in good alignment for his next shot.

Battle was a funny thing, she mused. Once you got into a rhythm, it was all the same. Avoid being hit. Maneuver into position. Go for the kill. Repeat. If you kept your wits about you, you were potentially invincible. If you ignored the voices in your head arguing about right and wrong, you didn't hesitate. If your body didn't clamor for rest, you outlasted opponents, and you kept your life because you were stronger.

Simple truths. Just like the Creed.

And just like the Creed, the simplicity masked the labyrinthine dangers of the depths.

She was numb as she watched the railing of the nearest ship explode – sending bodies flying – each lifeless form representing a failure of mind, spirit, or corporeal form. Each of them could have avoided their fate: jumped ship at the cost of honor, taken out herself or her _maestro _with a well-aimed arrow, destroyed her craft with a smidge more patience at the broadside cannons.

Abruptly she understood why soldiers – those authentic, life-long fighters and veterans of combat – well, she understood why they spent their down time getting drunk and reliving the excitement of victories and forgotten glory.

Because battle itself was fucking depressing; a victory for yourself was gained at the expense of another's loss.

The final ship was in shambles. Burning wreckage floated disconsolately atop the waves, carried from trough to crest for a time before disappearing into the darkness below.

Ezio was silent as he stood at the prow of their craft, one hand still resting casually on the remaining ammunition. The Master Assassin seemed to be lost in thought as well. They were quiet for a moment: he contemplative, she trying not to puke as they bobbed in the water.

And then the moment was over and both became brisk as the threat of attack became larger with each passing moment. Ezio stuffed the cannon mouth a final time and dumped the remaining accelerant packets on the deck. As she jammed the tiller, he aimed the cannon down at the craft itself.

"Go," he said, "I'll have you a distance away before I set the fuse."

Relieved, she leapt into the sea and began swimming for an inconspicuous portion of the distant docks. She was physically and emotionally exhausted, but the feelings combined to form a sort of numbness that she could work with. Not to mention that once she got off the damned craft, the nausea eased.

Bliss.

She had never swum quite this distance before, and had to alternate distance-eating strokes for resting strokes on her back. She heard a muffled roar as the cannon destroyed itself and not long after, Ezio pulled alongside her, pacing himself to her.

So intent was she on her physical efforts that she almost swam face-first into a pile-on. Dazedly, she followed Ezio up the side of the dock.

Dino swung down from the scaffolding of a nearby tailor shop as they pulled themselves from the water. He rolled to his feet just in time to hold a hand out for her to take.

"Well look at you, aren't you a vision? What a lovely piece of flotsam!" he laughed as she got to her feet and dripped. She sulked and slung her arm in his direction, the water drenching her sleeve spattering him lightly.

"Easy there, _ninfea, _I don't want my equipment to rust."

"Ass," she said fondly to him as he gave her a quick hug around her shoulders and bumped her forehead with his. He stepped back and grinned suddenly at her.

"You both make quite a pair, _tesora_; matching drowned rats!" Ezio gave Dino a baleful look as they clambered back up the scaffolding to the rooftops. She grinned back as they lined up at the edge, overlooking the bay, and gestured meaningfully to the burning wreckage before them, black smoke boiling spectacularly into the sky.

"I guess all it takes is a couple of water-logged rodents and Leonardo DaVinci to sink a handful of war galleys, eh?"

* * *

Back at the inn, Alessa was changing from soaked Assassin robes back into her plain gown for the return to the Orsini _palazzo_. She kicked her damp field gear off into a corner and toweled her skin dry for what felt the first time in weeks. Time really had a way of slowing down when one was stuck in chafing wool and stiff leather. She bundled herself into shift and then gown, casually appreciating the simple strokes used to paint the tiny flowers onto the silk screen that gave her a private corner in the open inn room as she started on the seemingly endless row of buttons up her back.

Ezio sat across the way at the room's desk, hurriedly reading through a pile of mismatched papers and scratching out rushed missives and tiny carrier pigeon notes, trying to catch up with the correspondence Machiavelli, La Volpe, and Bartolomeo (via Pantasilea) had sent during his absence. Apparently the nearly month long trip to _Valnerina _had resulted in a huge backlog of paperwork and Ezio's allies were making sure that the Master Assassin was kept occupied with his part in managing the Assassin Order.

Ezio had only removed his tunic, boots, and armor; he still dripped a bit in his sodden trousers. A towel lay across his shoulders, keeping his damp hair off of his skin. So distracted was he with his paperwork that he had not even finger-combed the bits of seaweed – collected on their swim into the harbor – out of his hair. His bare feet were crossed at the ankle underneath his chair, toes curling and uncurling as he frowned at his papers.

As she struggled with tiny buttons behind the privacy screen, Dino, as was his wont, was proving his enduring diligence for both amusing and irritating her…

"Carnival freak," he called out offhandedly as she contorted her arms behind her to get at the damn buttons.

"That's crass, _ciccino_," she called back; fucker was peeking! He scoffed,

"Cacophonous crow."

"Craven _criminale_."

"_Cimice_!"

"Carbuncle!"

"Coprolite!"

Silence.

"Oh Lord, they have a new game," Ezio grumbled, not looking up from his reading. But a second later, sincere amusement emerged as a deep chuckle.

"That's not even a word; you made that up," she accused, emerging from behind the screen to glare at him, hands on her hips.

"Didn't."

"Define!"

"Durable dated dung."

"_Jesu Christu_," Ezio interjected, "Both of you shut the hell up!"

Dino shrugged, flashing her a grin as he tilted his chair onto its back legs, resting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes as he crossed his hands over his chest. Alessa snickered as she moved to the side table to pour herself and her comrade a drink. She surreptitiously passed a hand over Dino's glass and then brought both to the room's dining table, settling herself with a contented sigh. Dino reached out and wrapped a big hand around his glass, settling the cup on his chest after he took a deep draft.

Markku loped in, followed by Tullio, both of them carrying garment bags and irregularly-shaped bundles. They dropped their burdens and bee-lined for the chilled wine as Alessa sipped hers.

"It's chaos out there," Markku as he sat next to her, his drink slopping over the rim as he gestured spiritedly, "You'd think no one had ever seen four war galleys spontaneously combust!" He sipped his wine and Alessa saw his pupils dilate as his face went lax with his delight. "Ahhhh!" he drawled blissfully, raising his glass at Ezio, who wasn't paying any of them any attention, "You do know how to pick a fine vintage, _maestro_! _Bevo alla tua salute_."

Dino abruptly crashed to the ground, ass over elbows. Alessa felt herself grin in triumph as the other three men jumped and then proceeded to give candid opinions of Dino's grace.

"Hmmmm, you okay there, _ciccino_?" she murmured sweetly from her seat, touching her glass to her lips with intentional daintiness when Dino didn't immediately get up. The three unaffected men snapped their heads in her direction – green, blue, and black eyes all narrowing in identical expressions of suspicion.

Dino's eyes followed the direction of theirs and then she saw his eyebrows twitch as realization dawned in them. He frowned, the expression looking strange as he attempted to control what would be numbed facial muscles.

A providential visit to an herbalist's shop had given her the knowledge of the mixture used in surgery to temporarily paralyze a patient. Fucking disturbing when one considered the implications, but she supposed it had its uses. _Sh e_certainly had found a use for it.

Of course, the old bat wouldn't sell to her – not a _dottore _who fully understood its use! Bah! – so Alessa had ruined three of her lock-picking tools to avail herself of the concoction. She had left behind double the amount of what the powder cost; she may had inadvertently broken the lock in her attempt to pick it. She was an honorable thief, dammit.

Totally worth it – the money and the tools.

"Oh dear," she murmured, standing up and walking over to inspect the contents of his wine glass. "I do believe that something might have been slipped into your drink. You really should be careful; there are so many people out there that would try to take advantage of you."

An outraged expression made an attempt to animate his features.

"Poor baby," she cooed, leaning down to softly touch her lips to his still cheek. She grinned as she looked up and regarded the astonished men with an air of studied casualness. She almost broke when she saw Tullio giving tiny indications that he was getting ready to burst into laughter.

"I think we should just leave him there," she said airily, sitting up and briskly dusting off her skirts.

Ezio choked as he struggled to maintain a grave expression. Markku didn't have any compunction about sparing Dino's dignity and jabbed at Dino with his toe, drawing renewed, fruitless struggles from the helpless Assassin.

"How long until it wears off?" the green-eyed Assassin wondered, leaning down to poke a curious finger at the downed man's face.

"Long enough for me to get away," Alessa said, grabbing Markku by a wrist and lugging him out of the door.

"But –" he began, gesturing helplessly at their party clothes.

"We'll send a runner," she said hastily.

Judging by the glint in Dino's eyes as he began to regain control of his body, his limbs flailing ponderously, Alessa knew that she would have to watch her back. She giggled nervously and successfully pulled Markku around the jamb and into the hall.

Well, _he _had started it.

She heard Ezio speak, just before his laughter chased her down the stairs,

"I'll be having my _florin _back, Demasi."

* * *

Their messenger from the inn arrived with their finery for the evening. Amidst the now-familiar black and golds of their extravagant suite at the Orsini _palazzo_, Alessa made sure to carefully check over her silks for any suspicious dust – it would be just like Dino to hit her with some sort of itching powder. The excitement of not knowing what he might do in retaliation was exhilarating.

The ball that night had a black and white theme and her gown had been commissioned by the Baroness herself; the woman was apparently using Alessa's gown as a test for a new dressmaker in town. The Baroness had delighted in the gown's crafting. Flawlessly white, the color of purity, it invoked feelings of an innocence that Alessa knew she no longer possessed. Should it be odd that white was also the traditional color indicating that an Assassin was about to ply his trade? Well, she had no intentions on letting her blade make an appearance this evening.

The gown, by itself, was simple enough. What made it interesting was the white on white embroidery on the bodice and skirts; the detail was extraordinarily intricate. The skirts were made of layers of airy silk but the addition of the extensive embroidery gave the flowing lines a gentle weight. The dress was a wearable work of art that Alessa truly hoped wouldn't get ruined.

On that note, she had to remember to check Markku's pockets; he was liable to have some sort of exploding contraband secreted somewhere on his person...

Their little maid had had to help her with her hair. Current fashion in _Napoli _called for women's hair to be secured back into veils or headdresses. There was no way in hell she was going to be caught in some of the monstrosities of pearls and lace that turned female heads into pedestals proclaiming worship to some deity of gaudiness. The girl had twisted her hair into sections and coiled it all artfully atop the crown of her head, weaving a delicate scarf of sheer white silk through the dark waves of her hair. It looked quite nice and she avoided looking like some sort of demented bride.

Markku had cleaned up nicely; Alessa had to admit that he looked quite dashing in his new black suit. His unevenly trimmed mahogany hair, usually mussed in wild disarray, was behaving itself for once. He had also scraped off the red-tinged perma-stubble on his cheeks, revealing the surprisingly fine lines of his jaw and chin. She supposed that the near permanent crooked smirk he maintained had distorted his true aspect to her eyes.

Whatever. And there was no way she was telling him, either; their maid's big eyes and blushing cheeks had his chest puffed up like Dino's cacophonous crow.

And she really, _really _wanted to hurl a rock at said pretentious rook.

The party was in full swing when they finally made their entrance, pausing once atop the sweeping staircase descending to the ballroom to take in the monochromatic splendor. White flowers of all species contrasted richly with black tablecloths and curtains. The women were especially dazzling in their snowy gowns. In their attempt outdo one another in the display of their jewels; they outshone the candlelight in platinum, opals, diamonds, and even a few black sapphires.

The dark, polished parquet floor wasn't black – Orsini wasn't tearing up his ballroom floor to replace it with boards to match; he wasn't _that_ wealthy – but the already dark wood contrasted nicely with the gleaming white, stark walls confining the dancing and eating to the huge room.

Even Nature obliged for the color scheme; a full moon shone with ethereal paleness in an indigo sky. It peered shyly into the tall windows circumventing all but one wall of the room, it's light toying with the outer edges of the indoor illumination that had ventured outside. The windows stood open to let in the cool breeze.

She and Markku had scarcely made their descent when the Baroness captured her for a dizzying round of introductions to other guests. The good lady was delighted with the results of her fashion discovery and was determined to extol the virtues of her newest dressmaker to all the ladies present. And here was Alessa, dress doll dummy.

Hmmm, alliterations were catchy. She giggled to herself quietly.

Alessa was exhausted when she finally returned to Markku, who was sitting at a dining table chair and surrounded by a sea of icy silks and frothy lace by the time she had extricated herself from Baroness Orsini. He reached out casually and snagged her wrist as she got near enough, pulling her off balance and tugging her neatly into his lap.

Perhaps his charm was working a little _too _well for him; he did look a tad flustered.

She wasn't saving him though.

She let her hidden blade ease out between them and the wall behind them and she pressed the point to his back, whispering a threat into his ear. Markku performed admirably, ignoring the blade at his kidney and closing his eyes briefly as he feigned a pleased expression. He smiled as she dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead, retracted her blade, and rearranged her skirts preparatory to standing.

As she stood, content that he would stop man-handling her, he unfolded his long body from the seat he had been lounging in to stand over her. He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and leaned down slightly to speak lovingly near her ear.

"_Anteeksi, rakkaani_," he murmured as he swept her hand up in his to kiss her knuckles. He turned briefly to bow his head at the ladies around them, retaining hold of her hand as she tried without success to extricate herself. "My wife is wanting to do this dancing," he winked conspiratorially, his accent in full, obnoxious attendance. Pearl-encrusted and feathered fans fluttered madly in their wake as he swept her regally to the dance floor.

The musicians were playing the tune for a vigorous country dance. The beat was _adagio _for the nobles, an adjustment to the melody that was mildly offensive to her ears. She had always particularly liked this dance, and to slow it down was criminal. Her skirts were heavy though, it was probably why not many could maintain the fast, complex steps in this type of setting – too much damn cloth.

"I should warn you," Alessa said, smiling sweetly up at Markku as they struggled to adjust to the pace and gain a spot in the crowd, "The last time I danced, someone got killed."

"Really?" he beamed, deftly spinning her out of the way of an over-exuberant couple, "The last time I danced, someone got kissed."

"You do it and I really will stab you," she informed him matter-of-factly, moving subtly away from him just in case; the man wasn't ever dissuaded by her threats. At least Dino pretended.

She might pinch him though. She looked up at him, speculative, daring him…

He threw back his head and laughed; she imagined that only she would recognize the slightly manic edge to it. But she grinned in delight when he twirled her again. He was just a little out of step but he managed a lot of little flourishes that the nobles couldn't or wouldn't perform. The final notes of the piece were still being played when she heard a familiar voice, pitched only for them to hear,

"Might I have the honor of a dance with your delightful lady, _messere_?"

She fought the urge to grin like some addle-brained, love-struck teenager as she performed the final bows of the dance to her partner and then turned to face Ezio. The Master Assassin was garbed just as richly as the wealthiest of the nobles – and his presence was twice that of any man in the room. Alessa was frankly astonished that he hadn't caused a riot; how could they not know who he was?

And who _did _he think he was? Swaggering in like this was some casual barn dance out in the middle of nowhere, what the hell?

He had managed to exchange his white Assassin robes with a suit of similar cut in fathomless black. The material was edged crimson and his simple white cape had been replaced with a more elaborate one of black velvet lined with red silk. The cape was heavier than normal, but it furled and shifted luxuriously with the just the breeze created by his movement, giving glimpses of the crimson underside. The effect of the cape and crimson highlights of his suit gave him the appearance of being wreathed in a living flame. His sword and crossbow weren't in evidence, thank goodness, but his hidden blades and pistol braced his forearms. His hood was down and it spilled over his shoulders in a puddle of darkness.

The total effect gave him the look of the proverbial fox in the henhouse. He wore colors of violence and passion and death – a stark contrast to all the overwhelming whites and muted blacks surrounding him. Combined with his dangerous grace and easy authority, he could have been a visiting king, gracing the shabby nobility of a less powerful nation with his presence.

So what the fuck did he want with her?

Ah, _Dio_, she was over-dramatizing again. She needed to stop it. This was Ezio: her friend, her mentor.

And damn, but she wanted to be near him so badly that it hurt.

She couldn't find words as he took her in his arms just after bowing congenially to Markku. Her fellow apprentice winked at her and moved out of the crowd and she could only smile back at him in a daze. What was it about this man that turned her into such a fucking simpleton?

The musicians shifted seamlessly into a divinely slow piece. It took her a few bars to get used to the steps. But they were simple, easy to pick up, and soon she was comfortable enough in the melody to finally look up at him and raise an eyebrow in question as he swept her elegantly across the floor.

"I may have bribed the conductor," he said without a hint of apology in his voice.

"Uh huh, and you do know that this could be considered scandalous? A newly married woman, dancing with someone other than her adoring husband?" She stole a glance over at Markku, who did not appear to be wanting for the lack of her company; he was surrounded by the fan waving brigade again. And damn pleased with himself, too, the bastard.

Ezio didn't reply, only pulled her closer. She was effectively overwhelmed, so of course she shut up. God, she hoped Dino wasn't around somewhere to see what a twit she was. Of course he already knew, but giving him proof didn't help.

What the hell was Ezio doing here anyway? She hoped his face wasn't recognized in this city; he was less notorious here than in _Roma_. But still…

"Ezio," she began, stroking his arm distractedly in an attempt to mask her feelings, "You shouldn't be here."

"I've infiltrated parties like this countless times, _cara mia_," he smiled down at her, and she found herself smiling dreamily back.

_Oh, really. _She thought scathingly to herself.

"Well, you're, er… distracting," she whispered, revealing the truth of her unease to both herself and to him.

"Am I?" An eyebrow went up; he was delighted. Then his eyes narrowed and he turned the full force of his charm towards her. "Explain it to me," he asked, his voice resonant.

"You are such a jerk," she muttered, blushing madly as his smile turned knowing.

_Cristu._

The space between them seemed to crackle as the playfulness was swept from him suddenly like a chill wind over a stark plain. Try as she might, she couldn't resist him. The man could ask her to blow her cover in this very public setting and she would do it without hesitation. Her awareness of her surroundings faltered dangerously as her senses clamored for her to get closer to him.

"Stop it," she whispered.

"I'm not doing anything," he whispered back, his voice hoarse.

_Liar._

At the thought, she felt the ghost of humor make an attempt to calm the tension between them. It failed. She took a breath.

"Ezio…" she began. His eyes darkened as she spoke his name, he moved imperceptibly closer…

"_Assassino_!"

She jumped, frozen in place as he looked out over her head, more annoyed by the interruption than anything. The musicians skipped a few notes, the melody skittering like a startled child before the music finally crashed to a halt. His eyes came back down to meet hers and he smiled charmingly as he brought her knuckles up to his lips, covering his words from those around them.

"Make your excuses and leave in the next hour. We will rendezvous at the ship and leave for _Roma _immediately."

She didn't even have time to nod before he whirled suddenly to disappear into the confused throng. She saw a flash of metal at his forearm as one hand came up to sweep his hood over his head. Guards, hampered by their ornate ceremonial armor, milled about at the edges of the room, converging on the swift figure in black and crimson. Another pair shoved their way past her, jostling her aside in their haste to go after the Assassin.

Her heart pounding, she watched as Ezio vaulted over a seated couple on a bench and out into the night through the open window behind them. Seconds later, the Orsini guards tossed the bewildered man and woman aside in their attempt to follow the Master Assassin's route.

She hoped that her masquerade hadn't been discovered. Across the room, she saw Baron Orsini gazing at her in narrow-eyed suspicion. She let her own gaze pass over him without a blink, letting her questing look flow naturally until it came to Markku.

"Who was that _ääliö_?" he asked with wounded petulance as she returned to him. Alessa shrugged, both to mask her trembling hands and to make a show of bemused nonchalance.

A veritable sea of female eyes raked her as she approached and her nervousness was dispelled by annoyance. What the hell was he saying to them that was so damned appealing anyway? Especially to keep their attention when the party had been infiltrated by a notorious Assassin? She had the feeling that all thoughts behind those beady little eyes were involved in imagining some bodily damage for her near future.

What a pack of crazy bitches! Her shoulder blades itched as she made her way through them to park herself at Markku's side; if the Templars recruited these ladies, the Assassins would be in trouble.

She giggled a little to herself as she imagined what they would do if she let her hidden blade make an appearance. She swept her gaze across the group, taking a page form Markku's book and letting her grin become slightly crazed. She thought of blood on her blade and the moment of a satisfying kill. The hard glares faltered a little bit.

_That's right, ladies_, she thought, letting her smile slack off to a casual bearing of teeth, _back the fuck off my man._

_Cristu_, now she believed her own scam!

Markku, in the meantime, was oblivious to the exchange, and was busy dragging her away. Right. They needed to leave. Instead, their measured flight was blocked by their hosts.

"_Päällikkö _Loikannen!" Madonna Orsini gushed, stumbling a little bit on the pronunciation of his name and title, "What a wonderful dancer you are!"

Markku smiled crookedly.

"A man is only as good as his partner," he said in that graceful, accented speech of his, "It seems that even the Assassin himself sought to distinguish himself by her nimble feet."

Alessa just barely managed to keep a straight face.

"He was the cause of the loss of your previous job, was he not?" Baroness Orsini asked.

"That is true, _signora_," Markku replied solemnly, "I barely escaped with my life. But in a way, he facilitated our meeting," here he took Alessa's hand in his, "So I feel that I owe him some small thanks!" He and the _baronessa _laughed merrily.

All of a sudden, Orsini's hand snaked out to shackle her wrist, wresting her hand from Markku's grasp. For an aristocrat, he had a strong grip and Alessa had to resist the urge to break it by burying her hidden blade in his throat. She covered up her anger by casting her gaze down and then over to Markku, who had grown quite still. The ugly stub was quite noticeable with the fingers of her left hand held up high for the baron's inspection.

"Did you know," Orsini said softly, dangerously; she could see him staring malevolently at her out at the edge of her vision, "that the mark of an Assassin was his left ring finger amputation?"

"A spider bite, a few years ago," she lied smoothly, pitching her voice low to disguise her nervousness, ignoring the sweat trickling down her spine. If the man shifted his grip, he would find her hidden blade beneath her sleeves. She looked up and faced his gaze, "It became infected and I had to have the finger amputated before the infection spread." She shuddered delicately in a display of feminine aversion and averted her eyes modestly again.

Oh yeah. She was even better than Markku!

Orsini continued to eye her. Her fingers were slowly turning purple in his grip. His wife tittered nervously.

"Oh, Girolamo, leave her alone! She's a sweet little thing. An Assassin! Really, you're becoming overly suspicious, _amore mio_!"

"Who are the Assassins?" another lady asked timidly.

Orsini scoffed and nearly spat in his disgust as he flung her wrist away from himself. Markku took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. To anyone else, his carefully blank expression would signify mild affront at Orsini's actions. To her, it looked like Markku was being very careful to hide his wary relief. Alessa turned her face into his shoulder to hide her own nervous grin of relief.

This should be good…

"Harbingers of chaos, sneakier than thieves, more fickle than mercenaries; Assassins are the enemy of progress. They ply their trade by attacking those in power, leaving the populace without direction. Their goal is to leave the whole world in anarchy."

"I heard that an Assassin may have been responsible for the incident in the harbor today," Alessa offered, growing restive in her desire to defend her order. Her hands bunched into fists and for once, Markku sought to regulate her nervous energy by absentmindedly smoothing graceful fingers over her knuckles.

"Of course he was responsible!" Orsini yelled. The chatter around them quieted uneasily for an instant before starting back up again.

"Of course he was responsible," he continued in a lowered voice, "Halting progress, destroying ships used by Cesare Borgia to keep the peace in his efforts to unify _Italia _under one flag."

"That man seems to be unkillable," Markku remarked. Orsini nearly snarled.

"What man? Is there only one? I can't believe that was him!" Alessa prattled, looking over her shoulder pointedly at the window Ezio had escaped out of. Her goal was to continue the conversation, convince Orsini that she was harmless; maybe they could gather some useful intelligence from this Templar ally.

"There's an entire Order of them! Thousands; scattered all across the civilized world. But we have a plan for the Assassins. Despite that infernal group's penchant for creating chaos, I cannot deny that they are skilled. It will require highly trained hunters in order to fully eradicate them like the animals they are. I am personally vested in seeing to it that such a group is formed."

Against her will, her smile faded.

"Then it seems as if the side of good shall prevail," she murmured. She tilted her head up at Markku to give him a pointed look, and then returned her attention to the Baron. She bowed her head respectfully, first to him, then his wife. "I am quite tired, _messere, signora_; I find that all the excitement has exhausted me early this evening."

The knowing, almost-leer she received from the _baronessa _brought her smile back.

"Wait there, Loikannen," the Baron called. She and Markku slowly turned to face Orsini, who was gesturing to a couple of the laughably armored guards. Well, their armor might be overdone, but the swords were functional.

_Merda_.

"Take some of my guards to stand watch at your chambers; I'll have someone come to escort you to work in the morning."

Markku couldn't do anything other than bow his thanks. He put his arm around her shoulders as their clanking shadows followed them to their quarters.

* * *

Alessa was comfortably changed out of her cumbersome evening gown and had just loosened her agonizing updo when a noise out on the balcony caught her attention. Silently, she drew her knuckle dagger, not wanting to take the chance of anyone possibly seeing her Assassin blade at this point. She crept to window nearest the balcony doors – the one with the view of their upper story patio – and peeked past the heavy curtains.

The movements in the shadows resolved into a familiar figure. She waved Markku back; her green-eyed partner had drawn his boot dagger.

"It's Ezio," she said, sheathing her dagger and opening the doors. She stepped out onto the balcony and closed the doors behind her. Glancing around the _palazzo _for curious eyes in a window, she greeted Ezio with reservation as he clambered over the railing.

He wasn't going to distract her here, damnit. Not when they were alone.

Well, _almost _alone.

He moved immediately to lean against the wall lazily; he wouldn't be immediately apparent to casual observers from the windows.

"I thought we were going to meet you at the ship," she said, inquiry in her tone as she walked over to the railing to lean on it, her back to him – as if she were just out to observe the sea in the moonlight.

"Dino and Tullio were scheming in my absence," he replied, a proud note in his voice. "Please make sure you inform Markku that he is to go to his workshop tomorrow instead. I do apologize, but we're going to destroy his playground."

"The Baron has guards outside our door with orders to escort him to work tomorrow morning. He's suspicious, Ezio."

"He's right to be suspicious. The reason that you have emerged from this farce alive is not due to Orsini's gullibility, but to Markku's ingenuity and your discreet reconnaissance."

She chuckled nervously, her laughter cutting off as his arm brushed against hers as he came to the railing beside her. Forgetting her goal of keeping at least three paces away from the Master Assassin, she faced him.

"He said that they were training people especially to target us, _maestro_. Do you think we should be concerned?"

His expression became pensive.

"We can have our informants look into it. It's good to know; we'll have to remain watchful, be extra careful in our infiltrations. If it's more than just a passing boast, it may become a problem."

Her fingers caught in the finely woven linen of his black robes as she reached out to grasp his forearm, the physical touch comforting her somewhat. She didn't think Orsini's revelation was an idle assertion.

"I rather like you in black," she heard herself say, entranced by the sensation of the exquisite cloth on her skin. He chuckled, pushing off the railing to stand upright and look down at her with a grin,

"You really can't stay on one subject for long before you get side-tracked, can you?"

"I'm sorry," she said, only half meaning it as he grasped her wrists and pulled her upright to face him. He stepped back and leaned against the wall behind him. At this angle, she could meet his without having to look up; it was a profound sensation. He gave her wrists a firm tug and she was drawn forward, stepping between his knees to lean against him. She felt like she was being wrapped in shadows, an intangible embrace warm with the heat of his body, an inviting pool of oblivion.

He held her hands captive against his chest, transferring his grip to one hand so he could reach out to brush her unkempt hair out of her face. The feeling of his fingers in her hair was startling, intimate. He regarded her solemnly for a moment before speaking,

"_Carina_, when we return to _Roma_…"

She heard Markku calling to her from within the room.

Ezio sighed and released her so that they were standing a decent distance apart when Markku came outside.

"Oh, and I brought these for you," Ezio pulled a leather satchel over his head and passed it to her, "No need to play the role of grieving widow tomorrow. If Orsini has guards on your room, he already knows you're an Assassin; he'll just be waiting to separate the two of you when Markku leaves tomorrow so he can set his guards on you."

Markku was frowning suspiciously.

"We're destroying your workshop tomorrow," she informed him as she swept past him and into their suite.

She finished the sentence Ezio had started in her head: when they returned to_Roma_, she was going to make damn sure she had him all to herself, for once.

* * *

The next day, as she perched on their balcony railing, she swept her gaze fondly over the city of _Napoli _for what would be the last time from her _palazzo _view. Inside the suite, her lovely new gowns hung neatly in their wardrobes, her fine new jewelry encased in their velvet-lined boxes were stacked just so on her dressing table. The room was all tidied up, a few personal items lying casually about as if she and Markku were returning later that day.

She left behind everything except for that gorgeous parure Markku had somehow acquired; a choker, earrings, and hair combs characterized by exquisite platinum netting entangling and suspending tiny, flawless sapphires. She intended to build upon that visionary jeweler's work one day.

That was the only reason she wanted it. She didn't plan on ever wearing any of the pieces or anything.

Her hooded head turned in the direction of Baron Orsini's ammunition workshop as a huge explosion resounded across _Napoli_. A casual observer of the _palazzo _balcony would only have caught a flash of white as she leapt for the rooftop.

* * *

**Translations:**

**_Ninfea_, Italian, water lily**

**_Tesora_, Italian, treasure**

**_Cimice_, Italian, bedbug**

**_Bevo alla tua salut, _Italian, Drink to your health**

**_Anteeksi, rakkaani, _Finnish, apologies, my love**

**_Ääliö,_Finnish, jerk**


	30. Remo

**A/N: Here we are again; you'll have to forgive the length of time between updates, the characters are all getting more complex so there's A TON of editing that I have to do. Plus, my beta is like a Marine Corps Drill Instructor when it comes to setting and description. Much love to Shamazaki for reining in some of my laziness and being my sounding board, ear for writer's block whining, and dealing with my general nonsense! **

**For all my reviewers out there - I am always thankful for your feedback! It's a definite part of my motivation! NotBob713, Stagey, ecnal, Assassin'sCreedSuperfan, TLMonkey, and Flyingcrispi - thank you guys for your time and insight!**

**music is "paralyzer" by finger eleven, a good mood setter for Dino and Claudia; their relationship always strikes me as a little naughty, "helden" apocalyptica feat. Till Lindemann, "shot in the dark" within temptation**

**and of course, props to ubisoft. man if I had a glass of tequila right now, I'd toast the hell outta them sumbitches!**

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

The Assassin Headquarters was quiet. The old banners hung listlessly in the still air. The echoing silence could be characterized as irritated as Alessa stared broodingly at the blank canvas before her. Inspiration that had flowed continuously during her trip was maddeningly elusive now that she could do something about it.

The Assassins had arrived back in _Roma_ about two hours ago. The apprentices had headed up to their rooms to unpack while Ezio had disappeared pretty much the instant they had disembarked. After all the constant activity on their trip, Alessa had been more than ready for some down time.

The only problem with down time was that it was best enjoyed when there was little of it to be had. Go figure.

She grumbled aloud at the thought; she hated life lessons. They were like mocking little smacks to the face; she really wished she could deliver a retaliatory bitch slap back once in a while.

Full of ambition and righteous, creative gumption, she had changed out of her Assassin garb and into simple, white linen trousers and a paint splattered tunic. Her bare feet had padded quietly on the stone floors as she had taken an easel, canvas, and paint to the little art gallery on the main level. Ezio had been busily upgrading it and adding some truly gorgeous pieces since she had come to the Assassin Order. Surrounded by the splendor of Botticelli angels and leering demons – what the hell was a portrait of Juan Borgia doing here? – her own painting should practically leap onto the canvas.

She had roughed out a sketch of… well she had gotten absolutely nothing accomplished. The blank canvas seemed to mock her the longer she stared at it. Colors and techniques swirled in her mind but a subject was elusive.

"Where are you going?" Alessa asked as she looked up from her bench in the art gallery and spotted Dino heading towards the kitchen wing.

"Bath," he replied.

"You going to draw up the water yourself?" she asked incredulously, getting up to stand in the arched entryway. Dino was easily one of the biggest men she had ever known, but he was notorious for making a mess when it came to basic household chores – especially those requiring heavy lifting. The attendants were quick to intervene whenever he tried to do those things for himself. She suspected that he did it on purpose, the rat bastard.

"What? Fuck no; they draw it up just fine at _la Rosa_." He grinned fiendishly and hung a quick left to duck through the archway leading down to the sewers.

_Prick_, she thought fondly as she went back to her art-in-process, _How could he leave me all alone to go cavort in the tub with Claudia?_

She sat there for an immeasurable space of time, pencil hovering expectantly over the material, the masterpieces surrounding her giving absolutely no help. She was just thinking that they really should take down that absolutely wretched portrait of Juan Borgia when she was distracted from the barren wilderness in her mind by the staccato beat of Markku's energetic steps coming down the stone stairs.

"Where are you going?" she called out hopefully to Markku as he rushed across the main room in his haste to go out the door to street level. She hurried to the foyer, skidding to halt when she got a glimpse of him.

A now-familiar chest was tucked under his arm. He had lugged the thing back with him from _Napoli_, the only surviving raw materials from the Baron's foundry. Markku had jealously guarded it's contents like a malevolent old billy goat standing sentry over it's feed bucket.

He answered her, but his words were garbled and she decided that it was probably best if she avoided him for now. She sighed. That particular glitter in his eyes indicated that he was still pissed off about the Orsini workshop explosion. He was well entrenched deep within the throes of self pity and had remained vilely withdrawn since. It appeared that he was getting ready to go play therapist with something caustic or explosive. Yeah, she wasn't so bored as to want to engage in _that_ emotional disaster.

Yet.

As she leaned a shoulder disconsolately against the wall, she heard another figure coming down the stairs.

Ah, here was someone who would…

"Tullio?" she asked, a little plaintively, as her third attempt at procuring companionship for the afternoon fizzled out when she saw his intent, inward expression. He only shrugged at her apologetically, rousing enough from his musings to give her a sheepish smile. She heard something about "organ" and "Bartolomeo's place" as he shoved sheaves of paper into a satchel at his side and disappeared through the main portal.

"Fine," she snarled to the empty room.

She stalked back into the gallery, taking down her canvas for the time being and laying a clean piece of vellum on the easel. She stretched her fingers and eventually lost some of her frustration in the knots and whorls of a new pattern. It was mindless, simple, yet satisfying work and she lost some time.

"Did you ever finish the Imperial Eagle painting?"

"_Farnughh_," she blurted, staring in consternation at the discordant stroke that appeared across her paper. His voice had been quiet and casual but how the _hell_ did she never hear him until he spoke? She heard Ezio chuckle as he sat beside her on the bench. He reached out, one arm settling around her shoulders while the index finger of his other hovered over her drawing as he silently traced a single line through the maze.

Alessa stared at the metal of his vambrace as his wrist moved minutely and blinked hard when her vision blurred – for a moment, the leather turned black and the metal plating became darker, the inlaid designs becoming more curved and delicate, almost like some foreign script. It seemed almost familiar and something momentous fluttered at the edge of her thoughts.

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them, finding everything back to normal. This man made her giddy, for sure. Ignoring the last trace of dizziness, she cleared her throat, and then focused on the task at hand, arching a brow invitingly as he watched her. He hadn't appeared to notice her moment of lightheadedness as he rested his free hand on her knee. His eyes were shadowed by his hood, but his mouth had a welcoming cant to it…

"So what are your plans for the afternoon, _messere_?" she asked, feeling a flush creeping up her neck. Instead of responding, his gaze turned speculative and he tragically took back the arm that had been embracing her so he could touch his chin in a deliberate, thoughtful pose.

"Well," he said, "I have meetings with our allies, you have your solo mission to plan…"

Against her will, her smile turned into a grimace…

"…But I do have some errands to run. Want to come with?" he finished.

She brightened.

"Light armor, light weapons. Throwing daggers, no crossbow." His Master Assassin voice was now fully in evidence as he stood and held out a hand to assist her to her feet.

When his back turned, she scowled.

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Dino glanced up at the top floor of the _Rosa in Fiore _from his vantage in the street. It had been tricky to slip unnoticed from the sewer postern and blend seamlessly into the crowd. In the busy square _la Rosa_ occupied one full side of, there were a lot of people to see him. Not to mention that he towered head and shoulders above most of them. He sighed and admitted it to himself – he was a horrible blender. Maybe no one would ask him about the sewer.

Claudia's room was just inside the uppermost balcony on the side of the building that faced the Tiber. It was tricky to scale the first few floors of the _Rosa_ itself; one had to gain height from a nearby building first. He passed unhurriedly through the afternoon crowds; everyone was still a little bleary-eyed, most having just risen from _siesta_ and they weren't paying attention him as he jostled them gently aside.

He entered his alley of choice and, with a resolute sigh, he started the climb. He still hated heights, hated that he hated heights, and figured the only thing for it was to force himself to continually face that… dare he say it… fear.

Face his fear.

Fuck, but it didn't get any easier: both to admit that he was afraid _and_ to face it.

And he found it interesting that he could just blindly follow Ezio or even Alessa across a free-run circuit and not have any problems. But put him out there all by his little lonesome? Yeah, that's when his inner craven self came out. He wanted to take that spineless part of himself and kick it's timorous little ass.

He reached to rooftop and surveyed his surroundings with satisfaction. Claudia Auditore didn't deserve some sniveling coward coming to her bed. Hell no. The self-deprecating pep talk focused his thoughts and he found himself grinning in anticipation. Thoughts of his lady scattered his inner demons quite effectively.

He wondered if he could enter her quarters unnoticed. Maybe she would try to stab him like she had last time – maybe this time he would let her score a hit. He found himself kind of liking the idea.

Hell, he _loved_ the idea.

How was that for fucked up?

He chuckled to himself and took the running start required to hurl himself across the alley below. A quick moment of weightlessness and he grasped the beam to a windowsill, the wood creaking a little as it bore his weight.

It was the work of nothing to clamber the rest of the way up the building and over the stone railing. Her doors stood partially and invitingly open…

The subtle scent of her perfume was a mildly euphoric distraction as he entered her room. He took the time to carefully arrange the balcony door at the same angle it had started at, and then awkwardly adjusted the delicate drapes so that they caught in the gentle breeze questing into the room. _What was it with the Auditore family and the color red?_ A quick survey of the room told him that she was not there; the absence of the passionate aura that attended her confirmed it.

The room was dark; the late afternoon light was muted by the closed shutters in her windows. Her room, as always, was fastidiously neat. He didn't know if this was a product of her servants or if she was truly that organized – he suspected the latter – but nothing was ever out of place. And she liked to return to things in the same way she left them. End of story.

He figured that the red balcony drapes were to maintain a continuity of color on the outside of the building. The rest of her room contained more soothing colors – mostly white, accented with shades of blues and pale yellows.

She preferred portraits of landscapes and the art on her walls tended towards panoramas of gently rolling Tuscan hills and studies of wildflowers. He noted with surprise that a painting of a breathtaking view of Lake Albano that he had discreetly commissioned to have sent to her from _Colli Albani_ had arrived and was hung in a place of honor over the headboard of her bed.

The paintings of nature were actually kind of soothing; the standard these days generally called for portraits of people and Dino had to admit that it was a little creepy to be surrounded by those lifeless eyes all the time.

He dropped into a heavy, ugly chair in a darker, remote corner of her room. It had appeared shortly after he had started visiting her. One day he had planted ass to one of her more fragile chairs in the sitting area and found himself on the floor amidst a pile of expensive rubble.

So he wasn't allowed to sit in her chairs any more.

He had barely gotten settled in when he heard her voice out in the hall. The door opened and he grinned as he recognized Claudia's slight figure.

"Dino," she said, not even looking at him as she passed over the threshold and into the shadowed room, "how many times have I asked you to use the front door?"

"You give me mixed signals, _piccola_," he said from his vantage in the corner, "When you leave your balcony door open so invitingly."

Her saw her smile before she turned away. Her body bowed forward in a graceful curve as she leaned slightly to speak to someone out in the hall before she closed the door.

She walked into the room with silent grace, stopping briefly to light a candelabrum. The flames made the darkness of her gown bleed into a deep, jewel-like blue. Damn, but it was a good color on her – giving her skin a soft flawlessness and illuminating the golden blaze of her eyes.

The blue stones – he didn't know what the hell they were; sapphires or something – circling her throat were suspended by aged-darkened silver. Her hair was twisted back into combs with the same dark patina and he could see tiny gleams of blue nestled in the hair pieces. With her hair up, the long lines of her neck were accentuated and swept, uninterrupted, up into the classically beautiful planes of her face.

He really didn't see a family resemblance to her brother.

Thank goodness because that would just be weird.

"_Buonasera_, _bambina_," he drawled as she settled herself in his lap, her skirts sighing in a rush of silk as the material spilled over his knees, "You arrived so quickly it's like you knew I was here for you." His arms went around her of their own volition so he could draw her close and get his lips on that skin of hers. And then he was lost for a time in the sweetness of her mouth.

"One of my girls saw you," she murmured eventually, pressing an apologetic kiss onto his forehead as he looked down at her and crinkled his brow in consternation. A quiet knock on the door interrupted the moment. She deftly eluded his grip and stood, shaking out her skirts and leaving him sitting there with the astonishing thought that someone could have seen him when he had been trying to blend.

A light meal had arrived and Claudia reigned over it's placement like a queen. He ambled over to her after the serving girl had left, ignoring the food, intent on devouring an entirely different type of meal.

Her delicate nose scrunched up and she stepped out of his reach.

"You stink," she said.

"Do not."

"Bath," she said imperiously, gestured to the next room over, one he had been hoping he would have the chance to utilize during his visit. He hadn't been stretching the truth when he'd told Alessa that the baths at the _Rosa_ were just fine. In fact, it may have been an understatement. Dino thought about it…

Yup, definitely an understatement; the Madame of the _Rosa in Fiora_ had a weakness for a good soak as well. As such, Claudia had the finest set of baths in _Roma_.

And they weren't for the customers.

As he hitched his shoulders and passed her, he resisted the urge to reach out and pinch her adorable little ass. He hadn't had the chance to figure out where her blades were located and until he did, he was keeping his fingers to himself. But then in times past, an Assassin with the requisite missing finger used consider it a badge of honor, indicating possession of the highest level of skill and strictest loyalty to the Order and the Creed. So if he got two or even three of his fingers off, would that make him the ultimate Assassin?

Ah, what the hell…

The epithet that followed would have made a sailor blush. He grinned.

Warmed a man's heart to know that his woman cared, it really did.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

So this was most vehemently _not_ the way she had envisioned these last couple hours playing out. Here she was, riding all over _Roma_ with Ezio, with the man all to herself for once and what happened? _Business._ That's what happened.

Yeah. Big fail on her part for not having foreseen that. But hey, she could be patient.

Hopefully.

Their current – and hopefully last – stop was to inspect the progress of construction on an aqueduct in the Antiquo district. Ezio had funded it's restoration. Alessa sat, idly sharpening her boot dagger, her legs dangling over the edge of an old stone quarry that gave entrance to three levels worth of tunnels into the _Cloaca Maxima_. Water from the recently reconstructed aqueduct poured into the ancient structure, bringing the water level to a point about two stories below her feet.

She put her blade and whetstone away as Ezio's shadow fell over her. She stood and silently waited beside him as he looked down into the gateways of the old Roman sewer. Finally, he lifted his chin, gave her a mischievous grin and tilted his head towards their horses. He turned to walk away and then paused before turning back to peer quizzically down at the tunnels. He squatted, resting his elbows on his knees, squinting down into the catacombs intently. Alessa followed the line of his gaze. She still didn't see anything.

"_Maestro_?" she asked.

"Use your vision," he said quietly, reaching up to tug her down to a knee beside him. She did as he asked, and made out a faint golden glow below. An entrance of interest was tucked back into the ancient archways of the second level. The sun barely penetrated that far down and back; she wondered how he had noticed it in the first place.

"What is it?" she asked, palming the edge of the quarry and leaning forward a little to get a better look.

"I suspect it is something I have been searching for," he said vaguely. She was silent as he studied the walls, glanced up at the aqueduct pouring water into the cistern, and then back down. He seemed to come to a conclusion.

"It will take days for this to fill to the proper level," he said, his voice becoming more focused. He looked at her and grinned. "Want to go for a climb?"

"Lead the way," she said, glad he didn't want her to go into the water; the water didn't look deep enough for a dive from their height.

She watched his course as he clambered down and over before hitching herself over the side, feeling the familiar downward tug on her body as tension came to her muscles. It was amazing how one noticed the heft of their own body when one had to support their full weight in toes and fingertips.

They came to an impasse and clung to the wall, feeling around for the next set of handholds that weren't there. As she clung to the rock, she watched her _maestro_ suddenly let go.

She shouted in alarm but he caught himself a short drop down, his fingers catching at a crevice in the wall. He used his momentum to swing casually, almost gracefully to the next handhold and then proceeded to make his way to his destination.

Fucker didn't have to do anything the easy way, she thought with resignation.

She hung at the point where he dropped down for a time, trying to force her fingers to let go of the crumbly, ancient stone. Finally, she berated herself for a craven and relaxed her fingers.

She didn't make the drop as competently as Ezio; her body dragged along the stone as her fingers scrabbled for the hand hold and her breath whooshed out of her chest when she finally caught it.

"_Jesu,_" she breathed in relief, her limbs shaking with tension. She steadied her breathing as she crept from toehold to handhold until she made it to the landing.

Ezio was already picking the lock of the grate and working his way competently through the full breadth of known explicatives – and even a few unknowns, she heard with appreciative interest. It wasn't that he was lacking in skill (in either venture), but the lock was heavily rusted. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he strained at the lock, and she felt her own teeth clench as she watched him.

"No one's used this entrance for a long time," he observed wryly, gesturing back to the dust and silt that contained the evidence of their passage. No other footprints marred the debris.

"So…" she inquired mildly as she scraped a pattern in the dust with the toe of her boot, "Where, ah… where are we going?"

He fiddled with the lock single-mindedly, comparing it unfavorably to a promiscuous farm animal, before answering,

"We are looking for information. And a key." He threw the last sentence out almost off-handedly.

She had had enough of reconnaissance in _Napoli_ and her mind fixated right on the key.

"Aha, I assume this is a special key? And special information?" The dryness of her tone rivaled the dust at her feet. She heard him chuckle, the laughter slowing as he suddenly strained at the lock, tendons and muscles in his forearms making the leather of his vambrace creak.

"All information is special, _cara_. I suspect that this is a lair of the Followers of Romulus." A rust and smut-covered fingertip tapped a runic inscription on the sewer cover that she had assumed was graffiti. "I have hunted this group for the last year. We are closing in on the remnants of their society. And the key…" Here he took a moment to look up and give her a wink, "The key one of a set of six that unlock… some useful items."

She found herself holding her breath and when he didn't elaborate, she huffed it out. He chuckled again.

Fine, he could keep all the _good_ information to himself; she didn't care. Greedy man.

The lock eventually gave and Ezio pulled open the heavy grate, hinges letting out a metallic screech of distress. He eyed his lock-picking tools ruefully – he'd have to replace them – before sliding them into a pouch and ducking into the darkness.

Alessa gave him a moment and then followed, stuffing herself down into the dark hole feet first. The chute slanted down at a sharp angle, but was so gritty with old dirt that she had to scoot herself downward.

The last stretch went vertical all of a sudden and dumped her unceremoniously at Ezio's feet. Chagrined, she stood, brushing off her trousers as she looked around in the dim. Ezio had found the means to light a torch…

… she reeled backwards suddenly when her eyes adjusted and she discovered that she had landed on the moldering remains of a dry-rotted skeleton. She staggered into Ezio, who caught and steadied her. He gave her a sardonic look and she bristled, casually continuing to dust herself off, working very hard not to shudder as she dusted splinters of bone from her knees.

"What?" she asked nonchalantly, flicking a piece of... _ugghh… what the?…_ well, she got it out of her damn hair.

Ezio smirked. She scoffed and gestured for him to lead the way; no way was she going to be able to school her expression if they were going to continue cavorting through the remains of dead people.

Fucking gross; almost as bad as that damn water in _Napoli_.

Their vision limited, they moved carefully through what had obviously been used as a crypt at some point. Most of the bodies had been placed carefully in crevices in the walls, thankfully, and so she didn't have to worry about stumbling into another one. The corpses were all very old and most were just heaps of bones and wisps of cloth. The signs of disuse persisted; no one came through these tunnels. Alessa pulled her mask over her face as their footsteps stirred up the dust of the long-neglected tunnels.

They reached a point where Ezio's little torch was superfluous; once they reached the end of the crypts and descended a level, it became apparent that someone maintained the sporadic display of guttering wall sconces. There was water on the ground here, but nothing deeper than the tops of her boots.

And soon, voices echoed ahead of them. The Assassins slowed somewhat, the milder pace allowing them to become almost as silent as the shadows.

Their targets appeared around the next bend, a trio of men in wolf skins. They crouched in the juncture of three tunnels, their heads and shoulders covered in wolf skins, looking for all the world like a small group of the beasts themselves. The wolves' heads had been preserved whole and perched unsettlingly atop the men's heads, teeth bared in varying degrees of a snarl. One of the men, wearing the remains of what must have been a truly frightening black monster, was blustering about his recruitment numbers.

The Assassins crouched to observe.

"Follow me," Ezio murmured, his voice pitched in a tone so low that it was almost beyond hearing, even though his lips nearly touched her ear. "They will scatter and flee for their comrades; the Followers' strength lies in their numbers." He smiled darkly. "Their packs." The smile vanished. "No matter what happens, stay with me until we reach whatever they're fleeing for."

Alessa nodded and adjusted her mask more securely over the lower half of her face. She loosened the knot on the pouch containing her smoke bombs and checked her daggers in their sheaths. She melted into the shadows, creeping along the edge of light, as Ezio sauntered lazily out into the open. The Followers didn't even notice him at first, so unaffected and casual was his gait.

"_Assassino_!"

Annnnnd there it was. Alessa wondered why their targets always had to state the obvious in such a surprised tone.

The chase was on as predicted, the three men scattering, two of them scampering to safety behind descending gates, the third rushing into the sewer proper.

She had to give it to Wolf Skin, as she and Ezio fell into pursuit, the Follower was damn nimble. But her body sang with the thrill of the chase as she sprinted across half submerged posts and swung from the rusted remnants of broken gates. As she hurtled blindly around a corner, she came upon a small group of Followers that had been startled by the men she tailed. Unconcerned, she tossed a smoke bomb and left them milling about in confusion.

The chase ended in a large hexagonal chamber. Alessa could see that access back to an upper level was available here, as well as branches into more tunnels that were barred by more gates. She could make out movement in the darkness beyond them.

Perhaps the most important aspect of the chamber were the Followers. Their target had indeed led them into a large group. Ezio rolled his shoulders once. His hidden blade flicked out and he drew his sword. What appeared to be an entire wolf pack surged forward and Ezio plunged into the fray.

She didn't worry for her _maestro_ as she coerced a few of them to engage with her. She had no doubt that he would plow through them like a scythe through a field of brittle straw.

The Followers were surprisingly aggressive and Alessa felt hot streaks blaze simultaneously across her shoulder blade and just above her knee. The daggers had been clumsily, but fervently thrown – she was inordinately thankful for the clumsy part. Both clattered to the ground just as one of the owners leapt for her. The man's face was almost indistinguishable from the snarling wolf's head of his cape.

She bared her teeth in response and met his attack. Their bodies collided with a heavy _thunk_ and she strained as her blade locked the heavily notched blade of his short sword. She had to use both hands to keep his blade from her body; fucker was strong. He snarled and spat as he struggled to gut her, much like a real wolf. From this close, she could see that true madness glinted in his eyes.

Alessa lifted her chin with what little strength she could spare and head-butted him. Her forehead connected with his nose and although she didn't hit him with enough power to break the bones, it was enough to distract him. Some of the strain let up on her hidden blade and in a flicker of movement, she drew her other dagger and buried it to the hilt at the man's hip.

Blood pumped forth in a big initial gush, spilling over her hand and making her grip slippery. With grim resolve, she shoved him off her blade, kicking him in the chin for good measure as he went down.

Panting from the close quarters struggle, she backed into a corner as three other Followers stalked her. One wasted a throwing dagger against her left vambrace, causing an involuntary twitch of her wrist so that her hidden blade retracted. Then all three charged in, howling with that same manic intensity.

She swore, a ragged exhale of sound as she side-stepped two of them in time for the third to bring his battered sword down onto her right vambrace as she high-blocked the blow. The pain of the impact was excruciating and jolted up her arm right into the base of her skull, but the armor saved her forearm. His wild downward swing left his chest wide open and she stabbed him with her hidden blade, ignoring the fading white spots in her vision.

Funny how they were always surprised to see it appear; out of sight, out of mind.

Or something.

The other two bore down on her again, one big monster hefting a nasty-looking axe, the other brandishing another cruddy short sword. She scooped up the dead man's discarded sword as her hidden blade retracted, more to fend them off than to attack. If she could just draw one of them forward…

She feinted.

Short Sword fell for it; he startled and then rushed her, his guard wide open. She finished him off with almost disappointing ease, feeling almost guilty. Guy obviously was not trained in any sort of martial skill.

Battle Axe, on the other hand, looked to be more than proficient enough to bury that blade in her skull. He was bigger and more muscular than the majority of the Followers she had come across so far and so she treated him with highest caution.

They circled each other slowly. Keeping her gaze on him, Alessa tossed the useless short sword away and let her hidden blade make it's appearance again. She closed her fist around the blade; it's deadly weight bristling from her knuckles was a comfort. She tightened her other fist around her knuckle dagger, feeling her knuckles expand and solidify within the steel handle. Her fingers were sticky with blood and it squelched as she spasmodically clenched and loosened her fist around the hilt, constantly adjusting her grip.

Battle Axe charged, axe across his body, his initial step forward kicking up a cloud of dirt and stinging silt.

Sneaky.

Fucking.

Bastard.

Her mask covered her nose and mouth but did nothing to shield her eyes. She had a terrifying moment of clarity, the big man bearing down on her, nasty blade of the axe at the forefront of her attention before the debris hit her face. She propelled herself toward the outside of the swing she knew was coming and hoped to hell he didn't reverse his axe.

With a yell that sounded more terrified than threatening, she swiped out with her knuckle dagger and…

And only met air.

By now her eyes were streaming but she was able to make out dim shapes…

He wasn't in front of her!

Wildly, she spun in time to see that axe blade descending for her.

Time slowed down. The arc of the axe seemed to be moving in a pathway to kill someone else and she found herself surprisingly detached in the moment of imminent death. She grimly raised her daggers in an x-block, an attempt that would fail under that heavy swing, but maybe she could collapse under the hit to soften the impact and somehow rol out of it...

A second figure darted in and she sighed. Another short sword. So she could either block the axe or the sword.

Gah.

She chose to focus on Battle Axe and hoped that Short Sword was as incompetent as his dead brothers.

She heard the blade slice into flesh but the roar of pain that echoed across the cavern wasn't hers.

Short Sword had stabbed Battle Axe! There was no way they were _that_ incompetent; maybe the little bastard had tried to help her out?

She didn't have the opportunity to wonder why. With a peeved growl, Battle Axe swiped his namesake at Short Sword, who attempted to scurry out of the way but tripped over a dead Follower and sprawled, legs akimbo. Those flailing limbs were like kindling under Battle Axe's retaliatory swipe and a cry of pain emerged from the furs of the smaller Follower's wolf head.

But hell, it was enough time for her to dart in with lethal intent and stab both daggers into the big guy. She hastened backwards from him as he sank to his knees but continued to swing futilely, thrashing about in a valiant effort to sink that axe into a live body.

Not today. She resisted the urge to kick the axe out of his weakening grip.

The economical grunts and clash of metal-on-metal that characterized the auditory experience of a minor skirmish had faded. The last echoing cries of the dying were expiring themselves amidst the high arches of the big chamber.

Her… er, her savior was clutching his knee and breathing through his teeth in the effort to control his pain. Blood welled between his fingers. She couldn't see much of his expression for the scraggly wolf pelt that hung from his head and shoulders. She watched in interest as he staggered to his feet, favoring the wounded leg. It took him a couple tries but eventually he did it and looked around warily, going absolutely still when his eyes met hers.

Ezio had dispatched the final pack member and was taking visual inventory of the remaining targets – meaning the boy with the dripping leg. The rest had either fled or died. Ezio must have thought that she hadn't seen the boy because the Master Assassin moved suddenly, his hidden blade making an appearance…

"Wait!" she yelled, darting in between Ezio and his intended target. The boy, for his part, stood solemnly, awaiting his death.

"_Ma che cazzo_!" Ezio snarled at her as he stumbled awkwardly to the side to avoid stabbing her. The Master Assassin reached out to shove her roughly aside and then knocked the cape from the boy's shoulder. Without the snarling wolf's head giving him height and girth, Alessa could see that he was indeed quite young; she figured sixteen was a high estimate.

She watched her _maestro_ warily for a second and then knelt beside one of the slain Followers, using his cape to swipe her blades clean before sheathing them. Ezio prowled around the boy; he had not yet retracted his hidden blade. She watched the kid's pale green eyes track the weapon. Smart boy.

Finally Ezio stopped his pacing, standing behind the boy. He looked at her, raising his arm in question.

"Why do you protect this one?" he asked. His tone wasn't angry, only curious.

"He aided me in the fight," she said, shrugging with a nonchalance she didn't feel.

"He _aided_ our enemies and is involved in an organization that has killed innocents."

"I never killed anyone!" the kid snarled, whipping his head around to look directly at the Master Assassin for the first time. Then the rush of adrenaline left him and lowered his head submissively once more. "But I never did anything to stop the killing that others did," he whispered. His shoulders shook violently once before he regained control.

Alessa was impressed when he raised his chin in defiance and turned to face Ezio square on.

"You can kill me now," he said, gritting the words out through his teeth. "I deserve it."

Alessa watched Ezio intently. His face was impassive at he considered the boy, but she knew him well enough to know that he was thinking. He didn't take long to reach a conclusion.

"Stop being melodramatic, boy," he said dismissively. Alessa breathed a silent sigh of relief. The kid expressed his relief by slumping to the ground. Ezio glanced at Alessa and then back at the boy before them. It was then that she noticed he was in a pitiable state; clothes ragged and dirty, face smudged, hair matted to his head with sweat.

Ezio brushed past the kid, stopping briefly at her side to murmur for her to take the kid to the Campagna thieves' headquarters and that he'd meet her there. Then he climbed up to the next level and was gone.

Alessa went to the boy's side, binding up his wound haphazardly with some spare cloth salvaged from one of the dead wolf men. Dino would likely have splinted it – the angry wound kept re-opening every time he bent his knee – but it would have been a useless waste of her efforts so she just bound it tightly.

The boy's flash of spirit had waned significantly and he seemed almost drunk with fatigue as she helped him to his feet. He was alarmingly skinny and wreathed in the miasma of poor hygiene. She noticed that the wolf pelt, while impressive from afar, was in reality a ragged skin mottled with bug-ridden fur.

Her skin abruptly itched everywhere and she hoped that the kid didn't have fleas. He didn't make a comment, nor did his expression change as she kicked the nasty cloak away. They were of a similar height; he may have been just a bit taller, but his slight build – a dubious trophy of years of poor nutrition – made it easy for her to assist him in walking.

"What's your name?" she asked him after he gestured towards the way out.

"Remo," he replied, sucking in a breath as he forgot about his wound and bent his knee to try and walk more on his own. She snorted in amused disdain,

"Really? Join the Followers, get a fetching wolf-inspired name? How original!"

"That's always been my name," he said, his tone a mixture of pride, anger, and hurt. She had the feeling that he would have put forth a little more sass if he hadn't been exhausted, wounded, and hungry.

Oh. Well didn't she feel like a dick.

"Sorry," she said eventually. "I'm Alessa. Nice to meet you Remo."

There, she could be cordial!

He didn't reply, but he huffed out a pained breath that she took for amusement. He grew weaker and more delirious as she urged him to keep moving, but eventually, he was able to take her through the dank underground tunnels. They came out conveniently close to their destination.

_Per fortuna._

Because he _did_ have fleas.

* * *

**A/N: Remo is here! TLMonkey has been busting ass working with me and we have some fun stuff cooked up for the youngest recruit!** **And don't forget (as if we could) just over 3 months' wait for Revelations and Embers!**


	31. R & R

**A/N: Once again, thanks and LURRRRVS to my reviewers: NotBob713, stagey, flyingcrispi, TL Monkey, Assassin's Creed superfan, ecnal, Dolphin2ii, Thabit**

**Music: Alessa - "Paradigm" We Are the Fallen, "Nothing Else Matters" Metallica (IMO the greatest love song EVER) :: Dino - "Black Diamond" Stratovarius, "No Dear Hearts" Lacrimas Profundere**

**Shamazaki has FINALLY given his approval for posting. LOL The Shamazaki Seal of Approval; oh how much angst I go through seeking the SSOA. No really, my beta is amazing, I don't deserve such awesomeness!**

**ubisoft created this kick ass universe for us all to play in and I am much obliged for that!  
**

* * *

**_Alessa Ricci_**

The sound of her boots scuffing along the stone floor of the dimly lit tunnel seemed loud. Maybe it was the darkness; her hearing seemed especially acute. Her was gait uneven as she assisted Remo and the soles of her boots scraped the centuries-old mud and dirt in hiccuping staccato.

Once she nearly rolled her ankle when she and Remo meandered to close to the center of the tunnel where the stone dipped down suddenly to propagate the flushing of debris through the sewers. Fresh water from the newly restored aqueducts above ground had begun to sluice through the tunnels already and she was impressed at the efficiency of the design. Long-standing rubbish was already being swept down into the center channel and some of the buoyant particulates in the mess were already floating towards the sewer outfall somewhere on the Tiber.

A surprisingly elegant barrel-vault style ceiling was shrouded in shifting darkness not far above them, making her wonder at the marvelous feat of engineering the ancient Romans had used to create this massive underground warren simply to make waste disposal easier.

The flames of the randomly placed torches ensconced on the walls hissed and sputtered, seeming to be living entities. The fingers of flame seemed to quest about in their unending dance, reaching out to caress the sweating walls only to fling themselves away in alarm when they found the sticky humidity.

Alessa halted near to one of frenetic hydrophobes to adjust her grip on Remo. He hitched himself up again, one of his arms flung around her shoulders for support.

Suddenly the torch sputtered fitfully in a faint breeze, nearly extinguishing under the gentle onslaught. Alessa lifted her head; she _thought_ she had sensed a change in the air in the dank tunnel.

And she had been envisioning that the breeze came from the passage of the leaping specks left behind by the discarded wolf pelt. She idly scratched the back of her neck.

Remo didn't say much as they started down the tunnel again, their footsteps echoing up into the dark reaches of the elegant vaulted ceiling; he had given her directions at the couple of intersections but was mostly focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She didn't really blame him; he was doing his damnedest to walk on his own, but was dragging an injured leg on top of his exhaustion. Recipe for failure right there. And he was really starting to get heavy.

They came to a dead end. Alessa stared apprehensively up a ladder as it reached up to the surface. The distance was daunting given her burden and Remo's pain.

"I can't carry you up that," she warned him. "But if you hang on, I can take some of your weight."

"I'll be fine!" He gritted his teeth. She shrugged.

"Okay, go for it." She got a baleful look in return as she stepped back to watch him hobble around the foot of the ladder, trying to figure out how to climb it without bending his knee. Despite the potential gravity of the situation, she had to fight not to laugh. She couldn't be superior about his teenage drama; she remembered being that way herself.

But damn was it _funny_!

And fascinating; he was stubborn enough to try to do it, was furious because he knew he couldn't, but still was going to insist on trying. She could almost hear him raging at himself in his head. On a whim, she shifted her vision…

…and saw the faint, telltale blue aura leap into existence around him.

Stubborn apparently ran in teenage veins _and_ Assassin blood. How interesting: Ezio, Dino, Tullio, Markku, and now this kid. Had their ancestors possessed such strong ties to each other that their descendants were preordained to recognize one other? Was that the reason she felt so close to her brothers? Was that the reason this Remo had come to her aid? Did he feel it too?

"Just let me help you," she finally said, exasperated. He grumbled something as she stepped up the first few rungs, then grudgingly came forward, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She was careful not to jolt his leg, but between the narrow confines of the access shaft, the smell of the sewers wafting up, and her itchy skin that had made the move directly from Remo's body, it was hard to not want to just let him drop. They were grumbling and bitching at each other like a pair of old biddies by the top they reached the hatch to street level.

Alessa emerged first into a narrow alley, discovering that the sewer couldn't have let out in a better location. The Campagna region thieves' headquarters was in a nondescript tavern just down the street. She reached down and heaved Remo out of the ground, replaced the cover, and then sat beside him as he caught his breath. They leaned against the cool stone of one of the buildings and she produced her canteen, splashing some over her face before she passed it to Remo.

She wasn't out of breath or anything – just making sure the kid was good.

The dusty street curved as it meandered through this cluster of buildings, making the area seem deserted even though she could hear a lot of activity just around the bend. The inconspicuous building she aimed for had a sign with a crude picture of a shaggy dog, the lettering below proclaiming that one was entering The Hair of the Dog.

Remo was staggering badly by the time Alessa managed to drag him into the thieves' den. The wound was bad but she suspected that it was only a small part of the problem; a body didn't flush with fever that quickly after a wound unless there was already something wrong. She didn't have to be a _dottore_ to understand that.

"You got worms too?" she muttered. He glared at her.

The interior of the tavern was decidedly cooler than outside, the glaring sun effectively blocked as they passed over the threshold. A single window placed near the ceiling let in a little bit of that singular quality of light that western-facing windows provide in the late afternoon. Dust motes were visible in the air, lazy specks that drifted randomly to and fro in their inexorable path to the ground.

The floorboards creaked faintly and Alessa inhaled the scent of hop-brewed alcohol, old dust, and stale sweat that characterized well used places that the general public assembled. The scent of fresh wood stain and beeswax polish overlaid the other smells, the overall effect making the place seem aged but lovingly cared for.

She nodded casually to the glowering barkeep as the man rubbed a grungy cloth over the unexpectedly spotless bartop. She recognized the guy; she didn't know his name, but he was always here. Him and that damn cloth; last time he had been 'cleaning' a beer mug with it.

"Adriano," she said in relief as her eyes adjusted to the twilight of the main room and she spotted him drinking alone in a corner. The tall, lanky thief was a welcome sight as he tilted his chair forward onto all four legs and brought his boots down from the tabletop. He staggered slightly as he got to his feet. Poor bastard; standing watch in an empty tavern had driven him to drink.

She knew that this particular tavern always maintained a steady rotation of thieves standing watch in the guise of drunkard at the bar. Said regular, however, was usually very much _not_ drunk – and _always _was a high level thief working his trade. Not that anybody worth stealing from ever came to this place; thievery of information was the mark of interest here. Tradesmen, builders, and farmers came through here. The thieves chatted them up, obtaining knowledge; keeping their fingers on the pulse of the city.

Adriano, however, didn't have much watch-standing to do; the place was empty, awaiting it's evening crowd of real customers.

"Alessandra _l'assassina_!" he crowed, catching her and the oblivious Remo up in a boisterous embrace. "Marco told me he'd last seen you heading for _Valnerina_ with _messere_ Ezio." He sniffed at them suspiciously and backed off as she struggled to hold up the rapidly failing Remo. "Eh? What's this? A new chew toy?"

"Hardly. But maybe you can use him for target practice later. Right now he's wounded and needs to eat."

"_Va bene:_ _dottore, _dinner. And perhaps a bath?" He leered. "A woman too?"

"_Divertente_. But I think that'd kill him, eh _piccolo lupo_?"

"I could manage," the boy croaked, a glint in his eyes that was a little too cognizant for fever-gleam. Alessa beamed at him; so touching.

Adriano chuckled and then he whistled; a sharp, piercing burst of sound that summoned a boy of perhaps eight or nine from a back room – he had apparently been dozing if the slightly mussed hair and the way he rubbed his eyes were any indications.

"Have cook prepare a light meal for our friend here." Adriano eyed her askance. "And fetch a clean set of clothing for both him and _l'assassina._" Alessa nodded her thanks.

"I'm going to take him out to the well."

"Just don't drop him in it," Adriano observed as he went back to his mug, "We make our beer with that water."

Alessa snickered as she helped Remo through the kitchens and out into the back. The little tavern boasted a small courtyard made private by sturdy stone walls. A door was tucked into a corner of the tavern courtyard and partially blocked by junk and debris.

The Sleeping Fox headquartered the gambling dens, but the real wealth of the Roman thieves' guild funneled through Adriano's outpost – the 'abandoned' warehouse that sided the courtyard of the hole-in-the-wall tavern funneled most of the stolen goods to wealthy buyers outside of Roma.

Riches beyond her comprehension lay beyond that innocuous door.

Not that she cared. Stuff was stuff, no matter how fancy or rare it was. What always made her mind reel was the significance of the organizations she dealt with. This wasn't something she had grown up dreaming she would be doing. No, not even in her dreams had she ever imagined herself doing the things she did now...

Thievery, adherence to an ancient code, jumping off buildings, reconnaisance and secret missions...

_Assassin..._

She shook her head and pushed her musings aside for the time being, settling Remo down onto an over turned bucket. His injured leg stuck out awkwardly. She uncovered the well and worked the winch, drawing up a bucket of cold, clean water. She set it next to Remo, hitched up her trousers, and went to her haunches beside his leg.

The boy jumped when her hidden blade snicked out. He watched the blade with interest as she sawed his filthy bandages off. Just before she peeled the mess off of his leg, she looked up at him.

"Don't you pass out on me," she warned.

"I won't," he blustered as his face lost the last traces of color.

"Yeah, well, you look like shit, so I don't believe you for a minute. Look away."

His green eyes, paler than Markku's, blazed at her for a minute before he finally did as she said. She grunted. Good. It wasn't fun to see your own body turned into a hunk of meat.

And, oh yeah, his wound was a mess. No wonder he was in so much pain. That damn axe blade had gashed across the top of the knee and deep into the big thigh muscle before curving around to do some ragged damage to the medial aspect of the joint.

It would need stitches and then some. Might as well turn the kid over to a fucking seamstress. To her untrained eye, it didn't appear as if the bones were broken. That was good. If the kid didn't lose the leg to infection he'd probably be okay.

Her teeth set, she reached over for the bucket of water and dumped it over the wound. Remo verbalized his pain in bellowing explicative.

"Sorry," she said as she drew up another bucket, "Dino will have my ass if I let this stay filthy. Besides, this water is nothing; _he'll_ probably use alcohol on it."

"Who… Who's Dino?" Remo asked through clenched teeth.

"He's the guy who's going to fix this leg," she replied. She looked up at the kid, noted the mistrust narrowing his eyes. She reached out and grasped his chin. "Remo," she said. "He's the best. He brought one of my brothers back from the brink of death. Trust him. Trust me."

Those eyes shifted aside and she let it go. There was no use forcing him to think the way she wanted him to. She would just have to let actions speak for themselves. She recognized that he probably had some real trust issues: based on his age, his – former – association, and his physical state, she surmised that he hadn't had parents to take care of him. At least not recently. So an orphan that had survived the streets of _Roma_. He would have had to be wily, resourceful, and distrusting to pull that off.

Did he have anyone else that would notice he was missing? Would they come looking for him?

His emotional state seemed to answer that question. He didn't seem all that concerned about leaving, but of course that giant leg wound might have something to do with it. She sensed that it was too soon to be questioning him about those things. And then an abrupt surge of maternal instinct urged her to do just that. She thrust those thoughts away; he wouldn't respond to mother hen tactics.

So it was back to brusque and tough.

Remo watched her face as she returned with the second bucket. His features were strained as he anticipated the next drenching and she felt herself soften towards him.

Dammit, she was such a wimp.

"Sorry," she whispered. She was absurdly pleased when he reached out to grasp her upper arm as she knelt beside him. She poured the second bucket over the wound and he made that ragged sound of pain again. The filthy water containing blood and dirt and debris soaked the ground around her boots.

Adriano's little helper – in fact he looked suspiciously like the older thief, she wondered if the boy was a son – brought a stack of clean bandages and clothing out to her. She accepted it all gratefully. The boy announced in a bored tone that food was ready and left before she could respond.

She repeated the wound rinse once more and called it quits; Remo was looking a little green and she didn't blame him. She re-bandaged the wound to keep it clean and found some materials to throw together a makeshift splint. She called Adriano out to help Remo wash and change clothes.

She took a quick moment to herself, ducking into the back storage room and peeling off her filthy hooded tunic and trousers. The fleas went with the clothing, but she washed vigorously at her water bucket just to make sure.

Her replacement clothing was thief garb. She felt naked without her hood as she shackled her dagger belt around her hips. The thieves preferred their linens a little looser than assassins did, apparently, but the freedom of movement was incredible. Maybe she'd have to have some uniforms custom made. She stuffed her dirty clothes into an empty satchel and put her armor back on.

When she returned to the main room, Remo and Adriano were at the bar. The kid looked entirely different. His hair truly was dark, not just filthy, and contrasted nicely with those eyes of his. He was still scrawny and his features were gaunt, but time would improve that. They had cut the leg of his pants off to accommodate the knee wound, but other than that, he was garbed like her and the rest of the thieves.

He was indifferent to her entrance, was too busy shoveling food into his mouth.

Damn, was he even chewing?

She sat beside him, noted what was in his cup, and shoved it away,

"Oi, Adriano, no beer for him. Water. Or milk, If you have any. _Merda_!"

"What is he, an infant?" Adriano pushed the clay mug back towards Remo.

"No, cretin, he's half-starved," she said as she whisked the cup from the boy's grasp, "You give him a sip of beer and he'll be passed out before you could get any real food in him."

Adriano grunted.

"He's eaten half the food in the kitchen already."

Remo merely shrugged and scooped another round of gulp-and-swallow into his mouth.

It was making her a little sick to watch.

"So I have a _dottore_ coming," Adriano said once the particulars of Remo's drinks had been handled.

"I think that he'd benefit more from Dino's skills. All your guy will do is put some leeches on him."

"Hey! Our _dottore_ uses only the best quality leeches." He thumped his chest. "I'm living proof that they are."

"You're living proof that those leeches will suck out your brain. Leeches, pah!"

Adriano _tsk_ed.

"Alright, to Demasi then. But the boy's missing out. Headquarters?"

"No, send him to _la Rosa in Fiore_."

"Ah! _La Rosa_! _Bene_! But I thought you said a woman might mean his death?"

"Well I'm sure it wouldn't bother him to be hastened to his maker in that manner."

"A woman after my own mind!"

She was still chuckling when the tavern door opened and Ezio loped in. She took a sudden interest in fiddling with her vambrace in order to hide her delighted grin. Her _maestro_ exchanged a few words with Adriano and then gestured for her to accompany him.

The Master Assassin had changed out of his sewer trawling clothes; he had to have stashes all over the city. But then she remembered that he owned businesses everywhere; he probably had a new set awaiting him at every tailor shop in the city.

Remo looked up as she stood. His eyes were wide and guileless as they met hers.

Brusque and tough, dammit.

"Dino is a good man, he'll take good care of you," she said gruffly as Ezio come to stand at her shoulder.

"And my recruit's trust in you had _better not_ be misplaced," Ezio glowered, his shoulders bunching under his spaulders. Remo resolutely did not move as the Master Assassin stepped closer, "Or I will end you, do you understand?"

A terse nod as Remo met the Master Assassin's gaze head on. Then the kid went limp as Ezio backed away and turned to leave. Adriano and Alessa let out their breaths and she squeezed Remo's shoulder. The kid took a breath and returned his attention to his food.

"Off to initiate some mayhem, then?" Adriano asked.

"We're going to go jump off the coliseum," Ezio replied over his shoulder as he strode towards the door.

"Ah! Well good luck with that," Adriano called out without missing a beat. He raised his glass to them as Alessa hurried out the door behind Ezio.

Adriano's boy was just outside, holding the reins of a pair of horses. Ezio vaulted the rump of one and the boy tossed the reins up to him.

As she put a boot in a stirrup, Alessa noticed that the sky was alarmingly dark to the south and west. The wind had become quite cool in anticipation of the arrival of the menacing clouds.

"Climb the Coliseum?" she inquired wryly as she clicked her horse forward, drawing abreast of Ezio's mount.

"What, you don't want to?"

"I… oh, uh –" she stuttered, totally taken aback. She thought he'd been joking. He leaned towards her, saddle creaking.

"You'll like it." His tone sent a thrill down her spine. She eyed him shrewdly for a moment, doing her best not to get drawn in by his charm.

"Well then," she said. She booted her horse into a gallop and tore down the street. She heard Ezio shout his horse into a gallop behind her.

The Coliseum loomed before her as she pulled her horse to a sliding halt and leapt from the saddle. She was straightening her clothing when Ezio pulled up beside her. He dismounted, tugged his spaulders straight in an efficient movement and looked pointedly up at the towering north face of the ancient monstrosity.

The stone was roughly hewn together, providing excellent handholds for her as she climbed a few movements behind Ezio. Clinging to the outside of the building, they went unnoticed by the squatters who made the Coliseum home. The wind began to pick up, both from the impending storm and as they gained height. She felt her palms begin to sweat inside her climbing gloves.

It was amazing how that particular whistling sound of the wind made one more aware of exactly how high up one was. Like a little warning from nature, reminding her gently of just how mortal she was.

_Well fuck you, nature,_ she thought as a bead of nervous sweat dripped from her eyebrow.

They gained the uppermost height of the building just as the first cloud began to block the sun. As she heaved herself over the edge, she noticed lightning flickering amidst the clouds out at sea.

Hmmm…

Perhaps standing atop one of the highest points in _Roma_ was not such a good idea.

Ezio, however, appeared oblivious as he took a deep breath and gazed out at the city proper. She watched him for a moment, silhouetted by those angry clouds, the white of his cape catching and holding the diminishing sunlight as it was unfurled gently by the escalating wind. She turned to see what he was looking at.

The darkness behind them gave an ominous quality to the light that still shone over the rest of _Roma_. But the view was still magnificent. The immensity of the metropolis astonished her. And all the ugliness that one could observe close up disappeared from this perspective. Instead, the city looked like a scattering of children's blocks, and everything could be rearranged to her liking at her whim.

And then she released that this was exactly what the Assassin Order was trying to do. Exactly what Ezio was working for; aligning the city along a better course where it's people could make their own choices.

Instead of being browbeat into submission by a cruel leader.

She cast her gaze out to the north and could make out the immense banner of the Borgia family flying over the Castel Sant Angelo. The symbol of her enemy seemed to mock her and she felt her eyes narrow and her fists clench at her sides. And there stood the impediment to their work here in the city; it was a stack of blocks that she would love to kick over.

She felt the tension in her muscles relax under Ezio's touch as he stepped up behind her, wrapping his hands around her upper arms. His scent and warmth enveloped her. He leaned down to speak near her ear,

"I have a gift for you, _carina_, compliments of Leonardo."

"Oh?" She turned to face him as he produced a bundle of canvas and handed it over. She turned the surprisingly heavy package over in her hands, hefted it, and then looked up at him.

"Can I bludgeon someone with it?" she asked, only half-joking; thing was heavy.

"It's a parachute," he said, producing an identical bundle as she looked hers over. "There are no more flying machines for you to pilot, _uccellina_, but this is the next best thing."

Ezio pointed to the northeast.

"See that tower?" he asked. She nodded.

"I'll race you," he said in open challenge, his raised eyebrows inviting her to deny him.

She inconspicuously tightened her grip on the parachute, while she gave him the appearance of vacillating, looking first at her parachute, then him, then squinting out across the rooftops of the buildings below. Abruptly, she whirled around, sprinted for the edge and leapt.

She fell for what must have been less than a second – it felt like an eternity – before the heavy cloth of the bundle caught the rushing air and _whoofed_ open. She was jerked _up_ into the air for a split second. She whooped in delight as her descent slowed to something resembling flight. Her arms tense, she experimented with changing direction, was sent see-sawing before she figured out how to control the angle of the cloth in the wind so that she could aim carefully for her target.

She squinted, finding that estimating distance whilst descending slowly from a height was difficult. Whatever the case, she'd never beat him on foot…

Aha!

She spotted a lanky, well-dressed man riding nonchalantly along the side of the road. She chanced a look behind her; the path of her flight going slightly crooked with the turn of her body, and saw that Ezio was not too far behind her. She caught the dark look of provocation he gave her and shivered involuntarily. They had not discussed the spoils for the victor...

She banished that delightful line of thought and focused on obtaining the horse, coming down in silent and unseen threat right above and behind the indolent horseman. When she gauged the distance was right, she let go of her parachute to drop straight down onto the rider. The horse squealed and reared as the chute flapped away, the folds of the cloth catching the wind with an abrupt jerk before floating gently to the ground.

Alessa hung on grimly and went limp, using her deadweight to unseat the rider as the horse danced and bucked. She had barely seated herself securely before she booted the animal into a frenzied gallop, narrowly avoiding a roadside group of young, parasol-twirling ladies.

She didn't dare look behind her again. He would be right behind her; she could see him in her mind, sprinting across the rooftops as she tore through the streets. As she neared the tower – part of the remains of an ancient, crumbling stone _palazzo_ – she planned her next stage of the race. He was likely already on the rooftops so she would need to hasten to those heights with a quickness surpassing simple climbing.

Inspiration struck as she spotted a framework of wooden scaffolding spanning the street a full story above the ground just ahead of her.

Using every bit of agility she possessed, she stood in the stirrups and with a quick movement, leaped into the saddle so that she crouched in the seat as the horse galloped. Her thighs burned as she struggled to constantly adjust her balance in the awkward position. She looked up and...

_Merda_, the beams were _right there_!

With a great heave, she jumped at just the right time, her momentum throwing her body forward as her hands smacked into the beam so that she flipped completely, somehow landing in a crouch on top, balanced on the tips of her toes.

Resisting the urge to voice her delight, she began to sprint from beam to beam, then vaulted the outer wall of the palazzo grounds. She stepped off the wall, gaining an arbor in the remains of the _palazzo_ gardens and losing her footing briefly as she darted across the uneven branches of an ancient wisteria that shed petal tears at her crossing. The long-neglected gardens had grown wild, ivy crawling up the marble columns that lined what had been the main walkway. The column heights were stair-stepped, making it easy for her to transition to a higher point above the ground.

Atop the highest marble column, she took a moment to assess the tower wall before her and mentally mapped her path to the roof. In the brief span that she held her hand over her eyes to shade them, the storm clouds passed over the sun. As a cool breeze started, she saw Ezio leap into space from the portico of the garden to her left. She lost sight of him around the corner of the tower but heard the muffled thump as his body impacted the tower wall.

_Cazzo!_

She leaped at the wall of the tower, scrabbling for a handhold and threw all of her efforts into her climbing, resolutely ignoring the soft sounds of Ezio doing the same. She was working her way around a corner, her fingers jammed tightly in a fortunate crevice in the stone when Ezio scrambled around the opposite corner. His sudden appearance was too much; she exploded into gasps of laughter. Her climbing was hampered by her laughter and Ezio beat her handily to the top.

She barely managed the rest of the climb and missed her first grasp at Ezio's outstretched hand. But then her palm smacked his. The instant his fingers closed around hers, her spasmodic laughter dissolved. She hung on the side of the building, legs trembling with the effort to hold her position, the fingers of her right hand going numb as she clutched the stone with her fingertips.

His brows came down over his eyes in concentration and she bent her knees and leapt. He had been sitting on a windowsill and when he pulled her up, the combined momentum tumbled them into the room together, crashing into the half-open shutters with a spectacular sound of splintering wood.

Distant thunder rumbled as they sprawled onto the floor just inside the window. He landed on his back and she landed on him, catching herself by planting her hands on either side of him. She rested her forehead on his chest as they caught their breaths, both of them winded from the race. One of his arms came to rest across the small of her back. As their breathing slowed, she lifted her head to look at him. He smoothed his hand along her spine, fingers capturing and pulling forth her braid, wholly focused on separating the weave…

"Ow, dammit!" The startled curse was out of her mouth before she knew it. Ezio shook with laughter as he struggled to detangle her hair from the buckle on his left hidden blade. After a moment of awkward maneuvering interspersed by curses on her part and laughter on his, he finally succeeded by removing the blade from his forearm. She was astonished when he set it aside. She had never seen him remove his hidden blade and leave it off.

His previously amused expression slowly faded into one of intimate focus. One of his hands reached down to hook behind her knee, hitching her leg over his hip.

She watched his intent face in fascination as his fingers carefully combed through her hair, spreading the strands out to tent their faces. The faint illumination that came in from the ambient light outside was dimmed, the light made almost non-existent by the soft darkness created by her hair.

Propping herself on her forearms, she pushed his hood back from his face. His gaze on hers was more intimate than an actual physical touch and she was too overwhelmed to react at all as he cautiously reached up to cradle her face between his hands. He seemed to wait, as if even now he was allowing her to choose…

An almost cold breeze gusted through the window, heralding the light patter of rain as the storm made it's initial advances to consume _Roma_.

In that moment, she made a soft sound, the quietest of sighs, the faintest whisper of his name…

"…_Ezio_…"

…and in a flicker of lightning the choice he gave her was lost.

* * *

**_Dino Demasi_**

Dino could faintly hear the rain when it started. The red drapes at the balcony doors fluttered as the wind picked up. The dark clouds had extinguished the remaining sunlight into late twilight and the room darkened considerably. He thought idly about lighting some candles but decided that he liked to soft darkness better.

He reached down to pull the blanket up around Claudia as the cool wind permeated the room. Her hair, freed from the confines of her veil, spilled across the pillows in dark waves. Silking his fingers through the fine strands, he remembered how richly it gleamed in the candlelight, not just black but infused with undertones of red and bronze and gold.

She shifted once, frowning slightly in her sleep before tucking herself more comfortably at his side with a soft sigh. Entranced, Dino could not take his gaze away from the soft flare of her lashes where they rested on her cheeks as she slumbered. Dainty, delicate, and lovely but merely a misleading exterior hiding those intelligent, fervent eyes; just as her overall exterior, the facade she presented to the world, was not a full representation of her true self. Yes, she was lovely and petite, but her passion and zeal for life was hidden by that dutiful grace. He liked to think that she became what she was meant to be when she was with him. He was one of the lucky ones to be given a glimpse of her true spirit.

But yes those eyes; they had transfixed him since the moment she had cast her gaze towards him. He loved to have her hands on him, but he was ensnared by those eyes when they singled him out, windows to the feral vitality within her.

He ran the tips of his fingers over the elegant curve of her bare shoulder. Her body curved in towards his at the touch and she then looked up at him drowsily through her lashes.

He was overcome.

"Marry me," he whispered.

"Mmhmm?" She shifted in his arms, pressing her cheek into his neck.

"Was that a yes?" he prompted, smiling at her sleepy, upturned face.

"Was what a yes? Wait, did you just…" Her eyes popped open in dawning disbelief.

"Yes I did just ask you to marry me," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her softly.

"But… why?" she asked.

Okay, not the response he had been expecting. But then, he hadn't given her any warning, either. Hell, he had surprised himself; the thought of marriage had crossed his mind once or twice, but he hadn't had any idea on how to ask her. Asking Alessa for advice would have assured that Ezio would have found out; woman couldn't hide anything from her Master Assassin. Not to mention Ezio would probably have something to say about the whole matter.

Undeterred, he went with candid and spontaneous; she would see right through any fake romantic drivel he came up with,

"Because I like being with you, _piccola_. Because I like your mind and your strength. And I like the way you wrinkle your nose when I've done something offensive," he grinned at her briefly as she demonstrated, then touched her chin, gently tilting her face up to his, "Because I love you."

The golden blaze of her eyes flared as her eyes widened. He felt like a complete jackass, spilling his guts like this, but he was being perfectly honest. He held his breath for what seemed like an eternity as she gazed up at him. An astonishing array of emotions flickered across her face: wonder, surprise, and then… fear.

"No," she whispered.

"Wha… What?"

"I can't – I'm not... I don't…"

He put his arms around her, held her close to him and she went quiet. He had seen that fear rise to the forefront of her thoughts. He didn't like it, but he understood. Their lives were not entirely their own, given to a greater cause that was bigger than their single lives. But that shouldn't matter. It shouldn't and he wondered why she thought that it did.

"Alright then," he whispered, staring at the ceiling, reeling from her denial as she trembled in his arms.

"Would you ask me if I was one of the girls?" Her voice was small.

"One of the… girls?"

"If I were a whore, _amore_," she said quietly, "Would you ask if I were one of the whores?"

"Well… yes, actually. Yes I would."

"Would you make me give up what I did?"

"You wouldn't need to do that if you married me," he evaded; no man in his right mind would want his wife whoring for other men.

"And if I wanted to continue? The work I do here is similar to the work you do as an Assassin. Would you give up doing what you do to get married?"

Aha, so that's what she was getting at. He shifted her in his arms, bunched his fist into her hair, the embrace giving him a feeling of control over the situation. She looked up at him, eyes wide as she struggled with whatever was going on in her head.

"I'm not asking you to give up anything," he said. "I just want you to be my wife."

That little shine of fear returned to her eyes and something in his chest tightened. He hid his reaction by drawing her to him and was gratified when her arms went around him and she rested her cheek over his heart.

"Let me think about it," she whispered against him. And then, so softly that he almost didn't hear it, "But don't ever think that I don't love you Dino."

He was mollified for the time being, but _Dio,_ what was she so afraid of?

They listened to the thunder and the rain as it started to come down in earnest. He could hear the water pounding on the roof and the wind began to lash at the curtains. The contrast of the violent weather outside and the comfort and safety within the room was kind of nice.

He had just begun to drift off to sleep when a quiet knock sounded at the door. It took a moment, but he realized that Claudia was getting out of bed to answer.

"I got it," he said. He rolled from the bed and dressed quickly, taking a moment to tuck the blanket more securely about her as she murmured a sleepy thanks. Pants, boots, hooded tunic, hidden blade, and sword belt went on in quick order.

"_Che cos'è_?" he asked as he opened the door, finger-combing his hair out of his eyes.

"_Messere_ Demasi," the courtesan said, her expression mildly surprised, "Ah... there is a patient here for you."

"A patient?"

"_Sì, messere_, sent by Alessa."

_That little bitch; what was she up to?_ He chuckled appreciatively.

"Indeed?" He stepped out of the room, closing it behind him. "Lead the way."

He followed the girl as she flitted through the luxuriously appointed public spaces. The hallway and balcony overlooking the main room were scrupulously clean and tastefully decorated. Heavy burgundy and gold tapestries decorated with soothing patterns in various shades of the two colors adorned the walls. Small, elegant table were filled with vases of freshly cut flowers in pale colors that accented the main color scheme. The varying perfumes of the courtesans assaulted his nostrils; floral, spicy, and musky scents all clamoring for his attention.

The luxury scaled down dramatically as he followed his messenger to the servant areas. They traversed a narrow damn staircase where he kept smacking his forehead into the low ceiling. It led into the bustling kitchens. His appearance caused a small uproar as the head cook, a formidable woman that ruled her domain with an iron will and a startingly versatile butcher knife, assailed him with the enticing promise of his favorite dessert.

Torn, he halted for a moment - the woman did magical things with cannoli, apples, and cream. After a moment of dithering, he placated the woman by generously offering to take care of an entire platter of the delightful confections as soon as he dealt with his patient. Appeased, she returned her attention to her workers, who scattered to the far ends of the kitchen as her steely gaze swept over them.

The infirmary was down a short hall from the kitchens, meaning that he had access to the big hearths for all the hot water he could ever need. He sent his messenger to begin that process.

He could hear a few of the girls cooing over whoever was in there:

"Such pretty eyes you have…"

"What a sweet boy, so quiet…"

"I can take care of you, _tesoro_…"

As his shadow darkened the doorway, a trio of Claudia's girls looked up from their perches on and around the single bed in the room. A boy in his older teens lounged back, looking a little awkward, but grinning for all he was worth. One of the courtesans was smoothing back his hair as she purred over him. But despite the gentle female attention, the boy looked a little peaked; a spot of color high on each cheek, face pale and wan, eyes a little too bright.

"Find yourselves a stray?" he asked good naturedly as he focused in on the heavily bandaged leg. A round of feminine giggles fell upon his ears and then they swept from the room like a flock of brightly colored songbirds. With the women gone, the boy gave up the masculine pretense and sagged into his pillow.

"Whew, sorry kid, didn't mean to scare off your lady friends," Dino said as he crouched down beside the teenager. He pressed his index and middle fingers to the pulse point on the boy's wrist, feeling that the skin was too hot and the heart beat too fast.

"What's your name?" he asked, heading straight to the medicine cabinet. He found a bottle of wine, still cool and dusty from it's repose in the cellar. Good vintage too.

"Remo."

"Remo…?" Dino gestured for a surname.

"Just Remo."

"Remo, eh?" Dino considered the boy for a moment before inspiration struck. "da Roma?" He chuckled and then deepened his voice dramatically, "Remo da Roma!" He rolled his R's with flair. "That's good kid; I like it. I'm Dino."

Remo, for his part, looked up at him like he was absolutely insane.

"_You're_ Dino?"

"The one and only."

"She said you were a _dottore_."

"Who said…? Oh, you mean Alessa." Dino leered. "What did you expect; some wizened old gummer with a jar of leeches?"

"Uh, I… ah," Remo sputtered, obviously not knowing how to respond.

Dino shrugged and poured a glass of the wine, offering it casually. Remo stiffened and inched away but Dino just held the cup out and in a moment the dark haired teenager took it gingerly.

"Alessa said that I probably shouldn't drink alcohol right now."

Dino scoffed as he pulled a stack of clean bandages, thread, and a packet of suture needles out of the storage cabinet, laying everything out neatly on a tray.

"Pulled a mother hen on you did she? Well, let me tell you something, _messere_ da Roma," He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "The day you listen to what a woman tells you to do is the day you serve up your…"

"Ahem!"

Dino grinned without looking up; he had heard her familiar footsteps out in the hall.

"Ah, Claudia! Come to help me, _piccola_?"

"And then she said you'd use it to clean… this." Remo continued, gesturing vaguely at his leg.

"She told you that, did she? That was nice of her, but I'm going to pour worse stuff than alcohol into whatever's under that bandage. Let's take a look…"

Remo eyes went huge in his lean face. Claudia glanced at the boy, did a double take and then narrowed her eyes at Dino.

"_Cazzo_," she said, snapping the corner of a bandage at him. Dino chuckled, hunching his shoulders under the blow and then peered under the dressing. He whistled appreciatively.

"Hey don't worry. This is a pretty extensive wound but you're in luck; I have a good supply of medicine here to make it so that you won't care if I saw the whole thing off!" He looked up and grinned. The eyes, impossibly, had gotten wider. "Can't have you squirming while I'm sewing!"

"Reassuring," the kid grunted, taking a rather large gulp of the wine.

"That's the spirit," Dino said as he went over to finish setting up his instruments.

Remo passed out after a few sips. Didn't even put up a slurred resistance. It wasn't entirely surprising, considering the kid could probably turn sideways and disappear. Well, that and the dram of opium he had slipped onboard.

With Remo comfortably oblivious, Dino tugged a stool up next to the bedside, nodding his thanks at Claudia as she directed the first two buckets of hot water into the room. After vigorously scrubbing his hands in one bucket, he cut through the bandages to reveal the wound.

What a fucking mess. What the hell had happened to the kid? For that matter, where had Alessa found him? What a little shit his girl was; she'd known _exactly_ what sending the kid here would be interrupting…

As deep as the injury was, it was like hundreds of other lacerations he had treated: debride, then clean. Align muscle and skin. Sew, knot, repeat… times forty eight… forty nine. Yeah, forty nine should do it.

He was sweating by the time he finished. Kid would have a hell of a time keeping the leg straight for the time it took to heal. He would probably always have a limp, even if he was to keep it from re-opening, which he probably wouldn't. The scar tissue was going to be a gnarly mess.

But barring a severe infection, he'd keep his leg. And Dino reckoned that a limp was better than an amputation.

A commotion down the hall drew Claudia's attention and she withdrew with a quiet apology.

He cleaned up, started mashing together a poultice for the wound, and mixing a tea for the fever. He was working on getting the kid to swallow some of the tea when Claudia stormed back in, bristling, all but snarling,

"_Lurido fottere_!"

Dino raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Something wrong?" he asked mildly.

"Another one of my girls has been killed," she hissed, pacing back and forth.

"Another one? What do you mean, _another_ one?" Claudia bared her teeth.

"Someone has been singling out some of my most trusted information gatherers, like they know what the girls are doing." Her eyes turned worried – and sad, "It's never a quick death, _amore_. Whoever it is, they plan this."

Dino felt his brows crash down. His hand trembled violently once, spilling some of the tea over his wrist. He set the fragile thing away from him before he broke it.

"Well," he growled. "Let's go get the fucker."

Claudia turned to stare at him for a moment before she smiled, delighted as a child.

"You'll let me come?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"My brother never lets me go."

"Ezio isn't here."

"You're right, he isn't," she murmured to herself. Then something ancient and predatory darkened her eyes and she looked _**very**_ much like the elder Auditore sibling.

* * *

**_Alessa Ricci_**

Full dark had fallen some time ago. The rhythmic hiss of the rain punctuated by sporadic grumbles of thunder simultaneously lulled her and kept her from falling completely asleep. The rain outside and the man beside her were her only touchstones to the world; everything else was inconsequential, bland, extraneous.

Vaguely, dazedly, she untangled her limbs from his, thoughts still deliciously unfocused. Skin slid past skin, the sensation beyond description but as familiar to her as her own breath. That marvel of contrasts invigorated her slowly swirling consciousness. She felt him reach for her reflexively, instinctively; even though she sensed that he was likewise caught in that formless place between sleep and awareness. It was not in her to resist and she found herself bound by his embrace once more as he flung an arm and a leg across her, pulling her close. Grinning sleepily, she burrowed closer to him. The warmth of his body as it relaxed around hers was a comfortable contrast to the cool wind coming into the open window.

Her eyelids eventually drifted open to survey with somnolent satisfaction the scene of disarray their zeal had left in its wake. Clothing, armor, weapons flung everywhere; what a delightful struggle _that_ had been. Her gaze was drawn to the half open shutters. One of them was hanging, the upper hinge torn off. _How had that happened?_ The window framed what would be a magnificent view of the city proper. Instead, the city was awash in the storm, illuminated only periodically by flashes of lightning.

The window sill was built rather wider than usual; she suspected that he watched the city from that perch. Alessa could practically see him there, one leg swinging out the window, leaning back against the window frame, an eagle watching over his domain. She was charmed by the idea; him figuratively watching over them all.

The rest of the room was nondescript. The tower it occupied had weathered into a gentle decay that had taken centuries. Inside, the undressed grey stone was crumbling a bit, but the roof was sound and the room was clean. It was furnished with two big wooden chests, an (empty) armor rack and a bed. It was entirely bare of personal items – save the clothing and armor scattered about haphazardly. She grinned ruefully; the memory of him stripping her out of that damn armor in their haste would never fade. Especially when her eyes caught the shorn edge of the leather strap of her spaulders… How had he cut those off? Oh yeah, she forgot; Ezio had two hidden blades.

The arm that lay across her was entirely bare. Her hand quested through sheets, across his stomach, and found the second vambrace still on his other arm. Not entirely surprising.

She wondered if this was one of his hidden places; Ezio was notoriously circumspect about sharing the places where he rested alone, for obvious reasons. Or maybe he needed to be away from everything when he wasn't actively working? She couldn't blame him; his entire life was about the Order and it wasn't hard to imagine that time for himself was hard to come by. Unconsciously, she gripped him tighter.

She looked up at him. The flashes of light offered by the thunder gave her half-glimpses of his expression in slumber. Alessa felt her breath ease out as she studied the lines of his face, for once at ease. Unable to resist, she reached out touch the hard line of his jaw and his eyes opened at once, startling her. But she was delighted as that unmistakable knowing darkness returned to his eyes when his gaze focused on her. Her limbs went pliant as his dark-lashed lids hooded his eyes with stark greed.

_How do men do that? _she wondered helplessly as he shifted, his shadowed limbs moving with a vaguely threatening grace. He leaned into her, his breath going in on an inhale as he brushed his lips along her neck. Alessa's back arched involuntarily at his touch as his hand smoothed gracefully over the line created by her hip and waist. His teeth scraped along her shoulder, over her collarbone…

"I feel the urge to apologize," he murmured, the depth of his voice rivaling the bass murmurs of the thunder. The flickering lightning gave her tantalizing glimpses of his sun-darkened, scarred hands smoothing possessively over her paler skin, the blunt fingertips sure and confident. "But our previous engagement was conducted with a haste that precluded..." His lips brushed her skin with exquisite heat… "…perfection."

Alessa stifled her amusement at the dark tone of feigned severity. She raised a haughty brow and replied with equal gravity.

"Are you trying to tell me that you had envisioned a more satisfactory outcome?" _Not possible, _she appended to herself. A breath of laughter escaped her, but she recovered admirably.

He lifted his head to regard her for a moment – intent, solemn – before he returned to the task at hand.

"Much." He spoke against her skin, lips exploring the ridges of her ribs, eyes watching her. She raised skeptical brows and he chuckled, the sound low and dark, full of masculine satisfaction.

"Really?" she prompted. He nodded, whiskered chin rough on the sensitive skin of her abdomen.

"The best of… experiences… require an attention to detail that my haste may have made impossible." He bent his head and she felt his teeth again, the barest promise of pain, edging along her flank.

"I see," she gasped. He nodded gravely in accord before resting his cheek on her belly. He reached out idly to bring the tips of her fingers to his lips, and then pressed a kiss to her palm before his dark gaze flickered back up to hers. A flash of lightning illuminated his features as he grinned with wayward promise.

"Shall I show you?"

* * *

**A/N: Ummm, sorry, couldn't do explicit sex; it didn't seem right. LOL So how about some emotional communion and nookie by implication? Anyone? I thought it would be hotter this way...  
**

**Anyway, Assassin's Creed superfan and I had a convo on funny moments in the AC series. My favorites are the Maria-kick-Altair-in-the-head-scene in Bloodlines (probably not intended to be funny but I LOL'd) and then sequence 2, part 2 in Brotherhood:**

**Machiavelli: "_While you are in my debt, perhaps you will listen to reason."_**  
**Ezio: "_When I hear some I'll let you know."_**

**BWAHAHAHA! Ezio! Who else has some good ones?**

**_Divertente - Italian, funny; _****_piccolo lupo - little wolf; __uccellina - little bird_**


	32. Malfatto and Khiril

**A/N:**

**Beta awesome = Shamazaki**

**Music is: "Sally's Song" Amy Lee; "Confide in Me" Angtoria; "Room 409" BFMV; "Ave End" Lacrimas Profundere**

**And my reviewers (and lurkers! LOL), you are all brilliant, sensitive, and a joy to write for! Assassin's Creed superfan, flyingcrispi, Shamazaki, Stagey, ecnal, and Sabor364**

**I'm sleepy, so I'll get on with it: ubisoft is da bomb cause they made AC...**

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

The downpour immediately flattened Dino's hood to his head as he took a single step out into the darkness. It was like stepping from one world to another:

The first; warm and softly lit by decorative lanterns that flickered gracefully amidst the fragrant fruit trees and jasmine. A sheltered outdoor haven made curiously private by the curtain of rain that formed waterfall-like walls on three sides as it streamed off the tiled roof.

The second; dark, cold, and indifferent. Grudgingly obliging to reveal details only once his eyes had adjusted to the night. Studded by sullen buildings that hunkered down against the weather, ignoring him as he joined them in their weary desolation.

Water began to furrow in the folds of the cloth and funneled off the edge of his hood to drip incessantly in front of his face. It streamed off the half plate armor of his spaulders, his body interrupting the rhythmic lull of the rain. He stood stoically in the deluge, hands loose at his sides, peering down the deserted streets, watching for any movement.

The stone buildings lining the street were glassy with rain, weirdly reflecting ambient light from some of the windows. The dark reflection gave the buildings an otherworldly appearance of flickering shadows and mysterious, indistinct light. Dino shrugged off thoughts of demons and spirits; they were hunting a man, not a monster.

Well, at least not in the literal sense.

"We'll have to stay off the rooftops tonight," he said quietly as Claudia stepped out into the deluge beside him, "The wind... and the rain; I don't trust the surfaces."

She nodded. Her dark hooded cape quickly became saturated in the downpour. The soaked cloth clung to her revealingly and he had a moment of total distraction as he realized that she was caparisoned in an absolutely delightful courtesan gown. Cut low in the bodice and high in the skirts, his first thoughts went through what exactly he would need to do in order to get her out of it.

She caught his look…

"Dino," she said chastised him.

"Uh…" he replied, manfully drawing his chin back up. "Yeah, so ah…" he gestured helplessly, "Dress?" She rolled her eyes as he tried to formulate a coherent sentence.

"A whore might distract him where an attacker wouldn't."

"It'll definitely distract him. You might have thought about _me_ in that equation, too, _bambina_," he said, moving closer to her so that her skirts, soaked and drooping as they were, brushed his legs. He didn't reach for her, but he gave her an unmistakable look. The barest touch of pink tinged her cheeks.

He supposed the cut of the thing was quite a change from her normal clothing, but it was mostly the color that threw him off. Claudia preferred dark jewel tones that gave her skin an exquisitely pearly glow, but the pale blue of this gown gave her skin a darker cast, stripping her of the ethereal paleness one generally saw in the nobility and giving her more of a feral quality. That, coupled with the normally perfectly coiffed hair lying wet and wavy on her shoulder, made her seem a very different person indeed.

The image changed his perception of her in that moment; he had always known she was tough, but he could now truly envision her fighting at his side.

And, amazingly, he suddenly wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He wasn't about to forbid her to fight, but he had to struggle a moment with her femininity and her potential vulnerability on the battlefield. He had never experienced this before with Alessa and still didn't see his comrade-in-arms as something to be protected. But Claudia…

He wanted her out of the danger.

"Don't." she whispered.

"Don't what?" he asked, finally giving in to temptation and letting himself reach forth to tuck a dripping lock behind her ear. She gazed up at him with firm confidence.

"Don't change your mind. Don't become my brother. I fight too."

Dino struggled with himself. No, it was better for her to fight. Better to know she could take care of herself. And better for him to be there when she did.

Because fuck him if he would let her become another Angelina.

He reached down, clasped Claudia's forearm in his, the size difference almost laughable, but the intent was there.

"I told you, _bambina_, we get him together."

Relief and fierce pride lit her eyes.

The moment was interrupted as two of _la Rosa's_ hired thugs joined them. Orfeo and Luca were former mercenaries that Claudia employed to keep her girls safe from the customers. They were discreet and left the girls alone unless their assistance was required. Both were good-sized men obviously, not quite his own height, but more heavily muscled. And more importantly, their size notwithstanding, they were damn good at what they did; Dino had personally seen Luca single-handedly toss a violent customer off of a third floor balcony and into the Tiber.

So this rash of killings had them all sorts of pissed, as it was a direct 'fuck-you' to their status as protectors.

"There were some witnesses this time," Claudia explained to him as they started to move down the street, keeping to the shadows of the buildings. She had to trot a bit to keep up with his longer strides so he shortened his step a little bit, adjusting to her pace. The bouncers followed them silently.

A series of lightning flickers and violent, crashing thunder made the alley nearly as bright as day as they stalked through on their way into the next street. And then over the rain and his ringing ears, Dino suddenly heard the soft sound of weeping. His senses went on full-alert as he palmed his sword, looking around for a possible attack.

So close; fucker had a pair of brass ones to be killing the girls so close to _la Rosa_.

They entered a tiny courtyard that might have once been well-kept but was over-grown with weedy flowering vines and stuffed full of ransacked crates. One of Claudia's girls was crouched on the ground, cradling the torso of another girl's lifeless body.

"Mina," Claudia crooned, her voice wrought with pain, "What happened?"

"I was with a group of the others, heading back for _la Rosa_ just after it started raining. We heard… a struggle." Mina laid her cheek on the dead girl's hair, rocking her gently as tears spilled forth in a fresh wave of grief.

"He was killing her, Claudia. _Dio_, the blood…"

Claudia's lips pressed together in a thin line, she looked at the heart-breaking scene as she spoke,

"Orfeo, Luca, please get them back to _la Rosa_."

The bodyguards didn't need to be asked twice. There was a bit of a struggle when Mina refused to release her friend, but she was quelled when Claudia went to murmur something to her. Mina was swept under a protective arm and led away into the night. The dead girl was hefted gently into a second set of arms, as if she were only sleeping.

Dino watched them go, wanting to keep that poor girl in his mind as he stalked her killer.

The courtesans had kept their wits about them. Through enviable teamwork and single-minded focus, they had trailed the murderer as he escaped the area, and Dino and Claudia were able to follow a proverbial trail of breadcrumbs – the courtesans themselves. Lightning and thunder punctuated quick, hushed conversations in sheltered doorways as they were led into a more populated section of the city. When they reached the fourth girl, she didn't bother with pleasantries,

"He went into that house just down the street, mistress," the girl said, her eyes hollow as she pointed to a non-descript, two story home with a _dottore_ storefront.

"Good work, _amica mia_," Claudia murmured, embracing the girl briefly, "They are waiting for you at _la Rosa_. Get home." The statement was gentle and caring, but it was nonetheless a command, as firm and authoritative as any that Ezio would have given. The girl nodded,

"Be careful, my lady," Tears mixed with rain on the girl's puffy cheeks and Dino rumbled low in his chest as she disappeared into the night. As one, Dino and Claudia turned to look at the building and the area surrounding it.

"Think he has anyone on the roofs?" Claudia asked.

"Hard to tell," Dino answered, his teeth clenched in anger as he shielded his eyes from the rain, scanning the roofline for movement. "Why would you think that he'd have guards?"

"The girls he's killed are some of my most capable informants assigned to high-profile marks. I don't believe it's just coincidence that they're random victims."

Dino nodded and then ducked into a nearby alley. He emerged with some scrap metal pilfered from behind a blacksmith shop. Claudia gave him a questioning glance.

"This will flush out any of the dumb ones," he said with a humorless grin. Gesturing for her to follow, he ducked down an alley across the street. Keeping to the shadows, they emerged in the access road behind the target's home.

"Climb that ladder," he said, "Watch for anyone that might come out to investigate." He gave her a moment to scurry up the ladder before hefting the metal piece in his hands. Then he stepped out onto the narrow access road and hurled the piece down the street. A loud, ringing clang echoed against the buildings as it landed and bounced a few times. He watched in vain; there was no one.

Anything?" he asked Claudia as she returned to ground level.

"One," she informed him with dark glee, "On the roof of the building next to his."

"Poor bastard, drew the short straw for watch tonight, eh?" he replied. "Let's go draw the asshole out, shall we?"

"How?"

"By going in and doing our recon like he's not there."

"Won't that get us killed?" she asked him, her tone skeptical of his plan.

"He'll attack us, but we already know he's there. That's really the only thing this guy has going for him."

"Fine, you _cazzo arrogante_, but if you get shot, don't expect me to step in and save you."

Dino felt humor break through some of his anger; this was almost like going on a mission with Alessa.

They approached the home carefully, both of them waiting for an attack from above and watching for movement. The rain made it difficult to see too far up, but Dino was confident that they would see the guard in time; movement drew the eye, rain or no rain.

They made it to their target's building without incident and began a quick assessment of windows and doors, making mental note of potential escape routes for themselves or their enemy – depended on how things went once they infiltrated the place.

Some light trickled out of a small crack in a window shutter at the front of the building and Dino made his way down the alley to take a look. It was a little frustrating trying to simultaneously watch the sky for attackers and the ground for footing but he made it and peered in the window…

Aha!

A man fitting the courtesan's description was in the front room. He wore the distinctive dark robes of a _dottore_, and his beaked mask lay on a table in the corner. Guy looked totally non-threatening as he worked with his medicines at a big table in the center of the room.

"What is that?" Claudia asked in a hushed whisper beside him.

"A hypodermic needle," he answered. She questioned him with her eyes. "Like a sewing needle, but hollow. See how it's attached to a syringe? He can stab with the needle and inject whatever is in the syringe into his victim."

Her eyes had gotten wider and more outraged with each passing word.

"That's… that's absolutely fucking barbaric!" she hissed.

Dino shrugged, amused and charmed by her facial acrobatics. He resisted the urge to lean down and kiss that indignant mouth of hers.

"It could be a useful tool in medicine," he speculated instead, "I've never had need to use one… although…" At her expression he shook his head of the thoughts whirling there. Right. Now was not the time to contemplate medical theory.

"Stop it," she whispered, "That's just sick."

Oh. He supposed she didn't see the potential uses. He understood; the idea still gave him a case of the cold gruesomes even when weighed against the benefit of such a tool. Seemed rather invasive...

He heard a faint whistle and a soft_ thwip_ as something brushed his hood.

_Merda_! He had forgotten about the guard! What a fucking idiot!

Dino turned just as a shadow leaped from the roof. He tensed and waited, grabbing the air-borne attacker's forearm and trying to side-step.

_Sorry there, fella, air assassination is __**our**__ move… _

The alleyway was too confined for proper movement, but Dino didn't mind bouncing the guy off of a few walls. He parried the incoming dagger blade with his forearm, letting the attackers arm slide down his own before grabbing hold at the elbow and shoulder. The metal of the dagger screeched off of his vambrace. Dino continued the attacker's momentum by dropping his shoulder, letting the guy continue his freefall directly into the stone wall. There was a satisfying _thunk_ as the guy impacted and Dino stepped back to let him fall.

He was so startled when the durable little fuck popped back to his feet, that he almost got swiped by the dagger the attacker still managed to have in his hand. With a silent lurch, Dino went for the guy, his armor deflecting the annoying swipes of the dagger as the attacker tried to stab him. As they struggled for control of the weapon in the narrow alley, they careened off the side of the building and crashed noisily into a shuttered window, rattling the coverings.

It was time to be done; Dino threaded one of his legs through his attacker's and simply fell backwards, pulling the man off balance and down to the ground with him. He cranked one arm around his opponent's throat and wrapped his legs around the guy's hips, partially immobilizing him. The guy struggled wildly for a bit before his arms and legs soon lost their strength as Dino flexed his forearm to cut off his air supply. When the would-be assassin-slayer was out cold, Dino drew a length of cord from a pouch. He flipped the slack body onto it's stomach and bound his hands to his feet behind his back.

When he looked around, Claudia was nowhere to be found. Panicked, he leapt to his feet, worried that the murderer had heard the commotion and snagged her…

But no, Claudia had made her way out into the street, just bedraggled enough in her courtesan disguise to give the appearance of having got caught in the rain. Her hair had come loose of it's confines and strands lay across her shoulders, dark coils against the pale of her gown. But she didn't look lost or scraggly; she looked like some sort of water sprite, unaffected and otherworldly in her natural element.

Concerned about her being out in the open, Dino started towards her, stopping short when he heard the front door of the building open. He froze in the alleyway, just out of sight from any viewpoints in the street.

Their murderer opened his door and stopped short at the sight of her. She couldn't have timed her appearance any better; she was front and center of the Templar's vision as light spilled out over her from his workshop. She did a convincing double take, as if she simply had been walking along the street and didn't know he was about to open the door.

Dino appreciated her initiative, and then growled to himself as her demeanor changed in an instant; her hips became loose at the end of her spine, swiveling provocatively as she assumed the courtesan persona.

"_Messere_," she purred, as she took a couple of steps towards their target, "You wouldn't happen to have a spot for me to wait out the storm?" She brushed a graceful hand down her waist, fingers trailing that enticing curve before she pulled her cloak more closely around herself, as if she were cold.

Dino tracked the movement, forgetting himself for a moment; the woman was good at this. Subtle, not like the blunt, overt advances her girls made. Most men wouldn't catch onto it.

Claudia's saturated cloak pulled tighter over body and her gown did nothing but accentuate her curves. She eyed their target knowingly, "I can pay."

_Dio_, but she managed to radiate a captivating sort of detached accessibility that promised the night of a man's dreams. He shifted uncomfortably, well aware that she could deliver what she was offering.

From Dino's vantage, the murdering bastard looked like he had discovered a treasure beyond price. His eyes gleamed with greed and lust and death.

Dino tensed – did he recognize Claudia as the Madame of _la Rosa_? Or as the notorious Assassin's sister? Or did he recognize her as simple prey that had fallen into his clutches so easily?

Dino had to give it to Claudia as she approached their target: one moment vulnerable and innocent, the next moment deadly and swift as she pulled two daggers simultaneously. Flinging her cloak aside, she produced from seemingly nowhere a vicious leaf-shaped _pugio_ and a thin, elegant stiletto. Both blades flashed in the light emanating from the open door.

The target backed away hurriedly, missed the open doorway, and bumped into the wall, rattling the shutters that could be put up during the day to sell his medicines. Claudia wasted no time, the _pugio_ going down to probe the hapless murderer right in the balls while the tip of the stiletto was laid almost gently against the man's Adam's apple.

"Hands up where I can see them," she purred, increasing the pressure. The hands went right up; Dino could see blood from his victim still under the blunt fingernails. Claudia apparently saw it too, for her forehead furrowed dangerously.

"My name is Claudia Auditore," she stated. Dino could barely hear her over the pounding rain even as he eased up closer, his footsteps silent. Her blade traced around to the side of the throat, where the tiniest prick would sever the jugular.

The name registered with the man, his expression turned violent.

"Auditore," he growled. "They should have wiped your family all out together instead of leaving you females alive to breed."

"Breeding is not all that we females can do well, _Templar_," she admonished, her voice calm as she stroked his throat with her stiletto. "Now what I need you to do is tell me why you have been killing my girls and who you've been reporting to."

The asshole laughed, the movement causing the needle-sharp tip of the blade to draw a thin line of blood that welled up quickly. A crimson bead formed at the lower end of the wound and made a red trail down into his shirt. Claudia, for her part, merely dug her dagger further into the man's privates; Dino felt a sympathetic twinge. The laughter cut off abruptly.

"I have all night," she said sweetly. "Your _coglioni_, I think, will be the first to go if you don't answer my question."

"What are you going to do little girl?" he sneered. "Slice me up all by your lonesome?"

Dino took that as his cue to enter the drama bubble. He rolled a shoulder threateningly before crossing his arms over his chest. Malfatto saw him and hissed,

"_Assassino_."

"You should worry more about her, _cazzo_," Dino growled. "I'll only kill you."

"My girls," Claudia reminded him and the beady eyes returned to her, "Why?"

"Filthy little sluts deserved it," the guy said. Dino was astonished; guy was a fucking idiot running his mouth like that. Claudia remained impassive, a feat Dino could not mimic. He fairly trembled in his rage.

"They were good people, doing their job –"

"Informants," he interrupted, "They were informants for the Assassin order. Nothing innocent about that."

"They never hurt anyone, you didn't have to kill them so horribly."

"You should be pleased," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I offered them wealth but they turned it down. Such loyal defiance they had. So I had to kill them." His tone had turned conversational, as if they were just discussing the weather. A manic glint appeared in his eyes.

Dino felt his muscles twitch. Oh but he wanted to beat this guy something fierce. He lowered his hands to his sides, curling his fingers up into fists.

"Such a proud little man you are," Claudia murmured, her voice pitched low and dangerous. "Unfortunately, you made a mistake earlier tonight and let me find you. I am here to give you the chance to help me now. Since you have decided to relieve me of _my_ informants, you will do nicely as one."

The man's eyes went desperate as she spoke and Dino could see that reckless despair getting ready to turn into physical violence. Claudia saw it too; she adjusted her grip on her weapons.

He tried to bolt. Claudia's stiletto skipped across his neck and left a line across his face. She went for his femoral artery since she was already in the area but her dagger was caught in the folds of his cloak. He heard her curse in frustration.

Dino didn't even take a step; he just launched himself at the fleeing bastard. They tumbled to the ground heavily and Dino didn't have a problem with letting the guy absorb his impact. He felt a couple of the Templar _dottore_'s ribs give. Injured as he was, the guy was getting ready to fight back, his arms coming up to flail at Dino's face, something small and hard in one hand.

Dino put a stop to that nonsense, blocking the _dottore_'s attack with a heavy forearm and letting loose with his other fist to land a single, powerful blow to the guy's face. That settled the miserable bastard down in a heartbeat. A syringe dropped from his hand as he raised them reflexively to the crimson mess of his nose.

Dino sat up and put a knee on the guy's chest, pressing down just enough to make it more difficult to breathe.

The Templar's breath chuffed wetly from his pulverized nose. A red bubble formed briefly before the guy realized he wouldn't be able to breathe well through what was left of the thing. His mouth opened and he gasped; an ugly, choking sound of pain. The upper palate was probably broken as well. Probably would get some teeth coming out pretty soon…

Oh, yup, there went an incisor, marvelous.

As the murderer turned his head to drool a long string of dark blood onto the flagstones, Dino grabbed him with his left hand by his bloody lapels and hefted him up. The knuckles of his right hand cracked a little as he made a fist, ready to pummel the bastard again.

"The lady was trying to be nice, you _pezza di merda_. Now, where do you send your messages?"

"_Fotitti_," the man slurred, "Death… to the… Assassins…" he gasped, struggling to breathe. "They will come for you…"

Dino shook him like a rag doll.

"Who?"

"Trained just for you…"

_Merda_, he'd hit the idiot too hard; guy was delirious. He shifted his grip and dragged the man unceremoniously into the workshop. Claudia followed, closing the door and bolting it. She went to the windows, checking their security and making sure they were fully covered.

"No one to see you or hear you now," Dino informed him, giving a heave and lifting the man up to set him into a straight-backed wooden chair. The Templar continued to struggle to breathe; the change from horizontal to vertical caused the blood to pool differently and forced him to concentrate his efforts on expelling it.

"Comfy?" Dino asked. "No? Good. Your contacts. I want to know who they are."

"Never," the murderer wuffled, his eyes malevolent through the mess of his face.

Claudia came forward then, the fallen syringe dangling from her fingertips as she held it out in front of her like a piece of refuse. Dino bared his teeth in a feral grin as he took the thing from her and set it carefully in view on a nearby table. The murderer eyed it nervously.

"Yeah, and I know just how I'm going to use it on you, dickhead. That's if you survive my own special concoction." Dino leaned in, "Ever wonder what it feels like to burn alive from the inside? No? Well I can acquaint you with the sensation. That handy little device there can help me out." Dino loomed over him, "Your. Contacts."

"Never. And tell your whore over there that she's next."

Oh, wrong answer. Dino felt his rage take over and all inhibition was whisked away by the snarling monster in his head.

Dino put his boot on the bottom rung of the chair and shoved, flipping the Templar onto his back. Following his target to the ground, he cleansed the burning fury away as he pinned the man and began to punch – short, brutal, heavy blows powered by every muscle in his arms, shoulders, and back. He was blind with anger, and the satisfying impacts of his fists on the hapless bastard's flesh did nothing to clear the haze of emotion from his vision.

The doomed man waved his arms ineffectually to stave off the blows, unable to do more than ensure that the punches took longer to kill him.

Eventually, Claudia's voice broke through to him and he forced himself to stop. He dimly realized that his victim had stopped moving some time ago and he lurched to his feet. His hands were numb at the end of his arms and he had to blink a couple of times until his vision cleared.

"Sorry, _piccola_," he whispered hoarsely. Claudia's answering smile was strained, but the light in her eyes was fierce and pleased.

"I think you avenged them quite nicely," she said quietly, gripping him gently at an elbow and leading him away from his victim. He went docilely, inner beast satiated.

"But we didn't get any information from him."

"He'll have correspondence. We'll check the nearby carrier coops too."

They left the body lying in the front room and ducked into the large back room. Dino took the opportunity to step outside and let the rain run over him. He brushed his hood back with a relatively blood-free forearm and tilted his head back, closing his eyes as the cold rain sluiced him clean.

When he went back inside, Claudia had already amassed a pile of documents to take back with them. He was quickly distracted by the herbaria and medicines. Apparently, '_dottore'_ hadn't just been the murderer's cover.

The guy had a fantastic collection – mostly tinctures of poisonous plants – but Dino could easily get the stuff the guy had just laying around. He idly rapped his knuckles along the walls… aha! He let his hidden blade make an appearance and pried a board out of the wall.

The coveted hidden stash.

Every doctor had one; a place to keep his most expensive and rare ingredients for medicines. Most _dottores_ hoarded their secrets of treatment from others of their trade and Malfatto had been no exception. Dino read the labels and recognized with surprise some exceedingly rare plants and tinctures. Guy must have been truly knowledgeable and successful when he wasn't killing women.

He grabbed the tiny vials and stuffed them carefully into his medical bag for further investigation; he could make a faster-acting poison with these ingredients. Might be useful in Moscow.

They finished going through the building for information and returned to the main room. He picked up a candle, prepared to burn the place to the ground…

"Wait."

Dino hesitated and Claudia came to him and drew a white feather out of one of his pouches. Where the hell had that come from?

She rested the feather in the exact center of the big worktable. She looked up at him with a fierce, narrowed gaze.

"I want them to find him. And I want them to know that the Assassins did this."

_Jesu cristu_, he really loved this woman.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

Alessa came awake slowly, rising somewhat bemusedly out of depths she had not reached in quite some time. Or maybe she was descending gently from a height, she couldn't tell; whatever the feeling was, it was a return to reality after having spent an untold quantity of moments in her own personal heaven. They very well might have been entangled since the beginning of time because she couldn't remember existing any other way. Her eyelids heavy, she rested against him, body lying with total trust against his. It was not often that she felt this safe or content in her life and maybe that was why she couldn't envision anything else in this state of mind; maybe this perfect communion was the height of human experience. If so, she was not disappointed.

She recalled moments like this with Vito. She was careful as she probed those memories, mentally cringing as she awaited the rush of pain and helpless anger that she always struggled with at any thought of him. When those dark wings did not crest her mental horizon, she relaxed, not realizing that she had tensed physically. In wonder, she conjured forth an image of him, of Vittorio Ricci; the aching brilliance of his eyes, the craggy face, and the strong, work-scarred hands. She beheld the image carefully, afraid that it or she would shatter if she tried to do more that just observe. Then, with a quiet exhale, she let him go for the time being, not wanting to lose the fragile equilibrium she had maintained for the first time since his death.

Wide awake now, her heart pounding, she glanced up at the man who now held her. Ezio was awake and deep in thought, one of his hands idly twirling a lock of her hair.

The unbleached linen of the sheets and slightly heavier blanket tangled on and around their limbs and she languidly kicked the mess of cloth away, needing to be in contact with his skin. His warmth was like a balm she hadn't known she needed.

The storm must have subsided sometime in the night, for the faintest grey of dawn washed over him from the open window. The light was kind, diminishing many of the scars that ridged his body, but it didn't diminish the frightening urgency of two heavy, ugly scars; an old knife wound that meandered viciously across his abdomen and a more recent – gunshot? – scar on his chest near the shoulder. The scar tissue was still an angry red, livid when compared against the olive of his skin. Did it still hurt him? The wound couldn't have been too much more than a year old and yet she had never seen him move as if it pained him.

Concerned, she pressed a kiss to the old injury, wishing she had the power to make it go away. She was uncomfortable with the fixation but the abrupt surge of protective instinct was like a tidal wave – primordial and relentless.

The soft light diminished the faint stress lines of his face, and was extinguished in the matte darkness of his hair. It was still mildly strange to see the entirety of his face. She had known him over a year and had very rarely seen him without his hood. And despite the half shorn beard and faint lines about his eyes, he still appeared younger than his true age. It was his eyes that gave him away, his first impression of age: weary, heavily burdened by extensive and extraordinary knowledge, but still a fathomless ocean of determination.

A pang of sadness went through her as she contemplated all that they had lost in their lives and she smoothed a gentle hand over his chest, an unconscious effort to that sought to comfort him and herself both. It was incredible; for the moment, all she cared about was making sure that he didn't lose anyone else dear to him. She would work her fingers to the bone to make it so. A breath left her at the intensity of the emotion.

He turned toward her then, his expression changing from lethargic reflection to gentle concern in an instant, as if he knew what she was thinking.

"You don't need to protect me, _carina,_" he said with an amused smile.

"Wha...?" _He could read minds now?_

The acerbic grin turned gentle, his eyes softened as he brushed hair off of her temple.

"Your eyes, _mia dolce_, so expressive. You can't hide anything from those who know you."

She frowned and he chuckled, leaning over to kiss her gently once, twice.

"It's not a bad thing."

"Huh, well… too bad," she finally said. One of his eyebrows quirked up. "You've always told us that it's every person's right to be a dumb shit if they so choose." She hitched herself up and folded her hands across his chest, resting her chin on the backs of her hands so that she could look directly at him.

"That's a good, ah… interpretation," he agreed, his eyes alight as he reached out to touch a fingertip to the angle of her jaw.

"I am merely exercising my free will; my Assassin's right to be an idiot."

He murmured an assent as she stretched up to kiss his the arch of his cheekbone.

"Then I am honored to be the recipient of your idiocy."

"That's better," she said with satisfaction, shifting in his arms to rest more comfortably against him. They were silent for a time as she was lulled by the rhythm of his heart and the rush of his breath beneath her cheek.

"Ezio?"

"Mmmm?"

"I can't help it."

"Help what?"

"The way I feel; I hate the thought of you being hurt. And I hate the thought of you being alone." She felt her face flame at the admission and was glad he couldn't see her expression. She felt like an idiot just babbling away. For his part, he didn't laugh at her, merely descended into contemplative silence.

"You worry too much for others," he eventually said. "You should have a care for yourself."

"I don't care about myself," she said blithely, surprised to find that she meant it. "I just don't…" her voice caught and she took a breath, swallowed hard and continued in a hoarse whisper, "I will _not_ let what happened to Vito happen to you. Or to the others." She squeezed her eyes shut. Ezio's arms tightened about her.

"Fierce," he whispered back, "you are so very fierce, _cara_. You protect your brothers, as you protect me, with the strength of your heart. But if you focus on everyone but yourself, you feel so much that you feel _nothing._" He rolled to his side and she shifted over so that he could look into her eyes. "You'll become like me. And I don't want that for you."

She frowned, the statement seemed… significant somehow…

And then Alessa caught her breath, her thoughts scattered effectively as he gave her the full force of his attention. _Jesu_, but it was like standing before an entire crowd instead of just one man: profound and daunting. His eyes, when he was focused, were unbelievably intense; it was almost overwhelming, as if he expended so much energy and implacable focus on a single emotion that most people would never begin to conceive of the effort. She didn't believe for a moment that he was numb inside.

He moved fluidly to lower himself over her, muscles bunching as he held his body just above hers.

"I would rather feel nothing," she said, gazing up at him.

"You are stronger than that," he murmured, coming down onto his forearms to touch his forehead to hers, "You will realize it one day."

And then neither of them spoke as they considered each other gravely in the palest grey of dawn's light, every barrier between them shattered.

The Creed was not entirely correct regarding the absence of truth, she thought to herself as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Because the two of them… in that moment… well, there couldn't be anything more true.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

The Assassins rendezvoused at Bartolomeo's fortress two days after their return to Roma. Rested and refreshed, they converged on the spartan, functional fort on the crest of one of the famed seven hills of _Roma._

A comfortable dusk had fallen. Plum-colored clouds smudged the western horizon, contrasting with the virulently pink sky. The sun had just passed below the horizon but the light was still good up on the ramparts. The grey stone of the fortress walls seemed almost pearly as the fading light caught on reflective impurities within the granite blocks.

Alessa was leaning between the crenellations of the outer wall, ostensibly 'helping' Markku experiment with a special gunpowder mixture. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she idly watched the comings and goings of the people at the foot of the hill outside of the fortress walls. The people-watching activity didn't drown out the sound of Markku grumbling at his mortar and pestle on the walkway just beside her.

Rhythmic cracks of wood on wood provided an urgent counterpoint to Markku's mutters; Dino and Tullio were sparring enthusiastically with a pair of wooden practice swords on the training grounds. Dino had height and strength on Tullio, but the shorter Assassin was a relentless and aggressive opponent. They were well matched for practice bouts, with Dino favoring heavy, efficient attacks and Tullio preferring quick circular motions that deflected attacks well and allowed for continuous motion into his return assault. Alessa never wanted to know the outcome of an authentic battle between them. Between Dino's power and Tullio's agile belligerence, any true violence between those two would likely end both of them.

"Okay, try this," Markku said, handing her one of the loaded rifles. She uncrossed her arms and stepped down from her position in the embrasure to take the offering. Markku picked up a second rifle and they stepped to the edge of the ramparts.

She hefted the weapon experimentally before bringing it up to her shoulder. With a careful bend of her neck, she lined up the sights at their targets set up further down the battlements. She took her shot and squinted down range. Nicked the very edge again, dammit. She took a look at Markku's target…

"_Fottere_," she said appreciatively. His target had a tight cluster of hits perfectly on center. Her target looked more like someone had been taking random shots at the crudely painted bullseye.

Yeah, maybe it was her rifle? She eyed it dubiously, weighing it in her hands…

"Let me try yours," she asked Markku deviously. He gave her a bland look.

"It's not the rifle, _pikkutyttö_, it's the shooter."

"Bah!"

He shrugged, then took her rifle and began to load it for her, his movements brisk and efficient.

"So what's the deal with the powder?" she asked grumpily, gesturing to his mess at their feet.

"I'll show you, look," he said, jamming the barrel of her rifle abruptly at her face.

"No! _Merda_!" she yelped, pushing the thing out of her face. Nothing like staring down the wrong end of a gun to make one a little excitable.

"It's not _loaded_," he replied scathingly, "I'm _trying_ to show you something." He set the butt of the weapon on the ground

"A little warning next time wouldn't hurt, you _bastardo pazzo_," she growled.

"Spiral fletching on arrows and bolts gives the shooter greater accuracy, right?" He asked, ignoring her. She obliged him by nodding and he beamed. "So the rifle utilizes a helical groove inside the barrel, see?" He tilted the barrel so that the final rays of light angled inside. Alessa could indeed see that faint spherical pattern inside the barrel.

"It gives the ammunition a spin, providing better accuracy and greater range."

"Huh," she said intelligently. "Did you come up with the idea?"

"I wish. Leonardo made a few prototypes while we were gone. It's a breakthrough in ballistics technology, but there are problems. He has me working on the issue with the gunpowder."

"Which is?"

"You can only fire a shot or two before you have to clean the soot out of the grooves. Slows down the firing rate dramatically."

"So you're trying to make a residue-free gunpowder?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes! Or at least reduce the amount of reside in the reaction." He sighed heavily. "I suspect it has something to do with the purity of the materials. I've also been experimenting with substitutes for the charcoal component of the powder but I need to spend a lot of time in the lab to perfect the process."

She could see how the problem could be interesting but he was losing her. Gunpowder was gunpowder.

He had cleaned and re-loaded both of the rifles during the discussion. He set his weapon down with the relaxed cautiousness affected by those truly skilled in their discipline and stood beside her as took aim down the firing range again.

"Don't jerk on the trigger," he said as she raised the firearm to her shoulder, "You'll move the weapon just a little bit and throw off your aim. Steady yourself, concentrate on your stance… good." He lowered his voice, watching her intently as she focused on her target. "Deep breath in when you're ready. Finger on the trigger… Slow breath out and hold it…"

Her vision tunneled as her body calmed. She let her index finger caress the trigger before curling the digit around the tiny metal piece. She let her breath out, her body going absolutely still…

_Don't jerk the trigger… _

She put steadily increasing pressure on the trigger and then her shoulder was forced back on the recoil as the weapon discharged in a loud crack and burst of smoke.

Waving the smoke out of her view, she squinted as she peered down-range. A new hole had appeared in her target less than a hand's width from the center bullseye.

"Ha!" she shouted in satisfaction, resisting the urge to caper. Markku nodded encouragingly and then took his shot, taking less than a quarter of the length of time it had taken her. A dimple appeared in her target: dead center.

"Prick," she muttered.

"It's like a drug, isn't it?" he asked, his expression lustful as his hands clenched around the firearm and he cradled the weapon gently to his chest. Alessa laughed and shook her head, half expecting him to starting cooing nonsensically to it…

Okay, yup… there he went. And in Finnish, too…

She leaned her rifle against a nearby merlon as Markku went to work meticulously cleaning and re-loading. She went back to frowning at her target. Down below, Dino and Tullio had lost their practice swords and were grappling with good-natured vigor. A group of Bartolomeo's mercenaries were standing in a jeering circle around the scuffling Assassins, shouting encouragement and advice.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she glanced up.

Ezio crouched at the edge of the rooftop of the barracks tower. She had the feeling that he had been watching them, not wanting to interrupt their activities.

_Dammit_, she thought. He was probably getting ready to round them up for the meeting. It had been nice not having to worry about missions and targets for the past two days.

Very nice.

She smiled a bit, resolutely ignoring the urge to giggle, and nudged Markku with her elbow. He glanced up and came to the same conclusion that she did. The look he gave his rifles was truly heartbreaking.

She looked up again just in time to see Ezio rise to his feet and dive off the edge of the roof. A Leap of Faith was always torture to watch, but he landed easily in a haystack and rolled out onto his feet without issue. She wondered idly how many times in his life he had performed the move. Hundreds? Thousands?

She laughed suddenly as she watched the Master Assassin pluck a piece of straw from a fold in his sleeve; only Ezio could manage to stand there, hay falling from his hair like a bewildered stable-hand interrupted from a nap, and manage to crook his finger at them so imperiously without looking like a total fool. In fact, she mused, he looked rather appealing and she resolutely ignored the urge to tackle him back into that haystack for some…

"Are you okay there?" Markku asked her as they descended the stone stairs to the dusty training grounds, "You look a little flushed."

…_Busted!_

"I'm fine," she responded tersely. Markku put his hands up in mock defense as she stomped across the courtyard and entered the cool interior of the keep proper. She passed through the main hall where a couple of mercenaries getting ready to go on watch were getting in a final quick game of dice.

The interior of the keep was as austere as the rest of the fortress; undressed grey stone relieved only by banners displaying the battle standard of the d'Alviano family. But Alessa knew that some of the interior living quarters were outfitted as fine as any _palazzo_ in _Roma_. For instance, the music room was a beautiful and serene room done in white and gold situated on the second floor with small, eastern-facing windows that let in a flood of early morning sunlight. Discovering that particular room amidst all the functional and martial was like stumbling upon a flawless bloom on a battlefield.

Bartolomeo's war room was a large, rectangular hall that was normally quite busy. His lieutenants were often collaborating on projects in different areas of the room, pages whisking maps and documents to and fro. But tonight, the Assassins had free run of the place.

Without all the usual activity, the place looked downright cavernous. The big banners loomed as they hung from the rafters, and candles did little to push away the darkness.

Alessa chose a seat at a long table just as the men entered. The recruits found seats while Ezio and Machiavellli began moving papers around near the head of the table.

She took a moment to let her gaze wander over her brothers, for the moment perfectly content to count them as her family.

Dino had been in a fight, unsurprisingly; his knuckles were scraped, bruised and slightly puffy. He seemed preoccupied as he drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

"How's Remo?" she asked as she took a seat next to him.

"Seems to be fine. Feverish, but there's nothing we can do about that except to dose him, keep the wound clean, and wait. The girls seem to like playing nurse for him so he's in good hands for the time being." He turned his head to eye her down his nose, "Thanks, by the way for sending him," he continued, his voice dry, "You weren't interrupting or anything."

"You're welcome," she smiled winningly, "Always a pleasure. Where's Claudia today?"

He grumbled, the sound low in his chest so that she practically felt it; part amusement, part frustration. He leaned down to speak in her ear.

"You're lucky you disappeared off the face of the earth for the last two days, _tesora_; by my count I now owe you one."

"I'll be sure to keep my eye out."

"And your ass covered," he agreed. He knocked her shoulder with his before leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he retreated into the shadows of his hood while he waited for the meeting to start. One of his knees bobbed up and down restlessly.

Across from her Markku was still sooty from his exertions on the firing range; his nails grimy, smudges streaking his grey and white apprentice uniform. His hood was down and his hair was wild where he had finger-combed it carelessly out of his face. He was continually flipping a coin up into the air, tip-tilted eyes utterly focused on his diversion, the long, elegant fingers sure and quick.

Tullio sat beside Markku, impassive as ever. His mask and hood were both down for once and the stark lines of his scarred face were toned down in the low light at their end of the table. His calm grey eyes were focused elsewhere and every once in a while, his fingers would tap a pattern on the tabletop, as if he was still playing on a keyboard.

Her gaze passed over Ezio as he conferred with Machiavelli at the other end of the table and she fought the urge to blush.

_Ah, hell, __**really**__?_

Intimacy had turned her into a little twit; _that_ needed to stop.

For the time being she skipped over him, fixating on Bartolomeo and Pantasilea as they entered the room. She marveled again at the contrast between the husband and wife; the huge, outspoken and endearingly tough mercenary weighed against the lovely and gentle, but truly gifted strategist. Separate, they lacked the wherewithal for their true skills to manifest; together, they were an effective military power.

Theirs seemed to be the ideal marriage, the ebb and flow of a human relationship ballasted by their willingness to work together, their weaknesses buoyed by the other's strength.

A stranger entered after Bartolomeo, and the big mercenary clapped the newcomer heartily on the shoulder, ushering him to a seat to the right of his own at the head of the table. Pantasilea sat gracefully at Bartolomeo's left hand.

The newcomer was about Ezio's height and approximate age. He was stocky and his nose had been broken a time or two. The rugged, lined face contained a pair of startling blue eyes and his hair was a rusty blonde that was shorn severely short. A pair of sword belts criss-crossed his hips, holstering a short sword and a curved dagger. He wore the battered and functional leather armor of a seasoned mercenary and moved with the same restless, yet efficient intensity as Dino. His eyes roved constantly – assessing, measuring, evaluating.

Bartolomeo began the meeting without preamble.

"Friends!" he boomed. "This is Khiril Vladimirovitch. He is going to be our way into the Moscovian underground. He'll get Alessa and Dino introduced to the scoundrels and ruffians that they will need to complete our mission."

Alessa mouthed the name, her lips struggling to adjust to the abrupt cadence of consonant and vowel.

Machiavelli took over after Khiril had given a short bow and settled himself into his chair.

"The situation, as you already know, is dire. Our previous Assassins in the city have disappeared – we are unsure if they have betrayed or merely been killed or otherwise detained. We need to get back in there, find out what happened, neutralize any threats or information leaks, and re-establish an Assassin guild there." He gestured to Bartolomeo, who continued,

"The Moscovites are enamored of bare-knuckle, no rule fights. It's a ludicrous business for the nobles to sponsor the bouts and bet outrageous sums on their favored fighters. Dino will be a perfect candidate for this and it will place you both ideally to insinuate yourselves among the nobility so you can ferret out what happened to our people up there. Our men were quite well placed in the Kremlin, headquarters of Prince Ivan's court."

Bartolomeo looked to Khiril, who stood to address them.

When the man spoke, his voice was hoarse, as if his throat has been injured some time ago. He spoke carefully, pausing often as he translated his thoughts into their language. But it also seemed as if the pauses were part of the natural flow of his native language as well. He softened the ends of a lot of his words, especially those words ending in hard sounds.

"_Dobriy vyecher'_," he intoned with a slight bow, "I was a fighter for many years but spend most of my time recruiting and training in these days." He fixated on Dino, "I will teach you the rules of the fights, prepare you for what you may expect, and get you in touch with my contacts in the thieves' guild of _Moskva_."

Oh great, she'd be stuck doing recon alone again…

"As for the woman," Khiril continued,

… Alessa bristled a little bit at his slightly mocking tone_,_

_What the hell had she ever done to him?_...

"Care will have to be taken with her dress and demeanor, the Russian Orthodox Church is not so… tolerant… of her type."

Alessa frowned, feeling her brows form an angry 'V' on her forehead,

"Excuse me?"

"No insult is intended, _dorogaya_, but you must play the part of his wife. If you are not somehow considered as his, you will be considered a whore, and therefore something to be taken… and a liability."

"I can take care of myself," she growled, her fists bunching on the table. Khiril smiled, revealing a missing front tooth.

"I am sure you can, but the trouble that comes from a woman that has to fight for herself will no doubt alert your enemies to your presence."

"Maybe we should send one of the men," Machiavelli began. Ezio interrupted him with a quiet,

"This is her mission; she goes."

Alessa restrained herself from casting a relieved glance over to her _maestro_ and narrowed her eyes at Khiril,

"It will not be a problem; I can be…discreet." She glanced at Dino, who was looking all too entertained at her predicament, and added, "And I _will not_ be his wife." She glanced back over at Khiril. "What else are my options?"

He shrugged,

"_Monakhinya_... ah, a Holy Sister."

A guffaw from Markku, who whispered to her conspiratorially,

"Wife to a man, or wife to God; I know which one _I'd_ pick!"

Alessa resisted the urge to hurl something sharp and pointy at the chortling Assassin.

"Anything else?" she asked tightly. Khiril appeared thoughtful as he eyed her speculatively.

"The only type of female in possession of any sort of independence in the city might be a foreign noblewoman." The blue eyes lit up and he tilted his chin briefly at Dino, "He could be your bodyguard as you search for a husband amongst the nobility. We could spread some rumors that you are a rich foreigner, looking for a better title. In the meantime, you could enroll him in the fights as part of your attempts to mingle with the men. It would be considered crass and desperate, not at all fitting for a noble Moscovian woman…"

"But it would underscore your foreignness and approachability," Machiavelli finished.

Silence. She looked at Dino, who shrugged. The idea appealed to her; she hadn't liked having to rely on Markku during their mission in _Napoli_.

Bartolomeo asked a few questions about the fighting circuit. Khiril seemed relieved to change the subject.

The meeting went on for some time as the allies discussed logistics and details. It was well into the night when it convened. Parchments were sealed and prepared for dispatch to their allies in _Roma_, securing supplies and transportation. Khiril clasped forearms congenially with Dino, gave a stiff nod to Alessa, and was escorted out by Ezio, Bartolomeo, and Machiavelli. Tullio, and mostly Dino and Markku were distracted by the idea of fights and drink and lurid speculation of suppressed Russian women and disappeared.

Alessa was left with Pantasilea, who smiled up at her from her desk just before she affixed her seal to a supply order. Alessa leaned against the wall beside her, hooking her thumbs in her dagger belt.

"Is it difficult?" she asked the genteel woman.

"Is what difficult?"

"Being of the nobility?

"Not difficult, exactly, no… But complicated enough, to maintain the standards expected of you by your peers. It is a demanding and stressful lifestyle at court. I much prefer spending time here, with my husband, where everything I say or do is not analyzed. But you are a very capable woman and to be an Assassin, I imagine is much like being a noble at court. You have to observe and adapt to every circumstance that comes your way."

Alessa made a noise of understanding. A musical note or two caught her attention, very faint, as if the player were on another floor, deeper within the home.

"Tullio spends a lot of time here," Alessa observed, straining to hear more of the melody.

"He is truly a gifted musician," Pantasilea said, her eyes appreciative as she gave her head an amazed shake.

"I've always wondered where he got his musical training from. I don't know how to ask him, though. He's so, private; it seems disrespectful to inquire."

The smile disappeared from Pantasilea's face and her eyes widened. Alessa stood upright from her lazy slouch against the wall, her heart pounding, left arm out and tensed to release her hidden blade.

"What is it?" she asked, glancing around for the danger. Pantasilea made a placating signal with a graceful hand, and gestured for Alessa to sit. Full of grim apprehension, Alessa pulled over a chair from the table from across the room. Pantasilea's letters were forgotten as she leaned back in her seat,

"I cannot confirm this information, but I have my suspicions of where Tullio came from," she began in that soft, but compelling voice of hers. "The only Sozzi I know of were old nobility. Not high ranking, but quite wealthy and important. They used to control some of the important trade routes and rivers through the Dolomite mountains into the Austrian empire."

"Used to?" Alessa queried, a feeling of foreboding making her limbs tense up and her chest ache. She pressed a hand to her sternum. Pantsilea nodded and was quiet for a moment, her expression going carefully blank before she spoke,

"Cesare is merciless in his efforts to unify _Italia_ under his standard. He wished for the Sozzi to join him and when they resisted his initial offer, he took the youngest son hostage, one Tullio Sozzi, and brought him here to _Roma_. Still the Sozzi did not wish to bow under the Borgia flag and so he had them slaughtered." Alessa felt nauseated. Pantasilea's expression remained serene, but she turned pale and lifted a hand protectively to her throat, her gaze cast beyond the horizon,

"From the eldest and infirm down to the next heir, still in his cradle."

Alessa went through the full spectrum of aghast, horrified, furious, and outraged. Even if her Tullio was not the hostage in the story, this tale of genocide was enough to turn her heart forever against the Borgia family.

_Jesu_, how did he live with the pain?

Pantasilea looked at her then, that lady's lovely dark eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"His name matches, obviously. And I met his father, Valerio Sozzi, when I was a young girl," she smiled with tragic fondness. "Valerio's eyes look out of Tullio's face."

A brief phrase of sprightly melody seemed to mock her as the notes trilled through a timbre much different from the atmosphere in the room.

Ezio returned at that point and seemed surprised to see them both there. Alessa was in too much shock to do more than nod dazedly at him and he noticed immediately, dark eyes narrowing.

"What has happened?" he asked, a hand going to his sword.

"_Niente_, Ezio," Pantasilea soothed. "Everything is fine."

Fuck, _fine_. Everything was most certainly _not_ fine. How could things like that happen? Even with all the horrible things that she knew had happened to her comrades and _maestro_, it just seemed that there was always more evil out there. What the hell was the point of it all? They struggled constantly but it seemed as if their enemy was always one step ahead, right on track to destroy everything that was good and decent.

Sweat popped out on her brow as she seethed. Pantasilea glanced at her, glanced at Ezio, and stood.

"I am done here," Pantasilea said discreetly, gesturing to her letters, "_Buonanotte_."

Ezio nodded to her as she swept from the room.

"Did you know?" Alessa asked him dazedly as he took a few slow steps towards her.

"Know what?" His voice was cautious.

"About Tullio?" At her question, his face softened from it's suspicious and concerned tenseness.

"Yes, I know," he replied gently, halting a few steps away from her.

"We have to do something," she said, her voice wavering as her nose started to run. She gulped back the sob that was trying to form and stood abruptly to mask it. "It's not right; he should get his home back!"

"What do you suggest we do?" Ezio asked mildly as she began to pace furiously.

"_Something_! It's his _home_, he… it – I think…"

"_Cara_," he interrupted quietly.

"What?" she asked as she paused in front of him, dangerously close to tears. He blurred before her and she prayed fervently that he did not come forward to embrace her. She prayed because if he did, she would break.

"_Cara_, he has nothing left there. No family. Any loyal serfs fled to avoid slaughter. If we were to win it back for him, he'd be alone in that place. Can you tell me that that would be better than what he has now? Where he can actively fight against those who took everything from him?"

"But…" she thought furiously, paced some more, and came up with nothing. And in that moment, she hated her _maestro_ for being so calm and logical and cold.

"_**It's not right**_!" she snarled vehemently. She hurled a nearby wineglass into the wall, sending glass shards flying. And then, as she stared at the destruction she had wrought, the fire suddenly left her and she was ashamed for destroying such a lovely thing that someone had spent countless hours creating. It was so easy to destroy, to wreak chaos.

Here she was, breaking things that weren't hers in a pique of anger. She was just like their enemy.

Her shoulders slumped and she bowed her head as exhaustion seethed through her, insidious and all-consuming. As she bowed her head, she heard measured footsteps cross the room to her. Strong hands turned her gently and gathered her up. She put her arms around him and held him to her fiercely for a moment before she realized that this was not Ezio that held her.

The shoulders were broader, more heavily muscled and his scent was different; spicy and woodsy, like dark sandalwood. When she looked up, she gazed directly into Tullio's pale eyes, solemn in his scarred face. She broke then, wept for him, wept for herself as she pressed her face to his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered, ducking his head down to press his cheek to her temple. The gnarled ridge of a scar pressed against her skin, a token of his past, a visible and permanent reminder of his loss.

* * *

**A/N:**

**_Italian: cazzo arrogante – arrogant prick, bastardo pazzo – crazy bastard_**

**_Russian: Dobriy vyecher' – good evening, Dorogaya – sweetheart/darling _**

**My**_** brothers and sisters, a brief moment: I CANNOT FUCKING WAIT FOR REVELATIONS! weeeeeeee!**  
_


	33. Moscow: Arrival, November 1501

**A/N:**

**DONE! It's been too long, but I've been trying to create a whole city 'from scratch' since Moscow only exists in the game as a recruit contract. Want to give it it's own sort of mood. Also going to try and include some of historically accurate people, places, and events at the end of the chapter that introduces it. So here's the intro to Moscow, it's a little awkward, but I hope you enjoy the city because we'll be exploring it in detail for a few chapters…**

**Once again, thanks to Shamazaki for working beta; he wanted more detail, but we figured the readers have waited long enough… o_O**

**My diverse and amazing reviewers, as always, deserve mention! Serebranka, flyingcrispi, TLMonkey, Assassin's Creed superfan, Shamazaki, eliina, ecnal, iIistealth, and Fety-Black-Potter. Also thanks to all the new favorites and alerts that added, hope I hear from you someday!**

**Onward, to the AC universe as created by ubisoft…**

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

"Dammit," Alessa muttered as she stared at the ship swaying gently in its moors at the dock. She and Ezio had climbed to the building rooftop opposite the harbor, and her first look at the ships moored in the early dawn light gave her a sense of finality. She was leaving for her first solo mission without her mentor. This filled her with a feeling of optimistic apprehension, but she still could not shake a mote of despondence. She told herself it was because of the water voyage.

"Is something wrong, _mia carina_?" Ezio asked, his tone wry as he took a seat on the warehouse roof over-looking the ships at their berthings. She laughed a little as she settled between his knees, leaning back against him. The roof tiles beneath them were still cool from overnight; by the time the rising sun warmed them, she'd be gone.

On that fucking ship.

"If it wasn't the fastest way to Moscow, I'd swear you all were plotting against me," she replied as her body relaxed against his. She spared another half-hearted glare for the wallowing monstrosity.

Fatigue settled over her, sinking dull and listless, but inexorable teeth into the questionable consciousness she was wringing from herself. Her level of tired went bone-deep. Her limbs were sluggish and the bags under her eyes rivaled the sacks of rations onboard for weight. She had been up for forty eight hours straight, working on the last preparations for the trip, and had planned on catching a few hours of sleep after midnight the night before. Until Ezio had abducted her in the dark on her way back to Headquarters. Literally…

_She stumbled over an unevenly seated cobblestone in the darkness of midnight, her boots scuffing the stone erratically before she regained the determined trudge that would eventually bring her to her bed. Her mind was full of everything and nothing as she worked to give herself a mental rest. Too many details to remember: names, faces, and dates pertaining to her mission; supplies, last minute training instructions from Ezio and Machiavelli; heartfelt goodbyes to her brothers in arms – it was all done. The only she had left to do was board a ship as the tides went out the next morning._

_She heard a noise in the still darkness… Maybe. It had been nearly undetectable, like shadows had shifted in their sleep. Still, she halted, drawing her dagger with her right hand and making a minute flex of her wrist to feel the comforting weight of her hidden blade against the inside of her left forearm._

_After a moment of defensive crouching, she was convinced that the lack of sleep was finally getting to her. She sheathed her dagger and continued through the alley. As she came out onto the deserted street, the familiar sight of the Tiber Island bridge gave her a short burst of energy and she jogged forward onto the wide span._

_The soft sounds of her footsteps were swallowed by the murmur of the water below. She grinned to herself as the towers of Headquarters rose into view and she hastened her feet, thoughts of sleep spurring her on._

_She heard a noise behind her, a rhythmic thumping that coalesced into the sound of shod hooves against stone, coming quite fast. She eased to the side of the bridge, not wanting to be run over, obviously. But when she turned to observe the passage of the horse and rider, she saw –instead of some random citizen – the familiar hooded visage of Ezio. As he drew nearer, he leaned down from the saddle, his hand outstretched._

_Oh the decisions…_

_As the horse galloped by, she grasped his hand and stepped on the toe of his stirruped boot, the speed of horse providing the momentum for her to swing around him in the saddle. _

_Once she was perched on the horse's rump, she slid her hands around him, fingers smoothing along the leather and metal of his armor. She had steadied herself, and then leaned forward to murmur something scandalous to the hood over his ear. His response was to lean forward and coax still more speed out of the horse. Alessa chuckled._

_The buildings of a slumbering _Roma_ vanished as the horse seemed to fly over another bridge spanning the south bank of the Tiber, and then they were out in the countryside._

_The gibbous moon was high in the sky, and was soon framed by the fragrant cedars that had overtaken the eastern slope of _Roma_'s southernmost hill. The abandoned farm fields there were in the process of transitioning back to scrub forest, turning that portion of _Collis Aventinus_ into an infant wilderness within the walls of the ancient city._

_Ezio slowed the horse's breakneck gallop as they traversed a narrow path that plunged into the young forest. Alessa was nodding off to sleep, lulled by the muted light of the moon and the slowed motions of the horse, by the warmth of Ezio's body as her cheek rested against his spine. _

"_Whoa…," the rumble of his low command to the horse jolted her awake. As the animal halted, sides heaving as it blew clouds of steam into the air, she looked around with somnolent curiosity. A small clearing revealed a small farmhouse. The stone building was old, but in good repair, and firelight flickered cheerfully from within. The crickets were loud in the still night as Ezio dismounted and then assisted her to the ground._

_Her breath caught and heat bloomed between them, striking away her fatigue as his hands caught her hips and pulled her to him. She was transfixed by his eyes, luminous even in the dark, and she tilted her chin up in anticipation of the kiss she knew was coming._

_Instead, his mouth bypassed hers, going to her ear._

"_A final meeting with some allies, _carina_, I hope you don't mind?"_

"_Uh," she replied as he moved away from her, preparing to stable to the horse. She watched his departing form for a bemused moment, and then shrugged. Her boots kicked up layers of pine needles that had built up over decades before she put her hand to the handle of the house's back door. She entered through the vacant kitchen and passed into the front great room, pulling down her hood when she discovered only a well-banked fire in the home's main hearth. A single darkened doorway revealed the final – empty – room of the little house._

"_What the-?" she had murmured to herself, confused by the lack of aforementioned company. Ezio stalked in then, a hooded shadow in the darkness, the heels of his boots a dull thump on the wooden floor. When she turned to face him, expecting an explanation, she was instead distracted by his mouth on hers, urgent and demanding… _

…_He was such a liar._

_There in the gentle darkness, Ezio gave her no words of tenderness, no professions of the heart. But his hands and his lips and his hard body spoke eloquently enough for him, and his ardent and stark possession was more than enough for her._

_The final hours of the night were entirely worth the lost sleep…_

_The birds had just started greeting the dawn when they had risen to dress. There was a split second where he had reached for her yet again, but she was due at the ship soon and the tides didn't wait for human diversions, no matter how pleasant. So after a breathless moment of anticipation, he gave in to an air of disappointed resignation, pressed a reverent kiss to her knuckles… and then dumped her off the bed._

_After a laughing struggle for their clothing, they companionably set about preparing for her departure. With all of her things already stowed onboard, Alessa had only had to settle into a new set of clothing and light leather traveling armor that had been conveniently already awaiting her in the farmhouse's tiny bedroom. Ezio had only given her a complacent shrug at the querying raise of her eyebrow. _

_And then she had to wait for him while he searched for his second hidden blade. She didn't feel the need to tell him it was stuffed under the mattress._

Alessa closed her eyes as she replayed the night in her mind and smiled as Ezio leaned forward to put his arms around her. They settled against each other with a newly discovered familiarity and he rested his cheek against her temple. His breath was quiet next to her ear.

She savored the moment, cataloging the sensations to tide her through the next few months while she was away. The memory of the composed rhythm of his breathing and the firm, but gentle touch of his hands where they were linked across her abdomen would be better than any physical token she could carry with her.

Hell, it could even be the last time she ever saw him; they didn't really know what awaited them in Moscow.

She frowned and opened her eyes; she thought she wouldn't have had these types of thoughts at least until she was out at sea, wallowing in self-pity with an unhappy gut.

With grim irritation, she buried those thoughts and instead reached down to link her fingers with his. Ezio's hands were warm, the skin a little rough, the knuckles marked by scars both old and new. These were better details to concentrate on.

"I like this," he eventually said.

"Like what?" she asked.

"That it doesn't feel like a goodbye."

She turned to look up at him, her gaze questioning. He leaned down to briefly bump her forehead with his, his hood momentarily blocking out the golden light of the Roman sun,

"I know that you'll come back to me, _carina_, and I like that." He smiled wryly, "Not many women come back to me."

"They probably get tired of you dragging them through sewers," she said drily, covering her brief pang of surprise with sarcasm.

"You are the only one I've dragged through a sewer," he replied, his tone contemplative as he brushed her braid away from her nape.

"Oh," she said, her stomach performing some intricate tricks in her abdomen as the warmth of his breath touched her skin just before his lips did, "I guess some women are just beyond help, then."

"Some are," he agreed, and she smiled as he settled her back against his chest again. And then she just had to ruin the moment as she spoke her concern aloud,

"But what if –"

"Quiet," he interrupted, his embrace tightening and his voice deepening with that charismatic authority he wielded so naturally, "There is no 'what if.' You will return to me."

"Not a very practical sentiment, Master Assassin," she murmured, gently loosening his grip and turning to face him, "But I will ensure that your orders are followed to the letter."

"Very good," he rumbled, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before moving down to her mouth make a more thorough job of it, "I expect nothing less."

They sat for a time longer while the burgeoning light of the sun slowly crept over them. Dockworkers began to stream out quayside, blearily beginning the day's work of loading and unloading cargo.

"Ah, here are Claudia and Dino," Ezio eventually said. As one, they craned to see over the edge of the roof as the other couple stepped out onto the docks. Dino' s hooded figure towered over Claudia. But they didn't look mismatched, even with the height difference; Claudia's regal grace was a dignified, feminine foil to Dino's intimidating lope.

Claudia was dressed simply, her gown lacking it's usual understated opulence. She wore a plain white dress; invoking thoughts of an elegant Grecian toga as it draped her torso in soft linen folds before falling luxuriantly to the ground. Her hair, down for once, spilled down her shoulders in careless dark waves, nearly to her waist. As she turned her head, Alessa was amazed at the unrestrained joy in the woman; even in profile, Claudia was the image of a woman in love.

So why the hell had she…

"You know he asked her to marry him," Alessa mentioned off-handedly. Ezio nodded slightly before his head snapped away from the couple on the ground to face her.

"Said what?" he blurted.

"Oh, uhh, well, he asked her to marry him. A couple of nights ago."

Oops.

Ezio's face could not have portrayed astonishment any more precisely and his voice soared a couple of octaves. Alessa smothered laughter.

"What did she say?" his head whipped back around to stare at Dino and Claudia on the docks. Both were entirely unaware of the activity around them as Dino reached down to gently grasp one of her hands, pressing a reverent kiss to the palm before holding it to his heart as he said something to her.

"She told him no, but I think he'd be successful in obtaining her permission if he asked again." She tilted her chin at them, "Don't you think?"

Ezio was silent for a time as he watched. Claudia and Dino turned away from each other, their hands falling down together in a loose clasp, the austere grey of his leggings made darker in contrast as his legs were brushed by the white of her skirts. They walked casually towards the ship.

Alessa watched Ezio's expression go impassive as he pondered the situation.

"I don't know what to think," he said finally. His dark eyes turned to hers and bewilderment was stark upon his face. He chuckled a bit and shook his head.

"I'll have to get used to the idea before I can form an opinion of whether or not I need to kill him." He stood, offering a hand to her.

"Fair enough," Alessa conceded, taking his proffered hand to be hauled to her feet. She watched as he turned and sprinted for the edge of the roof, flinging himself over. Alessa gave him a few moments and then followed suit, not bothering to check for herself to see if he had landed safely. She trusted her _maestro_ above no other and to perform a blind Leap of Faith was the least of her means of proving it.

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

She had done remarkably well; poor little thing (no one could save him if she caught him pitying her) had managed to make it all the way out into deep water before giving up the premise and do the old heave-ho over the railing. Dino finally went to her side to needle her a little bit – after waiting make sure her stomach was empty.

His motions deliberately casual, he leaned on his forearms at the railing beside her, bracing the weight of his shoulders with his arms. Her eyes seemed huge in her face as she spared him an acknowledgment, her skin sallow and grey.

"Ever a vision, _tesora_," he drawled.

"Go to hell," she growled. She succumbed to a spasm of dry heaves for a moment before resting her forehead on the railing, a picture of abject misery.

"Come on," he cajoled, "I thought you were tough; don't know how any woman crazy enough to play kissy-face with that mean bastard Ezio can be waylaid by a little seasickness. "

"At least I didn't ask him to marry me," she replied, turning to bestow a glare upon him, a single baleful eye glowering from behind hands that shaded it from the bright sunlight. Dino roared with laughter, too amused by her dogged effort to banter to be offended.

"Touché, _amica mia_, but you were making out like teenagers on that roof; don't think I didn't see it. Which is not so smart, if you ask me; rooftop archers would pin you like a pair of bugs!"

"I hate you," she informed him, "And no one asked you." She lurched forward and dry heaved over the railing again, unable to formulate any further comment.

"Well, see, these inquisitive silences of yours just beg for my opinion. So yeah, if you two have a lovers' quarrel, how would that work? Pistols at ten paces? Nah, you're a horrible shot…"

Her hand curled into a white-knuckled fist on the railing, and she pounded that gnarled knot of flesh once in frustration. He felt a slight pang of sympathy. She was frustrated, he could tell that much. Banter could distract the body only so much; Dino knew of people that believed in mind over matter, the ability to cerebrally outmuscle the corporal… Hell, there were instances where he himself had pushed his body beyond what it wanted to endure.

But here, in her case, Dino felt a phrase he had once heard from Leonardo was appropriate: it was the idea of unstoppable force meets immovable object. He chuckled; Alessa was the epitome of immovable object. It was just too bad that her aversion to water seemed to be the unstoppable force.

He didn't know the physiological reason for her body's aversion to water, but he knew how to work around it. He silently handed her his extra canteen. She took it to rinse her mouth and then eyeballed him suspiciously before she attempted a sip. Her eyes narrowed.

"What's in it?" she asked, her tired voice belying her prickly attitude.

"Just a mild sedative," he replied nonchalantly, "It'll make you drowsy, but won't make you sleep like, ah… like before, I promise. It should calm your stomach if you're able to keep it down."

He received the ghost of a smile in return and he felt ridiculously pleased when she started to sip. Stubborn, stubborn little wench; didn't she know he just wanted her back to her normal, mouthy, disrespectful self as opposed to her seasick, mouthy, disrespectful self? Because it wasn't fun to watch your best friend all pitiful and weary all the time – especially since they had a good long trip ahead. He settled his hand between her shoulder blades, his touch soft in an attempt to soothe.

After a blessedly short amount of time, he suddenly felt the tension in her muscles ease and knew that the brew was working. She listed to the side abruptly, the canteen spilling from lax fingers. He swore as he scrambled to catch her and the canteen before both tumbled overboard and was astonished to realize that she was asleep.

"You are so lucky I feel bad for you right now," he told her unconscious face after he hefted her up into his arms, "Because I should shave you bald while I have this chance, you silly little witch."

And he really did feel slightly guilty for her passing out from exhaustion. Because he totally had had a hand in orchestrating some alone time for her and the Master Assassin the night before. The two had been busting their asses the last few days arranging the Moscow trip. Dino himself had been mostly working on his cover persona with Khiril. Easy stuff. With the nights to himself to spend with Claudia.

The sailors gave him strange looks as he spoke to the obviously unconscious woman, but mostly they ignored him as he carried Alessa down the ladder. It amazed him how light she was. Both her and Claudia were strong, smart fighters – it made them somehow seem bigger than their actual physical size.

He settled her in one of the hammocks they had strung up on the far end of the cargo hold, away from the crew's berthing. The stacked crates and barrels holding the ship's cargo gave them a modicum of privacy.

"Why is she sleeping?" Khiril's perpetually hoarse voice broke through his thoughts.

"She's tired," Dino replied, settling the canteen - containing an elixir of ginger, cloves, and chamomile - carefully within her reach.

He heard the Russian man scoff,

"We've barely been a half a day out, is she going to be like this the whole time?"

Dino frowned as he smoothed a lock of hair away from Alessa's wan face, and then turned to loom over the veteran fighter, crossing his arms over his chest,

"Look, I don't know what your problem with her is, but you had better get over it. Mostly because she has been busting her ass for the last few days straight with no sleep and no rest. I'd like to see you do better. And second, and most importantly, if you ever truly piss her off, she'll knife you where you stand, seasick or not."

The man's guarded blue eyes narrowed, obviously not appreciating the sarcasm or the threat. But he and Dino had already formed a working relationship based on mutual respect and recognition of similar history, and so Khiril ignored it. Dino didn't like how his gaze went to the sleeping apprentice with a doubtful sort of speculation, but figured that Alessa would take care of things when she was rested and her stomach had calmed.

Dino made a massive effort to control his irritation. It would be more satisfying for him to have Alessa herself take this prejudiced Russian down a notch or two. He just hoped she did it while he was there to watch.

He gave Khiril an insolent grin. The shorter man wasn't intimidated and even bared his teeth in a smile of his own.

"Tomorrow then, Assassin," Khiril said, before turning to leave him.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

She woke a little stiff from her nap in the hammock. The berthing for a lengthy sea voyage would take some getting used to, but damned if it wasn't better than sleeping in a thin blanket on the hard ground.

She swung her legs to the deck and stood, carefully assessing her head and her stomach. She was mildly dizzy, a vast improvement from the spinning dervish of a headache from before. As she left the hammock, she heard a sloshing and saw Dino's canteen lying in the place she had vacated. She scooped it up, uncorked the thing and took a sip of the tea he had prepared for her.

Just in case.

Slinging the canteen strap across her chest, Alessa made her way to the galley to collect her rations for the day. Then, munching on a biscuit, she made her way up the amidships ladder and onto the main deck. The sun was bright as it reflected off the water all around them and she tugged her hood lower over her eyes.

She followed the unusual sound of a rhythmic sort of pounding to the forecastle. As she made her way around the amidships mast, she could make out Dino and Khiril moving about at the bow. She took another sip from her canteen as she climbed another ladder to get to the next level.

Up top, Dino was pummeling the holy hell out of a leather padded practice dummy, ducking and weaving according to the random instructions that Khiril called out. His fists were wrapped in strips of linen that had already been demolished to rags under the terrible duty of protecting his fists from the stiff leather bags filled with sand.

Idly watching Dino playing target practice, Alessa sat and began to stretch her sore muscles, listening in interest as Khiril called out in both Russian and Italian. She mouthed some of the words, feeling for the correct pronunciation

"Enough," Khiril eventually said, uncrossing his arms from his chest.

Dino went for his canteen and Khiril handed him a towel. "You are doing much better, but your transitions are still slow and you project your movements too much. You've been spoiled on those Roman soldiers; _Moskva_, she will give you real opponents."

Dino expressed his disbelief with an eloquent lift of an eyebrow and Khiril shrugged,

"Men train for years and are not able to attain the level that you are already at. You have strength, stamina, and skill. Now we must refine your talents, develop a unique style that will set you apart from the others. I see great things for you, warrior."

Khiril's eyes blazed with fervor as he speculated on the glory to come. Dino, she was impressed to see, wasn't drawn in by Khiril's dramatic statement.

"I appreciate your approval and endorsement, but a land-locked town built out of timber full of people with snow in their heads surely can't offer the same challenges that a warrior born in the shadow of the Coliseum can."

Khiril gave him a forbidding frown and then grinned suddenly, the expression feral – full of fierceness and pride,

"You will see; _Moskva_ is no longer a city of the Dark Ages. She is at the brink of something greater, poised to become the crown jewel of a great empire."

"Khiril!" A voice boomed out across the water and the trio turned as one to see a great bearded bear of a man jogging spryly up the ladder to the forecastle.

Alessa hiked herself to her feet, respectfully giving him an efficient bow. This was Captain Andreyev, whose yeoman would be giving both her and Dino their language instruction.

The red bearded captain ushered them both to his cabin, where they were introduced to Maksim. After conferring for a moment in the oddly elegant, but intimidating Russian tongue, the Captain left them sitting nervously amongst parchments bearing the written Russian.

"Okay, so start simple," Dino said, sweating a little bit, "Just tell me how to say hello…"

"_Zdravstvuitye_," Maksim replied, watching Dino nervously.

Dino was silent, staring impassively at the translator. Then he looked at Alessa.

"I'm going to hit him."

"I think he's serious," she replied, giving the translator, who was now inching backwards from the table as Dino's chest swelled with frustration, a quick wink.

"Besides you asked, now try it."

She demonstrated, butchering the word. Dino's fists bunched up on the tabletop, but he stopped bristling like a pissed off tomcat and grudgingly tried.

Grudging pretty much defined the next couple of painstaking hours.

Khiril came for them and they were turned over to the veteran. The rest of their afternoon and evening was reserved for calisthenics, weapon drills, and one on one instruction in the hand to hand combat Dino would be partaking of. Alessa used that time to practice her free-running, a challenge in the limited confines of the ship.

As she buckled her armor on, preparing to run the rigging, one of the Italian-speaking sailors approached her.

"If you fall overboard, you'll drown in that armor," he warned her. Alessa ignored his slightly mocking tone, as if her being a woman made her oblivious of that fact.

"Yes, thank you," she replied drily. "But if I'm not conditioned to free run in this, then I'll be stabbed, shot, or captured for some even more delightful form of death."

The sailor stared at her, bemused, obviously unable to fit her into his world view. She grinned suddenly and punched him lightly on the shoulder,

"I guess I just better make sure I don't fall then, eh?"

She received a dirty look in return. Oh well. Some people just couldn't appreciate a little gallows humor. She hitched her trousers up, made sure the tip of her scabbarded sword was securely strapped to her thigh and set her boot firmly into the thick rope netting that led into the rigging above.

And so their days passed in training both martial and mental as they drew ever closer to the mysterious city of the north.

Khiril worked with her Alessa on her cover story; drilling her in the names and connections of the Russian nobility, their customs, and the peculiarities – to Alessa anyway – of the religion. Once she got used to the tongue-twisted names they all had, she learned quickly.

They developed a strained sort of familiarity with each other, sort of an ongoing 'agree to disagree' mindset. She couldn't help that he was a chauvinist prude and he just had to deal with the fact that she was both an Assassin and a woman.

The waking and sleeping hours flew by and time seemed to blur together. Alessa could no longer tell the individual days apart. Surprisingly, it wasn't tedious; the sameness and inescapability of their shipboard quarters and the endless water created a sort of monastic simplicity that allowed for full concentration on their efforts to learn the language and condition their bodies for the unknown that awaited them in Moscow.

During the cycle of days, Alessa experienced a level of introspection and communion with her comrade heretofore unknown to her. She and Dino trained, ate, and practically slept together. Khiril was a brutal taskmaster, pushing Dino to the edges of his physical boundaries. His overworked muscles cramped with a viciousness that was painful to see, especially at night, and she was the one to ease a wrenched calf or the spasm of a back muscle with massage. He constantly adjusted her tonics as he saw her symptoms fluctuate, easing her bouts of seasickness so that she felt practically normal.

After all the training Ezio had put them through together, their shared losses, and their teamwork on missions, it was those days of forced proximity that made them a seamless unit – each able to effortlessly anticipate and provide for the other's tactical needs. Alessa could not wait to test their newfound strengths in a true martial environment.

There was a brief interruption in their activities as they passed through the straits of Constantinople and into the Black Sea. They stopped briefly in the city to resupply, but Alessa and Dino were too involved in their training to do more than set foot on land to help the sailors offload and onload unknown cargo. And as most of the cargo was illegal, the movement generally occurred after dark. They never got to see more of the ancient metropolis than the graceful minarets of the Sultan's palace.

She was surprised to find that one particular crate was left near their hammocks, full of clothing for herself and Dino, specially ordered from _Roma_ to a tailor in Constantinople. The gowns were of the latest fashion and she tried not to think of the expense the Assassin Order was incurring to outfit her for her mission. While the gowns were important for her to maintain her persona, she couldn't help but feel it was a waste.

Their ship passed through into the Black Sea and after a few grey days of passage through the interior of the vast inland sea, land appeared off to port, almost indiscernible in the distance. They changed ships at the outlet of the Volga River, from a deep water vessel to one better suited for river travel.

The shallow-drafted river ship was ungainly in the water. Her nausea returned in full force and the respite she had had in the meantime was lost. She still struggled through her training, but often collapsed into her hammock at night. Their progress slowed as they came closer to their destination and Alessa's nausea settled down.

The nights grew noticeably colder as they moved upriver. The land began to change from the riotously verdant foliage near the shores of the Black Sea to a breathtaking red, orange, and gold display to stark, bare trees heavily interspersed with needle-clad conifers.

Although the days were tolerably warm, the nights began to get colder and colder until one particularly frigid morning she awoke to find frost covering every surface. It made the deck slippery until the sun melted it about an hour after it rose.

They broke out the furs and cloaks after that, for the temperature plummeted to the point that she was surprised not to find ice in the river.

They came into Moscow during the last vestige of the day. The strange, dusky purple of the early sunsets cast bruised shadows over the buildings that huddled along the Moscow River. The city had not nearly the size and grandeur of _Roma_, but Alessa could see the beginnings of greatness in the soaring golden domes of the churches and the pastel-painted buildings, many of which were built in a familiar style the Italian architects favored.

It was full dark before the ship was moored, and Alessa was too tired to appreciate the moment of setting foot for the first time in the foreign land. It was quite cold, and she huddled into her furs.

She got no more than a glimpse of buildings, alleyways, and narrow streets as Khiril led her and Dino through the slumbering city to their destination. Not far from the river, they entered through the back door of a tall building in the craftsman district. Nearby, a blacksmith was still awake, hammering diligently at his forge.

Alessa felt a lump in her throat form at the familiar sound. She cleared her throat discreetly as they passed from chilly darkness into cheerful warmth. For all intents and purposes, the room had likely originally been intended as a storeroom for the shop that fronted the building. Instead, it contained the large open space and tools required of a professional glass blower. It was the large furnace that glowed with the heat that thawed her of the cold.

The pieces in the workshop were of a wide variety both functional and decorative. But the craftsman and his apprentices were nowhere to be found at this hour of the night

Instead, she and Dino were lead to a trapdoor, concealed in the corner amidst racks of the long, cylindrical pipes that were used to create the masterpieces around her. They trooped down the narrow staircase and followed Khiril down a dank tunnel. Dino's shoulders brushed either side of the tunnel and he had to duck to get through. It was obviously well-used; the dust was almost non-existent and spider webs were nowhere in evidence.

Or maybe it was just too damn cold for the spiders.

The tunnel branched multiple times but Khiril led them without hesitation through the maze. Alessa began to get nervous; the Russian could be taking them anywhere. She discreetly unsheathed her knuckle dagger, holding it against her right forearm even as she flexed her left wrist against her hidden blade.

The current tunnel ended in another narrow staircase and trapdoor, the latter inscribed with a crudely drawn wolf, it's muzzle pointed up in a howl.

They emerged into what appeared to be a warehouse. The beams of the high rafters were at the furthest edge of the light provided by a single fire banked to coals in a nearby brazier. A man sat near it, holding out his hands to the heat.

He stood as they approached, his long overcoat made of leather that covered him to his boot tops. He and Khiril greeted each other in a profusion of exuberant Russian, which Alessa could now follow with some success. After listening to the men exchange heartfelt greetings, she surreptitiously sheathed her dagger.

"This is Dmitriy, leader of the Wolves of Moscow. He is the equivalent to your La Volpe."

Dmitriy had riotously curly dark hair and golden Byzantine eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He had the lithe, wiry build of the typical thief, with nimble fingers that she kept a wary eye on. He was younger than she would have expected to be a leader of anything, much less the Thieves' Guild of all Moscow. He was slightly shorter than Khiril and she could almost look him straight in the eyes.

"_Dobro pozhalovat'_!" He greeted them with boyish enthusiasm. "It will be good to work with the Assassins once again." He and Dino clasped forearms before Dmitriy turned to her. He hesitated for a moment, obviously not sure what to make of her, and Alessa stepped forward with a restrained sigh. Was he going to be another Khiril?

And then Dmitriy put that line of thinking to rest as he reached out and clasped her forearm firmly, just as he had with Dino. Alessa smiled in relief

"An honor," he murmured, "To be colleagues with a woman who is also a warrior."

Alessa fought the urge to both roll her eyes and giggle, succeeded on both accounts. He was charming, but he was not Ezio. Instead she inclined her head and met his mischievous golden eyes. He held his arm out to encourage her to have a seat before the fire.

"This way, _dorogaya_, it is customary for new friends to share a toast."

She and Dino settled onto the overturned crates that ringed the brazier, followed closely by Khiril, and then Dmitriy. The latter produced a set of short, squat glasses and a bottle of clear liquid.

He poured them each a finger's width of the drink and passed the glasses around.

"_Na zdoroviye_!" The men held up their glasses in the universal gesture of a drinking toast and downed the contents of the glass. Alessa followed suit; she had the briefest impression of virulent fumes before the clear liquid scalded down her throat.

"Garrrrpph!" she said, gasping for a breath as her eyes watered. "Puurppbb!"

Uproarious male laughter greeted her discomfort and Dmitriy, wheezing with mirth, collected their glasses to pour a second round. Alessa managed this one with a bit more aplomb, even as her senses become fuzzy with the drink almost immediately.

Ah, the joys of vodka.

Still chortling, Dmitriy, set their glasses aside. Khiril retained his glass and poured himself a third helping, swirling the vodka and nursing the drink as Dmitriy spoke,

"To business, friends," he said. "Tomorrow morning, the _Donna_ Alessandra will make her appearance in _Moskva_." Dino snorted, quickly turning the scoff into a cough. Dmitriy continued, "Your accommodations are not the best, but they will suffice for now." He gave Dino a conspiratorial grin, "At least until this one makes you a fortune in the fights."

This time it was Alessa's turn to scoff. She and Dino elbowed each other as everyone stood, the introductions at an end.

By this time, the two shots of strong drink had been enough to send her into comfortable bleary-eyed fatigue. She followed Dino acquiescently, stumbling a bit as Khiril bade them good night and Dmitriy led them to their sleeping quarters for the night.

The two of them, finally alone in the foreign city, didn't have much to say – their efforts were solely focused on sleep.

Which was not an elusive target.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

Alessa growled at her reflection in the wavy, but highly polished glass of their room's mirror, telling herself that this disguise she had decided to don was a good idea.

The Assassins were staying in an inn near the Kremlin, not quite upscale enough for a true noble, but she and Dino found the accommodations to be more than adequate. The furnishings were sparse and plain, but the place was clean and mostly importantly – _warm_.

Dmitriy had orchestrated her Italian noble persona's arrival in the city superbly. He had assigned a group of his thieves to act as soldiers that escorted her very publicly to her current lodgings, where they had begun the preparations for Dino's first bout, scheduled a mere week after their arrival.

She and Dino had spent the majority of their time prowling the streets in the early morning and early evening, when the crowds were sparse. During the day, they climbed to the highest vantages of the city, crouching motionless on the rooftops as they silently memorized the streets and alleys below, and became familiar with the movements of the crowds.

They had long discussions with Dmitriy, who told them all he knew of the missing Assassin, Pietro Antonio Solari. Since the Assassin had died within the Kremlin, they decided to start their reconnaissance directly from within the Grand Prince Ivan's court. Dino's first fight would aid her integration into that group and so they planned her first attempt to gather information to coincide with that event.

The day of the fight and her introduction to the city nobility finally came. She was dressed simply, in unadorned elegance, the dress of deep forest green velvet embroidered in black. Her jewelry was also simple; a gold choker suspending a pinky-length crucifix from her throat. Claudia had had a hand in kitting out Alessa's wardrobe.

Of course the real reason for the simple garments was not one of fashion, but rather practicality. When she slipped away from the fights, she could easily shed the simple accoutrements. Underneath, instead of the frothy undergarments usually worn under formal wear, she wore snugly fitted leggings and tunic. Her Assassin's hood spread flat across her back, the bulk concealed by the textured draw-string style corset.

The long, slightly voluminous sleeves hid the newly designed vambrace of her hidden blades; the armor more compact so as to be more easily concealed. Her knuckle dagger was strapped to her thigh, hilt down just above her knee. The harness that wrapped her leg easily converted to a belt she could wear at her hips. Claudia had designed the thing. Alessa suspected that Ezio's sister had a few secrets of her own; the design was flawless, indicating that it had been created by one who had had practical experience in it's use.

"You look nice," Dino observed as he appeared in her mirror, an obscure shadow in her peripheral vision. Slightly uncomfortable in her new equipment and stupid dress, Alessa snarled something incomprehensible back to him.

"You'll want to work on that expression or you won't attract any eligible suitors," he drawled, "Not with the sour lemon look you have going on there."

"They'll understand; keeping a ferocious warrior reined in is bound to make any lady a bit tense."

"Don't see any ladies here, _tesora_,"

"Funny, I don't see any ferocious warriors."

Dino shrugged,

"That's because you're looking in a mirror, why don't you turn around."

She did just that, ready with another quip that died in a startled jaw drop.

Preparatory to his fight tonight, he had donned the armor of Romulus that Ezio had sent with him. The armor had been the prize of Ezio's annihilation of the Followers of Romulus; the treasure unlocked by the six keys he had managed to obtain in the path to their demise. The Master Assassin had tried to lend the accompanying dagger to Alessa, but she had hefted it once and proclaimed it too heavy and too big for her hands.

Massive understatement on her part; whoever had commissioned the ancient armor was likely as big as Dino himself – the dagger fit perfectly in his grip.

And the rest of the armor fit him like it was made for him.

The armor itself was heavy – and damn near indestructible, as an incident with Markku and one of his firearms had proven.

The little ding was barely noticeable.

It was essentially plate armor for a free-runner and only those with elite strength and stamina would even be able to utilize it without it becoming a hindrance. She had never seen it's like; it seemed to have been made for someone with a full Assassin skill-set. Although heavy, it didn't resist his movements, allowing him the full range of motion necessary to free-run without impediment. The armor was hinged in places, the plates put together in a manner as to allow full coverage even as the wearer moved.

The Roman Eagle motif was well represented at belt buckle and paldron. It accentuated the breadth of Dino's shoulders and chest, making him even more intimidating than he already had no right to be.

Claudia had had a hand in the creation of an almost garish crimson Assassin hood embroidered in dark gold to accompany the armor, the rich colors giving the wearer a regal appearance.

The robes were leather and fur, coming down almost to his knees, kilt-like. He had commented snidely on the length while they were back in the gentle warmth of _Roma_. Now, instead of appearing ridiculous, the design would keep him warm – Moscow was fucking cold, full winter or not. Bloody Russians seemed to have ice in their blood, all of them capering about excitedly and speaking fondly of the "brisk autumn" they were having. Autumn, her warm-blooded Roman ass!

He had not yet pulled up the hood, so she had a full view of what he had done to his...

"Your hair! Dino, what the hell?" she asked, unable to take her eyes from the sight. He didn't look bad, he actually… well he actually looked frightening. Somehow, without the softness of the finger-length, unruly waves of his hair, he was stripped of any remnant of the good-natured joviality that characterized his expressions. Only she would recognize the amused glint in his eyes as humor. Others would likely see it as something feral.

"You like?" he asked, running a big palm over his stubbly pate.

"Uh," she replied, walking forward, unable to resist reaching up and smoothing her own hand over his scalp.

"Khiril suggested it, less chance of someone grabbing a hunk and yanking it out."

She shuddered and a hand went to her braid in a nervous twitch.

"I suppose," she murmured, feeling a sense of something foreboding as she gazed up at him.

"What's wrong, _tesora_," he asked with a quirked eyebrow, "You're not… scared for me, are you?"

"How could I be?" she blustered, "The only person I've seen beat you is Ezio, and he's not here. So you're safe." She gave him a conspiratorial wink.

"Aww, you do care!" He slung a big arm around her neck and drew her close, holding her distractedly, his tone becoming serious. "You shouldn't be concerned for me, but I feel it, too. This is bigger, you know? Those fights at Bartolomeo's? They're just for fun. And if I lose a fight there it's no big deal. Here? I don't know." He shrugged and shook his head ruefully, "Khiril did a good fucking job making this more of a head thing than it used to be."

She made a soft, empathetic sound, squeezing his hand in hers before he released her,

"Then it shouldn't be a problem, _ciccino_; you've never paid much attention to your brain anyway." They grinned at each other in perfect accord before she continued quietly, reaching up to touch her fingertips to his jaw, "I have absolute faith in you, brother."

"Hey now, don't get mushy," he warned, pulling up the crimson and gold hood.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

The early sunsets were a pain in the ass. They hadn't had a chance to walk through the streets of the walled fortress from which the Prince of Russia ruled. As such, Alessa felt blind in the new darkness as they passed within the white limestone walls. The architecture of the walls and towers were undoubtedly of Italian origin, and it gave her a faint sense of home.

Even if it lacked the scope of her ancient Roman ruins.

After passing through a trio of checkpoints, they entered the Kremlin palace through a small side door guarded by a pair of royal guards. Dino actually had to duck to get through, making Alessa idly wonder if all Russians suffered from a lack in height. They passed through an access hallway that eventually opened into the upper level of a huge room.

A crowd of at least a thousand sat on tiered benches set up much like the Coliseum in _Roma_, albeit on a much smaller, indoor scale. Stone walls approximately her own chest height surrounded a hard packed dirt circle on which two bare-chested, bare-footed fighters were currently grappling.

Blood sheeted down one fighter's face, his left eye almost invisible in the swelling and oozing blood that came from a gash above his eyebrow. The bleeder had his opponent in an arm bar, but it was all he could do to maintain a grip as his hands and legs kept slipping in sweat and blood.

Both fighters were visibly battered, but didn't appear affected in the least; their eyes were alight with the heat of battle and their movements were still quick and brutal. They didn't show any effects of pain or fatigue as they struggled against each other, muscling for control.

She descended the stairs with as much elegance as she could muster, Khiril at her side, Dino a few paces behind; his looming presence over her shoulder gave her confidence. Inquisitive eyes turned to faces them, a couple at first, and until dozens of people were watching them with unabashed interest. But she dealt with Ezio and that man's intensity on a regular basis; this curious crowd was nothing.

The overabundance of people had surprisingly heated up the high-ceilinged space and she was beginning to sweat already under her heavy furs. She pushed her hood back, the thick ruff of white fur still brushing her jaw even as it fell across her shoulders, and spoke quietly to Khiril at her side, not losing the smile she gave to anyone who would meet her eye,

"I thought you said no one would notice if we came late?"

"No one _important_ will notice," he replied tonelessly, "These are just civilians. The nobles are who you need to worry about."

The unrestrained arrogance of the man grated on her nerves.

An attendant awaited them in their ringside accommodations. It was kind of unsettling – the officious little man in unrelieved black taking their cloaks, making them comfortable, even offering wine or vodka as the fighters in the ring finally separated for a brief moment before they began pummeling the holy hell out of each other. Now that she was closer, she could indeed see the better-dressed nobility watching the fight with just as much unrestrained enthusiasm as their 'civilian' counterparts.

But not all of the nobility showed their support in such a noticeable manner. The ladies were decked out as if they were at a ball, and one even had a fluffy little dog in her lap. As the two men in the center ring fought with barbaric intensity, some of the women moved between boxes, socializing as if they were in their palace sitting rooms.

Dino and Khiril left her to go prepare for his matches. She felt utterly useless as she sat there with her glass of wine. She sipped idly – not a bad vintage – and watched the fight with interest.

The rules were simple: no weapons, no armor. Clad only in heavy cloth trousers, the fighters punched, grappled, and kicked their way to victory, which was only obtained by a complete knock-out.

No tap outs here.

Fighters were selected for their bouts by a lot drawn the day prior; Khiril had gone and selected for them, drawing the final match of the first round against a fighter with the dubious moniker 'The Hammer.' Dino had roared in derisive laughter at the name.

She had just gotten to the point where she had identified the individual fighters when the man with the bleeding eyebrow defeated his opponent with a stunning and sudden right hook.

The crowd roared it's approval. Alessa, scanning the nobles and the antics of the younger generation, had a moment of enlightenment that would allow her to disappear for a time.

She let her eyes roam at will and finally selected her prey at random, a young-looking nobleman with a weak chin and watery blue eyes. She smiled at him to see his reaction and he gave her what she was looking for; a perfect blend of self-conscious immaturity and a desire to prove himself by the way his eyes darted to her and then away. Hiding her glee, she carefully made her way over to him.

Engaging in conversation, careful to maintain her accent, she introduced herself to him and his inebriated friends, who elbowed him none too subtly as she singled him out. Since he also had obviously partaken too freely of the vodka, it was the work of nothing to lure him into the corridors beneath the ring on the premise of wanting to 'see

Arm in arm, they made the insipid conversation. Once he had the idea of what she was implying in her meaningful gazes, he finally took the initiative to find a quiet corner in the dark. It wasn't too difficult in the access hall that led under the tiered seating, a narrow and badly lit passageway. And then, just as he was leaning forward to act upon her veiled suggestion, she gave a practiced little gasp and clung to him suddenly.

"_Chto eta takoye_?" he asked, slurring a little as he looked around with more curiosity than alarm.

"I think I heard something." She tried to make herself look defenseless and frightened.

And bless his heroic little heart, he actually palmed the hilt of his saber, leaving her alone in the dim corridor.

With a chuckle, she took off in the opposite direction and found the tiny alcove Dmitiry had agreed to meet her in. While she waited, she slipped out of the gown and adjusted her close-fitting clothing. She primed her second hidden blade, this one in imitation of Ezio's poison blade, filled now with a slow-acting sedative and mild hallucinogen.

When the Master Thief arrived, clad as one of the revelers in the crowd, he was all business – none of the charming, boyish gleam softened his honey colored eyes for now – they were dark with professional intensity.

He conferred with her briefly over a map of the Kremlin palace created by his thieves. Cobbled together with intelligence gathered by spies and extrapolation based on the layout of more public spaces, the majority had been documented by Solari, the missing Assassin himself, during the initial reconstruction period of the Kremlin almost a decade prior.

Satisfied she could make her way to Prince Ivan's document storage, Alessa pulled up her hood and her mask.

Thanks" she said, as Dmitriy handed her her boots and a large leather satchel. She replaced the soft leather slippers of her noblewoman's ensemble with the sturdy, steel-toed boots.

"Use these," he murmured, also giving her a few burned-down torches, "You can lower the light in the secure areas by replacing random torches with old ones. It will take some time for them to be noticed and replaced. It interferes with the lighting; you'll especially want to do it at intersections. We use this technique to aid in potential emergency escapes." He grinned knowingly, his eyes sparkling with mirth as she left him for the innermost recesses of the palace.

The portion she had to get through was mostly underground. It was guarded, but not heavily, and she was able to avoid the bored patrols fairly easily. Most of the soldiers were stationed in higher levels, where it was more likely that an intruder would enter.

Following Dmitriy's instructions, she replaced random torches, noting with appreciation the resulting dimness that would aid her immeasurably if she had to avoid pursuit.

Eventually, Alessa paused outside a nondescript door and glanced around. This should be the location of classified document storage. She knew the information was fairly accurate as it had not come from the old Solari maps, but from firsthand reports from Dmitriy's spies in the Kremlin.

Watching the darkened hallway warily, she pulled her lock-picking kit from a pouch and got to one knee before the door. She hunched into the shadows as she worked, her dark, mottled clothing blending with the shadows cast by the door frame.

The lock was a little more complex than she was used to, containing two tumblers to get past instead of just one, but she managed it without breaking any of her tools. Carefully easing the door open, Alessa saw that the room was dark and slipped in, closing the door softly behind her. Complete darkness settled over her; the door fit so tightly in it's frame that ambient light from the hall did not trickle in. She shifted to Eagle Vision to ensure that no one else was in the room. As she shifted her vision back to normal, she produced a candle stub and lit it.

The flare of the candle revealed stone walls bare of decoration. She noted nondescript chests stacked everywhere against the walls. Some of the lids were slightly askew and the rich gleam of precious metal glinted from the darkness within. Alessa glanced over those items in disinterest before her eyes were drawn to a veritable treasure trove of dusty scrolls stacked in a honeycomb-like scroll rack.

The dust on the floor in that back corner was so thick that she left footprints. She pulled the document satchel over her head and let it drag behind her, mussing the neat tracks left by her boots; her feet were noticeably smaller than the average man's and she didn't need anyone to associate her arrival in the city with a small-footed thief.

Alessa checked her hidden blades in their vambraces and then set to work, methodically shuffling through scrolls. She could read enough of the Russian language to make out the names and dates she had an interest in. Anything related to the missing Assassins went into her satchel.

She had made it about three quarters of the way through the documents went she heard the soft sound of the lock clicking the door. Quickly, she pinched out the candle and ducked into a protected corner, letting her vision shift as she peered through a slat in the crates shielding her.

The aura that bloomed into her sight as a single figure slipped in the room indicated a neutral presence, limned in the faint blue tinge indicating Assassin blood. Due to the furtive movements, she surmised that the individual was in the room for nefarious purposes…

Assassin blood with the soul of a thief… Alessa grinned to herself; this was a veritable kindred spirit!

She stood and was in full view when the intruder lit a candle. A startled curse was blurted and the flame flared dangerously as the suspected thief noticed her and nearly dropped the light source.

Despite the wildly undulating shadows thrown by the unsteady lantern, Alessa's first startled impression was that this was a woman; despite the masculine clothing, there was a particular manner of moving that men simply could not emulate.

She was tall; she comfortably topped Alessa by a hand. She had the high Slavic cheekbones characteristic of the Moscovites and her features favored those Russians with the broad forehead and slightly tilted eyes that reminded Alessa a little bit of Markku. The woman's mouth was a little too big for her face but her perfect nose belonged on a Grecian statue. Pale, pale blue eyes were vibrant with intensity, especially against a heightened redness of her cheeks.

She was swathed in the Moscovian version of thieves' garb; close-fitted, unremarkably colored garments that could easily be worn in layers. Her fingertips, reddened from the cold just like her cheeks, peeped out of gloves that had disintegrated into the barest of cloth wrappings. Her hair was on the pale end of the spectrum, but Alessa couldn't tell for sure as it was either cut short or tucked into her clothing. She suspected the latter.

A long, oiled leather jacket covered her. The shoulders and upper back of the overcoat were stained dark from being out in the elements. The jacket fit closely to her torso and was cut looser to where the hem flapped against her knees. The leather was nicked and scraped and looked beat to hell; it was obviously a well-used piece of protective equipment. A pristine black _ushanka_ sat on her head, the fur gleaming richly in the single light of the candle. The new piece contrasted sharply with the rest of her battered ensemble and Alessa wondered if it had been recently 'acquired' off of one of the nobles that were thick in evidence about the Kremlin that night. Her leather boots, like her overcoat, were well-used, non-descript, and covered her calves to her knees.

Her fancy hat notwithstanding, the clothing articles aimed for the presentation of anonymity. However, with the addition of her weapons and armor she was quite fierce-looking. The buckles of her light leather armored were tied with strips of fur to mute the noise. She wore a bandolier over her jacket and it was well-utilized, containing an impressive overabundance of small, peculiarly-shaped throwing daggers; the blades were slightly curved, held a single edge, and had no hilts.

A pair of mismatched pistols were holstered in a modified sword belt that was slung casually across her hips. The smaller pistol rode high up in the boyish curve of her waist. The bigger pistol rode low on the opposite hip and the distal end of it's leather sheath was strapped to her thigh. The butt of the firearm sat outside a particularly high slit in the leather of her overcoat.

Alessa took all this in during the space of an instant as they eyed each other warily. Then she spoke in her truncated Russian, doing her best not to butcher the complex possessive declension.

"Are you Dmitriy's?"

"I am no one's," the girl replied haughtily. Alessa bristled at the tone, took a breath, and then nodded congenially,

"Then I have nothing against you. Good luck." Alessa waved vaguely at the chests of stacked wealth.

Taking a chance, Alessa turned her back on the thief, resuming her search through the documents. Eventually, when the woman didn't reply, Alessa forgot about her as she skimmed the parchments and stuffed promising ones into her satchel.

A soft sound behind her startled her and she whirled, her hidden blade snicking out, her fingers closing in a fist around it.

The woman standing just behind her froze and slowly held her hands out unthreateningly, those blue eyes watching Alessa's blade with clinical interest.

"Nice weapon."

"Thanks."

They stared at each other and eventually Alessa flexed her left wrist minutely so that her primary blade disappeared underneath her vambrace. She then rotated her right wrist to feel the comforting heft of her poison blade as well.

The detached scrutiny of those blue eyes was making her twitchy.

"So what are you here for?" the girl asked, curiously eyeing the contents of Alessa's satchel.

"Information."

The girl's eyes turned shrewd and she seemed to take a mental step away from the situation to reassess.

"Who are you?" she asked after a moment, her eyes gone cool.

_Aha,_ Alessa thought, rolling her shoulders in anticipation, _I can handle confrontation…_

"Librarian," she replied nonchalantly.

The woman chuffed out a breath in that abrupt sound of unexpected and unwanted amusement.

"Indeed?" The tone fairly dripped skepticism.

Alessa hid her amusement, _So apparently_ s_arcasm works the same in other languages..._

"Yes and a rather busy librarian right now. Anything I can do to make you go away?"

"Not really."

Her humor fled before a surge of exasperation. Alessa made a noise between a growl and a sigh and returned to her work. She felt the woman behind her eventually wander over to start digging through the crates. The clink of heavy, valuable metal and the chime of lighter materials, probably gemstones, reached her ears.

During a fortunate cessation of the small sounds the parchments made as they rustled against each other, Alessa picked up on the scuff of boot against stone - outside the room. Hissing a warning to the other woman, Alessa doused her candle.

They both ducked into the same corner, engaging in a brief shoving match for the hiding spot before they froze, each girl's hands still grasping the other as the door burst open. They watched in heart-pounding anticipation as the patrolman raised a lantern and took a step into the room.

Alessa had to give the guy credit; he took his job seriously. He took a panoramic visual scan of the room before he started a circuit, leaving the door open for ambient light as he began to check the dark corners; there would be no half-assed, perfunctory sweep of this room.

_Fottere!_

By the female thief's expression, she was also mentally blurting the Russian equivalent of Alessa's thought.

Alessa wondered idly if she would be able to make it out the door while his back was turned when she realized that her satchel of documents was still lying next to the scroll rack – and Mr. Thorough over there was about to trip over it.

Ah, hell.

She let out a (quiet) aggravated sigh and prepared her poison blade, being very careful as she flexed her wrist; she wasn't used to using a hidden blade with an intact ring finger and she had damn near incurred serious injury the first time she had released the blade.

Dino had laughed himself into convulsions.

Raising herself up a little bit, but still crouching, she silently stalked the patrolman, keeping to the shadows.

"_Dobriy vycher',_ _droog_."

Alessa spared an exasperated look for the smirking female behind her as the guard jerked around at the sound, noticed both of them and bee-lined for the exit. She darted after him – like hell was she going to get the alarm sounded on her first infiltration – when something whisked by her ear.

A throwing dagger buried itself in guard's throat and he fell, crashing into a stack of crates. The wood of one of the containers shattered and a surge of coins nearly deafened her as they spilled to the stone floor. A few coins spilled out into the hallway and the guard convulsed violently once, his thrashing feet landing over the threshold.

Gritting her teeth against the painful ringing in her ears, Alessa let her right hidden blade retract and dragged him the rest of the way into the room. She reached out in to the hall to scrape the wayward coins back into the room and closed the door. She was quite sure that everyone in the vicinity would have heard the racket of thousands of coins falling to the stone.

"What was that?" she hissed at her smirking counterpart, as she stalked back into the room, touching a fingertip to the new rent in her hood. The guard's lantern had smashed and she stomped out the flaming oil even as her nemesis-in-crime lit the candle stub.

"You got in the way," her nemesis replied blithely, shrugging a shoulder in casual indifference as she returned to her thievery. Alessa snarled something rude in her own language and stormed back over to the folio storage, quitting her careful perusal to jam documents with only the appropriate dates into her bag.

When her satchel was stuffed to bursting, she turned to see the mysterious lady-thief doing the same at a chest full of brilliant green gems.

"You're seriously bringing all of that?"

"What do you need those for?"

Their simultaneous inquiries resulted in an incomprehensible – to Alessa – garble of Russian and she grunted in annoyance, ready to be done with this interaction. She slung her satchel over her shoulder, once again checking her poison blade and it's tiny vials of Dino's liquid sucker punch.

She toed her way through the carpet of Russian coins glinting in gold and silver on her way to the door. She listened at the thick portal for a moment as the other woman doused the guard's sputtering lantern. Alessa opened the door carefully, glanced down the halls and slipped into the darkness that hugged the walls.

The lady thief went in the opposite direction.

_Grazie a Dio_.

Alessa, in her rush to get out of that particular section of the palace, got lost. She found herself in a deserted guard post, sparsely lit by a single flickering torch. All was silent, so she slowed to a careful walk, trying not to disturb anything…

A guard appeared in the opposite doorway and he drew his sword after he recovered form his astonishment, rushing towards her.

But she was already in motion.

A table stood between them and Alessa hauled ass into a sprint, running as hard as she could. She leaped into the air, arms flung forward to grasp the sides of the thing. Planting her palms in preparation to take her weight, she let her momentum help her to swing her legs forward through the arch of her shoulders and arms.

She thrust forward with all her might, her boots planting solidly in the astonished guard's chest. He was sent staggering backwards so hard that he plopped onto his ass. She darted past him as he got to his hands and knees, groaning and clutching his chest, and swiped him across his unprotected lower back with her poison blade.

After he recovered from the hallucinations, he wouldn't remember what the hell had happened to him. Or, more importantly, who he had seen.

She followed the faint sounds of a roaring crowd and eventually found herself in familiar territory, so to speak.

Dmitriy's eyes lit up as she rushed into the shadowy alcove.

"Excellent!" he murmured, "It's good you got out when you did; three full squads just went in there."

"We had to kill one guard," she whispered, as she tugged off her boots and began to struggle back into her gown.

He looked up curiously from pawing through the dusty papers in the satchel, his voice still low,

"We?"

"Uh," she said, startled that she had accidentally revealed the other woman's presence, "Someone showed up. A thief. She said she wasn't one of yours."

"She?" Dmitriy's eyes lit up.

"Blonde? Tall?" he gestured vaguely, "A bit of a …" He left the rest of the sentence unsaid and merely grinned.

Alessa stopped tugging on her corset strings and stared at him,

"How did you know?" she asked. Dmitriy chuckled and took over tying her bodice from behind.

"Elena," he replied, tying off her corset efficiently and moving back to face her. She nodded her thanks, swiftly pinning her braid back to her head. "She is a force unto herself. Did she say anything?"

"Not really, she was mostly curious about who I was and what I was doing."

Dmitriy grunted noncommittally,

"I'll see if any of my people have seen her recently. Her input might be useful to you. She is an independent, and difficult to contact. I would love to have her work for me." He slung the satchel over his chest and drew his mask over his face. "I'll get these back to headquarters. You had better get back to your fighter."

He slipped out of the alcove and disappeared in silence. Alessa gave him a few moments lead before she hastened back to the spectacle.

She was drawing closer to the roars of the big crowd when the young nobleman she had abandoned accosted her.

_Merda_! She had forgotten about him!

"Where have you been?" he demanded, "You could have gotten… well… uh," he stammered, then recovered, "There has been word of an attack, you might have been killed."

It wouldn't take long for people to put two and two together and mark her brief disappearance with the infiltration of one of the Prince's treasure storages. She dithered and then fixed her gaze on the boy. Well, he was really a young man, but compared against the men she associated with, he seemed quite callow.

Perfect.

She abruptly threw herself at him and he reflexively caught her as she buried her face into his chest.

"After you left," she whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. She even managed to produce a tear and his expression melted from one of affront to one of young male protectiveness, "I heard more noises and I… I – was frightened! I thought I was going to die." Alessa let out a gasp that was actually suppressed laughter, but also sounded like a brief sob. She pressed her face to his collarbone again, suddenly unable to control her expression, and clutched his tunic in the effort to restrain her giddiness.

"_Malyutka_," he crooned, "It is alright."

She tilted her face up to his, astonished that he buying the lines she was feeding him.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, smoothing out his tunic from where she had crumpled it. His chest swelled as he gazed down at her. Alessa looked up at him from under her lashes and he leaned down to kiss her gently.

It was awkward and she had to struggle not to tear herself away, but she let his mouth slant over hers for a tense moment. She felt guilty for tricking him and used that guilt to put forth a convincing front of enjoying his embrace, knowing that he would tell anyone that asked that he had managed to steal a tryst with the Italian noblewoman.

And no one would suspect her of being the thief that had appeared in her first night in the Kremlin.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Russian language:**

**_Dobro pozhalovat': _welcome; _Na zdoroviye_: cheers; _Chto eta takoye_: what is it?; _dobriy vycher', droog_: good evening, friend; _malyutka_: little one**

**Notes on Moscow:**

**the walls of the Kremlin these days are red brick, but back when they were originally built, white limestone was the preferred material. The walls and the towers, as well as some of the building within really were built by Italian-imported architects, including Pietro Antonio Solari**

**_Ushanka_ – the stereotypical Russian hat with the ear flaps!**

**Eastern Orthodox church coexisted in an uneasy peace with the Roman Catholic church**

**Ruling family at the time were not Tsars, but princes. By 1500/1501, Ivan III had acquired some of the massive tracts of land that compromise the modern country**

**Not sure if there's actually a continuous water route to Moscow from the Black Sea, so I took some creative license there. The travel montage was already too long.**

**I've been doing research on what buildings were around in the time of my favorite Assassins, and will be introducing some of those buildings in the next few chapters. I apologize for the brevity on description in this chapter; didn't want to overwhelm anyone with too much detail that will be easier to assimilate once you have a basic framework in your head!**

***** It's time for a countdown to Revelations! 26 daaaaaaays! *****


	34. Moscow: Elena and Irina

**A/N:**

**So, we are about 10 days out from Revelations. *squeeeeee!* ahem! sorry about that. I will do my damndest to get 35 posted before then, but it all depends on how distracted I get. 'Cause that never happens. Oh no. Heh.**

**Again, thanks to the reviewers: disciple 65, Assassin's Creed superfan, flyingcrispi, ecnal, and serebranka. I swear, I am trying to post more quickly for you guys! Also, thanks to Shamazaki for beta-ing and sharing good ideas.  
**

**Stay tuned for more Russian history and oo-rah for ubisoft and a new AC release once a year!**

* * *

The muted roar of the crowd was like the low key hum of a beehive from back in the dimly lit access corridors of Moscow's indoor coliseum. Before her, the blue eyes of her young would-be lover lit up with a sort of greedy fervor before he leaned down to brush his lips clumsily along her jaw.

She had to stifle a burst of nervous laughter, feeling guilty for being… well, bored, while the man tried to seduce her.

_Dio_, but the men in her life had ruined her for men her own age hadn't they? This foppish young nobleman, while in possession of admirable enthusiasm, seriously lacked in sheer presence.

Poor guy, it wasn't his fault; but that sure as hell didn't mean she was going to enjoy it.

In comparison, Ezio, in the prime of his life, was without peer with his confident possession of all her senses, no matter where the two of them were. Even in the damned sewers! Dino's overwhelming masculinity and Tullio's subtle ferocity made this man seem like a child. Even crazy Markku, with the alarming intensity of his intelligence, was more seductive than this drunken fumbler; those women in _Napoli_ had been more than enough proof of that.

She sighed and tilted her head back; exposing the vulnerable line of her neck, and his hands came up to grasp her shoulders in a surprisingly crushing grip. She abruptly realized that this physicality was a power women could easily wield over men. For some reason, she had always thought of women being the seduced rather than the seducee (was she making up words now?) in a physical relationship.

Which, in retrospect, was really stupid of her when she thought of how the courtesans made their living. But even then she had always sort of assumed that the girls did not have a say in what happened during the… er, transaction.

But then again, there were reasons that customers had their favorites.

And of course in her own defense, the men she currently associated with wouldn't respond to such tactics.

Or would they?

Would _she_ fall prey to seduction if things were the other way around? She realized that she had absolutely no experience in these kinds of subtle emotional maneuverings and resolved to watch out in the future. Seduction wasn't a power she wanted to become proficient in wielding, but it was nice to know it was an option. And at that thought, she became aware of hands that had begun wandering rather alarmingly during her musings.

Mortified that she had gotten distracted by her mental babbling during something so intimate, she gently extricated herself from his embrace.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to inject just the right amount of rueful embarrassment into her voice, "But my nerves are somewhat shaken."

For a moment, as he looked down at her, something in his eyes darkened and her heart began to pound cautiously. Crucial moments in a contrived encounter like this could become dangerous if she had misread her mark's personality…

And then he smiled, a little patronizingly, but she was too relieved to care. What she needed to now was to slip a little bit of Dino's sedative into his drink to make the back hall encounter even more amnesic. He tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow and led her back through the corridors into the main room. Alessa was acutely uncomfortable with the continued proximity to the strange man and struggled to maintain a disaffected façade. How did the courtesans do it? She abruptly felt a surge of empathy with Claudia's girls and at the same time felt guilty about being relieved she wasn't required to do _more_ with this man.

The drone of the big crowd assaulted her ears in earnest as they came out of the back halls and the high ceiling of the open room abruptly yawned above them. He led her back to his seat, where his friends were cavorting with a couple of women that looked and acted like Claudia's courtesans – not entirely surprising given the relatively young age of the men and the level of drunkenness that was well apparent. Her boy was grinning for all he was worth as he led her back to his seating area to take a seat amongst the exuberant group.

Blondie was greeted with leering enthusiasm by the men and one of the girls slopped a measure of wine into a glass for her as Alessa took a seat next to him. And then everyone forgot about her as the match in the ring began; they all rushed to wall and began screaming at their favored fighters as the blows started to land.

Alessa was astonished as she surveyed her surroundings. From what she could glean from individual crowd members' frenzied conversations, she had only been gone long enough to miss a single fight. _Dio_, it seemed like hours had passed. But no, the match directly preceding Dino's was just starting.

She pushed her way in between two of the more inebriated men and they moved away docilely, near to the stage of passing out.

She hesitated, hoping that they weren't pukers.

Blue eyes followed her before he stepped forward and leaned his elbows on the stone wall beside her. Despite the weak chin, the periwinkle eyes were vivid with intelligence, even if they were readily glazed with drink. The rest of his narrow facial features, while not to her preference, were well proportioned. He wasn't hideous; in fact, she idly speculated that a short beard might give his face an almost regal cast.

"So you must be _Donna_ Alessandra?" he asked – rather politely considering how they had gotten acquainted.

"I am," she replied. She gestured to the men in the ring. "My fighter will be in the next bout."

"Yes! We have heard amazing things about him. I myself have bet against him."

"Against?" she asked playfully, hiding her mental _aha!_ when one of his friends thrust a full glass of wine into his hand. She palmed one of the tiny vials secreted in her right vambrace.

He smiled and lowered his voice meaningfully,

"Well I have heard that his skill is over-exaggerated. No offense, _dorogaya_."

Alessa grinned,

"Really?" she purred, leaning closer to him and lowering her voice conspiratorially as she slipped a couple drops of the elixir into his drink, "Well then, would you care to place another wager on the outcome?"

"Only if I get to choose the stakes," he replied with a slight leer.

Alessa made a show of considering,

"Then let's hear what you have to offer, my lord," she was deliberately generous with the title, figuring that a little flattery never hurt.

"If your fighter takes the bout, I give you your choice of an item from my personal treasury. If he does not, then you will have dinner with me… where we won't have the inconvenience of being interrupted." He leaned down with a playful glint in his eyes, "And as much as I hate to quibble over precedence, it's Highness, not Lord."

It took her a moment to translate in her head, but then she felt her eyes widen before she could control her surprise and he laughed, outwardly pleased that she recognized him. Her mind reeled as she put together the features, his age, and his obvious wealth.

"Well, it sounds like no matter what the outcome, I come out the winner… Prince Vasiliy," she said a bit dazedly as she dropped a hasty curtsy.

He beamed, obviously pleased that she finally was aware of his status. Alessa came to the conclusion that she had hit the information mother lode. From what she had learned from Khiril, Prince Vasiliy was the second son of Ivan III, the Grand Prince of Moscow. When Vasiliy's older brother and heir to the throne, Ivan IV, died unexpectedly in 1490, Vasiliy's now 17 year old nephew, Ivan IV's son, was titled Crown Prince.

However, the court was rife with conspirators and tension as supporters of the two princes fought about who should truly be the heir – Dmitriy as Ivan's natural grandson or Vasiliy, Ivan's son by his second wife.

She idly wondered about the idiosyncrasies of royal inheritances of power. If the dead Ivan IV had survived to inherit the crown, there would have been no question about Dmitriy's right to the throne of Russia. Similarly, if Ivan IV had died before having children, then Vasiliy would have ascended to the position with little quarrel.

So who really deserved to rule after the Grand Prince's death?

Alessa had the suspicion that it was less about who _deserved_ it and more about who _wanted_ it. Fucking Borgia family was evidence of that. She felt her teeth grind and hastily smoothed her expression before she was caught glowering, focusing instead on the matter at hand.

Vasiliy's popularity at court had risen over the past year and he had just been granted control of the Duchies of Novgorod and Pskov. As such, he was ruler of hundreds of miles of coastline at the northernmost reach of his father's realm that gave easy access to the Baltic Sea; a convenient way to profit from the regions' rich material resources.

Not that the regions' standing armies were of any import.

All this and yet it was still very likely that he could succeed his father to the throne as well.

Vasiliy, the man she had naively mistaken for a minor noble she could safely use to further her own ends, was a very important man.

Okay, so that was an understatement.

Fuck.

Well, maybe she could salvage the situation…?

She buried her face in her hands and then proceeded to massage her forehead worriedly as she watched him sip his wine. She was well aware that if anyone discovered that she had drugged the potential heir to the Russian throne, her cover persona would no longer be useful and she might make the Assassin presence in the city known to Ivan himself. As this was a crucial part of their primary goal – making sure that the Brotherhood remained unseen – she could not fail.

Not to mention that any unfortunate side effects could be attributed to poisoners of Crown Prince Dmitriy's supporters. The court would be thrown into an uproar and a crown might change hands to less auspicious individuals.

Again, nothing but a good, old-fashioned _"Ah fuck,"_ could articulate sufficient eloquence to illustrate the gravity of the situation.

Grimly, she smiled with a vague sort of dazedness at the man beside her as he pounded his fist on the stone wall before him, cheering raucously for his fighter. The brawl was winding down; both contestants had burned through their stamina and were utilizing a clinch just to keep themselves upright. Every so often one would get a burst of energy and brandish a couple of sloppy blows at the other's ribcage.

The crowd was alternating between disapproving boos and random shouts of encouragement. Vasiliy, beside her, began screaming, red-faced, at his favorite – a short, stocky fighter with a cauliflower ear. Alessa approved; the man's build gave the impression of endless hours of training. She surmised that he was more likely to outlast the other.

In the end, his brawn won out as he gathered himself and, with a great effort, executed the ugliest hip toss she had ever seen. He followed the other fighter to the ground and the hapless victim made an ugly blurt of pain that she heard over the crowd's roar. She could relate; that sudden impact that made a person lose their breath was terrifying to the point that it sometimes made one wonder if death was at hand. When he struggled, arms and legs pin-wheeling ineffectively, desperate to regain the breath that had undoubtedly been knocked out of him, the fighter on top rammed an elbow mercilessly into the man's upper abdomen, causing the man on the ground to redouble his struggles.

Alessa jumped at the unexpected malevolence of the move, and, as the crowd went berserk around her, sat in stoic amazement as Big Shoulders knocked out his unfortunate opponent with a vicious punch. The loser went limp, his ineffectual struggles ceasing with a suddenness that was reminiscent of death. And even unconscious, his chest hitched in a disturbing rhythm in an effort to draw a full breath.

Vasiliy howled with glee as his fighter struggled to his feet. The sudden burst of malevolent energy was lost in true exhaustion as he wobbled on his feet, a beatific smile on his lumpy and bleeding face.

Forcing her hands away from her mouth, Alessa took a calming breath; she wasn't sure how she felt about the whole thing. It was very interesting and exhilarating to see the men display their martial skill, stripped of any weapon or armor that could give them any advantage. But she supposed that the Roman in her shied away from delighting in the senseless violence – a millennium and a half separated her from a bloody history of gladiators and indifferent brutality. The shadow of the Coliseum still hovered over her native city, literally; a glorious and grim reminder of something mankind apparently had not learned from.

As she watched the unconscious loser being dragged out of the circle, she wondered what was in it for him. His jaw was likely broken, not to mention a few ribs. And if he hadn't incurred any sort of other internal injury, he was damn lucky. Why he would subject himself to…

Ah, of course – the pay.

Khiril had constantly spoken of the obscene amounts of money that passed hands in the gambling associated with these fights. Good fighters that won consistently were nearly as rich as the noblemen who sponsored them. Dmitriy had hinted at the same. And Alessa confirmed this when she took an incredulous peek at one of the gambling stubs that passed through the hands of the prince and his friends as they heckled each other good-naturedly.

The next bout was announced and Alessa felt her heart rate spike as Dino was called out.

For a moment, she almost didn't recognize the man with the shaven head that ambled casually out onto the hard-packed dirt of the center circle. The constant, dull thrum of the crowd hushed momentarily as people craned to see the new fighter as he halted in the center of the ring.

Dino was outwardly relaxed, hands loose at his sides. He rotated his neck once, his arms shifted as he hitched his shoulders in a familiar gesture, like when he was unconsciously adjusting his armor. And then he was still, waiting with stoic apathy. He wore the gray, mottled trousers of his recruit garb. His feet and chest were bare in keeping with the rules of the fight; he wore no armor, carried no weapon save his hands.

Her brother in arms looked singularly exotic compared to the previous combatants; apparently Khiril's recommendation of a shaven pate wasn't a common preference among the current set of fighters. Dino's shorn scalp and wiry frame contrasted sharply with what she had seen so far.

The previous fighters were noticeably more muscled, looking like well fed wolfhounds; deadly, but well cared for and tame. Dino, on the other hand, appeared raw, primal; the feral lone wolf that was every wolfhound's prize.

He looked perplexed for instant when he noted that she wasn't in her original seat, but then he spotted her. She gave him a barely perceptible dip of her chin to indicate that her mission had been a success and his dark eyes brightened with proud merriment just before he gave her a salacious wink.

"Is he your lover?" a voice near her ear asked casually, a slight slur marring his Russian.

Alessa turned to stare at Vasiliy for a second, once again delayed in her reaction as she translated in her head. She took a sip of her wine to cover the silence - and then she nearly snorted it through her nose in laughter.

"_Dio_, _no!_" she finally gasped as she recovered, "I mean, _nyet, eta nye pravda!_"

"Then you allow such familiarity with those that owe you fealty?" he asked. Her eyes narrowed at him as she tried to process the Russian and the tone, ready to tell him in no uncertain terms where he could shove his arrogance. But then she stopped bristling and gazed at him speculatively. He truly wasn't being mean, not like Khiril anyway. Khiril was a fucking jerk. No, Vasiliy's open, guileless face was full of curiosity - and not a small amount of inbred arrogance that he probably couldn't help anyway.

And on that note, she'd better be nice to the guy – he was a prince, after all, and she needed to stay in his good graces if she wanted to use him in the future.

"Not generally, no," she finally explained, "But his family has served mine for generations. I grew up with him. He is like a brother to me."

_Liar..._

Well, at least the last part was true.

They were distracted when Dino's opponent entered and the crowd's roar became deafening. Alessa's hands clenched nervously in the first instant she beheld the so-called 'Hammer.'

The crowd began chanting: _molotok, molotok_!

Guy was a bare finger's breadth shorter than Dino, but he was massively muscled. His shoulders were huge. His biceps flexed with the barest effort, swelling impressively. _Jesu_, the guy's arms were as big around as one of her legs. His neck was so big that it looked like his head just squatted there right on top of his shoulders.

She snickered to herself; this was like evaluating horses.

As she watched Dino's opponent move into place, she breathed a sigh of relief and then grinned. Guy might be big, but he didn't have good balance or flexibility with all of that mass.

There was no signal to start the fight; the men simply waited as the crowd's roared drew to a fevered pitch. Slowly, they began circling each other, hands loose at their sides, balancing lightly on the balls of their feet.

Alessa thought her ears would burst when they suddenly rushed at each other, each reaching out almost casually to swing at the other in passing, and the fight was begun in earnest.

Dino darted in; she had always thought of him as the slowest of the Assassins, but compared to the lumbering behemoth in the circle with him, he was like a striking cobra. He lashed out with a short, vicious kick, his shin cracking along the side of his opponent's right knee. The man staggered slightly, but didn't miss, and Dino took a hard punch that glanced off his brow. It didn't seem to faze him, but the skin had split over his eye and blood began to seep along the ridge of his brow and then down around his eye.

The crowd howled at the first sign of blood. Dino ignored the injury. He feinted right and then lashed out another low kick to his opponent's right knee, then spun out of reach as _Molotok_ attempted a second punch.

The man was limping slightly, just enough to be noticeable. His right knee was already swelling; an impressive feat as it bulged larger than the corded muscles roping his thighs. She could tell he was already getting frustrated as he attempted to engage his Roman opponent and she silently applauded Dino for his patience. Any other man might be tempted by the weakness _Molotok_ exhibited by limping.

She could see Dino's plan as he darted in once again, this time to stomp his heel over the bridge of his opponent's left foot. A second heel stomp broke the man's smallest two toes; the digits left sticking out at an impossible angle.

And then disaster.

She suspected that Dino, who loved a good out and out punch-fest, itched to pummel the man in a more satisfactory manner. He nimbly dodged a heavy haymaker and landed a blow to _Molotok_'s upper abdomen. It was when Dino came up to go for the face that he got caught.

It was easy to forget that a slow opponent could exhibit bursts of speed when one least expected it, and one of the ham-sized hands reached out and snagged Dino's punch out of mid-air. It was the work of a second to jerk Dino off-balance and for _Molotok_ to follow him to the ground.

She could only sit there, helpless, and watch Dino's huge opponent calmly pin the Assassin – using mostly his sheer mass to restrain him – and began systematically working his ribs out with his right fist, the left arm braced on the ground for support. Her knuckles to her teeth, she watched as Dino moved minutely underneath the behemoth, unable to land more than a glancing blow. After a second, those familiar, healing hands scrabbling about. Seeking weakness.

The crowd was on its feet, roaring, as _Molotok_ continued to honor his namesake. He didn't try for a head blow – the shift required would give Dino an opening to escape. Instead, he continued at Dino's ribcage, the heavy thunks of fist thudding against what suddenly appeared to be frighteningly delicate bones.

"Your fighter is done now," Vasiliy informed her confidently, not taking his eyes off the fight, "_Molotok_, he always wins the fight when he gets a pin." Indeed, she could see that gamblers were already exchanging money and tickets with each other. Vasiliy glanced at her, eyes full of pity and a hint of the dark greed of lust.

Alessa resisted the urge to slap him. Instead, she focused the energy of her roiling emotions towards her brother, stuck beneath the powerful grappler. She silently urged him to victory, feeling her lips peel back from her teeth in her fervor.

It was utterly terrifying to watch. On the battlefield, a solid blow to the ribs could cause the flat bones to splinter and pierce a lung. Not many survived such an injury. Trying to avoid that thought, she watched in stricken fascination as one of Dino's legs crept out from under his aggressor, impossibly supple, the heel digging into his attacker's hip, toes flexing almost comically in an attempt to grab for purchase.

Another two or three rib blows. Dino's skin was turning an ugly darkened red from the continual onslaught. _Jesu_, it looked like a slab of raw meat. She watched his chest heave once and hitch as if the pain was finally affecting him.

Then one of Dino's arms slipped under his attacker's left arm, crept insidiously around to the front of the shoulder, and buried his fingers in the heavy flesh over the man's clavicle. She winced in imagined pain as Dino's long fingers locked into place.

Meanwhile, she finally caught the idea of what Dino was trying to do as his opposite leg made a couple of attempts to hitch over the other man's right arm. The one that was doing it's best to imitate a battering ram.

The men beside her were shouting and jumping in place every so often as the drama before them unfolded. She felt herself get jostled a couple times as a few of the more drunken ones lost their balance in their enthusiasm. She unconsciously pushed one away, watching in fascination as the left arm of Dino's opponent slowly began to turn red, then dark purple.

It was over suddenly. She could barely piece together the sequence of events as Dino capitulated on a miniscule weakness. Distracted by the arm caught up in Dino's pressure lock, his opponent made an attempt to dislodge the offending grip. In the instant his grip shifted, Dino's left leg was up and over his opponent's right shoulder. Dino's hands simultaneously slid down his opponent's left arm to his wrist and then Dino locked his left foot behind his right knee, successfully trapping his opponent's neck and left arm between his thighs.

Dino's opponent thrashed uselessly in the chokehold, his face slowly turning a deep beet red. Alessa saw Dino's thigh muscles tense and it didn't take long for the highly touted _Molotok_ to lose consciousness. Dino kept the man in the choke-hold for a few more seconds as she whooped into the din surrounding her. Finally, massively unaffected by the cheers around him, he untangled himself from his conquest and stood. His left ribcage was an ugly red color, and a deep, blue-black bruising was already spreading. Blood from the cut above his eyes was smeared all over his face and drying in the stubble at his hairline.

His gaze passed over the crowd and found hers. They shared a moment of fierce pride from across the distance before Dino turned away, heading for the restricted area where the fighters prepared for their matches. As Dino passed through one of the exits, she made out Khiril's silhouette deep in the shadows, where he had been leaning against the wall to watch the fight. Satisfied that Dino would be taken care of for the time being, she met Vasiliy's stricken gaze. The prince looked like he had been pole-axed.

Alessa slumped against the stone wall than ran the circumference of the sparring circle, in a wash of relief, heart pounding. Vasiliy began bemoaning his losses in good-natured despair, directing increasingly slurred curses at the unconscious _Molotok_ and all of that man's lax, useless muscular glory.

The prince was weaving at the knees and Alessa watched him closely, vaguely concerned that the sedative was going to be too strong for him. She wondered how long it had actually been affecting him, since she had been distracted for the duration of the fight. He stumbled into the man next to him, swatting blearily at nothing in the air before him.

"Too much to drink, eh?" one of his courtiers asked him helpfully, amid a myriad of guffaws and manly shoulder slaps.

Oh yeah. Way too much. She coughed discreetly to suppress her urge to gloat. She sure as hell hoped no one had noticed that he hadn't had more than the single glass of wine.

"You!"

Alessa jumped as Vasiliy pointed at her. He took a couple of unsteady steps towards her and clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder,

"You sure you don't want to have dinner with me?"

"I seem to recall that you are the one that lost the bet," she purred, relieved that he hadn't noticed anything amiss about his condition, "But I might be persuaded if you fulfill your end of the bargain."

"Greedy," he tsked. His gaze abruptly went to something behind her and she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. He blinked rapidly and then rubbed his eyes before focusing back on her.

"No more greedy than you, Prince Vasiliy," she retorted, kind of enjoying herself.

"_Kharasho_; I will be in touch then, _malyutka_," he slurred, releasing her and staggering backwards into the group of his peers. He was swallowed up by the little group and she watched them go, mildly concerned for his safety. The hallucinogen was just starting to work…

Oh. Personal guards. Of course he'd have them hanging around somewhere. She idly watched a couple of efficient-looking men in matching surcoats discreetly tail the departing party before taking a seat to wait for some of the crowd to leave.

One of the courtesans sat beside her with the air of one just taking a break from work; Alessa heard the girl beside her give a faint sigh of relief.

"Long evening?" Alessa asked drily.

"And not yet over," the woman agreed, giving her a mild leer.

Alessa nodded and gazed at the woman speculatively. Could she use these Russian courtesans as Ezio used Claudia's? First she had to know if there were any she could trust.

And she knew just the bait to dangle.

"My fighter just finished his bout," Alessa drawled offhandedly,

"Ah, yes, the Roman," the women's jaded eyes softened minutely and Alessa struck.

"I am sure that he is interested in female company other than my own," she said, pretending not to notice the interest the other made no effort to hide, "You wouldn't happen to know a discreet, quality establishment where he might find such a thing?" She gave the courtesan a slow wink. The girl, for she couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen, shrugged gracefully.

"I might know a place," she eventually offered.

Alessa inclined her chin respectfully,

"I thought you might. Is it near here?"

"Outside the Kremlin. Many of the fighters go to Anastasia's. A sty. And full of sows, if you ask me. I think your fighter would be more than welcome at The Rose in Bloom. Ask for the Madame and tell her that Talya sent you."

"_La Rosa in Fiore_," Alessa translated. She grinned, "I think it sounds perfect."

The coincidence of the name aside, this was interesting. The girl was obviously well versed in innuendo and Alessa wondered idly if there really was more to her. Of course, courtesans hired by the prince himself were more than likely as experienced in intrigue as the court itself. If not more so.

Alessa gave the girl a pleasant, but detached nod and returned to her empty seating area. The little attendant appeared at once, and she startled a bit; maybe they were assigned to each section? If so, he had had an easy night of it, as she had been gone thieving and inhabiting the prince's section since her arrival.

"Can I get you anything, _devushka_?" he asked solicitously.

"I need my cloak," she replied, "And if you would take my words to Dino Demasi: please inform him that I am returning to my inn. I am tired."

He bowed, a quick bob of a movement,

"And your winnings?" he prompted, his voice hesitant and somewhat embarrassed at her lack of knowledge of the proceedings, "How do you wish to collect them?"

"Uh," she replied, taken aback, not sure how to answer, "There's a lot?"

He leaned forward, carefully not to touch her, and shielding his mouth he murmured a figure into her ear that nearly made her swoon. He correctly read her astonished expression as his obsequious manner subsided just a bit,

"I can recommend a good banker, _Donna_ Alessandra," he replied, his attempt at mimicking her name and title in an Italian accent almost perfect, "And we can transfer the money into an account for you."

She nodded slowly, eying him speculatively.

"_Spasiba, gospadin_. What is your name so that I may ask for your assistance at our next fight?"

He flushed with pleasure,

"Pavel, my lady. And I am honored by your offer, but I will not be at the next fight as we attendants come from the retinue of a single boyar that sponsors each event. Tonight, my lord, Nikolai Zakharyin-Yuriev has that honor." He indicated a badge on the left sleeve of his austere black overcoat; a yellow, eight-pointed star centered on a black field.

"I see," Alessa replied, disappointed. The guy seemed pleasant and eager to help. She wondered idly if he could be bribed away from this Nikolai. "Your Lord is quite fortunate to have you for his valet."

"Thank you, my lady! My Lord sits just across the way," he said, discreetly indicating a section containing two dark-haired men, alike enough in features and far enough apart in age to give the appearance of a father-son relationship. She made a mental note of the older man's face and the sudden thought struck her that he looked familiar…

Meh.

All these Russians looked alike. Even with the startling variety of hair and eye colors, the Slavic facial features seemed to be a universal here in Moscow, whether one was noble or common – the slightly tip-tilted eyes, high cheekbones, and broad foreheads. This man was no exception. He wore a short beard that clung becomingly to his jaw and cheeks.

Pavel in the meantime had produced a vial of ink and a quill, and was busily scribbling. He blew carefully on the ink to dry it and then presented the parchment to her with a flourish,

"My lord banks here, _Donna_, and this family is most worthy to take care of your money."

"_Spasiba bolshaya_," she said, still unable to process the idea of the money she and Dino now controlled due to his win. Boy, was he going to gloat. She folded it carefully and tucked it away.

"I will go get your coat, _Donna_, although I suggest that you await your fighter to escort you to your lodgings. _Moskva_, she can be dangerous at night."

"Indeed," Alessa murmured without a hint of irony, watching him as he hurried away. She would almost welcome a chance to give her body something to vent itself on; all this polite chitchat and attempts to maneuver the social waters were giving her a headache.

She abruptly missed Ezio; with him, there was none of this figuring things out and planning where to strike. Now she had to do it herself and hope she had read each situation correctly.

Pain in the ass.

And inconvenience was the only reason she missed him, dammit. She didn't miss the calm, confidence of his presence or the way she felt in that first instant when his arms when around her, enveloping her in his masculine scent and…

Bah! C_azzo tutto! _It'd be nice to stumble upon a good fight on the way back to the inn. And maybe indulge in a nice, juicy swear-fest. In Italian. The Russian system of cursing was way too complicated.

There were still a good amount of drunken revelers left as Pavel returned with her cloak and she pulled the luxurious bulk of the white fur over her gown. Deftly side-stepping inebriated men staggering out into the night and random, two-man brawls, she ascended the stone stairs and out into the night air.

It was frigid, the air fairly crackled with cold. She wondered when the ground would be covered in snow and what that would be like. In _Roma_, the winters would get cold and sometimes she would wake in the morning to find a dusting of the white powder covering everything. But it would usually be melted by the time the sun reached it's zenith.

She couldn't imagine how there could ever be more than that.

The soft soles of her genteel leather boots padded softly on the cobblestones as she crossed the main square towards the Cathedral of the Annunciation. The Grand Prince and his family worshiped in the newly built church.

It was too dark to see the three golden domes that she had caught only glimpses of from outside the walls during the day, so she passed over the porch and entered through a bronze door. On the inside, the door's intricate fretwork was picked out in gold foil. She left the heavy warmth of her fur hood up; women weren't allowed to go bare-headed into these Orthodox churches.

Curious, and interested in the artwork displayed, she slowly made her way down the nave towards the main altar.

The opulence and elegance of the artwork commanded all of her attention, so that she became almost drunk with visual excess. Thousands of candles flickered in the darkness, tiny points of light dispelling the night and replacing it with glimpses of the golden icons. The candlelight imbued saints and angels with heavenly light, bringing them to life in colorful brilliance at the various altars.

The ceiling and it's artistry was lost in darkness, the multitude of ritual candles unable to penetrate the shadows at that height. The darkened interior appeared cavern-like, but the open space above her echoed with the softest sound. The contrast of the visual and auditory impressions created a curious sensation of being a tiny figure in considerable space, but not quite lost or insignificant in the larger scheme of things.

Which was somewhat comforting.

She snorted to herself; finding consolation in a church – go figure.

Her steps were nearly silent on the floor and only the luxurious rustling of her furs against the silk and wool of her gown aurally demarcated her passage. She moved to each gentle pool of light, viewing the icons that were displayed at each altar, each one surrounded by the burning candles representing people's prayers.

Hopes and wishes lighting up the darkness…

…Damn, someone was melodramatic tonight.

Just before she reached the iconostasis, she was drawn to a veritable forest of candles that burned before a single icon, which depicted the Virgin Mary in a Byzantine style she was familiar with. The icon was obviously very old, a stark contrast to many of the new relics and icons in the recently renovated cathedral. But age did not diminish the impact of the Virgin's soulful eyes that stared out at the viewer. The arms of the Christ-child reached up to lovingly touch his Holy Mother's face.

It was a scene repeated ad infinitum in every Catholic and Orthodox church in Europe. But somehow, this one seemed different; radiating with that profound, exquisite, yet oddly agonizing phenomenon that was unconditional love. She felt the urge to drop to her knees and was surprised to find herself kneeling before the piece. She crossed herself reflexively, something she hadn't done since… since…

Abruptly the tiny flames of the candles wavered, a hundred individual lights blurring into the golden background of the icon, the colors and light coalescing to obscure the mournful gaze of the _La Madonna_. She felt her fists clench as an all too familiar, ineffectual rage that came out of nowhere to engulf her in a vise-like grip.

For the troubled eyes of the Madonna in the icon had reflected all too well her own grief and love for her lost family. For her child that would never be born.

She wondered if it was a sin to empathize with the Holy Mother's loss.

Alessa angrily swept a finger under her eyes. No one was there, but she still made sure her hood was indeed obscuring her face while she struggled to control herself.

Seriously. The artwork was making her all emotional.

What was next? Tullio magically appearing with a musical rendition of loss and despair?

While she silently fought off that annoying runny nose that came with tears, a small figure swathed in a voluminous robe of unidentifiable color appeared out of nowhere and knelt beside her. Glad for the distraction, Alessa surmised that it was one of the altar boys for the cathedral and nodded equivocally. The robe's sleeves fell back as the figure crossed himself and clasped surprisingly narrow, delicate hands together as he bowed his head. Alessa took a furtive closer look from her peripheral vision; the gesture had been decidedly feminine…

The folds of the hood shifted advantageously as the figure turned its head to face her and Alessa was rewarded with a glimpse of a cat-like green eye, mischievous and naïve all at once. The girl was watching her, so Alessa gave her a polite nod and made to leave.

"Don't go," came a childlike soprano from within the dark folds of the hood.

"Uh?" Alessa replied, already rising in a half crouch. She slowly lowered her knees back to the stone.

"I like to come see her," the girl chirped, her hand going out with expressive youthful grace to indicate the glowing icon before them, "She's been here for over a hundred years! Even princes and generals cannot resist her."

"Oh," Alessa said with a little more confidence. She glanced around and replied sotto voce, "Ah… it's my first time seeing her."

"Isn't she beautiful?" the girl breathed. A tiny pointed chin peeped out of the hood as she raised her face to the icon, adoration evident in her pose, "I hope that I love my babies like that someday."

Alessa made yet another sound of surprise.

"Because she _cares_, you see?" the girl chattered on, "I mean, most of these stuffy old saints are portrayed acting so indifferent that I don't know how anyone can find comfort in their spiritual significance."

Okay.

"Maybe this artist was just more skilled than others," Alessa replied with gentle sarcasm. The girl turned her face fully towards her then, and Alessa caught her first full glimpse of the girl's face.

Narrow, dainty features still soft with childhood were over-powered by a pair of startling eyes. They were huge, luminous – and different colors. One was the vivid green she had already seen, the other an ethereal blue. The effect was breathtaking, especially given that her pupils were constricted within the shadows of her hood. A pale curl of hair had escaped from the confines of the hood and unfurled like a crescent of sunlight against the dark cloak.

The girl beamed.

"No, I don't think so; because there are many skilled artists out there that depict the Mother of God as dour or emotionless. They all like that obsequious little expression of bored detachment. Which I don't understand at all. And the artists depict _those_ emotions well enough."

Her little face scrunched up to demonstrate, with comic effect; Alessa had to restrain a burst of genuine laughter that would grate against the little bubble of tranquility she had going on with the kid, who prattled right along with innocent intensity,

"_Vladimirskaya_ is the only icon I have seen where the Holy Mother shows such _love_ for her baby."

Staying abreast of her chatter was like trying to pin down a beam of sunlight flitting through wind tossed leaves; elusive, frustrating, and yet surprisingly compulsory.

Alessa was still nodding in bewildered agreement as she processed the rapid Russian the girl spoke. And no sooner had she gazed at the icon to confirm the girl's final statement did she realize that she had been asked her name.

"Alessandra," she murmured, just barely remembering to maintain her "noblewoman" persona.

"Oh, I like that. I'm Irina. My name is not as fun as yours, but you're not from here. Maybe _Ispaniya_? _Italiya_? We get a lot of _Ital'yantsi'_ here to build for the Grand Prince."

"_Italia_," Alessa confirmed.

"Oh! How exciting," Irina turned her body to finally face her fully. The glowing icon gazed down at them benevolently. "Say something in your language. Please!"

Alessa rattled off a line from one of Petrarch's love poems. Irina grinned and clasped her hands in ingenuous delight.

"What does it mean?"

" '_I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods, I am in ecstasy and agony, I am possessed by memories of her and I am in exile from myself_ .' He is very dramatic," Alessa opined, "He cannot make up his mind on whether love is excruciating or wonderful."

"I think that true love must be painful in order to deserve the designation," the girl said gravely, her expression abruptly very adult in it's solemnity. They sat in silence for awhile, Alessa contemplating with wistful melancholy on a ten year old's take on love.

"Wait! I know who you are!"

"Uh, you do?" Alessa stammered, caught off guard by yet another change of topic.

"You brought a fighter. Can I meet him?"

"Uh, yes. Wait, what? How do you know?"

The girl rolled her mismatched eyes,

"People don't pay attention to me because they think I'm a child. So I hear things."

Alessa tilted her head to the side …

"And just how old are you?"

"Thirteen, almost fourteen. In two months." Adolescent pride knew no bounds.

"Uh huh," Alessa said thoughtfully, hiding her surprise. "Where do you hear these things?" she asked with just as much personal curiosity as an official need to know. That statement on Italian artisans, maybe she knew something of Solari… The girl gave her a knowing look, appearing cunning beyond her years. It was vaguely unsettling; like Markku when he got that manic focus.

"My mother is a nun at the _Starodevichiy_ convent. A lot of the ladies of the court go there for prayer." She leaned forward, cat-like eyes gleaming as she whispered conspiratorially, "They do nothing but gossip the whole time!"

"Your _mother_ is a nun?"

"I was the product of a rape," Irina explained, her tone utterly matter-of-fact. "That's why I have weird eyes," she continued as Alessa struggled not to physically recoil from the blunt statement, "Because I'm cursed. But my mother decided to keep me and love me despite of that. I think that's why I love _Vladimirskaya_ so much, reminds me of her."

"I see," Alessa said faintly, not quite knowing which topic to invite elaboration on. _Who the fuck was calling the kid weird?_ She'd like to stab the _maldito bastardo_ right up under his chin. Of course, if the girl lived in a convent, it was probably a woman – or women – who said those horrible things. Who blames a child for the sin of a parent?

But like the big chicken shit that she was, she focused on something easy. "Do you really want to meet my fighter?"

Irina's eyes shone as she leaned forward to grip Alessa's forearm, unable to contain her delight.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Alessa confirmed. "I think the two of you would get along quite well," she added drily. The girls' heads tilted synchronously towards the main entrance in response to the sound of the doors opening and closing. Familiar footsteps and the distinctive clink of heavy armor punctuated the tranquil silence of the empty cathedral.

Alessa looked at Irina, who had shrunk back into her hood, appearing like magic to turn into a featureless, unassuming child in a dark cloak. She smiled at the girl, whose eyes gleamed from within the shadows of her hood as she sidled away from her towards a dim corner of the alcove.

"In fact, I think you'll get to meet him sooner than I thought."

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Dammit, his fucking ribs were killing him. Every inhalation was torture, even with the bindings supporting his chest under his armor. He was royally pissed; he didn't like to be in pain. And then Alessa had ditched him to go play in the church, when he was ready to go to bed.

So now he had to go collect her before she got herself into even more trouble. He had heard that the little shit had gone ahead and found some snuggle time with the prince – the fucking _Prince_ – in her efforts to create an alibi for her break-in. Khiril had had an apoplexy, which had been sort of funny to watch until one actually considered the implications of her frolicking about with the royal.

And then he had been nearly as pissed as his trainer.

The danger she had inadvertently gotten herself into took his breath away… oh no wait, those were his ribs twingeing again. But still, she should have known better. And, broken ribs or not, church or not, he was going to shake some sense into her until her teeth rattled when he found her.

He sensed a presence near the main altar and discovered her before one of the icon altars. He spared an appreciative glance for the icon itself and then focused in on her as she stood calmly before him.

"Are you insane?" he harangued her in Italian.

"I assume that that's a rhetorical question, _ciccino_. Because Markku isn't here," she replied.

"Don't be a smartass," he growled as he loomed over her. She was annoyingly unaffected, raising an amused eyebrow as he continued, "What were you thinking tonight?"

She chuckled, a little nervously, knowing exactly what he was referring to,

"I didn't know who he was when I took him back. But it's alright, I drugged him, so he won't remember much."

"You _drugged_ him?"

Her stare could have shriveled the stoutest warrior's heart.

"What else would you have suggested? I was gone for exactly the amount of time that the break-in occurred. He was drunk, not stupid." Her voice was low and dangerous.

Dino stared at her for a moment, not quite sure how to answer. He was distracted suddenly by a small figure that had sidled closer to her, half behind her. Alessa seemed to come to the same realization at the same time.

She murmured something to the figure in her halting Russian. Dino was impressed; she was improving rapidly. She had the accent down, but she still spoke in the cadence of their native language; she hadn't yet picked up the significant pauses and inflections of the Russian language. He couldn't say the same for himself; he still had a hell of a time just rolling all those interminably long words off his tongue. He was getting better at understanding, but speaking was a nightmare for him.

He couldn't quite make out what Alessa said to the kid – it had to be a kid – but whatever she did say caused a transformation in posture. The hood fell back to reveal an elfin-featured female with mis-matched eyes that seemed too big for her face.

"Hi," he drawled.

"I didn't know he'd be so big," the little girl breathed.

Dino grinned.

"That's what all the ladies say, pretty girl," he replied in Italian.

Alessa swatted him.

"_Non essere un maiale_."

"Sorry," he said, not meaning it. She caught his tone and gave him a withering look. He beamed innocently at her, and then focused on the little girl as Alessa told him about her request.

"You want to watch my next fight?" he asked, stumbling hopelessly through his Russian. To see her response was like watching a flower opening towards the sun. He found himself grinning back.

"_Jesu_, Dino," Alessa muttered to him, "You want her to watch you get killed?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." He turned his attention to the little girl, switching to Russian, "_Kak tebya zavut,_ _tesorina_?"

She blinked up at him, suddenly shy.

"Irina."

"Nice to meet you," he said, "Tell you what, we'll sneak you in to the next fight, and I'll beat the hell out of one of those guys just for you."

He made a face; _God, his Russian was horrific_. Irina seemed to agree because she giggled before she nodded. Alessa looked like she really wanted to call him some bad names and was red-faced with the effort not to. Ah well, kid was out in the middle of the night with no discernible adult – he was sure she'd seen some things. A good old-fashioned ass kicking wouldn't bother her.

Alessa's gaze turned knowing when his breath hitched in involuntarily as one of his ribs twinged. She leaned down to murmur to the child, who nodded vigorously before suddenly disappearing into the shadows.

"You sure she'll be okay?" Dino asked, relieved to be back into Italian as he squinted in the shadows, looking for movement.

"She doesn't have far to go, she lives here within the Kremlin," Alessa replied, her tone even in contrast to the slight concern that wrinkled her forehead.

He grunted as they stood and walked out into the cold, their elbows bumping. The nighttime chill settled over him with an almost physical weightiness.

"Cute kid. Where'd you find her?"

"She found me, it was the damndest thing. She wouldn't shut up, either. I hope she doesn't babble like that to every stranger she meets. Are you really going to let her watch you fight?"

"Why not?"

She laughed at him,

"Wait until you have kids, _ciccino_, I'll be sure to expose them to all sorts of depravity and let you deal with the consequences."

He made a noncommittal sound and they fell in step, descending into companionable silence.

It was quite late; it could easily be classified as very early. The city was utterly silent, something he was not used to. _Roma_ bustled at all hours and it took him a minute to figure that it was the cold that caused it. Every sane creature was hunkered down somewhere warm… or less cold, anyway. Nothing stirred in the frigid darkness.

The quiet, instead of being peaceful, was actually rather unnerving. His armor, designed as it was to be more silent than regular plate armor, still creaked slightly at leather straps and clinked quietly – subtle noises that wouldn't be heard under normal circumstances.

Dark and cold, just like he imagined hell would be.

At least in that moment…

He was lost in his morbid thoughts, distracted by fatigue and pain and cold, when Alessa suddenly halted. She swept her hood back from her head and glanced about, her dark eyes narrowed with alertness.

A sudden shot rang out, echoing weirdly in the cold air and Dino felt a new burst of pain bloom at his right shoulder. He blinked… and was surprised to find himself on the ground with his fight injuries clamoring for his attention.

Above him, Alessa snarled a curse and then crouched protectively above him, her eyes darting about for the shooter, while her hand scrambled at his chest, feeling for an injury. Spots of black began to appear in his vision.

"Get up," she urged, not taking her eyes off the night-shrouded rooftops.

His response was to take his first ragged inhale since the impact and she spared a glance for him as he gasped for air.

"I will drag you through the streets by your heels, get up! they're gone for now, but they might come back!" Her words were forced through gritted teeth.

Well, he supposed if that was the alternative…

He limbs flopped about like a newborn foal's as he lurched to his feet, wheezing for air. Alessa deftly tucked herself under his left arm, and man-handled him into the shadows.

"What the fuck was that?" she whispered from somewhere under his chin. The grey ruff of her hood was tickling his nose, but he couldn't spare the breath to do anything about it. So he leaned on her, heavy armor and all, as she dragged them through a narrow alley, out into the next street, and then doubled back in yet another alley a couple blocks down.

Alessa helped him to the ground in the dark and he leaned against a frozen stone wall. He watched passively as she broke into a long abandoned building whose walls were starting to buckle, and didn't resist when she helped him inside.

She bolted the door up from the inside and dragged a couple of broken timber across to block the thing for good measure. The other end of the room was partially collapsed, blocking the only other entrance into the place.

"You okay?" she finally asked as she knelt in front of him, her hands lightly going over his chest and shoulders, turning his face one way and then the other, "You're not bleeding… Oh, look.."

He looked down at the new gouge in the Romulus armor, right over his chest where the bullet had impacted.

"This is some seriously durable armor," she marveled, looking him over clinically, peeling the heavy, eagle-inscribed pauldron back to inspect the underside.

"And you seriously have the worst bedside manner ever," he replied, removing her hands from where they dug mercilessly into his chest.

She clicked her tongue at him, but left off her cursory examination for wounds,

"Who do you think it was?" she asked, pulling her hood back up over her head and settling down beside him. She set her arms out on her knees, ready to deploy both of her hidden blades in an instant. They leaned on each other, side to side, and the proximity created a little bit of warmth. His breaths started to come easier.

"I don't know," he said thoughtfully, "It could have been anyone; someone who lost a bet tonight, a random attack, or maybe Solari's murderers have somehow figured out that we're in the city."

Alessa made a considering noise,

"I don't think any random footpad off the street would be carrying a firearm, too pricey a weapon for that…" she stopped and looked abruptly startled before her brows came down over her eyes, "Unless…"

"Unless?" he prompted.

"When I was stealing the records, there was another thief. She had two pistols. She might have thought I was new competition on her turf," she spoke slowly, as if she were mulling over the idea out loud… "But I didn't get that vibe from her…"

She actually seemed disappointed.

"You can't just trust people, _tesora_, especially not a thief. And I know how much you like to pick up strays from the enemy." He chuckled, and then winced, pressing a hand to his ribs. She snorted contemptuously and he could actually feel her disdainful gaze on him from with the darkness of her fur hood.

"Don't patronize me," she grumbled. "And besides, she didn't jump in front of one of her own people and take a hit for me like Remo did."

"Don't get distracted," he reminded her, "So if you don't think it was this girl-thief…"

"It's not," she interrupted. "Even if she wanted to wait for me to leave the Kremlin, we are dressed as a hooded noblewoman and a heavily armored fighter; she only saw me and I was in my working clothes."

Dino grunted in acknowledgement, then admitted,

"Well, I honestly can't concentrate; think we can go back to Dmitriy's and hit the sack? Sleep on it?"

She was quiet for a moment, totally ignoring the half-hearted innuendo. Then she surprised the shit out of him when her hand came out to rest on his forearm with a surprisingly empathetic touch that calmed some of his tension.

Awww; she really did care. All it had taken was him getting shot for her to show it.

Her tone, when she spoke was brisk and businesslike, but her hand remained on his forearm, her thumb brushing over his wrist.

"If we have someone following us, I'd rather not lead them back to Dmitriy. If they report to someone in Ivan's court, then his thieves are compromised. And if it's a renegade in his ranks, we'll be easy pickings…"

She trailed off and the stood abruptly, her hand going unconsciously to a pouch at her side.

"There's an upscale inn just across the river from here. I remember it from when we were scanning viewpoints the other day. It's one of the only structures around made of stone so it'll be secure. And it's taller than the surrounding buildings so we'll have easy access to the roofs."

She grinned suddenly at him,

"Maybe it's time to put that money you made to good use."

He heaved himself to his feet and towered over her.

"Lead the way."

She halted mid-turn on her way to peek out the boarded up window. He caught a glimpse of a mocking grin and resisted the urge to reach out and pinch her before she said something mouthy.

"Wow, now I know what to do when I want you to behave yourself. I just have to shoot you in the chest."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Italian:**

**_cazzo tutto_ = fuck it all; _maldito bastardo = _damned bastard_; __Non essere un maiale_ = don't be a pig_; ____tesorina = _little treasure___  
_**

**Russian:**

**_dorogaya _= sweetheart_; __nyet, eta nye pravda _= no, that's not true___; __Molotok _= hammer_____; __Kharasho _= good_______; _malyutka = little one_____; __Spasiba, gospadin _= thank you_, _spasiba bolshaya = thank you very much; devushka = lady;**

**Interesting note on the language - it contains no articles (a, the, an) and has no equivalent for the English verb "to be" (am, are, is)**

**Moscow:**

**Church of the Annunciation is about 10 years old as of this story. **

**_Vladimirskaya_ or Our Lady of Vladimir icon is one of the most famous icons of the Russian Orthodox church. It sits in the Tretyakov Gallery in modern times, and kings and generals really did go before the icon to pray for victory or protection. I've seen it personally and can vouch for the emotional impact it has. It was painted in Greece in the 1100s.**

**The Zakharyin-Yuriev family are progenitors of Romanov dynasty: Vasiliy's III's son (Ivan IV, otherwise known as 'the terrible' and Russia's first Tsar) marries Anastasia Romanova, my fictional character, Nikolai's, great-granddaughter. However, the Romanovs wouldn't take full power of the Tsardom until 1613.**

**At this point in the story, Dmitriy the Grandson is Ivan III's heir, but Vasiliy is poised to take that position instead.**


	35. Moscow: Vasiliy and The Firebird

**A/N: So here we are, on the good side of the AC:R release. Hope everyone made it through okay :D I got a little misty eyed playing Altair's last memory, not gonna lie, I DID NOT want to go sit in that damn chair. hee. And Embers nauseated me at the end; I was physically ill. So yeah, that took a good 10-12 days out of writing while I inhaled that. Hopefully I can get on track to post maybe two chapters a month. That'd be nice.**

**Once again, thanks to Shamazaki for working beta. And to my reviewers: flyingcrispi, Assassin's Creed superfan, eliina, sophia can shove it (LOL), ecanl, and Not Bob713. Also much appreciation for those that have added OAB to favorites or alerts! **

**I listened to a lot of Handel, Russian folk music, and Infected Mushroom (which one doesn't fit? LOL) while writing. So some weird moods. Fleshing out the OCs here and getting the cast ready for the Moscow finale which is still a couple of chapters away. Enjoy this world created for us by ubisoft!**

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

A white flare of pain cascaded over him, taking his breath away as it jolted up his spine and fisted into the base of his skull. He was catapulted from the pleasant confines of sleep, only slightly distracted by the sensation of a warm body beside him. The wash of sparklers gradually dimmed out of his vision as the pain receded and his eyelids cautiously descended, allowing him a glimpse into the blissful cradle of sleep once more.

Then the jab of pain came again, and he reflexively flung the offending source away with a snarled curse.

Taking a couple of careful breaths, he felt the pain subside somewhat and he was able to focus on his surroundings. Alessa stood at the foot of his bed in her working garb, looking for all the world like she had just been roused from sleep; her hair down and tousled, eyes blinking with the abrupt return to lucidity.

What the…

"Woman!" he roared in sudden understanding.

"What? _Jesu_," she said, shoving her hair out of her face. She looked young and vulnerable with her hair down.

Way too young and vulnerable to be…

"In my bed? Kicked me!" he wheezed, pressing a hand to his side.

"Baby."

"What the hell were you doing in my bed?" he asked when he had a full breath to spare.

"Actually," she felt the need to point out, "It's _my_ bed. They made a cot for you in the closet next door, don't you remember?" She sat at the room's vanity and began brushing out her hair.

He remembered the fight. He remembered the church. He remembered getting shot. He didn't remember this room…

"Want to enlighten me?" he growled, peeking under the blankets – just in case, he wouldn't put it past her – before he flung them aside and set his feet down on a rug. The thick nap was still warm from the radiating heat of the coal-pans underneath the bed.

"Well," she said, hiding her grin, "Since they only had this room available – and you very well couldn't stay with _me_ – they put a cot in my closet."

"Uh huh," he prompted, standing over her, his hands on his hips. For a moment, as he watched her, he was reminded of Claudia; it struck him how the women he'd been acquainted with in his life, no matter the circumstances, exhibited the exact same little intimate movements whenever they dressed their hair.

He was briefly transfixed as he watched her fingers deftly weave her braid, and the only difference between her and Claudia from this angle was the color of their hair; Alessa's was noticeably darker. He'd never noticed this about her.

Probably because she'd never slept in a bed with him before. It was somehow more intimate than huddling together for warmth out in the field.

Ai, _fottere_.

"Stop looming, _ciccino_," she said, "I thought you'd be more comfortable on the bed. And _I_ wasn't going to sleep in the closet."

"You are a spoiled brat," he grumbled.

"And you snuggle," she replied merrily, her eyes alight as he groaned in mortification. Then her vaguely playful expression turned to one of concern, her tone softening, "How are you feeling? You look like hell."

"I won't be going dancing tonight," he snarked. She made a noncommittal sound and returned to her hair so he began to prowl about, familiarizing himself with the new location.

The bedroom was noticeably larger than their entire suite at the previous inn, with only one bed, centered on a dais just large enough to contain it. The damned thing was big enough that they probably could have fit Markku and Tullio in with them last night without even having to worry about jostling for space.

Not that he had plans on testing the theory; no fucking way.

A set of six tapestries were lined up on the long wall directly opposite the foot of the bed, the thick hangings likely covering windows for the winter. Simple geometric designs were picked out in soothing, dark shades of purple and gold; the colors contrasted well with the rich walnut wainscoting and deep green walls.

"This is a nice place you picked out," he said as he poked one of the tapestries, feeling the outline of shuttered windows underneath. He moved on, noting the cheerful fire going in the little fireplace and then stopped to curl his toes in a luxurious rug behind a privacy screen in one of the corners.

"I picked it for it's tactical advantage," came Alessa's self-satisfied reply. Dino peeked out from behind the screen and raised an eyebrow skeptically. She grinned at him, entirely unapologetic as he came out into full view.

"Tactical?"

"Tactical."

"Maybe for hosting a tea social," he sneered.

Alessa scoffed,

"Give it a couple days, you'll be settled in like a content housewife. And bitching when we have to change quarters for something a little more pragmatic."

"Yeah, speaking of that, how the hell are we going to pay for this?"

"Let's just say you'd better keep winning your fights."

"Really?" he said, his interest piqued, "So _I'm_ the one paying for all this?"

"I'll show you the rest of it," she said, ignoring him as she took a few steps away from her vanity and swept open the bedroom's single door. With her dark eyes alight with excitement, her man's trousers and shirt slightly rumpled, and her hood down, she looked like a young girl that had just stolen her brother's clothing.

He resisted the urge to tousle her neatly pinned braids and followed her into a small sitting room.

This room's fireplace shared a chimney with the little on in the bedroom, and was circled by chairs upholstered in vibrant silk. Short, squat, brightly colored, and heavily cushioned, the chairs looked like a quartet of fluffed-up songbirds huddling for warmth around the fire.

Dino fell into one, liking the feel of the rich silk on his bare skin and dropped his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. The silk was warmed by the fire and felt like the satiny warmth of Claudia's skin. He felt a brief pang of homesickness – what would she have done to comfort his hurts? The speculation made his skin rise into gooseflesh and he smiled briefly.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted his reverie.

"Go answer that!" Alessa hissed at him in passing as she fled for the bedroom.

"What? Why me?" he answered as he reflexively rose from his seat.

"Because it would look suspicious if I answered the door dressed like this."

He caught a glimpse of her flapping a hand at her obviously inappropriate clothing just before she passed into the confines of the bedroom.

"Ugh, then give me my damn…"

His shirt flew out of the open bedroom door and hit him in the face.

Grumbling, he eased it over his sore torso as he shuffled to the door. He ran a hand over his head to finger-comb his hair, only to have the still shocking sensation of stubble rasp against his fingers.

When he opened the door, a demurely gowned and veiled maid stood on the other side. Her eyes widened briefly as she took him in. He supposed he might look a little strange; his shirt gaped, revealing a part of the spectacular bruise spreading over his right pectoral. Khiril was the only Russian he had seen so far with hair as short as his. Not to mention the post-fight condition of his face – damn, he was a right handsome fellow wasn't he?

He grinned at her and she shrunk back minutely.

"Your Lady's things are here, _gospadin_," she murmured, lowering her gaze and gesturing to a trunk that was being set down by a pair of bored male attendants.

"She's sleeping," Dino replied, uncomfortably aware that his accent was very Italian and probably almost incomprehensible. The maid frowned slightly as she struggled to understand him and then her face smoothed admirably.

"Shall I just have everything left in this outer room, then?"

"Uh, _da, eta kharasho_," he eventually replied, reaching up to smooth his hand over his head again. He received a bob of a curtsy in reply just as the bedroom door burst open and Alessa breezed out, appearing pristine in her gown from the night before. She looked so enormously inconvenienced that he had to resist the urge to laugh.

He stepped aside as she assumed command of the situation. The maid, used to obeying – and politely overlooking – the heinous attitudes of pretentious nobles, repeated her information. Alessa nodded coolly,

"I'll be resting today after the… activities… of last night. Please send our meals up and have the proprietor see to securing a room next door for my bodyguard. I don't want him far," here she lowered her voice to affect the intimacy of a co-conspirator, "But it _is_ a little cramped in here with him around."

The maid dipped her chin and cautiously looked Alessa in the eye.

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, her tone decorous. But her expression was slightly mischievous. They were just a couple of girls, remarking on the inconvenience of having to deal with men.

Great.

He shuffled petulantly to his chair and planted ass. Crossed his arms over his chest. Glowered.

Because it was all for show, right?

Alessa sat demurely on one of the settees to direct the placement of their luggage, while that maid began briskly ordering the male servants as multiple trunks and packages were brought in.

When they left, Alessa crossed to the door and locked it. She went straight to one of the unassuming clothing trunks and produced a key. This particular trunk, marked with an inverted V that appeared to be just a chance nick, had a false bottom containing the majority of their tools.

She unlocked the thing and began unselfconsciously tossing out a pristine collection of those oh-so-mysterious and highly coveted items of a woman's wardrobe. He left his chair to go and kneel beside her, watching as she released her hidden blade to disarm the mechanism that would sever the fingers of any would-be thief. They both breathed simultaneous sighs of relief after she pried up the false bottom to reveal their stash.

Dino reached in for his hidden blade; he hadn't wanted to chance taking it to the fight last night, in case someone stole it during his match. He settled the blade and vambrace onto his forearm, feeling as if a part of him had been returned. Tension eased from his shoulders, and he even offered Alessa a smile.

"I'm going back to bed," he yawned.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

She watched from the outer room as he fell into the bed and practically passed out, his left forearm and hidden blade cradled to his chest. Somewhat unsettled by his display of vulnerability and simultaneously concerned that he might accidentally deploy the blade whilst sleeping, Alessa refrained from fussing and went to pull the blankets up over him.

She dressed in layers; until she could get one of those combat-appropriate leather overcoats she had seen on Dmitriy and Elena, she needed the extra warmth. Close-fitted indoor garb was covered by a pair of leather trousers and knee high boots. She added a heavy wool Assassin tunic and hood in the mottled grey worn by all the recruits.

Mechanically arming herself – both hidden blades, vials of sedative, knuckle dagger, a bandolier of bolts for her crossbow, the crossbow – Alessa forced her mind to attend to the matters at hand.

Hopefully, Dmitriy had gleaned some information from the documents she had stolen. And hopefully, he or Khiril might have an idea who had fired the random gunshot.

She really, really hoped so; it would be more than a pleasure to take out the bastard. _Dio_, when Dino had gone down last night, she had thought it was the end for him. She really had; that brief moment of pain had been excruciating. And sobering. Watching him move about so gingerly this morning didn't help matters.

With a last tender look at her snoring companion, one she wouldn't have dreamed of giving him whilst conscious, she slipped out one of the bedroom windows and hauled herself onto the inn's roof.

It was impossible to tell the time for sure – they only had about eight hours of sunlight each day – but Alessa guessed by the slanting of the shadows cast by the watery sunlight that it was mid-morning. A quick glance over the edge showed her only light foot traffic. It was chilly down in the shadows between the buildings; most people were keeping to the more open thoroughfares criss-crossing the city.

She took a moment to look over the skyline from her vantage. The steel grey waters of the Moscow River wound through the city in a generous curve, and she could see the white walls and watchtowers of the Kremlin citadel crouching expectantly within the sinuous embrace of the waterway on the opposite bank further down current.

On her side of the river, the Eastern Orthodox churches were like bastions of purity amidst the pastel colors splashing the limestone walls of the ornate _palazzos_ – _dvortsi'_ – in the wealthy district. The unfamiliar tri-bar crosses rising majestically over golden domes and unadorned white limestone walls gave the city a suitably exotic ambiance. The pale, watery sunlight overlaid it all, giving the overall scene an almost otherworldly quality.

She heard herself sigh in appreciation; she wanted to paint it.

She shook herself to dispel the reverie, hitching her shoulders to settle her weapons and armor comfortably and familiarly against her body. At that point, Alessa was in fine fettle and she took a round-about route to Dmitriy's headquarters, ostensibly to give herself time to think. She took precautions to avoid potential (although highly unlikely) pursuit, grumbling to herself with malevolence about traitors and Templars.

The idea that someone might have betrayed them pissed her off to no end. If it had indeed been a betrayal, she was going to make damn sure it never happened again. She smiled grimly as she tested her hidden blades.

After descending to street level, doubling back through a couple of narrow alleys and taking to the rooftops a few more times, she made for the warehouse in earnest.

The squat, ugly building that fronted the river and contained Dmitriy's headquarters came into view. It was a veritable fortress, even if it was made of timber and not stone. Wolves prowled the rooftops; that was the title Dmitriy's men and women took for themselves, to distinguish themselves from common pickpockets, whom they regarded with special contempt.

The whole wolf thing made Alessa a little chary; her memories of the Followers of Romulus were still damn fresh. But at least these thieves didn't caper about in ragged wolf skins.

She nodded to a bored-looking Wolf as he balanced a stiletto on a fingertip and ducked into one of the roof access points. She liked this particular entrance because it gave her an opportunity to free run through the rafters. Free-running was her favorite part of her training; she loved the feeling of her muscles and sinews singing with the effort it took to leap and roll and sprint high above the ground.

She dropped to the ground near the area marked off for the Wolves to spar. She resisted the urge to join a group executing dagger drills and, flushed with her recent physical effort, moved energetically among the busy thieves, searching for Dmitriy or Khiril.

As luck would have it, they were together. In an out of the way corner, Dmitriy was gesticulating animatedly to the dour veteran fighter, whose arms were crossed over his chest, chin down as he listened. He noticed her first, and the abrupt snap of his head in her direction cut Dmitriy off mid-sentence.

"Where's Dino?" Khiril demanded without greeting when she got close enough, his arms going down to swing at his sides as he stalked towards her to close the distance.

Alessa suppressed a sigh.

Such a jerk.

"He's recovering from last night," she replied evenly, watching his face carefully. His eyes narrowed over the bump of his long-ago broken nose.

"He shouldn't be out of sorts. It wasn't _that _bad of a fight. In fact, he needs more training; he shouldn't have engaged that type of fighter that way."

No, of course not. What had Dino been thinking?

_Imbecile._

"Well," she drawled, "He's not recovering from his fight injuries. Although I daresay that he'll need at least a day to heal from those…" Her tone was dry as dust. "But he was also shot last night."

There. Chew on that, _cazzo_.

Khiril was silent for a moment as he stared at her, trying to process her words. Then realization dawned and his tone became very brusque. She got the unexpected impression that he was actually concerned.

Huh.

"So he's alive…" he prompted, sounding a bit dazed.

"His armor stopped the shot. Luckily. But it didn't stop the impact; he is not moving so well today."

"Where is he?" Khiril demanded.

Uh oh. Looked like it was back to being a hard ass.

"We secured rooms at a new inn, just in case someone decided to attack us at the old one." Her tone grew hard, "And no offense, but you will leave him alone for today."

"I will?" Khiril's tone was dangerously soft, his eyes flinty. Alessa bared her teeth in a smile, took a readying breath…

"What's going on?" came Dmitriy's jovial tone, piercing the palpable tension between her and Khiril like a spear of sunlight though storm clouds.

"There was an attack last night, you know anything about it?" Khiril growled, not taking his eyes off of hers.

"Haven't heard any unusual reports, but I'll have some of my people look into it. What happened?"

Khiril abruptly stalked off, leaving the warehouse through a nearby portal and slamming the door behind him. The bang echoed loudly and the bustling activity in the huge warehouse actually quieted for a second. Alessa resisted the urge to follow him and make sure he wasn't going off to badger her brother.

Instead, as she explained the situation to Dmitriy, she found herself calming down in his presence. The man was naturally cheerful and shared that part of his personality with whomever he was near.

Except Khiril.

When she finished, Dmitriy looked thoughtful and his honey-colored eyes became unusually somber. She had a random thought that his curly hair and his almost feminine, dark lashes made him look totally unsuited to be the leader of a band of thieves.

"Did you see who it was?" he asked suddenly, distracting her from considering the pretty fringe of his eyelashes.

"If I had seen who it was," Alessa growled, her brief good mood vanished, "I would have hunted him down and shoved my blade _su per il culo_!" She fell into Italian at the end with her frustration.

Dmitriy asked her a few more questions about the attack and reaffirmed his promise to have some of his thieves watch for rumors. During the discussion, he led her to a familiar satchel and pile of documents. The cache was strewn across a sort of makeshift trestle – a wide board set up on top of a couple of stacked crates – in a far corner of the building, away from the industrious bustle of the big room. The area was demarcated from the general population by precarious stacks of more empty crates.

She chuckled to herself as she passed through the teetering shadow of one unsteady tower. They were an ambitious bunch of thieves; had their baskets all ready to be filled with pilfered goodies.

Dmitriy gestured to the documents and pulled out a couple for her to look at.

"We've reviewed Solari's history. He was murdered inside the Kremlin itself. Grand Prince Ivan's investigators could only agree on the suspect, one Ridolfo "Aristotele" Fioravant."

"That's one of the other Italian architects," Alessa recalled. Dmitiry nodded,

"Exactly. But they were unable to find any evidence, or even determine a motive and Aristotele conveniently disappeared right after."

"What was he working on at the time?" she asked.

"A couple of different projects; he was finishing the Cathedral of the Dormition and was also consulting on the renovations of the Ascension Convent when it all happened."

"Back the Kremlin then, I'll see if I can pick up the trail there."

"Do you want to take one of my men?"

"No. But I thank you; Dino and I will go tomorrow," she replied, distracted. For some reason, she was thinking about the courtesans and how to approach them; she didn't want to rely only on the thieves. "However, if your men discover any leads from last night, let me know as soon as possible. We've changed inns…" She gave him directions.

"_Kharasho_. I will."

She took her leave of the curly-haired thief and made her way back to the inn.

As she swung in through the window, she saw one of Dino's eyes open to acknowledge her before he shifted under the covers. She saw a sliver of chance sunlight glint off of his hidden blade as he turned away from the window. She latched the shutters carefully, returning the lighting in the bedroom to a soft twilight.

Her Assassin work done for the day, it was time to take care of her cover persona.

She wanted to go find Irina, and see if she could be taken on as a lady's maid; the girl seemed observant and bright. And her off-handed comments gave Alessa the impression that she probably knew a lot about the more sordid details of the women of the court. She'd be an invaluable informant…

…and the girl definitely liked to talk.

Another clothing change; modest black gown, unadorned crucifix clasping her neck, black veil for her hair.

The weapons were still there, just a little less in evidence.

Well, she was going to a convent, maybe she didn't _really_ need the crossbow…

She had just finished dithering with her hidden blades in time to hear a commotion at her door. She opened it to find Khiril arguing with the red-faced proprietor, a lean middle-aged woman with her steel grey hair swept back into a severe bun.

He gave Alessa a brief surprised glance as he looked her up and down and then returned to his normal expression of resentful tolerance.

"I apologize, lady," the rather flustered woman was saying, "I could not stop him; he insisted upon seeing you."

"It's fine," Alessa replied, "If you could just have one of the girls send up some refreshments for my guest? He won't be long." She gave Khiril a pointed look.

"Took you long enough," she said archly after she had closed the door, "What do you want?"

"I came to see about the well-being of my fighter," he said in that raspy voice of his.

"He's sleeping, I told you already. And he's fine."

"He was shot," he corrected her sharply, "I am concerned that his victory last night may have made him a target. It's usually not a problem until the fighter becomes popular, though…"

"It could have been any number of people," she reminded him gently, "He is more than just a pet bodyguard."

Khiril only grunted and his blue eyes began to look thoughtful.

The contemplative silence was interrupted by the arrival of a light repast. Alessa was also surprised to be presented with a pile of letters by their maid.

"What are these?" she asked, selecting one and breaking the seal to find a 'welcome to the city' narrative and an invitation 'to lunch sometime.' She had no idea who the _Rurikid _Andrei Nikolayevitch was.

"They have been coming for you all day," the girl replied excitedly, "Invitations from the noble families." She lowered her voice and it was tinged with awe as she selected a particularly lavish envelope, "One is even from Prince Vasiliy."

Khiril's expression went openly disapproving. He was silent until the girl left and then he just couldn't help himself, apparently,

"What were you thinking?"

"Not you too?" she exclaimed in mock horror. He ignored her sarcasm,

"Everyone is going to think you are going to try and marry him now."

"You think I could get him?" she beamed, "That's actually very nice; I would have thought people would be saying _other_ things after I dragged him back in the dark." She chuckled to herself at the sudden memory of him dashing off to save her from her made-up threat.

"They're spreading that rumor, too," he replied. She shrugged,

"Manure has to be shoveled too, I guess."

"You know, you are very flippant about all this." He made no effort to be cordial. Alessa sighed, wondering if changing the subject would…

…Inspiration struck,

"Look, I'm just as concerned about Dino as you are," she ignored him as he started to protest, her tone businesslike, "So if you'd like, you can stay here and make sure nothing happens to him, while I go out and try to gather some more information about what happened last night."

As Khiril sputtered protestations, his brows alarmingly low, she rose to her feet and bestowed a generous smile on him,

"I thought you'd agree. Make sure he eats something when he wakes up?"

"I'll not play nursemaid," he growled, lurching to his feet and stalking past her to the door, "_You_ should be caring for him."

She grinned at the door as it slammed shut behind him and sank back into her chair. _Dio_, Khiril really was a misogynist; he'd gotten the hell out of here like his ass was on fire when she'd suggested he assume a feminine role. It was something to remember. She chuckled ruefully. She probably shouldn't pick on the miserable bastard; he was a very good ally.

But then again, while she didn't really believe that he was the betrayer, she'd stab him in a heartbeat if she found out otherwise. She jammed at her plate with her fork, skewering the remnants of her light lunch.

_Dio_, she was irritable this morning…

…and this _blini_ was fucking delicious! The food at this inn was noticeably superior to that at the previous. At least she was getting her damn money's worth.

Or Dino's money's worth.

As she munched on the sweet pancakes and sipped at her tea, she made an effort to focus on her next move. Thoughts of where she would start her research within the Kremlin brought her focus back to Vasiliy and she idly opened his letter and read the single line under the centered salutation:

_Uvazhayemaya Alessandra_

_If it would not trouble you overmuch, I would be delighted to settle the terms of my debt tonight._

It was signed with an ornate rendition of the Cyrillic letter "V."

Looked like her day was abruptly full. After finishing what remained of her lunch, she called for the maid to clean up, roused Dino to let him know where she was going, and donned her amazing white fur cloak. After the chafe of leather and wool, enveloping herself in the luxuriant warmth seemed decadent and sinful.

She checked her hidden blades and their concealment under her sleeves and then reached for the door.

Time enough for a quick visit to the convent.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

The _Starodevichiy_ Convent within the Kremlin was noticeably more modest the Cathedrals of the Dormition and the Assumption that dominated Cathedral Square within the Grand Prince's fortress. It made sense; the buildings were older, and some still ravaged by a decade old fire.

She surmised that the full sisters were like any of the traditional Catholic nuns she was used to. Their robes were black and they wore full wimple and veil of fine, opaque black linen. Their veils were kept in place by plain coronets of brushed silver. Many wore their Orthodox tri-bar crosses on matching silver chains around their necks.

The sisters at this convent, however, seemed to be a little more well-to-do than the average; finer cloth, comfortable lodging, their very own choir. Which made sense, since the princes of Moscow interred their royal brides here for safekeeping. Widowed noblewomen also came to live out the twilight of their lives in the elegant simplicity of the Maidens' Convent.

Irina, in the white scarf and plain linen robes of the novice sister, spotted her before Alessa could even flag down one of the nuns for information about the young girl. The elfin features of the petite teenager crinkled with delight as she rushed to Alessa's side with her sprightly grace.

"Let's go to the altar and talk," she whispered mischievously, curling her hand into Alessa's, "No one will bother us there."

"But, I don't want you to get into trouble," Alessa protested as she was led down a deserted corridor.

"I won't," Irina scoffed.

"I thought you were a novice, isn't it disrespectful for you – anyone really – to talk within the actual church?"

Irina scoffed,

"I have better conversations with God than most of these prudish blowhards could even imagine; as if they even try. And I don't think He'll mind."

"Indeed," Alessa murmured, trying vainly to school her expression as she nodded serenely at a sister passing through the silent cloister. The woman eyed Irina with an expression of faint exasperation, before giving Alessa an apologetic smile.

Back indoors, they rounded a corner and Alessa found herself in a small chapel. She hastily checked her veil as she entered and then knelt with Irina before the simple iconostasis at the main altar.

"So did you come to see me?" Irina inquired as she clasped her hands and bowed her head. Alessa copied her posture and they whispered together in the quiet serenity of the dimly lit chapel.

"I did; I need a lady's maid and –"

Irina didn't quite squeal, but her voice ascended a couple of octaves. Quite a feat to accomplish in a whisper…

"Really? I would love to!" Alessa felt herself shrink away from the girl in alarm; she was in for a verbal inundation of teenage proportions…

A tall, willowy novice entered the chapel, cutting off the beginning of Irina's gleeful tirade. The new arrival's face was framed almost alluringly by her white wimple and veil; the purity of the color highlighting the pale luster of her skin. The features were surprisingly young… and familiar. Alessa surged to her feet in alarm.

"_Kakoga cherta_?"

"_Che diavolo!"_

They both spoke at the same time, eyes narrowing in identical expression of surprise and suspicion, while Irina looked back and forth between them. She rose to her feet and a slender finger went up in the air,

"You know," she said, her childlike voice bright with pensive enthusiasm, "It's like you've met before!"

Elena – for it was indeed the leggy thief from the Kremlin – spared a withering glance for the younger girl before returning that clear blue-eyed gaze back to Alessa. Alessa, feeling somewhat short and stumpy next to the tall blonde, unconsciously straightened her spine in an effort to give herself more height.

"What are you doing here?" the thief (nun!) asked, her tone modulated into neutrality.

"Visiting." Alessa could do neutral too.

"No libraries around," Elena pointed out.

"There's one right across the cloister," Irina piped up helpfully. Alessa grinned at her.

"Why is it that you can never behave?" Elena admonished the younger girl. Alessa looked at them in interest, noting the similarities in shape of the nose and the unconsciously haughty lift of delicate chins.

"Are you two related?" she asked curiously.

Irina, of course, beamed,

"She's my sister."

"Why don't you just tell her everything about our family," Elena said drily, expressionless.

"I already did!" Irina explained. Elena's expression went sour with disapproval as the girl continued, "Well, just about me. I didn't tell her about you. I met her at _Vladimirskaya_ two nights ago. She was crying. Nobody who's bad cries for the Lady."

"I wasn't crying," Alessa muttered.

"She is interesting, so I wanted her to come see me," Irina continued. Her lower lip went out in a pout, "You never let me do anything. She wants to take me out as a lady's maid."

Elena was clearly unmoved by Irina's accusation,

"Absolutely not; she's not a noble. She's a –"

"I think that perhaps now is a good time to pause the conversation for a more auspicious location," Alessa interrupted, giving Elena a meaningful glance; she didn't want her secrets blurted in public. She didn't know a damn thing about the layout of this place, and couldn't vouch for who was listening. "We can retire to my inn to discuss this in detail. Irina is welcome to stay with me."

"Wait," Elena said, looking over her gown with sudden interest, "Are you the Italian _noblewoman_ that just arrived? You don't look like one of the Russians."

"Alessandra Lopresti-Ricci," Alessa confirmed, sketching an ironic half bow.

"_Na zdoroviye_," Elena replied with the barest of smiles.

"You have a better one?" Alessa asked.

"Elena Vitaliyevna."

"You're right, your names here are entirely lacking in character."

"At least they don't sound like you're stringing together random syllables."

"Aha," Alessa replied with a chuckle, "My bodyguard might have to say something about that, he – "

"Oh! You should see him, Elena," Irina breathed, her gaze going unfocused, "He's like one of the Roman gods painted on the ceilings in the Palace… like Mars. Or maybe Hercules. She brought him to _Moskva_ for the fights."

"I told you to stay out of there," Elena admonished her, just as Alessa begged,

"Please don't ever say anything like that in front of him!"

"It's hard to talk to you two," Irina observed. Her comment earned her identical glares from the two older girls and she giggled to herself, completely unaffected.

"You don't need to be part of this conversation, _sestrenku_. Now get back to your tutor before she comes looking for you."

"I'm smarter than that _durak_," the younger girl blustered.

"_Idti_. Or I won't take you with on my next mission," Elena threatened.

"_Chort_!" came the startled reply.

"Now."

The younger sister darted away in a flash of white.

The girls watched Irina until she disappeared around the corner, before turning to face each other and speaking simultaneously. Again.

"Look here_, Rimskaya_,"

"I have a question for you,_ vorovka_,"

Elena's blue eyes narrowed, vibrant against the pure white of her head scarf,

"You first," she conceded, "And watch who you're calling the thief…"

"You know anything about someone attacking my fighter last night?" Alessa rejoined softly, not bothering to hide the subtle threatening tone. Elena stepped closer, so that they were nearly nose to nose.

"You put him into a _**fight**_, _devushka_, what did you think was going to happen?" Elena's tone was mildly derisive and Alessa's fists bunched at her sides. She pressed her forearms close to her body to resist the urge to unsheathe her hidden blades.

"It was on the way home, _**ragazza**_**.** Someone shot him. And you are the first footpad in the city that I have seen with a firearm."

"I only shoot people I know,_ Rimskaya_; and I don't know your man."

"That's reassuring," Alessa told her, "Are you sure you weren't aiming for me, then?"

A glacial smile.

"I don't miss."

Alessa snorted. Fucking _**nun**_ was threatening her; what had the world come to? They glared at each other. Alessa had never had to look up at a woman before; it was a new experience. She didn't like it.

Finally the cool blue gaze softened.

Minutely.

"Look, he survived right? Where was he hit?"

"Bullet hit his armor," Alessa muttered.

"But didn't penetrate?" Elena looked surprised. Alessa confirmed with a nod, "Then I will come look at it; maybe I can figure out what type of bullet was used. Narrow down the population of your shooters."

A peace offering.

Alessa accepted it with grudging acquiescence,

"_Va bene_."

"I don't understand Italian," Elena said breezily.

"_Eta. Kharasho_. Want to bring Irina with you? We're staying at the River's Edge."

"She doesn't need to be among the nobility. What if she's recognized?"

"It doesn't matter if anyone recognizes her; where else would I get a lady's maid but from a convent?"

"Should have brought your own… Oh wait, you're an imposter, so of course you wouldn't bring your own. I forgot."

Alessa chuckled, unable to take offense. After all, she would have made a similar comment. She couldn't fault honesty, no matter how sarcastic.

As long as Elena didn't try to blow her cover.

"And you have a problem with that? Obviously you're training her to follow in your dubious footsteps; worst thing that can happen is that she gets a good idea of the rhythm and layout of the palace. Might be useful information for future… endeavors."

"I'm just saying, I don't want her involved in court politics. Our mother has a history there and… well let's just say that she is not well. She's not been well since… since…"

"Irina is already involved if she's here; too many of the court ladies come through here for her not to be involved in their gossip," Alessa replied gently as the other woman's face went expressionless, "But if she's with me, I can take care of her; I won't let anything happen to her, I swear it to you."

Elena looked at her for a long time, and then finally replied,

"I don't know who you are – or _what_ you are, for that matter. But I hope so, _Rimskaya_, by God, for your sake," the cool exterior faltered, for just a second, "And for hers."

She abruptly spun on her heel and left; the ethereal white robes and dignified stride making her look like a virgin queen. It was a day for dramatic exits, apparently. Alessa didn't linger, and left the convent.

After asking for directions out.

Outside, as she ambled along the street, the thick ruff of her hood hiding her face from passersby, she wondered just what was in Elena's past that made her hate the nobility so much. And _that_ led her to wonder just who Elena's father, the only unaccounted for family member, was.

It was a pretty puzzle, making her wonder at their meeting. Another random encounter with someone of Assassin lineage. Fate? Coincidence? Hell, she didn't believe in either. But still, maybe if she scanned the nobility for…

A sudden wave of nausea swept over her, and she stumbled, swallowing repeatedly as her salivary glands went apeshit. Fucking Russian food, it –

_Stolto!_

She had just eaten her food earlier without checking it, what if she had been poisoned?

Her heart started to pound as a cold sweat enveloped her, and she pressed the heel of her hand to her clammy forehead, her pace slowing. When the wave passed, she quickened her stride, anxious to get to Dino and his medicine chest. Her thoughts raced as she thought about what she had eaten, trying to remember any unusual taste or texture. She could think of nothing, and her panic calmed somewhat, until another thought made cold bloom in her chest.

Weird episodes of nausea, her emotional spectrum all over the fucking place…

_Dio_, what if she was pregnant?

Her vision swam and she damn near pitched forward onto her face. She halted there in the middle of the street. The light crowd moved around her before she came to her senses and got the hell out of the way.

She still wasn't sure if she could even get pregnant after… well, after…

…but nothing was ever absolute.

_Merda._

Eventually, somehow, she made it back to her inn. She staggered in the door and Dino looked up briefly from the dining area as she entered.

"Dino?" she rasped.

"Ya?" he called back distractedly, his brows furrowed as he concentrated on pouring his tea.

"What if I'm pregnant?"

He fumbled with the tea pot, missed the edge of the table, and watched in horror as the pot shattered on the floor. He must have just emptied the thing; the mess was mostly tea leaves and pottery. His stricken gaze slid up to meet hers.

"Do what now?"

Alessa fidgeted, and then said,

"I mean, I don't know for sure…" she slumped into one of the armchairs.

"Uh, don't you girls kind of know the signs?" he asked, distinctly uncomfortable; he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. She was too frazzled to enjoy it.

"Don't have a, er… regular cycle anymore."

"Guess we just have to wait, then."

"Wait for what?"

"Until something…" he shrugged, standing up and coming to take a knee beside her, "Happens."

"That's maddeningly unhelpful; I thought you were a _dottore_?"

"But not a midwife! It's not the same thing, _tesora._ Just… _Jesu_, just be careful for now. What symptoms are you having?"

"Unusual nausea. Mood swings."

"You sure you're not just under a lot of strain?" he asked carefully, "We _are_ in unusual circumstances here."

"I don't understand why that would cause such a problem," she said, "Ezio does it; he's been doing it for over twenty years. By himself for most of it."

"Ezio," Dino pointed out, "Is an aberration of nature. And I'm not entirely convinced he's not some sort of supernatural creature."

He said it so dismissively that she was reminded of Irina's earlier guileless remark about Dino looking like the ancient Roman god of war. She laughed suddenly, a mad note ruining the joy of it.

"Okay, maybe that's what's happening." She took a deep breath, trying to relax, as he rested one of his hands on her forearm. "But I'll need to make sure I don't get pregnant."

She was so stricken that she couldn't even laugh as his mouth opened and closed like a landed fish in reaction to the new statement.

"Uh, you're not suggesting…" he gestured meaningfully, "Are you? Because I refuse to end it; especially when _papa_ doesn't have a say…"

"What?" she almost shrieked, "No! No dammit! Dino, this is serious. I can't… I can't get pregnant. What do I do?"

He took a breath, looking calmer now that his surprise was wearing off.

"Well, I guess you and Ezio could, ah, not… I mean, that's obvious, you don't need me to tell you that." He waggled his eyebrows and leered.

"Stop it, Dino. When we get back to _Roma_… and… well, I…" she flushed, "I can't have my work interrupted. Once, having children was all I wanted. Now," she took a shuddering breath, "Now, I can't… I just – I can't. Not now…"

"Whoa, whoa, it's okay… it's fine. _Jesu_," Dino mumbled, rubbing his forehead, "Yes, yes I know some teas you can make. They're not safe to take for a long period of time, but I suppose, when in Rome…" He grinned at the bad pun, but then his expression turned serious and he leaned toward her, his dark eyes fervent, "A child is a gift, _tesora_, not something to dread."

"Maybe," she replied, slightly mollified, "But what does that do for me as an Assassin? I can't do what we do with a big belly and a swarm of toddlers clinging to me!"

"I had no idea you intended to be so prolific…"

At her flustered look, he took pity on her, and reached out to press her forehead against his shoulder, dropping a kiss on top of her head.

"Whatever happens, it'll all be fine, I promise."

She sure as hell hoped so. Problem was, she wasn't totally sure which outcome she preferred.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

He insisted on accompanying her to Vasiliy's summons. She made him wear his leather armor, though. That damn Armor of Romulus, while sturdy, was way too conspicuous.

She was embarrassed at her outburst; she was turning into a real shrinking-fucking-violet. So it was with a sense of resilient purpose that she donned yet another outfit for the night.

Going through the wardrobe changes was beginning to be exhausting. She now understood why Ezio was more of a lurker than a participant when he gathered his intelligence.

Dino was a reassuring presence at her side as she entered the Kremlin a second time that day. The church bells had just finished ringing the hour of Vespers and the dolorous, nearly subsonic vibrations still trembled in the misty night air. It had been dark for about an hour and the inside of the fortress was well lit by ornate lanterns of subtly colored glass that gave the streets and buildings an almost violet glow.

The Terem Palace was only dimly lit; the windows were dark pits amidst the walls glowing in the ambient outdoor light. An inquiry to a bored palace guard at the main gate while he checked her invitation revealed that the Grand Prince was out of the city with the majority of the court. The guards were especially agitated by the presence of Dino's weapons. Her comrade performed admirably; giving up his sword and crossbow and the dagger at his belt with a convincing display of reluctance.

Enough reluctance that Alessa noticed some of the nearby guards palming the hilts of their swords and taking careful steps towards him. She went forward and placed a placating hand on his forearm and he subsided, grumbling in Italian about twitchy Russians not letting him do his job. He gave her a quick wink as they turned to head inside…

They hadn't noticed his hidden blades. And they hadn't even searched her.

An attendant was summoned and she and Dino were led through a dimly lit corridor. Alessa didn't have a chance to take in the splendor draped in shadow; she was preoccupied with memorizing the layout. They ascended a broad marble staircase and out onto the balcony of an enclosed courtyard before finding themselves in a warm, well-appointed receiving chamber.

She removed her coat, but handed it over to Dino, politely turning down the attendant's offer to take it away. After the man left to announce her arrival, she and Dino prowled about the room to note exits and potential hidden alcoves for spies. Once they were satisfied that the room was secure, they both sat near the fire and waited, softly discussing their options in case they needed to hastily retreat.

They needn't have been concerned about ulterior motives on Vasiliy's part; Alessa leapt to her feet when he suddenly entered through the inner door, an open and welcoming smile on his face.

She was startled to see that he was a much different man from the drunken fop he had been the previous night. For one, he was perfectly sober, his shoulder-length, dark blonde hair neatly combed and arranged. He was more regally dressed this evening in black trousers and well-oiled Spanish leather boots. He wore a peculiarly Russian style tunic; well-fitted and buttoned down the front, with a simple, high collar. The fine linen was red and embroidered in black and green.

A slender-bladed saber was belted at his left hip. It was not overly decorative, but the area where the grip met the crossguard was stamped with his crest of a two-headed eagle, and the pommel was inset with a chunk of uncut red gemstone.

She curtseyed hastily as he approached her, not nearly as practiced as she probably should be. He didn't seem to notice, and as he leaned down to brush his lips over her knuckles, she saw that his eyes looked a little strained in the lambent glow from the fire. She imagined that the combination of alcohol and drugs last night hadn't left him feeling his best. Frankly, she was astonished he had summoned her so soon.

Maybe he was just bored.

He raised his head and nodded slightly at Dino, who gave the prince a short bow.

"Your fight last night lost me a lot of money, _gospadin," _Vasiliy said, his tone slightly petulant.

Dino only grinned and shrugged, playing ignorant.

"His Russian is very primitive," Alessa explained, giving Dino a meaningful glance as she spoke the last word. He bared his teeth at her where Vasiliy couldn't see it.

"Ah, well his fighting skill is not," here Vasiliy turned to Dino, raised his voice and spoke very slowly. Alessa had to clear her throat to stop her laughter, "I plan to bet in your favor in the future. Do not let me down, eh?"

Vasiliy then apparently thought this was enough interaction with Dino and he faced Alessa, raised a hand to take hers, and then lowered it hastily, as if he didn't want to fluster her with an actual touch. She smiled at him nervously, not sure why he would be so hesitant.

"To business then?" he asked her with a winning smile, "That is, if your bodyguard feels comfortable allowing you out of his sight? In the company of a more humble guardian?"

"I'm sure he'll be glad of the opportunity to visit the kitchens," Alessa said, a hint of question in her voice. Dino could gather intelligence from the servants as opposed to sitting around in an empty room. She'd learned that from Markku; if they all thought he couldn't understand the language, they'd talk more freely around him.

"Ah, yes, my staff will be thrilled to feed such a mighty warrior."

Alessa choked on her laughter this time.

"Indeed," she coughed, as Vasiliy rang for a servant to fetch Dino. The big Assassin gave her an unreadable look before he left.

Vasiliy wasted no time in tucking her right hand into the crook of his elbow and leading her deeper into the palace. Despite his assumption of command over her, he was solicitous of her feelings and unfailingly polite in his carefully easygoing conversation.

At the first intersection, he gave her an apologetic look as he produced a length of black cloth from an inner pocket of his jacket and said,

"Forgive me, _malyutka_, but I must blindfold you before we enter the vault."

Every instinct in her clamored at her not to comply, but she found herself allowing him to smooth the silk scarf over her eyes and tie a loose knot behind her head.

She leaned on him as he cradled her forearm along his, more to free up her concentration on recalling the turns and the change of flooring than because she needed it. She felt the softest touch over her shoulder blade – his hand, gently guiding her.

He liked the protector role, it seemed. She had picked a good one for her ruse in the tunnels last night.

They descended three separate flights of stairs and she began to catch the dry, dusty scents and echoing sounds that indicated they were traversing a narrow stone tunnel. She suspected that they were underground. Her heart sped up just a little in anticipation; she shouldn't have let him put that stupid blindfold on!

She doggedly counted steps and memorized turns until Vasiliy pulled her into a halt and the blindfold was lifted from her face.

The room that was revealed was surprisingly bare and she was confused for a moment when she found herself in a high ceilinged, but disappointingly plain, rectangular room that was not much bigger than her bedroom at the inn.

And then her eyes took in the heavy, ornate boxes of varying size and shape crouching unassumingly atop pedestals of white limestone. The room was lit by massive candelabra that hung from the ceiling. Each pedestal, there were about two dozen of them, could be spot lit from above by smaller fixtures. These all remained unlit and so the room was probably not as illuminated as it could be.

The light from the candelabra didn't quite reach all of the room; the walls were dimly lit at best and the corners were nearly dark. Paintings of unmistakable value were set in ornate gilded frames that lined the walls in a fashion that was pleasing to the senses.

Somehow, the lack of opulence seemed more significant than an obvious display of wealth and she felt a fine tremble of excitement thrill through her muscles. The whole affair of the gambling had seemed sort of playful to her and she had not really expected anything out of it. Maybe a trinket at the most. But her heart began to pound in unrestrained greediness as Vasiliy grinned at her knowingly. One of his hands went out and briefly touched the closest lockbox as he passed it, the long, regal fingers brushing over the dense metal possessively before lifting away.

What a show-off!

It was actually quite endearing, watching his fair-haired figure move across the room energetically, beckoning her to follow. This man made her war with herself. She was ridiculously pleased by his attention, as it _seemed_ genuine. But at the same time, she couldn't imagine how a man of his stature could manage to retain that sense of merriment while growing up amidst the political machinations of the court. Especially with the undercurrents of hostility that were forming between the two factions supporting Vasiliy or his nephew, Dmitriy, for Ivan's crown.

How could he trust anyone after that? She sure as hell wouldn't.

She watched as he stopped and considered one of the flatter boxes. His hands came up to gently frame the thing as it sat there. It took a moment, but he made a decision and pulled a set of keys from a pouch at his belt.

He eased the lid back, revealing a lining of deep blue silk. Alessa was rigid with anticipation as he reached into the box with exaggerated slowness and eventually produced a coronet of gleaming platinum. The metal was worked in a manner that reminded her of the maze-like whorls of some of her own creations. The curves of platinum appeared almost living and, like tendrils of ivy, seemed to unfurl towards the center of the piece to support a huge, incandescent aquamarine. The tear-drop shaped stone was balanced by modestly cut diamonds set throughout the curves of platinum.

Well, pinky nail-sized stones were modest next to the fifty-some carat monstrosity that was the aquamarine.

"Not the most valuable of gems, but I must say quite breathtaking," he said, as he nonchalantly settled the thing over her head, "It was my mother's, commissioned by my father as a betrothal gift. And so it has only ever been worn by an unmarried princess. We call her _Snegurochka_, 'The Snow Maiden.'"

Despite the illusion of fragility given by the delicate lines of the metalwork, it's weight was astonishing and she inhaled in surprise, looking up at him. His eyes were intent on the piece as he adjusted it in her hair, minute movements of his fingers centering it's mass more comfortably.

"The who?" Alessa gasped, the artist in her drunk with the splendor of color and form.

"A fairy tale of my people; _Snegurochka_ is the immortal child of Winter and Spring. Until she falls in love with a human… then her heart warms, and she melts. Lost forever. Like all beautiful things, destroyed by the ravages of too much emotion. It puts a bit of a damper on happily ever after, does it not?"

"Nice of your father to give his future bride a stone with such a name; was he not worried that she would suffer the fate of the namesake?"

He laughed appreciatively,

"Royal marriages are not for love," he informed her, as he proffered a gilt hand mirror that had been tucked unobtrusively under the lining of the case, "So my mother was safe."

Not sure how to reply to that statement, Alessa admired the decorative backside briefly before turning it over to find her reflection staring back at her. The contrast between the darkness of her hair and the ethereal paleness of stone and metal made the crown, for it was indeed a crown, gleam in an almost otherworldly manner.

_Dio,_ the huge stone, that breathless pale blue… It reminded her of good things like Vito's eyes on their wedding day, the faint rasp of a paintbrush on canvas, the warmth of Ezio's hands on her skin, a hint of jasmine on an evening breeze, the sweet tang of a grape just plucked and cool with morning dew.

And the arduous sensation of weight on her head; what would it be like to actually possess the title that came with the heavy burden of the crown? Her neck strained under the weight of the dense metal and heavy stones. But all that did was make her want to hold her head even higher against the press. She would bear that burden and all it represented. She could…

What.

The.

Fuck.

She glanced up at Vasiliy, who was watching her intently, and felt her eyes narrow in suspicion. She removed the coronet from her brow and held it in her hands, gazing down at the luminous stone in it's wintry setting one more time before handing it back to him with a thwarted sigh.

He was a prince. He probably couldn't help it, giving his transient favorite a glimpse of what it might be like to become his princess. It was a nice thought and she'd be lying to herself if she couldn't admit that she was like every girl who dreamed of a dashing prince from a foreign land come to sweep her off to a life full of delights and comfort and the exclusivity of being royal.

So here was the real thing before her. And as she gazed up at him, she realized that all of that was utter bullshit. Because what exactly made one royal? Heredity? Possibly. But how did a family acquire the status in the very beginning?

They took it. Proclaimed themselves such. Made others believe in the idea; creating a veneer of gold over an ordinary foundation built under extraordinary circumstance.

And when that foundation crumbled? What was left then? An insubstantial coating of glitter held up by the frail scaffolding called _royalty_.

_Nothing is True._

"Fascinating," she heard him murmur.

"_Chto_?" she asked defensively, feeling herself blush a little under his scrutiny.

"Who are you?" he asked curiously.

"I – I don't know what you mean, she stumbled, affecting confusion. It wasn't difficult.

"Your face, so many thoughts that flash across it – it is like reading a book. I don't see that often."

"I am just a woman, Highness."

"Not like any I've known, that's a certainty. I don't usually show _Snegurochka_; she is the most beautiful, in my opinion, but women prefer the more valuable gems."

"You… you do it on purpose, don't you? The whole 'Here-put-on-this-crown-and-pretend-you're-my-princess thing? _Cazzo_," she muttered.

"It gets boring dealing with the same hundred or so people," he admitted with a faint, self-deprecating smile, "_Boyars_. The old noble families. Men of the church. Ambassadors. Lackeys." He gave her a rueful look, "Women. All greedy for my father's power. They don't see _me_."

"I see you," she replied softly before realizing that things were getting a little too serious for her comfort. She changed tack, "I see you being a smartass. So is this the first thing you do with every girl you meet?" she asked, arching a brow.

"What is that?" he rejoined, vaguely distracted as he returned the exquisite crown to it's case.

"Show them your jewels?"

He stopped and looked down at her in surprise, saw her quirked eyebrow and suddenly roared with laughter.

"Wha- " he blurted, as he laughed, "I don't... I don't think… See, that's it, right there; the audacity! Who are you?" He reached out to briefly to touch a fingertip to her cheek.

"I told you, a simple woman visiting a foreign city."

"So why are you here, if not to land yourself a husband?" he asked, genuinely curious and refreshingly honest as he led her to a low bench and sat beside her.

"That's a good question," she murmured, eyes downcast as she thought of a good answer. Then she found herself responding before she thought things all the way through,

"I've been married. And widowed less than a year later. I have no children. My family is gone. So I think that this opportunity presented itself so that I can learn to find my own way in this world."

Interesting. It was actually a fully truthful statement. Looked like his sincerity was contagious. So she didn't feel guilty for his expression of sympathy when he reached out squeeze her upper arm comfortingly. This time his touch was firm, confident, and even authoritative.

They fell into companionable silence. From her position on the bench, she was advantageously placed to view a trio of paintings. They appeared to have been created by the same artist; they were characterized by dark, brooding backgrounds that contrasted with vivid, but surreal focal points in the foreground. A glowing lake cradled in the valley between menacing, rocky cliffs, a woman's hand holding aloft a sword from the depths. A horse with a lustrous, almost pearly white coat, and tiny wings at it's fetlocks.

The painting that commanded her attention was the smallest one; the subject of the painting was a large bird with a long, sweeping tail and graceful neck. The creature was done in colors of brilliant orange, yellow and red; the colors so exquisitely blended that it appeared as if the creature was made of flame.

It seemed to be reaching that lissome neck out, it's beak partially open, as if it were trying to grasp something from the branches of the dark tree in the background. She squinted to see what it was reaching for and her vision suddenly shifted and the colors of the painting inverted.

Now the focal point was a glowing orb; she could see the faint shadow of the bird reaching for the thing where the intense white dimmed at the edges. As she watched, fainter marks slowly appeared, overlaying the painting; joltingly straight lines and sharp angles – a map.

Breathless, she shifted her vision back to normal. Vasiliy was unaware of her discovery; his gaze was directed on the painting of the bird. She surreptitiously pressed fingers to her temples to ease the throbbing there. She stood carefully and approached the painting. Up close, in normal vision, aside from the almost invisible brush stokes, the painting was perfectly ordinary. She wondered at the eccentricity of Eagle vision; what sort of ink or paint did some Assassin use to make those marks?

She reached out to let her fingers hover over the more conventional visage of the painting, impressed by the color.

"This is exquisite," she said over her shoulder to Vasiliy, "Is there a story behind this painting?"

"The Firebird; another eldritch creature of my culture. In the majority of tales, it is the object of a hero's quest to obtain a feather form this bird, which has curious and magical properties."

"You are full of fairy stories here, _vashe viysochestva_," she observed, turning to face him.

"The people of _Rus' _are whimsical at times," he agreed.

"I have made my decision."

"The painting?" he asked skeptically, "I haven't even shown you some of the other pieces."

"I fancy myself an artist; this is a different style than what I have ever seen before and the colors are breathtaking. It is worth more to me than it's weight in gold."

Understatement.

Understanding dawned on Vasiliy's face,

"Then consider it yours, so that you will never forget me!"

She rolled her eyes and met his grin,

"I don't think I could ever forget you, Highness."

A faint touch of pink actually touched his cheeks and he abruptly turned away form her to remove the painting from it's moorings on the wall. He paused a moment before he turned and passed it into her arms.

The painting, unlike the crown, was light. It's frame was made of wood, not metal, and intricately carved. She noticed tiny, stylized renderings of the Assassin symbol assimilated into the frame's design.

What the hell was this thing?

Vasiliy's face was thoughtful as he watched her view the painting with the satisfaction of new ownership.

"I had thought to spend more time down here," he said, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

"I am more than happy to join you for dinner," she said, hoping to glean more information from him about the painting. He looked smugly satisfied, so she leaned closer to him to murmur, "Even if you did _lose_; I am more than ready to be magnanimous in victory!"

He chuckled.

This time, she turned her face up to his trustingly as he blindfolded her, her spoils cradled in her arms.

* * *

**Russian:**

_Gospadin: sir_

_da, eta kharasho: yes, that's fine/good_

_Uvazhayemaya: esteemed_

_Kakoga cherta: what the hell_

_Na zdoroviye: bless you_

_Sestrenku: little sister_

_Durak: idiot/fool_

_Idti: go_

_Chort: devil take it_

_Rimskaya: Roman_

_Vorovka: thief_

_vashe viysochestva: your highness_

**Italian:**

_Che diavolo : what the hell_

_su per il culo : up his ass_

_stolto : idiot/fool/moron_

_vespers : approx 6pm_

**Russian history:**

Some interesting historical insight for you, especially coming off the recent AC:R release:

Vasiliy's mother is Sophia Palaiologos (yes, _**that**_ Palaiologos family; for those of you that haven't completed Revelations, Manuel Palaiologos is one of Ezio's targets). Sophia was the niece of the last Byzantine emperor, Constantine. As such, Ivan III (Vasiliy's father, the Grand Prince) made the fall of the Byzantine Empire a benefit for Moscow by declaring the city the Third Rome. And for himself, naturally, declaring himself the heir of the Byzantine Empire. This is also when the Russian rulers took the double headed eagle as their coat of arms and Ivan began to style himself as 'Tsar.'

Ivan the Third was married twice. Vasiliy is the product of his second marriage to Sophia. Hence the reason for the conflict of inheritance. Sophia is often regarded as being mainly responsible for the transfer of Byzantine customs to the court at Moscow. Unlike many of the women of the nobility at that time, she appeared to enjoy a good amount of power.

At this point in the story, Vasiliy's nephew (Dmitiriy) is still the heir to the crown of Grand Prince. For now. Hence the reason for my portraying Vasiliy as a little uncertain of his importance.


	36. Moscow: Aristotele

**A/N: **Yup, I'm a jerk. I could list the numerous reasons I've been slacking (Skyrim, computer upgrades gone wrong, changing jobs), but the overall reason is simply the fact that I needed a mental break. In the meantime I did a ton of reading on European Renaissance history in the meantime and have some new ideas for the fic that should be fun. I'll be sure to include trivia on the real history I sneak into the fic.

ACIII in October! WOOT WOOT!

Once again, thanks to the reviewers that take the time to leave some thoughts: **flyingcrispi** (love how you always pick up on the little things), **ecnal **(heh, good Sound of Music reference, it's embarrassingly obvious now), **TLMonkey **(Irina and Remo are potentially an explosive combo…), **NotBob** (I blame YOU for Skyrim!), **eliina **(ACIII has a lot to live up to)**,** **black assassinninja,** and **Chiharu-angel** (good call! Standby for the PANTS!).

And to Shamazaki for still working beta; you just might be full of awesome in my book.

Enjoy; this is the last break Alessa and Dino will have before things start getting rough… oo-rah ubisoft for creating AC. You guys rock my world.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci - Moscow**_

A few solitary snowflakes were descending gently from the heavy darkness of the sky as Alessa stepped from the warm glow of the palace and out into the night. She felt the cold born of the deepest hours of night pucker the exposed skin of her face and she drew the luxurious warmth of her hood more securely about her head. Dino was a silent shadow of movement behind her – darkness within darkness – as she walked beside the prince.

Vasiliy had ordered one of his personal carriages to take them back to their inn in deference to the late hour and deepening cold. Alessa had never been in so grand a conveyance, and resisted the urge to remove her shoes lest they mar the fine carpets within. She hesitated and surreptitiously shook the volume of her skirts free of imaginary dirt before reaching out a gloved hand to settle on the prince's upturned knuckles.

"We'll be using the sleighs very soon now," Vasiliy remarked as he assisted her up the single step. Alessa settled the bulk of her skirts and furs, a bit difficult in the enclosed space, and then leaned forward to peer out the door and inquire,

"Sleighs?"

"You'll enjoy it; the snow never sticks until the snows falls three times, did you know that?" When she shook her head in response, he continued, "Well, once the permanent layer is down, we get out the sleighs. It is very nice; no rattling wheels and jostling about. They are nearly silent and the ride is incredibly smooth. I will take you, if you'd like?"

She inclined her head,

"I think I would."

"Ah, then I await the next snowfall with great anticipation!"

Alessa couldn't help a pleased flush when the prince grinned like a boy before he bowed regally and then raised her knuckles to his lips. She barely felt the pressure through her gloves. Vasiliy turned and dipped his chin slightly in recognition of Dino's bow, and then loped back to his palace, his shoulders hunched slightly against the cold, hands shoved into the rustling folds of a black, knee length fur cloak.

It was only then that the guards returned Dino's weapons to him.

Alessa winced slightly as Dino tromped right into the carriage, heedless of the fine interior, to settle in the seat across from her. One of the guards closed the door and stepped away as he called out to the coachman.

"So what happened?" Dino asked, as the carriage jolted into motion.

"What do you mean?" she asked dreamily, still lost in thoughts of fairy tales and snow and princes, her mind withstanding the tug of reality.

Unfortunately, reality had Dino on its side.

"Well, you both went away, looking like a pair of virgins on their wedding night…" here Dino grinned belligerently at her scathing look before his expression became inquisitive again, "But you came back chatting like a couple of old biddies. So what happened?"

"He tried to give me a crown."

"Uh. Literally or figuratively?" Dino prompted.

"Literally. And we talked about fairy tales."

Dino yawned,

"Aw, little guy needed a bedtime story?"

"No. _Jesu_. And then we had sort of a late dinner. He's just kind of lonely, you know? Surrounded by people that don't really care about him, just his status at court."

"Oh that poor man," Dino remarked dryly.

"So I told him that we could be friends," she finished doggedly, in spite of Dino's massive indifference. Dino looked at her skeptically,

"Really?"

"Sure."

"Aha. See, princes never have friends, _tesora_; too many political implications to consider. And men don't have women that are _just friends_; there are always ulterior motives. He just wants to take you to his bed. So you're screwed either way. Just so you know."

He settled back into the cushions, puffed up with insufferable smugness at his assessment of the situation. A chance beam of light from a lantern outside spread briefly across his face, revealing a roguish grin that crinkled his eyes. Alessa scoffed.

"Always is a very unyielding term," she remarked as she reached over to flick him in retaliation, "I don't think that people are quite so inflexible, prince or not."

Dino shrugged, his rough leather pauldrons snagging on the fine velvet upholstering the carriage seats. Alessa tried not to cringe.

"It is what it is. And he is a man and a prince."

"Well, w_e're_ friends," she pointed out, waggling her brows suggestively, "Does that mean that you only suffer my presence just so that you can lure me to your bed?"

She reached a toe out and rubbed it suggestively along his shin. Dino made a noise of disgust,

"Working relationship. That's completely different. You're just like another man to me. So what do you have there?" he asked, indicating the now-wrapped painting that she had settled on the seat next to her.

"I don't know," she said, lowering her voice and looking around the enclosed space. No telling what the coachman could hear even above the steady clip-clop of the horse's hooves.

"You don't know what you picked out of the treasury?" he asked skeptically. Alessa chuffed out an annoyed breath,

"I mean, it's a painting. But when I looked at it with Eagle Vision, a map appeared. So I took it."

Dino was looking more interested now,

"Do you know what it leads to?"

"Not a clue. But I could only see the map with enhanced vision and figured it needed to be in Assassin hands."

"Huh. Gave up royal jewels for a musty old painting… I'm impressed; didn't think a woman would be able to resist."

"I can get jewels anywhere," she said dismissively. Dino snickered, his tone laden with innuendo:

"I'll just bet you can."

"Quiet, _imbecile_."

He was still harassing her good-naturedly about the painting and Vasiliy when they arrived back at their inn. The innkeeper caught them just as they were ascending the staircase to inform them that the room next to theirs had just been vacated and was available for their use. Dino breathed a quiet sigh of relief and took the painting up with him when the innkeeper summoned one of the maids to show him the room.

"And there is a visitor here for you," the innkeeper told Alessa.

"Now?" she replied, surprised at the lateness of the caller.

"Yes, ma'am, a young boy; I have him waiting in the kitchen. Would you like me to send him up or have him wait until morning?"

"Send him up," Alessa said; she had a pretty good idea of who the 'boy' was.

And so she wasn't surprised when she opened her door moments later to find Irina standing there, a small bag slung across her back. Even though Alessa was expecting the girl, she almost didn't recognize her. Irina was apparently well-versed in disguising her identity. She wore boy's clothes, layered heavily enough to disguise the inherent femininity in her form. The flaps of her _ushanka_ were pulled down to further obscure her features and she had strategically smudged her face with a dark substance to give the impression of a broader, more masculine shape.

Alessa assessed the expression on that face, at once frightened but defiant, something no amount of makeup could hide.

"You didn't tell her you were coming, did you?" Alessa guessed as she indicated with a tilt of her head for the girl to enter. She was rewarded with a swift look of contrition as she closed the door.

"I left a note," Irina replied, setting her bag down next to one of the chairs near the fireplace. The girl correctly interpreted Alessa's disapproving expression, hastily saying, "I'm not going back there. You can take me, but I'll just leave again. I don't want to be a nun. And don't want to wait for some man to come and marry me. I want to have an exciting life. Like yours! I want to leave _Moskva_ someday and see all the cities of the world!"

"Trust me, _tesora_," Alessa wistfully, "Sometimes 'exciting' is more trouble than it's worth. Besides, I don't think your sister is exactly on the path to a conventional life. Isn't she training you to, ah, do what she does?"

Big sigh.

"No. She doesn't tell me anything about it. She 'doesn't want me in danger.' She teaches me just enough to defend myself, but I want to do _more_!"

The teenager's enthusiasm was hard to resist. And part of Alessa could easily sympathize. She loved her work as an Assassin and looked forward to more missions abroad. But she believed that she would have been just as content to live out her life with Vito and their children, never leaving their little community. Blissfully unaware of the dangerous undercurrents of the bigger world.

Or would she have? Would she have gotten restless? She couldn't imagine that she would have but with the ease she had adjusted to her new life...

Bah! Alessa hitched a shoulder in irritation to dispel her musings. She focused back on Irina.

"Well, we need to let your family know where you are; I'll let your sister be the one to drag you away. If she can."

Ha. That would be interesting to watch.

"It's not her choice. I am old enough to make my own decisions; she was training when she was even younger than I am!"

"You give your opinion rather decidedly for someone of your, ah, age," Alessa remarked, collecting parchment and ink before sitting down at the dining table. Irina responded to the question in her tone,

"I have read so much about the world; there is so much to learn! But I can't do it entombed in some library in a stuffy old nunnery in the backwoods."

Alessa snorted with amusement as the girl curled herself into the nearby chair, tucking one leg underneath herself.

"I know a few people back in _Italia _that you would get along with famously. To seek knowledge for knowledge's sake is the mark of a great mind," Alessa commented, thinking briefly of Leonardo and Machiavelli as she furrowed her brow and began her letter. Her Cyrillic looked childish, but there was nothing for it.

Irina leaned forward on her elbows, propping her chin up in her hands as she watched Alessa write,

"My tutors don't tell me anything so I break into the restricted archives all the time," Irina bragged. Then a faint blush tinged her cheeks, "That's where all the _good_ books are."

"I bet it is," Alessa remarked dryly. They both snickered a little bit. Alessa finished her letter and then showed Irina through the rooms, trying to figure out how to explain her situation while giving the kid the least amount of information possible.

"I, ah, I deal with some of the same situations your sister does," Alessa finally ventured.

"I figured you did," Irina replied, making an appreciative sound as she looked through Alessa's gowns.

"I – oh. You did?"

"Well yes, you already knew her and I'd never seen you at the convent before – and believe me, I would have heard about you, ah… yeah, anyway, you've got some secrets. I know how to keep my mouth shut, don't worry." At Alessa's skeptical expression, Irina insisted,

"I do!"

Alessa grunted something in reply and then both girls jumped as the outer door of the room opened with a crash.

"Ai, Dino," Alessa murmured.

"Oh!" The blue and green eyes lit up, "He's here?"

"We've been blessed with his presence," Alessa confirmed, going out into the main room to find Dino tugging at one of the tapestries on the wall.

"What are you… oh," Alessa said, wandering over to investigate the door revealed by the removal of the heavy decorative hanging. Dino ignored her, merely twisted the lock and flung the thing open.

"Huh," he said, going through. Alessa followed and found herself in a small receiving room. It was devoid of furniture or decoration and even though it smelled like fresh wood polish, beeswax and fresh herbs, the attempt at couldn't diminish the faint scent of disuse.

"The innkeeper said the rooms were connected," he explained, showing her through into his room.

"Useful," Alessa commented.

"Oh, _salve_, er… _privyet_," Dino said, turning around, his gaze going to someone behind her. Irina had crept into the little room and was grinning from ear to ear, suddenly doe-like eyes only for him.

"_Privyet_," she replied, her smiling softening and her voice shy. She glanced up at Alessa, who was doing her damnedest not to grin like an idiot, "You need to teach me Italian."

Dino answered, speaking directly to the girl in Russian,

"You can speak Russian," he said haltingly. Alessa could tell the girl was charmed by the heavy accent and rolled her eyes, "I don't speak well, but I understand."

They all trooped back into Alessa's room during the exchange and Dino flung himself into a chair, long legs stretched out towards the fire.

"Your chairs are more comfortable," he observed to Alessa with a contented sigh as he leaned his head back against the rest.

"Spoiled," Alessa said fondly as his eyes closed and he linked his hands across his chest. She hoped he wasn't going to fall asleep there. Ignoring him, Alessa proceeded to give Irina the basics of what she and Dino had come to the city for.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci – Moscow, Intermission**_

They started their search for Aristotele in the Kremlin proper. Taking advantage of the invitations from various noblewomen, Alessa began her rounds of the lavish homes of the _boyar_ families – the group of highest ranking nobles that advised the Grand Prince. She was treated to extravagant meals and the company of Moscow's most elite citizens…

…she hated every damn minute of it.

The conversation was insipid; the women were mostly interested in Dino – _Rimskiy Volk_ they were calling him: The Roman Wolf.

After choking a man into unconsciousness, he was city-wide famous.

Figures.

And what was it with these Russians and their wolves, anyway?

In between listening to breathless matrons and maidens extolling Dino's virtues, Alessa then endured innuendo pertaining to her and Vasiliy's encounters. While she initially preened a little bit under the attention, the novelty soon wore off. Not a single one of them believed her when she denied anything more scandalous than a simple friendship.

Alessa searched faces for a similarity to Elena and found none. Of course that made sense; she was looking for the father. In the court of Grand Prince Ivan, women didn't generally populate the same social circles as their husbands and sons; the scandalous ideas about women in the court brought from the now-defunct Byzantine Empire by Sophia Palaiologos weren't spreading very rapidly in her husband's realm. But these women still managed to perpetuate an entirely different sort of politics in their music rooms and at their teas.

It was subtle, the speculative gossip and the idle chatter, but Alessa was beginning to see how the women could affect their men in the actual governance of the people of Rus.

After bludgeoning her way through the conversational obstacles of Dino's prowess and Vasiliy's interest, Alessa would finally be able to get to her true reason for visiting with these people. She would latch onto any mention of her home country, comment on the distinct Italian architecture of the Kremlin walls, and state her desire of wanting to visit other buildings of similar design. From there it was usually simple to direct the conversation towards the architects themselves, the ladies, for all their interest in human affairs, didn't seem to know any current Italian architects.

Disappointed after the third or fourth visit, Alessa was beginning to idly speculate that Markku would have been damn useful to have along; he was good at this mingling with the ladies. Then again, as a man, he probably wouldn't have been allowed into the inner sanctum of the Russian female.

Either way, she wanted Markku and Tullio with her on the next mission.

And it wasn't because she missed them, either, dammit.

The visits took up most of her morning and afternoons. After that, Irina remained behind at the inn to field incoming social calls that were beginning to arrive at an alarming rate. The girl was enjoying her role; she loved the whole process of carrying out the deception. She was good a good little actress, too. She was naturally expressive, but she was in control of it – a feat Alessa had a hard time accomplishing.

Alessa was a little concerned; multiple letters had gone out to Elena with no response. She figured that the woman was out on a mission; she'd check at the convent when she had a precious bit of free time.

With Irina taking care of the headquarters, so to speak, Alessa and Dino would then go out on reconnaissance of an entirely different sort. They frequented dark taverns downriver, infiltrated the markets, fed wild stories to busy tradesmen, and entered a countless number of churches in their search for information. They got to know the streets of Moscow quite well in the days that passed.

Dino had two more fights. Short, vicious bouts that brought in more funds then they knew what to do with. Khiril was a diligent manager, and would have kept Dino fighting every night if it were possible.

Sometimes they went out as noblewoman and bodyguard to the more respectable gathering places; for the more questionable locales, they spent dangerous nights where only their wits and their skill kept them alive.

Alessa began to pick up the slang and the less refined speech of the peasants. Dino remained uncomfortable in his speaking Russian, but he was often able to pick up nuance that Alessa missed. So they became part of the crowd in the rapidly growing city. They listened, watched, and then gently prompted promising leads for more specific information that always ended up in a discouraging lack of resolution.

Alessa was exhausted at the end of each day – or night – and barely managed to keep up with her weapons drills and conditioning. Every night, as she worked to shut her mind off in the dark, she speculated on what the future might reveal. It was too soon to tell for sure; her body wasn't showing any physical changes and it had not even been three months since she had been in _Roma_.

She remembered the burdensome fatigue, the nausea… Snatches of memory from a period of time that seemed so distant from where she was now…

Ah, _Cristu_, she didn't want to think about it…

They settled into the rhythm of the city and finished customizing their clothing to better fit in with both climate and general populace. A tailor sympathetic to Dmitriy's thieves fitted them for the heavy leather dusters that many of the Wolves wore on missions. The overcoats allowed easier movement than the heavier furs but were still warm enough to actually be useful.

They replaced their linen and cotton Assassin hoods and trousers with heavier material in fur and wool. The materials were all of darker tones than she was used to, and she felt that the somber blacks and greys gave them a rather forbidding appearance. But no one seemed to notice and as most of their work was carried out in the darkness, it didn't make a difference either way.

And so their dress and mannerisms began to reflect less of their inherent Italian background and more the culture of the foreign land. It was perhaps that change, more than anything, that gave them their first hint of where to find their quarry.

Their informant, an inebriated miner at a random tavern, picked out her accent and likened it to that a priest he knew of that gave alms at one of the many monasteries that existed in the Moscow River valley. It was a frivolous statement, but after almost two weeks of nothing, they were prepared to check it out. Dino made sure the man was well set with drinks for the rest of the night, settled their tab with the barkeep, and the Assassins made their way out into the night.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

Preparations for a couple days travel out into the countryside were the work of nothing; hell, she and Dino had been expecting something of the sort and had had supplies ready from the beginning.

Alessa woke the morning of their planned departure feeling damn good; well rested, no injuries, free from the vague sense of nausea and unease that had plagued her for weeks. Maybe it had something to do with the beam of brilliant sunshine that had found its way past shutter and tapestry…

She got out of bed to investigate, flamboyantly throwing open the shutters.

Vasiliy's third snowfall had come in the night, leaving the world blanketed in purity and softening the blemish of human inhabitance on the land into a sort of idyllic splendor. It was the most view-altering weather phenomenon she had experienced thus far in her life.

_Merda_, but it covered everything; it evenly coated the bare branches of trees and the brilliance of white against green made the pines look like imaginary vegetation from one of Vasiliy's fairytales. It clung, as if by magic, to the smooth surfaces of the church domes. The sun reflected off of it all, almost brighter than the most cloudless of Roman summers. But whereas Roman sunlight was blindingly golden, this sunlight was so brilliantly white that everything seemed to take on a hue of blue.

Buoyed by the sunshine and her feeling of well-being, Alessa dressed rapidly, secured her room, and grabbed her pack in record time. She even hummed a bit as she traversed the back stairs, excited to get out into the decadent powder that looked so inviting from above.

She flung the back kitchen door of the inn open and took a clean, frigid breath, inhaling the _feel_ of snow into her body. It burned like a potent, yet flawlessly smooth liquor burned, and she savored the almost metallic tang to the air – totally alien to her senses – and stepped eagerly out onto the top step that led down into the stableyard…

"_Ma che cazzo_!" she snarled, as she lost her balance and tumbled down a couple of the stairs, skidding about, sliding through a substance that was deeper than it had looked.

When her fall came to a stop, she leapt to her feet, face flaming, hoping to hell that no one had seen.

"Graceful," came the inevitable remark behind her.

"Go fall off a cliff, Dino," she grumbled, aiming for casualness as she retrieved her dropped kit and brushed off her leggings.

Fucking stuff was past knee deep, and the distance for her foot to fall had been deceiving. The wonder was gone, replaced with a feeling of inexplicable betrayal, and Alessa's movements turned brisk with annoyance as she tacked out her horse and climbed into the saddle.

_Moskva_ was bustling; people were busily shoveling the snow into piles, clearing the streets with incredible efficiency. Alessa hadn't given a thought to how all the stuff built up; in some of the narrower streets, people had to actually cart it away.

Huh.

And, _Dio_, the sunlight. As they rode out of the city proper and onto a road recognizable only by the slight depression in a sea of white, she pulled her hood back. Who knew that after mysteriously bestowing such dubious bounty that Mother Nature could manage to muster up such sunlight that actually seemed to give off warmth in this environment.

And so the ride out to the isolated monastery was surprisingly pleasant, given the circumstances. The sun was cheerfully bright and gleamed off of the pristine landscape. At one point, she told herself that she wasn't complaining, because the sunshine was a welcome respite from the short days and grey skies, but it was almost _too_ bright. Her eyes burned from having to constantly squint against the glare.

Finally, she just pulled her hood over her head to block the light; the strain on her eyes eased almost immediately.

They rode in companionable silence, and Alessa took the opportunity just to look, absorbing the images of the countryside for later; maybe she could paint it one day. Irina was safe back at the convent after hours of arguing. Alessa and Dino were finally going to get some answers – _fuck you!_, she warned the niggling thought that nagged this might yet be another dead end; it sounded suspiciously like Machiavelli – and she wouldn't have to deal with any court intrigue, nasty gambling dens, or dark alleys in the process.

After perhaps two hours of leisurely riding, the terrain dipped into a small valley. Its hills were heavily forested and Alessa immediately caught the glint of a single golden dome peeping from between the pinnacles of stark birch branches and soaring conifers. It was a picturesque scene; the little steep-roofed huts of the village dotting the landscape, everything made clean and elegant by the snow.

It was a well-to-do little community; the walls of the peasant's home were all freshly white-washed, some were even painted the pastel blues and greens common in the Moscow city proper. A raw patch in the side of one of the hills gave evidence to some of the town's wealth; a new mine.

The village was practically bustling; people were taking advantage of the sunshine to take care of errands that were undesirable to carry out in frigid near-darkness. Women in brightly colored head scarves and men in dark coats were turning the snow in the streets to slush as they went briskly about their business.

Alessa could see all this as she and Dino steered their horses down the gentle slope. They checked into an inn undergoing an expansion. Carpenters were busy at work, filling the main room with the sounds of good natured banter and energetic hammering. Dino and Alessa were able to secure a single remaining room. They stabled their horses and set out for their destination on foot.

They took the footpath heading straight for the monastery. A path was already worn through the snow; apparently the people here were pious as well as affluent. She worked up a bit of a sweat in the heavy overcoat and hood, but the sun wasn't so warm once they got under the trees. It wasn't as bright, either. Snow had drifted disproportionately given the combination of slope and abbreviated canopy cover. It piled nearly knee high in some places, but was entirely absent in others. The effect was eerie; the landscape appearing half-finished and forgotten.

The path, barely wide enough to allow the passage of a single wagon or sleigh, eventually opened up into a clearing that was dominated by the church of the monastery. The white limestone walls circumventing the compound were well made and unusually tall. The monks were also taking advantage of the pleasant weather and a couple of brown-cowled figures were distributing food and clothing from a side gate.

Alessa and Dino approached cautiously, trying not to appear suspicious as they loitered along the edge of the small crowd partaking of the alms being offered. Alessa approached one of the holy brothers as the last of the congregation departed and inclined her head respectfully,

"_Dobriy dyen'_," she said pleasantly, "I am visiting from _Italia_, and was informed that one of your brothers is from my native land. Tell me, is _Messere_ Fiorivanti here?"

The young priest jumped slightly at her mention of the name. He gripped his empty basket closer to his chest and eyed her anxiously.

"I know of no one here by that name," he said, his even tone belying the nervousness in his darting gaze. The other monk, an older man, shifted away from them almost imperceptibly. Alessa lowered her tone and her hood, trying to make herself look harmless and naïve.

"I would just like to hear the sound of my language from a native speaker," she pleaded, "I am quite homesick, you see. And I have heard of the _messere_ even back home, of the wonders he has built for the Grand Prince, if you would just…"

The second monk interrupted her,

"You are not wanted here, lady, leave."

"Erm," Alessa replied, startled by his rudeness. She felt Dino as a solid presence at her back, felt the shift of his body as he crossed his arms over his chest. The leather of his armor creaked in protest. She could practically see him glowering over her head. The reappearance of distress that made a transient appearance on the younger monk's face confirmed it.

Some of the people in the departing crowd had overheard the exchange and seemed to take offense with her inquiry. What was going on? Maybe her dress or her manner… or maybe it was just their obvious foreignness. Whatever it was, one of the men approached them, his stance aggressive as he planted himself in front of the monks.

He was a strapping peasant, muscles heavy from hard labor and his fists clenched threateningly at his side.

Alessa sighed to herself.

"You are agents of the Grand Prince," he shouted, drawing more attention.

"No, no" Alessa tried to soothe, "We just want to talk to Aristotele."

That apparently, was the wrong thing to say, for more people hissed insults,

"Vile murderers…"

"Traitors!"

Alarmed by the escalating agitation of the crowd, Alessa and Dino drew closer together. Dino's hand found the hilt of his sword and they backed away towards the sanctuary of the church.

"Agents of the false heir!"

"Heretics!"

_What the hell…?_

Dino drew his sword, keeping the crowd away from her as Alessa held her hands out non-threateningly, trying to keep the angry crowd from escalating into violence.

"Something's wrong," Alessa murmured to Dino as they backed hastily away from the increasingly perturbed peasants, crouching defensively, back to back.

"You think?" he snarked.

She ignored him and pitched her voice to carry, knowing that their target had to be listening at this point,

"Aristotele, we just want to talk. Please. We don't want to hurt anyone."

"As if we would trust a Templar!" came a reply from above. From the tone of the voice it was just a boy? Or maybe a female… Alessa squinted to make out the figure on the rooftop, one foot braced against the slope of the roof…

"_Merda_! It's her; get out of the open," Alessa yelped suddenly, dragging Dino closer to the front of the church, cutting off the angle of a shot.

"Her? Who?"

"Elena. What the hell is she doing here?" Alessa muttered to herself, trying to watch the edge of the roof for movement before raising her voice so that the unseen woman could hear her, "We're not Templars,"

"Pah!" Elena spat, her tone imminently scornful and utterly skeptical, "You're holding my sister hostage and now you've come for my master? And you think I'm going to let you?"

_What? Were these people out here all crazy?_

"Your sister is not a hostage and I don't want to fight you," Alessa finally replied, not really knowing what to think. She stepped out into the open, held her arms out to expose her chest, "So if you don't believe me, you'll have to kill… arrrgh!"

She was cut off mid-sentence when Dino shoved her from behind. She sprawled awkwardly, taken by total surprise. She barely caught her fall and at the impact, her forehead hit the frozen ground so that she saw stars. In the same moment she heard the sound of metal clanging on metal. But her attention was only attracted by the dull _thunk_ of something weighted hitting the ground beside her head. She dazedly reached out for it: a throwing dagger.

With a curse, Dino scooped her up under an arm and bowled over the crowd of peasants, scattering them like startled birds. Slightly dazed, she heard a second rattle of metal on metal and he cursed again, this time more vehemently. He wrenched open the door to the church proper and hustled her into the dimness within.

"What happened?" she asked, once they had made it inside and he had barred the door. Only then did he dump her unceremoniously on the floor and awkwardly jerk a second throwing dagger out of his armor from a joint in his pauldron.

"_Puttana_," he snarled, flinging the dagger to the flagstone floor of the church. It clanged against the hard stone, startlingly loud in the hallowed calm of the church.

"Dino, what the hell?" she asked a little grumpily, getting to her feet.

"She almost killed you, you stupid…" he made an ugly noise, effectively cutting off whatever the rest of his phrase was going to be. Alessa felt her eyes narrow,

"What happened?"

"She almost got you with a fucking throwing knife, that's what happened," he snarled. Alessa cringed as his voice rang harshly in the quiet.

"Huh," was all she could vocalize as she thought furiously.

"That's all you have to say about it?" he asked incredulously, his big hands held out in front of him, expressive frustration making his fingers curl.

"I was calling her bluff. Guess she really thinks we're Templars. I wonder why…?"

Dino raised his hands, looking like he wanted to use them to throttle her. A muscle twitched in his jaw as his hands trembled and he ground out,

"You…"

They were distracted by the echoing clank of a door opening down the nave. Immediately, personal issues disappearing like, the Assassins turned as one to face the new threat. They split apart to find cover behind stone pillars, drawing their crossbows in unison.

"So you Templars have finally found me," came an elderly, patient voice in Russian, wheezing slightly. Alessa could hear the faint traces of an Italian accent, nearly gone.

"Not. Templars. Fucker." Dino bit out from between clenched teeth.

"… Aristotele?" she queried, pressing her crossbow to her chest and switching to Italian, acting on a growing suspicion, "We are Assassins. We have come at the behest of the Order to discover those responsible for Pietro Solari's death. Do you know anything about that?"

It was silent for a time. As she leaned against the shadowed side of the pillar, crossbow pressed to her chest, Alessa could faintly hear the crowd outside and she spared a moment to wonder where Elena had gone. Then Aristotele came forward out of the shadows at the altar.

He was an old man now, his body bent forward with age and the weight of responsibility. He wore a plain brown cowl and robes in exact replica of his paranoid brothers outside. The material was well worn, but clean. A wooden crucifix in the Orthodox style swung from his hip.

But for all the apparent humility, his eyes were fiercely cognizant, revealing an awareness that only experience could offer. Ezio had a similar weight and vitality in his eyes. It wasn't something that could be concealed or imitated.

Her hands shaking, Alessa lowered her crossbow and sheathed it, all the while resisting the urge to rush and pound the man for information. After all of the tension and uncertainty she and Dino had encountered since arriving in Moscow, they were nearly at the crux of a revelation. And now that it was before her, she wanted to arrive at that conclusion violently.

Taking a careful breath, she calmed herself, stepped out into the soft light of hundreds of candles, and made formal inquiry of the old man,

"I am looking for the murderer of Pietro Antonio Solari. I have reason to believe that might be you."

His shoulders slumped, but she got the impression that it was relief that prompted the motion. Not guilt.

Damn the luck. _Damn_ it. Why couldn't they catch a fucking break? She wanted the murderer's head! So she could go home! And all she had was an old man who apparently was barely tied to the whole thing.

"I think this conversation should take place elsewhere, _mi amici_," Aristotele said, straightening up, his form seeming to become infused with new vigor, "There are things you need to know."

Oh.

Well maybe…

Alessa glanced at Dino, who was apparently still peeved about something, but he just shrugged. Not much help there.

As she opened her mouth to answer, a door behind Aristotele opened and slammed shut. Elena stalked in, her leather coat swirling about her calves as she planted herself in front of the old man.

"Get out!" she snarled, one hand on the pistol sheathed at her left hip.

"What's your fuu-, ah problem?" Alessa asked, bristling, holding back the explicative only in deference to the sanctified grounds. God, this bitch was really starting to get on her nerves. She activated her hidden blade almost unconsciously and stepped carefully forward, ignoring Dino's demand that she get back under cover.

The women faced off down the length of the nave, Alessa's hidden blade bristling, gleaming with the fresh oil she had used on it the night before. Elena's hand tightened on her pistol.

"My sister," the tall blonde growled, her other hand briefly touching the thankfully empty throwing knife bandolier crossing her chest, before reaching out to stab the forefinger directly at Alessa, "You have Irina! You–" her accusations were cut off as Dino slid silently out into the open from the shadows, crushing her against him in a bear hug, the press of his vambrace against her chest and the ominous splay of his fingers over her throat cutting off further accusations. Alessa straightened from her defensive crouch in surprise; she didn't think that she'd ever seen him move so quickly or silently.

"I've had about enough of you, _tesora_," he muttered darkly in Italian, his lips close to her ear as he purred the sentence in a tone Alessa had never heard out of him. The woman struggled ineffectually in his arms, absolutely unable to break his grip. Dino's face was hard as stone; Alessa had never seen him so pissed. The man was in a mood. And the inscrutable Elena, despite her lanky height and righteous fury, looked alarmingly frail in his grip.

"It looks like we need to start over," Aristotele said mildly, "If you would please, _messere_…" he said to Dino, who released the struggling Elena with not a small amount of reluctance. He bard his teeth at the woman in what Alessa supposed was a smile…

"Elena, please leave us, _dorogaya_," Aristotele said gently, speaking Russian in deference to her lack of fluency in Italian, "But do not go far, we will need to discuss this at length later on."

"_Nastavink?_" she protested, her vehemence dying under the force of his mild, but resolute look. She trembled visibly in the effort she made to restrain her rage, gave Alessa and Dino an alarming scowl, and then stalked from the room, her back as straight as a queen's.

The old man sighed and visibly relaxed,

"My apprentice," he explained, "Is not usually quite so… demonstrative."

"Probably because she's used to killing first and asking questions later," Dino grumbled.

"_Should_ she have killed you first?" Aristotele asked, a faint tone of wryness in his voice as he gestured for them to follow him. Both Assassins trailed the old man deeper into the church, but remained visibly tense.

"We are here for answers," Dino replied, his big shoulders bunched with tension. Alessa suddenly resisted the urge to laugh like hell; everyone was so polite, yet so ready to kill one another. She thought she might burst from the strain. Aristotele stopped to regard them gravely,

"Then I am the one to give them to you. I swear on my life that you will have answers and safe passage. But in private; I have acquired many enemies over the years and one never knows who might overhear."

This time, the Assassins were able to relax slightly and Aristotele led them on. They passed the monk's quarters – the small, bare cells mostly empty of occupants. They reached a room at the junction of three hallways, situated so that it was just a bit larger than the rest. It contained it's own small hearth and a small table flanked by two chairs.

Aristotele sat with a relieved breath,

"I apologize for the starkness of my quarters. In my time, I would have been able to entertain you with all the hospitality that _Italia_ is known for. But as you see, now I am but a humble monk."

"Who are you really?" Dino asked, pulling the second chair out for Alessa before leaning against the door jamb just behind her; his bulk would hinder anyone trying to enter the room.

"Isn't it obvious?" Aristotele asked, as he held up his left hand. Around the base of the ring finger was a familiar gnarl of scar tissue…

"_You're_ an Assassin?" Dino blurted.

"I was sent here years ago," Aristotele said, "by the head of our Order, Mario Auditore."

"Auditore is dead, at the hands of the Templars," Dino informed him. Aristotele was not at all surprised and nodded sadly,

"I suspected as much. As I was already here in the Duchy of _Moskva_ when Solari arrived, I was informed to watch over him, in secret. We worked side by side at times; he never knew we were of the same Order. It was his first time out on his own and the Grand Master wanted to be sure he was safe. I don't imagine Auditore shared my mission with anyone. And so my correspondence, when it is not intercepted, never seems to elicit any response. Who leads the Order now? Where is it headquartered?"

"Niccolò Machiavelli, La Volpe, and Ezio Auditore have been running the Order together in _Roma_," Alessa replied, still a little on edge giving out the information. But he had the brand; a member wasn't inducted into the Order lightly. Then again, brands could be mimicked… Ah, _cazzo!_…

"_Roma_…" Aristotele said, both in realization and inquiry.

"_Si_, Cesare Borgia attacked and destroyed the Auditore Villa going on two years ago now," Alessa said reflexively.

"A new Grand Master has not been elected yet," Dino went on as she drifted off into contemplative silence. Dino gave her a questioning look and she shrugged. Aristotele eyed them knowingly,

"You still don't trust, that is commendable, but maybe after I enlighten you on affairs in Moscow, you can lay your concerns to rest." He leaned back against his chair and steepled his hands, the expression on his face that of a man getting ready to tell a long tale, and trying to figure out where to start.

Alessa noticed that Dino, like herself, had leaned forward slightly in anticipation:

"Solari was sent for by Grand Prince Ivan, to build the walls and towers for his Kremlin. Solari was a newly inducted Assassin, and eager to work for the Order, as the young ones always are," here Aristotele gave them a fond smile, not indulgent, but more… yearning, a desire to be in their places. The curse of time: experience and knowledge gained even as the body weakened and youth was lost. Alessa, despite her intentions to listen to the whole story before deciding on truth, felt her heart softening towards the old man; there was such openness in his expression just then that she suddenly and instinctively trusted him. Inexplicably, she _knew _that he was one of them.

The moment, like most moments of serendipity, was fleeting. But the feeling remained and the atmosphere in the room settled into something more conducive to relaxation,

"I was sent correspondence prior to Solari's arrival, informing me to watch over him and give aid if needed. For the buildings, fantastic as they are, are not what he was sent here to build. The Assassin Order has always had difficulty getting firmly established in Moscow. Distance from the rest of Europe and the logistical difficulty that implies is just the beginning. You have the long winters… which hasn't even started yet, by the way… Not to mention that the lack of centralized government has made it hard for the people of _Rus'_ to fight off invasions from the Khans; potential recruits have no time to embrace the enlightenment the Creed offers."

"So what happened?" asked Dino bluntly, "He's dead now. By foul play. Looks like you weren't able to do your job?"

"Patience, brother," Aristotele replied calmly, taking a moment to remove a crudely bound journal from a nearby shelf. He passed it to Alessa, who opened it to find political observations spanning almost two decades. As she scanned the notes, written in Italian, and Dino leaned over her shoulder to do the same, Aristotele continued,

"Ivan has done a remarkable job organizing his people and establishing rule over his newly acquired lands. And the Templars have done a remarkable job making him paranoid for conspirators. I don't believe they have revealed themselves to him, but I do know that two high ranking Templars are trusted members of his inner circle. I was unaware of their… affiliation… and they discovered who Solari was and killed him."

"_Perfetto_!" Dino exclaimed, "Now _we_ kill _them_. I'm ready. Alessa's ready," he straightened from his lazy repose against the jamb and cracked his knuckles, "All we need are names."

"Not so simple, _amico_," Aristoele said, "Ivan is paranoid and looking for conspirators and assassins everywhere. Simply disposing of these Templars will not solve our problem."

"Which is?" Dino asked, getting up to pace, "And why?"

"Never compromise the Brotherhood," Aristotele quoted.

"A knife in a dark alley," Dino proposed, "No one has to get credit for the kill. Least of all the Assassins."

"True," Aristotele admitted, "But as to your second question: we need Ivan off our trail. The Templars have revealed the existence of our Order to him; it's how they justified Solari's death. Ivan is nothing if not jealous of his position; he worked hard to earn it and maintain it. He seeks us out, and his Templar _boyars_ are his chief investigators. No, we have to give him another scent to follow so we can set up a solid presence within his city in the background."

"Sounds like you have this all figured out," Alessa prompted, giving Dino a warning look as she caught his expression going mulish.

"Simple when one doesn't have to tend to the details: First, discredit the Templar investigators. Second, distribute propaganda amongst the people and set up a false conspiracy for Ivan to go after. Third, remove the Templar agents and blame the fake organization. Like I said, easy."

"Why haven't you done anything then?" Dino asked, not bothering to hide his disdain and skepticism.

"You possess the energy and fire of youth, brother," Aristotele replied easily. He held out gnarled hands knotted with age, the tendons along the backs stood out starkly, "I am not so blessed as you; I am physically unable to carry out the mission. And Elena needs a team to aid her; she cannot do it alone. It is difficult enough for her to trust, much less bring in new people. And difficult for me just to train her, stuck as I am in the winter of my life," Aristotele admitted. A moment of thoughtful silence passed before he stood and went to his small fireplace, fiddling with the stones near the mantel…

He eased out a large stone and set it aside, revealing a small hidden space just large enough to hold the bundle of clothing and documents that he removed. He carried his mysterious objects to the table, setting them down and pulling out an ancient scrap of canvas, nearly rotted to pieces, with a crude symbol painted on it.

"The Strigolniki Sect," he explained, tapping the rune-like symbol with an arthritic forefinger, "Much of the controversy regarding the heir to the crown lies, as these things often do these days, in the how the heirs tolerate the minor religions of their land. Moscow is becoming no different in their treatment of the Jewish population than Their Catholic Majesties of Spain."

"So who are these… Strigolki?" Alessa ventured.

"Strigolniki," Aristotele corrected. Dino ignored them both; he was slowly pacing the room, reading Aristotele's journal.

"A Jewish sect?" Alessa guessed.

"Not initially, but many believe that they eventually merged with the Sect of Skhariya the Jew, a current thorn in Ivan's side," Aristotele confirmed, "But most believe that they were completely eradicated, I might add. Over a century ago. Many horrible things were attributed to the group: deadly riots, murders, bribery, blackmail… People feel that Skhariya's sect will do the same things and are expecting the chaos to return. Dmitriy and his young wife support the sect and for that reason are losing favor with the people and the court. Vasiliy is very devout in the Orthodox Church and as such is more popular."

"What doctrines did they follow?" Alessa asked, more curious than anything.

"They wished to abolish the hierarchal order of the church. They denounced communion, repentance, baptisms, and other ceremonial aspects of the current theology."

"No wonder they were hated so; why would they want to abolish so much of the ceremony that brings comfort to the parishioners? That's the reason religion exists."

"The exorbitant fees mainly. And then the corruption, hypocrisy, and reprehensible actions of some members of the priesthood."

"Ah," Alessa said, comprehending it at once; she had to look no further than Pope Alexander and 'Cardinal' Cesare Borgia for an example of such things within the Catholic Church. Looked like the abuse of power manifested the same way anywhere, no matter the culture that was ruled by it.

"So what does a failed group of do-gooders have to do with us?" Dino asked suddenly, causing Alessa to jump.

"They may have failed in their efforts," Aristotele intoned, "But their ideas are basically the same as our own: free-thinking citizens attempting to remove despots."

Dino grunted,

"Always corruption in politics. There's too much temptation. The only thing people can do is follow the lesser of two evils."

"And a lock on a door does nothing but keep and honest man honest," Aristotele agreed, "You are correct, it is human nature to be drawn towards the evil we all carry within ourselves. It's easier that way – no pesky moral dilemmas to agonize over. But could you live with yourself if you allowed it to happen when you could stop it? For that is what the Assassin Order is all about. To aid and encourage people to rise above that. And to assist leadership that supports the advancement of it's people's minds."

"Is that what we're doing, in reviving an exterminated religious faction?" Alessa asked.

"Imitating them," Aristotele corrected. "And Ivan is not a bad leader; he has stabilized the government, protected his people from the marauding Khans, allowed them time to know a small bit of peace that has been fleeting for centuries. The danger is in allowing the Templars to continue to influence him."

"So what is the plan exactly?" asked Dino, setting the journal onto the table and crossing his arms over his chest, looking very intent.

"The Templar agents – the heads of the Shuisky and Belsky families – are looking for Assassins, encouraging Ivan to look for Assassins. Instead, we will imitate the existence of the Strigolniki; show Ivan the symptoms of an uprising that could threaten the stability of his government. It will discredit his Templar advisors; that they allowed something this momentous to occur right under Ivan's nose in his own city while he is out chasing ghosts." A sardonic smile creased the old man's features.

"Except these ghosts are real," Dino murmured.

They were all silent for a time as Alessa and Dino digested the scenario.

"If it's done right," Alessa said slowly, envisioning how everything would unfold, "We can go in, assassinate the Templars, and blame everything on the non-existent sect."

"Yes, exactly! It will not take long; the city is already restless, what with Dmitriy the Grandson and Vasiliy the Third vying for the title of heir. We will simply lay the spark to tinder that is already amassed."

It had gotten late in the time they had spent with Aristotele. The old man noticed when Dino's stomach rumbled in the thoughtful silence and he chuckled.

"I think it's enough for today. I've given you enough to think over, eh? Let me tell you quickly about my contacts, people I trust, who can aid you. Mind, they are obviously not privy the existence of the Order, but you can trust them not to go around wagging their tongues."

He instructed them on the names and locations of a blacksmith, the Madame of a brothel, and a banker. Alessa hadn't heard of the blacksmith. But the latter two people she already knew about:

"I have heard of _La Rosa_ from one of the girls, Talya. And the banker you recommended is the one we are currently using, recommended by one of Nikolai Zakharyin-Yuriev's attendants."

"Have you met Nikolai?" Aristoele asked, having gone still at her mention of the name.

"No, it's been a real bastard trying to figure these families out. They're all related, it seems, and the little factions seem to shift every day. And the women are so segregated from the men; I think I would cause an uproar trying to meet any of the men," Alessa said, a little grumpily.

Well, it was frustrating, dammit; she was used to talking to whomever she pleased regardless of sociably acceptable norms.

"Unless that man is _il Principe_," Dino said, his tone rife with innuendo. Alessa gave him an exasperated glance.

"What prince?" Aristoele asked, his voice sharp.

"Uh, Vasiliy," Alessa replied, worried. But she need not have, for the old Assassin's expression slackened in relief. And then he began to chuckle,

"Well done! You've gotten into the good graces of the prince? He is likely to win the position of heir, you know."

"Well, I…" Alessa stammered, absurdly pleased by Aristotele's approval.

"How did you do it?" the old man asked. Dino laughed,

"She seduced him into a dark hallway and then drugged him. He's been smitten ever since."

Aristotele chortled as Alessa glared at Dino, who shrugged,

"Well, that's what happened, don't look at me like that."

"I think you had better tell me everything," Aristotele said, still wheezing with mirth. Alessa and Dino complied. It was a relief to discuss the events with someone freely, instead of trying to remember who knew what about their real and their cover personas.

"My brother, my sister," Aristotele said when they had finished, "I hardly know where to go from here. Let's call it a night for now. I will send a message to my ally in the city. You will meet with him. And it seems that you already know of him – he is the Nikolai you mentioned earlier. His family has supported the Assassins for many years."

Ignoring Dino and Alessa's startled silence, the old man continued, handing over the bundle containing the Strigolniki effects he had prepared for setting up the conspiracy, "He will help you get started on the plan, provide you access to the palaces, and provide you with any equipment you might yet need. Contact him through the Madame at _V'rosla_."

"You won't come?" Alessa asked, hiding a grin at the Russian equivalent of _La Rosa_.

"I cannot,"Aristotele said ruefully, "My face is known to the Grand Prince and his Templar agents. I staged my death with the help of Nikolai many years ago, after Pietro was murdered and I was framed for it. If I were discovered in _Moskva_, the Templars would have evidence of the Assassin Order to present to the Grand Prince."

"What about your Elena?" Dino asked, "Will she be able to work with us or not?"

"I will explain the situation to her and send her back to the convent. You may contact her there."

"Tell her to keep her knives to herself," Alessa grumbled, "And her pistols aimed elsewhere. I don't fancy being shot or stabbed."

"It was not Elena who shot Dino that night," Aristotele admonished, "She would have told me about it."

Alessa and Dino made identical, noncommittal sounds; neither was able to accept that answer yet, but they kept their own counsel. Aristotele was not fooled; he lowered his chin briefly in understanding, but his expression informed them in no uncertain terms that he fully trusted his apprentice.

As Alessa stood to gather her coat, her sleeve fell back a bit and her hidden blade flashed from within its vambrace. Aristotele's expression went unreadable, and then tense with mild desire,

"May I?" he asked, almost timidly, gesturing to her forearm.

"Of course," Alessa deferred, removing her right blade with its poison attachment and handing it over.

"_Squisito_," he murmured, brushing reverent fingers over the complex mechanism hidden in the vambrace, "I never worked 'in the field' so to speak; I've worked in more of intelligence position for the Order. So I never received a hidden blade. Not to mention that they are difficult to make and thus have been very rare in my time; most blades were passed on from master to apprentice, or father to son. You must have a master craftsman making them these days."

He returned the weapon to her and then looked her and Dino over with an appraising eye.

"Be careful, _mi amici_, this land is not as civilized as _Italia_. The cold is deadly; what you've seen so far has been mild. And you haven't even seen snow yet. Winter is as implacable and heartless an enemy as the Templars. Perhaps even more so; Nature has no concept of mercy. The wilderness is barely held at bay by _Moskva_ and her river fortress. Civilization is still a thin veneer here."

Alessa initially dismissed the dramatic statement and she made a noncommittal sound of agreement in deference to the man's age and experience.

But later, after they had taken their leave and their horses plunged through the drifting snow, obviously anxious to return to the warmth of the stables, Alessa had a chill of foreboding totally unrelated to the frigid air.

All this talk of cold and snow; like what was on the ground already wasn't enough. She huddled deeper into her coat and surreptitiously moved closer to Dino, seeking the comfort of his warmth and the security rendered by his proximity. She relaxed.

With him, she was invincible.

* * *

**Historical Trivia:**

Seriously, this period of Russian history is a BITCH to find info on. Basically just blah, blah… fighting the Mongols, blah, blah… lots of land… blah, blah. You don't see much until Ivan the Terrible comes around (Vitaliy's son). But I will tell you this: the Rurik line of princes were way dysfunctional. Basically brother imprisoned (or worse) brother so that they couldn't create potential heirs to the throne. Vasiliy, after beating Dmitriy to the throne, imprisoned or exiled all of his brothers after he came to power. The systematic pruning of the family tree wasn't exactly the best of ideas; after Ivan the Terrible died, Tsars of the Rurik line were hard to come by or had major defects. And so the Romanovs came to power in 1613.

There are seven hills in Moscow. Yup, that's right, seven. One of the other reasons Ivan the Great figured that Moscow was the heir to Rome's glory. Huh. The Kremlin is built on a hill that was called Borovitsky, names for the heavily forest terrain that used to occupy it. Nowadays it's called Kremlin Hill. More on that next chapter.

Aristotele's statement about Russian winters was inspired by Napolean's defeat in 1812. Then Hitler sent his troops out there in WWII with similar disastrous results. Looks like someone didn't read up on his history. I guess you just can't beat the Ruskiys when it comes to cold weather warfare.


	37. Moscow: The Courtesan and the Blacksmith

**A/N: Another long wait, but I promise you'll be pleased; I actually had to split this chapter into to two because it was so damn long so I'll be posting another chapter in the next day or two; WOOT! I've been busy: the hockey team I play on won our league championship and I just joined a co-ed team so I've been skating my ass off. Also started learning how to play guitar (weeeeee!). So my musical inspiration for this chapter had been Poisonblack's "never enough" just because I've been learning it; lead part is EPIC and rhythm part is just fun to jam to.**

**So once again, much love to my reviewers: ecnal, MagpieMinx, Chiharu-angel, flyingcrispi, Assassin's Creed superfan, and Brother Bandit. Also can't forget my beta, Shamazaki, for passing out an SSOA! Heh.**

**AND ASSASSIN'S CREED III! WHAT! Ubisoft continues to rock my socks as the owner of the badass AC universe!**

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

They were back in the city by mid-afternoon the next day. Bitter winds had picked up in the night, rattling insistently at the shutters on their tiny inn room. By day, those winds had caused heavy slate grey clouds to cover what little light the sun offered. Stinging, blowing snow drifted constantly, making it difficult for the horses to judge depth. The poor beasts stumbled often, and Dino's head ached from squinting constantly at the ground, trying to keep his animal to the best section of the road.

And it was significantly colder, as if Aristotele's words had demanded validation. Within an hour, Dino's lips were chapped. In two hours they were cracked and bleeding. The only thing that helped was keeping the furs of his hood close and his scarf up over his nose. Alessa was a hunched, miserable figure on her horse beside him, similarly swathed against the elements.

The followed the river _Moskva_ back in, just as they had on the way out. The banks rose up rather steeply along this portion of its course as it meandered downriver from the city. The profuse white and silver birch trees framed the ponderous, icy water of the river. The wind caused small whitecaps to form in fastest flow near the center of the water even as the water nearest the banks was made sluggish by the freezing of the shallower portion of its bed. Dino shivered and turned away from the view.

A silent, uncomfortable ride passed before they gained the city limits, the streets once again quiet after all the activity the brisk sunshine had incited the day before. The horses' hooves clomped on slushy cobblestone, spattering the half-frozen mess everywhere. It was a relief to return the horses to their stables and take to the rooftops; the warmth of their rooms beckoned him.

After a treacherous climb where they dislodged copious amounts of snow, they stood bemusedly five stories up, staring at the snow covered roofs that stretched the impressive breadth of the city.

"If we go across that," Dino observed, "We'll be leaving a trail straight to our inn."

"What do we do?" Alessa wondered out loud, "We can't go back to the inn dressed like this," she gestured absently at their dirty boots and slush splattered coats. Their dress would not fit the profile of the personas they had created. They were quiet for a time as they considered the panorama before them.

"Maybe it's a good time to visit one of Aristotele's contacts," Dino said.

"The brothel will have a gown I can borrow," Alessa agreed.

They kept their hoods up as they traversed the busier sections of street; no telling who might recognize them.

"_La Rosa in Fiore_?" Dino snorted after he translated the discreet sign.

"Nice coincidence, eh?"

"Makes one wonder," Dino replied, "Think there's one in every major city?"

Alessa shrugged and indicated the door to the upscale brothel, "Paying customers use the front door; I'll go wait out back."

"Thanks," Dino muttered.

He was acutely uncomfortable; he sort of felt like he was betraying Claudia just by setting foot in the place.

_It's just a place of business; not like you're going to partake of the goods inside_, he told himself.

Ah, fuck, he was dithering. What a damn pansy.

Well, maybe he could fake it… He hitched up his pants. Yeah, he'd do that. He swept his hood from his head and put his best glower on his face. Then he flung the door open and stepped inside, his boots thundering on the floorboards of the wooden portico, leaving a filthy trail of slush and mud behind.

It was dim inside, not entirely surprising.

Atmosphere.

Yeah right.

He suppressed a chuckle.

He took a moment to let his eyes adjust in the decreased light and made his way inside. At first glance, he took in the scattering of customers being relieved of their coin as they were inundated by adept feminine flattery and exquisite food and drink. As he scanned the main room; he felt a slow, bittersweet rush of rueful superiority when he noted that it was not quite as opulent as Claudia's _Rosa_. First of all, the building was made of wood. The planks were well-fitted and stained a rich mahogany, admittedly, but nothing like that could begin to compete with the grandeur of stone and marble architecture so casually come by in _Roma_.

The girls were lovely, as was expected – more natural blondes and red-heads than he was used to, perhaps. And their manner of dress, although still delightfully scandalous, more or less revealed the body beneath by artful draping of cloth, as opposed to the frank invitation of bare skin, sultry with Roman heat. Made sense, no one wanted to dandle a half-frozen whore. He chided himself for such thoughtlessness; Claudia would have cuffed him for a comment like that.

_Still_, he thought, as he eyed a statuesque beauty with hair like a fiery dawn_, it was true_.

Overall, although everything about the brothel was slightly different than he was used to, feminine wiles disguised as commercial savvy looked the same anywhere one went, apparently.

As he stood there in the seconds it took him to take in his surroundings, a matched set of blondes had made their way unerringly to him. Before he knew it, he was enveloped in the scent of their perfume as they cooed over him, their Russian like a velvet caress against his ears. He felt his glower falter under their feminine onslaught; hell, a man could only expect to maintain so much of a façade when a pair like this whispered to him about the things they'd like to do to him.

He swallowed hard, pushing the images away as he gently extricated that one that was twining herself about him.

"I, uh, I am here to see Talya," he said, hurriedly scowling to cover up his fumbling Russian. Alessa had mentioned the courtesan's name.

"She is not working at the moment, but we would be more than happy to help you," one blonde said.

"Yes," the other added, "You look like a man who needs more... experienced care than what one so young can manage."

Young? How young… Ai, _Madre de Dio_. He swore that Alessa did this shit to him on purpose.

"No matter," he made himself go on, pitching his voice full of causal disdain, "She is the one I want. Or do I need speak to your Madame?"

Yeeeah, far too much petulance… Oh well, he sounded like a real prick now. Threatening the girls with the Madame usually got a man what he wanted. A brief look of consternation crossed over one of the blondes' faces, but the other didn't even bat an eye. He abruptly felt guilty; the unaffected girl had an animated, almost believably joyous expression, but her eyes were blank as she said,

"Of course, but come, sit over here so my sister can tend to you in the meantime?"

Dino, feeling wretched, could only nod and was led into a quiet corner made to look private by the artful arrangement of privacy screens and silken tapestries.

Like a docile little fucking lamb to slaughter.

His companion sank onto the couch next to him and drew her legs up under her skirts.

"You are not used to the cold, _krasiv'iy_?" she murmured to him as she produced a tiny wooden box from the folds of her gown, "Here…"

She dipped a long, elegant finger into a smear of beeswax within, flipped the lid closed, and gently smoothed the substance across his lips. He suppressed a groan of relief.

So that's what the tiny beeswax-filled pots in their cold weather kits had been for.

Oops.

In his continued silence, she seemed to take his quiet compliance as permission and seemed to sprout approximately eight or ten hands...

Dino was beginning to sweat with the effort of keeping them out of strategic locations and was so focused on his efforts that it took him a moment to notice the shadow of a petite, slender woman fall across him.

He stood abruptly, nearly dumping blondie onto the floor in his haste and sketched a short bow to hide his relief.

"You are… Dino Demasi?" she asked in a surprisingly young-sounding voice. Her Russian was more lilting than the abrupt cadence he was used to and he liked the sound of the language coming from her.

"_Si_," he said, trying to get a good look at her. She stood with the candlelight behind her so that her features were shadowed. And she was very small – Irina's size – so he almost had to lean over to get a good look at her face.

"I am Talya," she said, bending her neck slightly before looking straight up at him.

He was startled. She had flawless pale skin, dewy with the luminescence of youth, and a wealth of chestnut hair that gleamed with red undertones in the candlelight. But other than that, her features were otherwise unremarkable. She was almost plain until he looked into her eyes.

He had heard people use the phrase 'old eyes' and had never really given the idea much merit. Well, actually he thought the whole concept was a load of bullshit. Old souls trapped in young bodies.

Pah.

But now he understood. This girl, whoever she was, had the eyes of a woman much older, someone who had gone through a lifetime of hardship. They were not blank with bored disaffection, like the blonde woman's who had already migrated over to a particularly boisterous group of young noblemen. Her eyes were bright with the intelligence that was tempered by experience as she scrutinized him; it reminded him of Claudia.

"Come with me," she murmured, slipping a small hand about his wrist.

They ascended to the second level, around the balcony overlooking the main room below, and through a clean, narrow hall tucked out of sight. The woman – girl, really – followed him into a well-appointed sitting room and gestured for him to sit.

Then she startled him by suddenly giggling like a little girl and calling out over her shoulder,

"Irina!"

Agog, Dino stared – fucking mouth open and everything – as a familiar little figure scampered out of the darkened room on the other side of the fireplace.

"Dino!" she chirped, throwing her arms around him briefly before moving away to plop into the chair across from him.

Dino felt like he had been hit in the face with a hammer. He dropped onto his ass in the chair offered him.

"Uh… wha – who?" he managed. Finally he was able to muster up some Russian, "What are you doing here? A brothel? Are you crazy? What –"

"They broke in your room," she interrupted him.

That stopped his impression of a landed fish.

"When?" he asked slowly, frantically trying to process what he was seeing and hearing, "What are you doing _here_?" he couldn't help but append. Irina gave him a look that reminded him acutely of Alessa when she was feeling more than a bit exasperated with him and abruptly everything righted itself. His surprise faded into the background and he could focus on her words.

"Talya. I know her from the convent. She used to be a novice like me."

Dino didn't know where to start with that so he leaned forward,

"Irina, _tesora_, Alessa is outside, in the back. Can you please go get her?"

The girl nearly skipped in her exuberance and Dino abruptly felt old and tired. He shifted awkwardly in his chair as Talya reclined with startlingly regal grace into her chair until Irina returned with Alessa a few moments later. The two were chattering animatedly in Russian and Dino found himself slightly annoyed – Alessa could at least have looked a little surprised.

A serving girl followed with a tray of tea, dark Russian bread, butter, cheese, and a shining silver bowl of pitifully small apples.

Dino waited in silence as the women exchanged greetings and idle female chatter as the light repast was laid out before them. He finally spoke when the serving girl left with a slight curtsy.

"So, what made you decide to become a…" he looked at Talya uncertainly, "Are you really, ah…. Uh…."

Talya chuckled and lowered her chin slightly,

"The word you are looking for is… mercenary."

"I don't think that's the right word," Dino muttered, thinking he wasn't translating his Russian correctly.

"The word _you_ are looking for is _whore_," Talya said. Dino winced,

"I didn't mean…"

"I know you didn't _mean _anything, _miliy_,"

"Then – "

"You met with Aristotele, didn't you? That's why you're here?"

"How did…?" Dino cursed. Damn kid – _yes… __**kid**_**,** he told himself resolutely – had him all fucked up in the head. He took a deep breath, gave Talya a level gaze, "Yes. We met with Aristotele. He informed my partner and me that your Madame here is an ally of his."

Talya nodded,

"This is true. The Madame is his ally. She is one of his apprentices; a recruit in the Assassin Order."

All he needed now was a shit-ton of bricks to land on his head.

"I am the Madame here. I am Aristotele's recruit."

Ah. There it was.

As he sputtered, he looked at Irina, whose mismatched eyes were shining up at him,

"I knew you were Assassins!" she breathed.

"How… What… _Fottere_…" It was like his mind couldn't work, like it refused to process the statements because they were all so utterly ridiculous. Former nun turned courtesan was actually an Assassin. Who was maybe all of ten years old.

Okay, maybe not _ten_; but really, come on.

As he mentally flailed about in an attempt to render order into his scattering thoughts, he was able to focus on one thing:

"You call yourself a mercenary. Why?"

"Ah, very good," Talya beamed at him like he was a child that had done something precocious. How did women do that? "Most men dismiss statements like that."

Dino scoffed and jerked his thumb at Alessa, who was leaning her elbows on the table with her chin propped up by her hands, just listening,

"She is like having a particularly insistent mosquito following you around, insisting that you pay attention to what shes says. I couldn't ignore her if I tried." He gave said annoying bug a wide grin as she rolled her eyes. Talya smiled and Irina giggled.

"Men rule the world, _miliy_," Talya said, "But women rule men's hearts, whether men choose to know it or not. I prefer the term mercenary to whore because the latter has derogatory implications. Both are paid to do battle. You are an Assassin, trained to deal with situations both martial and political. The bedroom is just another political battlefield."

Huh.

Dino never, _ever_ wanted Claudia to meet this girl; the two thought too much alike. It would get him into _so_ much trouble.

There was a thoughtful silence before Alessa, looking a little strained, inquired about the break in. Dino eyed her discreetly, concerned about the pale tension lines marring her forehead.

"Well," Irina said, distracting him with her excitement, "I was getting ready to leave for the convent – I was!" she insisted at Alessa's disbelieving rise of eyebrows, "Anyway, I heard the latch rattle at your bedroom window."

"Who was it?" Dino demanded. His heart was pounding. Because of his and Alessa's enemies, this girl had been put in danger.

"I don't know who it was," Irina said, eyeing him from under pale lashes, "There were two of them. They wore hoods. They moved like you."

Alessa looked over at Dino, her brows furrowed in thought. He imagined his expression matched hers as he looked down at her with identical, perplexed deliberation. Something about the description…

Irina's voice piped up again, and the moment was shattered. Dino looked away from his partner's dark eyes and eyed the girl thoughtfully as she spoke,

"They didn't take anything. But they were looking for this," Irina swooped down over a familiar bundle and set it in Alessa's hands.

"How do you know/" Alessa asked, her voice atonal but her stricken expression revealing her concern.

"Because I watched them from behind the tapestry you moved to cover the door."

Dino breathed a sigh of relief, glad they had rearranged things in order to hide their gear in the small space between their rooms. Irina continued, her voice lowering as she leaned forward conspiratorially towards him, her expression fervent. Then she blushed abruptly, looking acutely uncomfortable and drew closer to Alessa, who grinned at him. Dino kept his expression carefully blank as Irina finally continued in the low voice,

"They were looking at the paintings on the walls in the rooms. They didn't touch anything. Just looked. It was creepy," she glanced down and shuddered delicately before returning the blue-green gaze to him, "You know, it would have been better if they had come in and broken stuff. But the looking…" she frowned, eyes huge, "It was very… it was scary."

"They didn't find the passage?" Alessa asked after a tense silence.

"I don't know," Irina said, "When I realized what they were doing, I took the painting and went out through Dino's side. I came here."

"Why would you come here?"

Irina looked sheepish,

"When I left the convent, I made it look like I wasn't coming back," she muttered.

"Your sister thought Dino and I took you. She thought that we were her enemies," Alessa chastened her gently.

Fuck that.

"Your sister almost killed her," Dino rumbled, his face tightening down in anger at the memory, "For someone who wants to be treated like an adult, you're certainly not behaving very responsibly."

Alessa gave him a dark look as the younger girl's head bowed and her shoulders trembled. Alessa reached out with a hand and touched the girl's shoulder blades comfortingly. The whole exchange pissed him off for some reason and he lurched to his feet to pace.

Talya took pity on him; it was uncanny, she was like an old woman with the experience of an entire lifetime as eyed him thoughtfully before pouring another round of tea. He continued his frustrated stalking, watching as she finally poured a cup for herself with the unconscious grace of the young – at odds with the ancient weight in her gaze as she considered him.

Hastily, he looked away from her and her knowing gaze. She had seen through him, seen his concern about his partner that was approaching fear. Something was off with Alessa. Since their arrival in Moscow, she had seemed very blasé about the whole mission. Even going so far as to try and bluff an unknown, dangerous adversary.

The thought made him pace some more. Irina was speaking rapidly, Alessa's head was bent towards the girl as she spoke what Dino assumed was an apology. Dino stopped beside the fireplace, placing one hand upon the mantle as he looked into the flames.

"We have been compromised and we still need to get with Nikolai to plan this conspiracy," he spoke out loud more to organize his thoughts than start a conversation, but Talya latched onto his words.

"Nikolai will be back in the city in a few days for the Christmas festivities that Ivan has planned. In the meantime, you should meet up with the thieves and secure whatever aid from them that you can."

"Makes sense," he heard Alessa say, "We need to find another place to stay. Somewhere more secure. The inns are nice, but perhaps a private residence would be better?"

Thoughtful silence was broken only by the slight clatter of pottery as they began to eat. There were the soft sounds of more tea being poured. The murmur of feminine voices provided counterpoint as they coordinated their repast.

Dino continued to watch the flames, his shoulders hunched as he soaked in the warmth, and listened in satisfaction as the women began to plan in earnest. He let them. Plans were all well and good but he preferred action.

Talya eventually pitched her voice to carry,

"Mikhail. He is a blacksmith. Does us some favors and supplies us when he can. He and his sister might be able to accommodate you. I will send someone to him. You will stay here tonight to give him time to prepare."

Dino, ignoring the lovely porcelain cups of tea, reached out and snagged a slab of bread and a slice of cheese. Topping the bread with the fragrant yellow cheese, he took a bite,

"Sounds brilliant," he said through a mouthful before making an abrupt decision, "I need a drink; I'll be back later tonight. You," he pointed at Alessa, "Get some rest, you look like hell."

There were startled exclamations of dismay at his rudeness, after which he heard Alessa's amused voice as he closed the door behind himself on his way out,

"It's okay, that's just how he shows affection."

He grinned to himself. She still understood him. Moscow hadn't made her crazy yet.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

"Okay," she said, more to herself than to Irina. Talya had left them to go run her brothel. Alessa was just raring to know that woman's story. She wanted nothing more than be a nosy little gossip and find out. Instead, she unwrapped the painting and set it carefully on the table, propping it up against the heavy silver teapot. A sheet of parchment, a pot of ink, and a quill sat before her.

"So what is it again?" Irina asked, covering a yawn. Alessa yawned herself and gave the girl a playful glare. Then she rubbed her eyes and stared at the vibrant colors of the bird, trying to see the invisible apple in the monochromatic branches of the tree it was reaching for.

"A map…" Alessa murmured, trailing off distractedly as she reached out of run a fingertip over the exquisite rending of a sweeping tail feather.

"To what?" Irina breathed, her face like a tiny moon hovering over Alessa's shoulder.

"Not sure. I think maybe we should put it on paper. Maybe then we can figure it out."

"How can you see it?" Irina asked, blue and green eyes narrowed to slits as she peered at the thing.

Alessa didn't answer, merely stared at the painting and let her vision go unfocused. A moment later, color inverted and the room fell dark. The bird became a faint shadow within the darkness but the lines of the map glowed surrealistically. Without taking her gaze from it, Alessa reached for the quill, dipped it, and set to copying the lines to paper.

She was nearly finished when she reached up to brush a bead of sweat from her upper lip. Irina gasped abruptly and Alessa lost her focus and her enhanced vision. Color and light rearranged itself in that peculiar manner she still hadn't gotten used to. Then…

"Arrrggghh!"

A headache bloomed spectacularly, squeezing her temples and forehead in a vice-like band of agony. The quill snapped as her fingers clenched and then she brought her hands to her head, trying to contain what felt her skull threatening to burst open.

"Alessa?" queried Irina's worried tone.

"Murrghhh?"

"You're bleeding… It… Should I go find a doctor?"

"What?" Alessa gasped, bringing a hand away from her head to squint at it. Bright red blood smeared the index finger and when she tilted her head down, another drip of red spattered the table top. "No," she pinched the bridge of her nose and tilted her head back. "Just… cold cloth… bed."

_Dio_, it figured. She knew Eagle Vision was unnatural. Apparently she couldn't use it for extended periods of time. She resolved to ask Ezio about it when she returned; he used it all the time on missions. How did he not have any problems?

Squinting against the pain and the daggers of light coming from the candles' flames, Alessa re-wrapped the painting and picked up her completed copy, smearing the ink a little bit as a particularly excruciating throb knocked on the back of her eyeballs. Nausea roiled up at that one and she stumbled docilely behind a concerned Irina as the girl led her to a small quiet room in the chilly attic of the brothel to sleep it off.

Morning arrived in the grip of a clenched fist of deepening cold. With it came the symptoms Alessa usually associated with a bad hangover.

"How are you?" Irina asked in the frail grey light that trickled in through the small gap between roof and wall. The girl had dark circles under her eyes, which were spider-webbed with red lines. Alessa frowned, hoping the teenager hadn't sat up during the night to watch over her.

"It's mostly gone," Alessa said, ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, "Did Dino come back last night?"

"Uh huh," Irina nodded, "He's up already. I think he got into a fight or something," she observed.

Alessa chuckled, "That sounds like him; he's probably in a better mood, eh?"

Irina nodded again. Alessa sighed and heaved herself out of bed. Her breath steamed white in the frigid air. A full body shudder tensed her muscles and she rubbed her fingers briskly together.

"Brrrr, does anyone else sleep up here?"

"It was a busy night," Irina explained, "All the rooms were full. They use this area when someone needs a place to sleep, but usually there is an open room somewhere so it's not used often. It was just you and I."

"Lucky us," Alessa grumbled, blowing onto her fingers as they descended, "Where's Dino?"

Talya waylaid them, insisting that the two have breakfast. Alessa acquiesced, not really feeling like eating, but knowing she'd need the sustenance. Irina mentioned Alessa's headache from the night before and even though Alessa insisted she was fine, Talya wouldn't let her go without taking a healing tea.

Feeling a little better, but not wanting to admit it, Alessa told Irina to go to bed; preferably someplace warmer than the attic. Dino found them as the two were arguing about who needed rest more and his suggestion that Irina did looked a little peaked sent the girl fleeing. Then she and Dino skulked out the kitchen entrance and took a roundabout way to the thieves' headquarters.

Their coats and boots had been brushed clean and re-oiled by the servants in the night and Alessa huddled into the warmth of her newly pliant leathers. The ruff of her fur hood had been entirely replaced and she was inordinately glad for the unknown servants' helpfulness.

There weren't as many thieves in evidence this early in the morning; most would be sleeping off a hard night's work. Dino spotted Khiril and wandered off to meet with the surly Russian. Alessa found Dmitriy working dagger drills with new recruits.

"Alessa!" he exclaimed when he noticed her, burnished copper eyes gleaming with liveliness as he waved her over, "Care to show the new boys here how a dagger fight is supposed to go?"

Alessa felt the slow surge of her body warm her extremities at the prospect of a battle. She grinned, suddenly feeling better. A darker gleam backlit the golden hue of Dmitriy's eyes and his smile became predatory. In response, Alessa tossed her heavy coat aside and drew her knuckle dagger from where it rode slung low across her hips.

The thief recruits fell back respectfully as she and Dmitriy circled each other. He tossed his wooden practice dagger aside and pulled his own sidearm, a stiletto. The thing could barely be considered the elegant stabbing tool that normally categorized such a weapon. Dmitriy's was thicker and carried a single edge instead of just the usual stabbing point. He held it back against the inside of his forearm, his weapon arm held back from battle.

They circled each other, their movements complementary and almost like a dance. Alessa felt her heartbeats quicken slightly, pumping heated blood through her chest. Her vision sharpened, senses became heightened. She had been missing this. Moscow had been nothing but agonizingly boring research and tedious recon. She was so ready to take a physical fight to the Templars. She bared her teeth at Dmitriy, not seeing him. Instead, she was seeing the faceless apparition of her enemy.

The floor was gritty with dirt and she was careful as she stepped sideways across from her adversary. It would be easy to slip here. Her ears told her that Dmitriy's breathing was already rapid; he was heady with anticipation, too. All of her body's senses took in information about her surroundings. Those crates were empty and would provide no purchase if she were backed into them. That wall, however, she could use to propel herself from out of a trap.

The light was good, clear and white; the sun was fully up for its short jaunt across the Russian winter sky. Gaps in the wall let it stream in.

Dmitriy swiped at her, the movement so skilled and effortless that it appeared lazy. Alessa was not fooled, and did not follow it into the opening Dmitriy gave her for the riposte. Instead, she brought her dagger arm forward in direct contrast to Dmitriy's, forearm parallel to the ground, in her favorite defensive stance. He relied on his speed to bring his dagger forward to make his defense. She relied on already being in a defensive position.

She feinted, not surprised when he ignored it.

Then, in a flurry of blows, they engaged. The sweet kiss of steel against steel rang out in a clear, bell-like tone, followed by the sound of air snapping out the excess cloth of their tunics as they whirled back into defensive stances.

Her heart was beating in earnest now, her breath flowing smooth and easy into and out of her lungs. With a sharp exhalation to direct her focus, she moved forward in attack just as Dmitriy passed the stack of empty crates. His footwork backwards was flawless as he executed an easy block - at least until he backed into the crates. The big pile teetered and he stumbled. Alessa had a chance to get in past his guard, but she let him recover.

His eyes smiled at her mischievously even as his jaw set into more determined lines. The riotous curl of his dark hair was like a halo of night around his head, highlighting the gleam of his expressive eyes. Alessa focused back on his body, watching for the cues of weakness.

For that was what a dagger fight was all about; it didn't allow for small mistakes due to the achingly close quarters of the fighting. Therefore all movements must be careful, coordinated, and the fighter must make more use of the environment that any other form of fighting save bare-handed.

They engaged in earnest after that, both of them quick and aggressive. Alessa strained to keep up with him; he was like lightning made living. Their daggers rang against each other almost continuously - a constant, ringing clarion of battle. Alessa's body sang along and together they moved faster, their blades searching, circling, and continuously nudging aside the other, only to be stopped by an answering flicker of steel.

A sudden, hot streak along her right forearm startled her; Dmitriy had drawn first blood. She embraced the burning pain and used it to continue momentum that should have faltered.

Stiffening the fingers of her left hand, she used some of Ezio's teachings for the first time in a fight. She jabbed her fingers into a sensitive part of Dmitriy's upper arm, then continued the movement, smashing her elbow into a similar spot at his wrist. His dagger went flying. His eyes widened as she drove her shoulder into his chest while simultaneously sliding one of her legs behind his. He sprawled to the dusty stone floor and she was on him, dagger to his throat, his free hand pinned under one of her knees.

His dagger hand would be useless; numb from the pressure point blow she had used to incapacitate him.

"Ouch," he said.

They grinned at each other and Alessa was amazed at his good-natured acceptance of his defeat. What a strange man…

She rolled off of him to her feet as he came nimbly to his. He turned to address his trainees, inconspicuously rubbing his wrist as one of them hurried to retrieve his dagger. Alessa looked down to inspect her dagger, noting with bemusement how notched the blade was becoming. She abused the hell out of the weapon – used it for blocking heavier weapons, for prying things open. She needed to get it to a blacksmith for retouching and maybe a new handle.

On that note, she bade Dmitriy a farewell, telling him that she'd be back to go over the Assassins' plans once they'd been finalized. They parted with amiable threats for a future sparring match and Alessa – feeling like a new person – leaned unobtrusively against a wall as she waited for Dino and Khiril to finish talking. Khiril eyed her belligerently in his insufferable way before stalking off to go harangue some other poor bastard. Alessa resisted the urge to trip him as he walked past her; would show his smug ass.

As she glared daggers at his departing back, Dino cleared his throat,

"You done?"

"Not yet," she growled under her breath.

"What?"

"Er, nothing. Did you find out more about the blacksmith?"

"Yup. Khiril's used him before. Want to go there now?"

"Yeah. Maybe he'll let me do some work at his forge."

"Let's go," Dino said, loping into place beside her as they layered on their winter clothing once again.

The bite of cold was becoming as familiar as the slinking presence of a vicious feral dog – stubbornly attached to its territory – and Alessa felt her body's energized warmth slowly being leeched away by her effort to remain warm.

"So I have another fight scheduled," Dino mentioned, "After Christmas."

"Who's sponsoring it?"

"Your boyfriend," Dino leered, the quirky grin the only part of his face that she could see from the shadows of his hood.

"Ugh. Stop." The cut on her forearm throbbed and she pressed her heavily gloved hand over the wound, wishing she had taken the time to bind it.

"No, it's good – means that it will have a bigger audience than the first fight. I'll have a more interesting opponent, too. The odds are almost three to one against me. We'll make a fortune when I win."

"Greedy, _ciccino_," she said with an acerbic grin, trying not to show the sudden nervousness that came upon her in a wave of hot dizziness. She stumbled, corrected herself, and didn't hear Dino's snarky reply.

She began to swallow repeatedly and suddenly stopped walking, resisting the urge to howl in frustration.

_Dio_, she swore if this nausea didn't stop coming and going, she was going to smash her own fucking skull in. That would make it go away, wouldn't it?

As she seethed with anger and the bitter tang of frustration, her headache came back and she swayed on her feet.

"Hey," she heard Dino say. She felt his hands grip her arms and his face came into view, the familiar eyes full of concern, "are you alright?"

"I am so tired of being sick," she said, just before her limbs started to tremble. She heard Dino's voice fade out as things went black.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

She surged out of unconsciousness with a yelp. Her body jack-knifed itself into a sitting position and she quickly assessed her location. A small, dark room lit by a single candle. She was in a narrow, hard bed; its twin was barely an arm's reach away. But despite the cramped nature of the space, it was clean. And it was warm. She could deal with anything as long as it was warm.

"Easy," murmured an unfamiliar voice. Female. Soothing.

"Dino?" Alessa asked, blinking rapidly. Her body ached strangely; her joints fairly creaked with tension as she forced his name out from between her teeth. The room swam as her vision blurred.

"You've been poisoned," came the relaxed cadence of Dino's voice in Italian. She slumped back into the pillows in relief. He was here. Everything would be fine.

"I'll leave you two," the unknown woman said calmly.

See, it would be fine; Alessa imagined there would be more scurrying and hand wringing if things weren't okay, right?

Except…

"Poisoned…" she said. Trying the word out in speech. Huh. No kidding.

"What did you do today? Eat? Drink?"

"Not much. You were there for most of it. I had breakfast with Talya and Irina. Ate the same things…" she trailed off and frowned… "Talya made me tea for my headache."

"Tea? What did it taste like?"

"A little bitter, but surprisingly good – for medicine."

Dino cursed,

"Did you see what she put in it?"

Alessa shrugged,

"Many of the herbs here are unfamiliar to me."

Dino paced and she sat up experimentally. When the vertigo remained elusive, she cautiously stood. Taking a deep breath, she held her arms out,

"See? I'm fine. Probably just a weird after effect of that headache." She cursed softly, "That's the last time I use Eagle Vision –"

"Listen," Dino interrupted, "From now on, no eating or drinking anything that you or I haven't prepared ourselves. There's something going on with you and we need to figure it out before we go accusing our allies of poisoning you."

Alessa nodded and rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled. She ignored the feeling,

"So where are we?"

"Blacksmith's. That was his sister, Daria. Mikhail is out and will return soon. I don't know how much she knows about the Assassin order, but she is used to people coming to meet with her brother," he shrugged, "At least that's the way it seems to me."

Alessa grunted.

Daria returned at that moment with a stack of clean towels folded and piled in a large porcelain bowl. She carried a pitcher that steamed in her other hand. The woman was Alessa's height, and also a brunette, her dark hair braided and pinned back. Her face was notable for the dark, exotically slanted eyes that Alessa had noticed on many of the similarly-featured Muscovites of Eastern ancestry. She wore a simple gown in muted colors, but her apron was bright red, as was the shawl around her shoulders. An Orthodox cross of unadorned silver hung suspended on a braided leather cord around her neck.

"Oh," she said, setting the items down on the nightstand beside the bed. "You're up. I came to tell you that Mikhail is back."

"I apologize for inconveniencing you," Alessa began. Daria waved her words away,

"It is nothing. My brother has interesting friends and it is always my pleasure to make you comfortable."

Alessa nodded, liking the woman's warm manner but finding that, just now, she couldn't trust it. Daria didn't appear to notice, simply offered to escort them out to the forge.

It was in a large shed across a tiny, snowy courtyard that was separated from the street by a tall wooden fence. Alessa eyed the barrier, noticing the martial appearance the sharpened tops gave it. A latched gate offered access for something no bigger than a horse. A lean-to stable took up the length of one wall and a couple of horses munched hay lazily in the stalls they occupied. One watched them from over its stall door, ears pricked forward as it noted their passage before it went back to its hay.

When Alessa hesitated before crossing the threshold into the forge, Daria spoke,

"No, just go in, you are most welcome," she said kindly. Alessa, feeling a little awkward being ushered in to interrupt a perfect stranger at his work, gave the woman a nervous smile.

She needn't have been. The forge was burning ferociously, but the owner seemed to have stepped out for a moment, probably to replenish the water in his quenching buckets, which were conspicuously absent.

The forge gave off an extraordinary amount of heat as they entered the workshop. Alessa took a moment to luxuriate in it and almost immediately started sweating in her overcoat. She looked around in interest as she hung the garment on a coat rack just inside the door and stomped her feet to rid them of the snow that had built up on her soles.

The building was larger than what Alessa had expected, and made mostly of stone. That was good, all the wood in this city made Alessa nervous; the place was perfectly seasoned for a blazing fire. She tried not to think of how many lives were lost in the winter fires that Dmitriy had told her plagued the city.

The forge was like any other in the world: heavy tools hung everywhere, raw materials, stacks of completed projects, and the many and sundry odds and ends that the man would need for his trade.

Her husband's forge came to mind and she closed her eyes as reverently brushed her fingers along the gleaming steel ingots, remembering the heft, _Dio_, even the smell of the metal. The sharp tang of it permeated the air and the spectacular heat warmed her as she hadn't been warmed since she had stepped off the boat onto the shores of this city.

"You must be Alessa and Dino?"

Alessa whirled, startled, and felt her hand rise protectively to her throat as she beheld the figure in the doorway that was clasping forearms with Dino,

"Ma'am?" the newcomer inquired, faint concern touching his features when she didn't immediately respond.

Because she was wallowing in sensory memories and didn't know what might come out of her mouth.

Mikhail looked nothing like him. Had not a facial feature in common with Vito. Not a goddamn one. But the casual slouch of the wide shoulders, the big hand that should have been clumsy would still be impossibly deft with the hammer it grasped… those things were Vito.

She gulped and focused on him. Blunt features, and most importantly, nondescript brown eyes, slanted like his sister's. Okay, she could handle that. She breathed easier and dipped her chin in greeting.

"Alessa Ricci," she said by way of introduction, lowering her chin respectfully. The brown eyes lit up in a friendly manner and she found herself smiling in reaction.

"Mikhail," he said, touching his chest with a big hand with scarred knuckles, "Nice to finally meet you. I hope my sister has shown you where you will be staying while you are with us?"

"She has, thank you,"

"Ah, good. I, ah… set some of the tools I use for more delicate work over at that workstation," he gestured briefly to a darker corner, "I was informed that you do much of your own maintenance of your weapons?"

"Ah, yes," Alessa replied, glancing at Dino and wondering how this man knew. Dino shrugged as Mikhail lumbered to his forge with the easy familiarity of a man comfortable in his own space.

Awkward silence. Alessa fidgeted, trying not to get too distracted as he pulled a glimmering, red-hot piece of steel from the fire with a pair of massive tongs. She looked away as he began hammering with powerful, expert swings of a heavy arm.

Well this was going to make matters difficult, wasn't it? She felt like the young girl she had once been, watching Vito at his forge all over again.

Clearing her throat, she took her hidden blade off and set them on the table as Dino appropriated a chair and stretched his feet out towards the heat of the forge with an appreciative sigh. Alessa set her knuckle dagger aside for reworking later and investigated the tools at her disposal.

The delicate instruments were of surprisingly high quality even given Mikhail's apparent success as a blacksmith. She lit a couple of tapers and set to work adjusting her hidden blade, not even noticing as Dino divested himself of his own hidden blade.

The men spoke in between the clang of hammer working the heated metal and the subsequent hissing of Mikhail quenching the metal. Alessa got lost in her work, paying just enough attention to find out that the Grand Prince's Christmas festivities were only two days away and that Nikolai was due back in the city at any time.

_Dio_, they had a lot of work to do.

And when had Christmas snuck up on them?

* * *

**A/N:**

**Things will be picking up after this point. No history for this chapter, but plenty for the next!**

**Russian: miliy (sweet), krasiv'iy (handsome)**

**Chapter 38 won't be long...**


	38. Moscow: What Lies Beneath

**A/N: *Don't forget to read 37 if you haven't already* Dig in and hang on! Action will be picking up from here on out...**

**Metallica's "Astronomy" provided ambiance for the Sviblova tower scene, Epica's "The Valley" for the Dormition scene**

**Already got reviews for 37 from flyingcrispi, ecnal, disciple65, and of course, the master beta, Shamazaki... much love to you, speed readers!**

**Long live ...stargate...Ubisoft...*sparkle***

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

She tried not to stare. She really did try. Because she wasn't a damn country bumpkin, unused to the splendor of royal residences. _Cristu_. But even as immune as she thought she was to architectural wonders, she could barely contain her gawking as she entered Grand Prince Ivan's throne room and formal reception hall.

The Terem Palace was also called the Palace of the Facets due to the unique architectural features of the outside building that gave the magnificent residence its name. The sharp angles created by the stonework did indeed remind Alessa of an exquisitely cut gemstone. The peculiar lavender light cast by the unique glass of the street lanterns even seemed to make the limestone gleam like the gemstones it could inevitably be compared to.

It was probably just her imagination.

Even more humbling was the fact that the murdered Assassin, Pietro Solari, had been one of the Italian architects to design the grand building. She breathed a quiet prayer for him, but was unable to feel saddened; who knew how long this building would stand as a testament to his memory.

But the throne room gave another – she giggled to herself – facet, to the naming convention of the building. The Grand Prince's reception hall was beyond opulent. The four cross-vaults making the ceiling rose a full story and a half above the heads of the gathered crowd of nobles. The Grand Prince's throne was suitably raised on a dais that would allow him to look over the heads of those sworn to his service.

The vaults above were gilded and shone with heavy radiance in the flickering light of the huge chandeliers. An army of servants would have had to work for days to make the starburst-patterned parquet floor gleam with its own warm, buttery light.

Those features alone would have impressed her with the Grand Prince's wealth, but the addition of faceted mirrors lining the walls gave the space a surrealistic feeling that made Alessa feel as if she were in a dream.

She felt like this was all a dream, for certain. She had thought herself overdressed in her heavy silk gown of gathered sapphire skirts and white bodice embroidered with thread of gold. A tear-drop shaped sapphire hung in the hollow of her throat from a chain so fine it was nearly invisible, replacing the gold crucifix she usually wore as the noblewoman, Alessandra.

The Muscovite nobles, for all their wealth, went about their everyday business in dark coats and demure gowns; a symptom of their rigorous Orthodox faith. But for this, Ivan's celebration of a millennia and a half old birthday, the nobles were splendidly outfitted in every color of gown, jewel, and footwear that Alessa could imagine.

Dino was a monochromatic contrast beside her, a study in unrelieved black tunics and trousers. His head was freshly shorn in preparation for his next bout. He looked undoubtedly martial in the studded leather kilt and eagle motif sword belt that went with the Armor of Romulus, even as his empty sword scabbard clattered against his thigh, his weapon once again temporarily confiscated by the palace guards. Alessa had smuggled his hidden blade in under her skirts and they had spent an awkward moment getting it back on him and secured beneath the over-lapping plates of the Romulus gauntlets. Her hidden blade was secure beneath the voluminous sleeve of her gown.

Looked like she could continue to count on the royal guards' laxity when it came to disarming a woman.

And on that note, Alessa felt herself scowl.

Nikolai Zakharin-Yuriev.

She hated that smug bastard even more than she hated Khiril.

Why couldn't all the Russians be more like Dmitriy? Or Vasiliy?

She smoothed her facial expression hastily as Dino gave her an odd look,

"You okay?" he asked.

"Fine," she replied, "Just… thinking about things." Dino grunted and then fell into Italian, leaning closer to her and speaking quietly, his face intent and utterly solemn,

"Well, stop making faces when you do it or people might think you're constipated."

"Seriously?" Alessa said, "You're seriously going to be a smartass here?"

"Are you kidding me?" He swept his arm out to encompass their lavish surroundings, his expression a parody of her slack-jawed awe from earlier and his tone undeniably scornful, "This is the best time to be a smartass. Otherwise I might die of boredom."

Alessa sniggered,

"Awww, you don't enjoy mincing about like a nobleman?"

"_Tesora_, I never mince."

"Sure you don't," she agreed amiably, a raised eyebrow showing her skepticism, "Then why don't you just sashay out to your recon area so…"

"…so you can find some quiet time with lover boy?" he interrupted with a leer.

Alessa grinned,

"Exactly."

"I knew it. After the jewels," he intoned sagely. He gave her a bow for appearance's sake and then announced his intention of retiring to the kitchens with the rest of the servants in his halting Russian so that people nearby could hear.

Alessa abruptly missed their familiar ritual of touching foreheads briefly before separating for individual missions. To cover her consternation, she turned away from watching him leave. Unfortunately that meant that she fell back into her thoughts of Nikolai.

The man had shown up at _Rosla_ late the night before, in response to Talya's summons.

He was a fairly tall man – just about Ezio's height – broad of shoulder, and moved with the elegant self-awareness of those born to privilege. Middle age was catching up to him by way of a slight thickening about his middle and by the graven lines of his brow. His beard was lightly streaked with silver, but the hair on his head remained black as night.

He was terse to the point of rudeness. He outlined his part in the plans to publicly imitate the Strigolniki and lure the Templars away from the Kremlin to be assassinated in a way that the sect would be blamed for the deaths. Alessa and Dino would rely on him to help quell whatever civilian unrest might be kindled by the very public display and to provide safe haven for them from pursuers.

And that was it.

Dino was thrilled to have a plan and a concrete mission.

Alessa hid her misgivings. It was probably the whole poisoning incident but she couldn't bring herself to trust him. And the fact that he was as one-sidedly condescending as Khiril didn't help matters.

Yup.

She wanted to punch Nikolai right in the face too.

Damn the niceties of polite society.

"You appear… distracted."

Flushing, Alessa looked up to meet Vasiliy's pale blue eyes. She mustered up some convincing bluster to cover up her previous expression as she curtseyed,

"Your highness is most kind; distracted is exactly the look I was attempting to convey."

Vasiliy chuckled,

"Indeed? Well, I was most convinced," he held out his arm, "If I may take a liberty and beg for your attention, I have some people I would like you to meet."

"Oh, well, I suppose I can spare the consideration… for you. But don't tell anyone or they'll all be clamoring to relieve me of my befuddlement." She grinned at the prince, enjoying the light banter and his attention as he led her across the room, guiding her through groups of people as they mingled. They drew many a curious and knowing stare, but no one approached them.

Alessa had just begun to notice that the din of conversation had quieted when Vasiliy stopped with her just to the side of the dais for the pair of thrones. She fell silent in sudden understanding. Vasiliy noticed,

"Don't worry," he soothed.

Don't worry?

_Don't fucking worry? _She and Dino were in the city to distract the Grand Prince away from the Assassin Order.

And here she was, about to be paraded right under the man's nose.

No, wait.

This should be _fun_, dammit. She loved a challenge.

So why was she shaking in her satin freaking slippers? Pathetic.

Clasping her fingers more securely about Vasiliy's forearm, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

The Grand Prince entered with his striking wife on his arm. Vasiliy's father appeared every bit the aged military commander that he was. His beard and hair were entirely white and his face showed his rather advanced age. But his body remained un-stooped and he still had the unconscious grace of a swordsman.

His robes were opulent: gold and crimson and rich with embroidery. But the only jewelry he wore was his crown, a simple golden circlet encrusted with the red stones that were prevalent on Vasiliy's sword hilt.

Sofia, his second wife, was noticeably younger. Alessa guessed her to be in her forties, but she wore her age well. Instead of fading into matronly softness, she had become the epitome of mature elegance. Her hair was still a rich mahogany, and was secured back under a platinum tiara set with smaller versions of the rubies that rode her husband's crown. More red gems sparkled in her earlobes and at her throat. Her gown appeared almost plain next to her husband's royal garments, but she still outshone every woman in the room.

The upswept hair revealed almost dainty high cheekbones and a smooth brow. Her face was oval-shaped and she had full lips. Her nose was the only feature that kept her from being a classic beauty, but Alessa still considered her to be quite handsome.

Vasiliy had gone rigid beside her, and oddly enough, his discomfort was what put her at ease.

"What are you so nervous about?" she muttered to him under her breath.

"Father... he doesn't approve of our… friendship."

"So why doesn't he forbid it?"

At her question, Vasiliy smiled nervously,

"Because my mother wants to meet you first."

"Oh."

"It's complicated," he muttered sullenly.

The royal couple painstakingly made their initial rounds of their favorites, and then settled themselves upon the elaborate chairs presiding over the crowd on the dais. Vasiliy tugged on her arm at Ivan's glance and, not being able to do anything else, Alessa let herself be presented to the very man she was working to keep her Order a secret from.

She lowered her chin as she sank into her curtsey, rising at Ivan's command. As she came up, she looked, not at the Grand prince, but at Sofia, whose brilliant dark eyes abruptly gave her the impression of a raven: bright with intelligence, curiosity, and a hint of mischievous humor. Despite the color, she recognized them as Vasiliy's eyes.

And she suddenly knew that, despite all the speculation on whether Vasiliy or his nephew, Dmitiry, would win the crown after Ivan's death, this one woman would ensure that her son would come out on top.

Alessa was sure of it.

It was Sofia who greeted her first,

"We have heard much about you, Alessandra. You are from… was it _Ispaniya_?"

"_Italia_, Majesty," Alessa murmured respectfully.

"Ah, yes, I lived in your country as a girl," Sofia replied, her eyes sparkling with mirth, "A land of creativity and work ethic, as the walls of our Kremlin attest. I have fond memories of my time in _Roma_ as a girl."

"Indeed?" Alessa replied drily, unsure how else to reply to the hint at refuge the Princess had sought in _Italia_ after the defeat of Sofia's Ottoman royal family.

"Oh yes, an ancient place, _Roma_, and steeped in such an aura of mystery. But past its prime, I think," she looked up and gestured to someone behind Alessa, who had to struggle not to turn and look. "I would like you to meet some dear friends of mine, visiting from _Roma_. Antonio's family sheltered me while I lived there."

Oh shit.

Alessa made her face pleasant as she endured pleasant introductions to a couple in their thirties. Vasiliy looked pleased beside her, beaming at the couple and greeting them warmly.

Sofia nodded regally over the social niceties and then her voice grew cool, dangerous, as she addressed Alessa again,

"Now what brings you to my land?"

Taken aback, Alessa fell into her cover story with less grace than she would have liked,

"I…. just wanted to see some of the world."

"So you come to the Duchy of _Moskva_?" the Grand Prince inquired, not bothering to hide his skepticism. Alessa was startled anew by his interjection, but recognized that the royal couple were trying to throw her off her guard. The Italians looked rather confused but hid their discomfit well.

"Yes, Majesty."

"Why?" he barked the question like an order to a soldier.

Both monarchs were watching her intently and Alessa sensed that she could be in very real danger. A fleeting thought made her grateful that she had worn gloves; no need to repeat that incident in _Napoli_ with her ring finger. Vasiliy opened his mouth to intercede but was quelled by a sharp look from his father. Alessa was on her own.

"When my husband… died, I wanted to see something of lands other than my own." Suddenly, the story she had concocted for Vasiliy seemed childish and very sketchy.

"Moscow is hardly the first choice for a widowed Italian noblewoman to come to. Unless of course she was here to find another husband, near to her own age…" Sofia trailed off meaningfully.

Alessa nearly wept in relief. They didn't think she was a spy or Assassin; they thought she was hunting a crown!

"I assure you, Majesties," Alessa said with more confidence than before, "His Highness is only a friend. I met him only by accident."

This seemed to placate the monarchs, and Alessa's countrywoman interceded quickly in an attempt to disperse the awkward situation.

"Where are you from?" the woman, Viola, asked politely, speaking Russian in deference their hosts.

Alessa thought furiously, trying to pin the woman's accent and making sure her fictional family didn't come from that area…

"Ah, …near Venice…" Fuck. Why had she said that?

"Oh? I have relatives in that duchy. But I don't recognize your surname. What was your maiden name?"

Damn. Damn. _Damn!_

Out of the pot and into the fire indeed! No wonder Sofia had called them over; she knew the Italians, of all the people there, would be the best ones to catch her in a lie.

And then inspiration hit,

"Sozzi," Alessa's breath hitched on the syllables in unfeigned emotion and the woman's eyes immediately softened in sympathy.

"Oh my dear, I am sorry,"

"For what?" Sofia asked.

"Cesare Borgia," Viola started, glancing at Alessa in apology, "took over the ancestral lands, rather violently. In his conquest of the northern states. Your majesties know of this?"

The Grand prince nodded, his expression relaying immediate understanding. Sofia, however, was relentless,

"How did you manage escape?"

"I was in the city… in Venice… shopping. After… I stayed for a while. But… ah…" her Russian faltered.

Son of a bitch. She felt horrible using Tullio's family to cover up her mistake. But the nobles mistook her stricken expression and the verbal mess she was making for true grief and subtly steered the conversation to less personal matters.

Which had been her intent.

But that didn't mean she had to like it.

Ivan and Sofia grew bored with her after that and Vasiliy extricated them both, whisking Alessa away from the main room to a smaller room that was nevertheless populated by extravagantly clad guests watching a young woman play an exquisitely tuned harpsichord. The girl's skill was mediocre at best, but Alessa couldn't help but take her presence at the instrument as a reprimand for using Tullio's family as her own.

_Cristu_, she felt horrible.

But Vasiliy, bless his heart, wouldn't let her brood. He appropriated two of the tiny glasses of vodka that servants were circulating among the guests and toasted her. Alessa drank, knowing that the possibility of being poisoned through the generalized dispersal method of the drinks was very slim.

She jumped when Vasiliy quaffed his and then smashed the empty glass by hurling it forcefully against the ground. A servant came out of nowhere to clean the mess up.

"Uh," Alessa said, her own empty glass dangling from her fingertips.

"So no one else ever drinks a superior toast to you from that glass."

"Oh," Alessa said, oddly touched. Then she grinned and hurled her own glass to the floor.

"Another?" Vasiliy asked.

"Until we're swimming in it," Alessa agreed. Vasiliy gestured to the servant who had hastily moved to clean up Alessa's mess,

"Well, you heard the lady…"

They were well on their way through their own bottle of the clear liquor by the time the girl at the harpsichord finished her piece and another took her place. At that point, Vasiliy was well into a vodka-fueled rant as they sat companionably at a small table in a corner, set up for chess. They had attempted to start a game but neither was making very much headway.

"My mother has been trying to convince my father to crown me his heir instead of my nephew, Dmitriy," Vasiliy was pontificating as he held a knight in his hand, trying to decide whether to take Alessa's rook or set his knight up for sacrifice.

"Maybe it should be _you_ that discusses it with him," she pointed out with inebriated brevity, gesturing with her vodka glass. Liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim and so she drank it down before she got it on her gown. "He has given you control of newly acquired lands Novgorod, was it? – such is the trust he has for you. Perhaps that was an indication that he wants you to step up and show that you have the ability to lead... Just pick a spot already!"

Vasiliy stared at her for a moment, his eyes opaque. He set the knight down absent-mindedly and was silent for so long that she thought perhaps she had been a little too honest and she lowered her gaze,

"I'm sorry, _vashe vi'sochestva_. It's not my place to –"

"No," he interrupted. When she looked up, his eyes were lit from within, fervent as he pondered the possibility, "No, you are absolutely correct."

He was pensive for a time, swirling the vodka in his glass and staring into it as if it held answers for him. Then he set it down, eyes bright with drink and enthusiasm and waved a footman over, whispering in the man's ear.

"I have something for you," he said, as the servant returned.

"What?" Alessa stammered in surprise as Vasiliy took a silk-wrapped bundle from the uniformed footman, who bowed deeply before leaving as unobtrusively as he had arrived.

"It's Christmas, isn't it?" he teased.

"Uh," she replied, and Vasily sniggered delightedly as he dropped the package into her lap. It fit in the cradle of her two hands as she lifted it. With bated breath, she drew the silken wrappings apart in a whisper of parting cloth, and the ends of the long strip of silk pooled in a crimson fall onto her lap.

The gift was a _matroishka_, one of the nesting dolls she had seen sold at market. She wasn't sure if they were toys or decorations. But this one… to say it was simply a doll was to say that a hidden blade was simply a dagger.

It was a magnificent work of art: the tiny feminine face painted in a style similar to the Orthodox icons, but with a profusion of color and contrast that the comparatively somber holy images lacked. Green and red and black dominated, with touches of gilding providing even more contrast. The embroidery painted in the figure's background tended towards flowers and thorns intertwining in exotic patterns. She turned the piece around and around in her hands, finding some new, impossibly minute detail each time her mind got used to the vibrant colors.

Vasiliy laughed again,

"I almost forgot your fascination with color and form. Open it, _malyutka_."

Slowly, Alessa twisted the two halves of the stubby doll apart, releasing the exquisite scent of freshly shaved cedar and oil paint. The next doll was done in purple and yellow and white with animal imagery. The next one, every shade of blue imaginable surrounded the doll's figure in abstract patterns that could have been wind or water. She could have spent hours studying just the enviable colors that artist had had to work with, but Vasiliy was fidgeting noticeably so she pried open the final doll.

The smallest figure of the set resembled the others in shape only. It was carved to hold what appeared to be a signet ring in place. Puzzled, Alessa removed the ring for a closer look.

"I had it made," Vasiliy said quietly, as she inspected it. She recognized the double –headed eagle; it was stamped on the hilt of his sword.

"My personal crest," he replied to her questioning look, his cheeks flushing slightly as she gazed at him in astonishment and confusion.

"You –"

"If you are ever in need," he rushed on, "Simply present that to any of my father's soldiers. Any message you send will be conducted straight to me."

"I – It…" It was an extravagant gift, worth well beyond the metal cast to create it. Alessa didn't know what to say. She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Then she stared at him, considering...

And made a decision.

"Vasiliy," she began, hesitating before diving in, "I want to tell you the real reason I have come to Moscow."

"Indeed?" Vasiliy replied, "You are not here for a husband?"

Alessa snickered, "Not even close." She leaned in close, smelling a subtle hint of lavender and steel on him.

Nice…

She shook her head; no time to get side-tracked by how much she missed Ezio. Her head briefly hurt but she ignored it.

"But I _have_ come to plunder your land… I am…"

Leaned closer still, made a show of looking about conspiratorially. Vasiliy's lips parted and his pupils dilated…

"… a treasure hunter."

Silence. Vasiliy leaned away and looked mildly disappointed, his eyes narrow with suspicion. Alessa watched him, tranquil in her deceit. It was interesting; he detected unconsciously that something was off, but couldn't figure it out.

Well, of course he did, she was lying her ass off.

But how else could she compete with his extravagant gift?

An interesting display of expressions flashed across his face, lightening and darkening his blue eyes in turn; skepticism, distrust, and disappointment followed by the first stirrings of curiosity. It was this latter trait that she had counted on bringing out of him. As soon as she saw the subtle inquisitive glint lighten the suspicion marring his eyes, she pounced.

Alessa drew the map she had copied from the painting out of a small pouch at her belt and passed it wordlessly to him, hoping like hell that she wasn't making a bad decision. His help would be instrumental in finding the entrance that she suspected was somewhere inside the Dormition Cathedral.

She spoke as he unfolded the parchment to look at the copy she had made of the hidden map.

"You have given me an extravagant gift, Highness," she murmured with what she hoped the right amount of awed gratitude. Wasn't hard to fake, for she truly felt overwhelmed by the casual display of power represented by his gift, "I only wish to reciprocate."

He finally looked at her. Skepticism was gone completely, replaced by befuddlement.

"But…" he stammered, groping about for the words that eluded him. Then he found what he was looking for and his face fell into their regal lines of command again, "But you are a woman!"

Oh.

Alessa let out a surprised bark of laughter,

"Is that all you Russians care about? That I am a woman?" she giggled, knowing the sound wasn't helping her case but unable to do anything other; she could do most of the things that men could, but men just didn't realize it. Neither had she, for much of her life. She realized that the Creed was once again her guidepost; Nothing is True.

Not even social restrictions imposed by years of never questioning the status quo.

"Oh yes, my prince," she purred, "I am a woman." She imbued the word with an air of mystery and excitement. Vasiliy's cheeks turned pink again and she pretended that she hadn't noticed, "And I am prepared to go find whatever this map leads to, with or without you."

Fuck it. She wasn't playing games any more. She truly wanted him to come, just to change his worldview on the status of women. Just a little bit. Or maybe she wanted him to see her as a comrade-in-arms. A partner in an adventure, away from court and the tension between male and female. So it wasn't a fake tone of voice she adopted as she challenged him. There might have even been a hint of wheedling.

"So are you going to come or not?"

"Your map looks very new."

"I had to copy it," Alessa said, "The original scroll wouldn't have made the trip."

It didn't take him long to decide before he took her hand and they were slinking down back corridors of the palace to his rooms. On the way, they excitedly made plans that involved Alessa borrowing some of his clothing – she very well couldn't go crawling about underground in the heavy gown – sneaking out the window of his room, and navigating out of the palace unknown so they could enter the Cathedral.

"Your reputation will suffer after this, you know," Vasiliy whispered near her ear as he ushered her into his room and dismissed the startled guard.

"Why?" she asked as he pulled some clothing from a wardrobe and tossed it at her.

"Because," he said, moving from the wardrobe and into another room for a moment. He reappeared with a pair of old leather boots whose soles looked very small in his hands, "Here, try these... Because nothing is a secret in my father's court. People will have seen you enter my rooms. What would you think? From their point of view?"

"Is a tryst such a bad thing here?"

"Do you want to find out?" he asked, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by an unmistakable darkness. Alessa laughed nervously and side-stepped when he reached for her,

"As if you don't have your choice of any woman you want, my prince," she hedged, ignoring him he prowled after her. He stopped when she raised her brows at him, looking thoughtful. Then he shrugged,

"You're right. There's plenty that are prettier than you, too."

Alessa scoffed at him,

"Please. Don't let me get in your way. Besides I thought we were going treasure hunting under the Dormition?"

He tsked,

"Fine. Try those on. They should fit; I wore them when I was younger."

It didn't take them long to change out of their finery. On a whim, Alessa tied the long strip of crimson silk that had wrapped her _matroishka_ to her belt at her right hip. Vasiliy gave her a leather satchel to carry her gift and she slung it across her chest. Then they began to seriously assess their needs for the cryptic mission.

Ha.

Cryptic.

Because no doubt there'd be an absolutely delightful plethora of crypts to spelunk through underneath a church.

Smothering her laughter, Alessa made an effort to focus on the matter at hand and thought about similar missions she'd gone on in_ Roma_:

"Rope. Light. Water. A basic set of tools. Maybe some chalk in case we need to do some of our own navigating," she ticked off the items on her fingers. Vasiliy rummaged for a while and produced everything save the rope.

"How much you think we'll need?"

"Not much. Just in case one of us falls or we need to descend further than we can jump. If it's too deep we'll have to turn back anyway."

Vasiliy nodded and grinned suddenly. Alessa got a sinking feeling in her gut.

He walked to the outer door, opened it a crack and whispered to the guard outside. She heard him, as he meant her to, as he waggled his brows at her while he gave his request,

"I need a coil of rope, Boris, three lengths should be plenty."

He closed the door – the finality of its click she could only characterize as smug – and smirked at her.

"You might be defiling yourself by spending the night with me," he said, "But by the time my manservant gets back, the stories that will be circulating will be so wild that no one could possibly shun you for it."

"Thanks," Alessa said drily, surreptitiously adjusting her hidden blade under the sleeves that were still too long for her.

Their final item of gear arrived with a surprising quickness and then they were unlatching the shutters to an outer courtyard that contained what would be a rather lovely fountain and garden during warmer months.

"Which way?" Alessa whispered, after they gained the roof. Their voices would carry in the clear air and guards were patrolling everywhere.

He pointed and they traversed the roof in near silence. She was impressed; his movements were efficient and he looked to be in possession of admirable stamina. He looked so young and inexperienced sometimes that she forgot he was still a soldier.

They entered the cathedral through a side door and crept into the shadows. Alessa felt her heart leap in recognition at _Vladimirskaya_ sitting serenely amidst the prayer candles of her followers. Together, by the light of those candles, Alessa and Vasiliy consulted her map.

"I don't understand," he said, "This corridor it indicates shows that the entrance to the underground in within the corridor my family uses to travel here from the palace during inclement weather. I've never seen the door."

Alessa had her suspicions about how the entrance would be found and she pressed her fingertips comfortingly to her temple.

She would never get away from Eagle Vision, would she?

"Take me there," Alessa said, "We'll figure it out."

Leaving the hushed splendor of the dark cathedral, Vasiliy led her through a door into a side chapel and from thence down a flight of gritty stones steps into a narrow passageway that was sparsely lit by a few guttering torches. Oily smoke caught in her nostrils as she eased past the first one. Vasiliy's hand took hers and he led her confidently through what very rapidly became a maze of identical corridors.

They came to a halt at a junction of four passages.

"This is the closest approximation I can guess that the entrance would be at," Vasiliy said, watching her as she crept around the open space.

The halls met at strange angles; usually a hub like this would have had the portals arranged at right angles to each other. Instead, the angles were off; the halls did not run parallel here.

Not wanting to use her special vision unless she absolutely had to, Alessa took off her right glove, closing her eyes and letting her fingertips scuff along the rough-hewn stone. It was in a far corner, in an accidental-looking nook, that she felt the texture change. Her eyes popped open and she put her gloves back on.

Splaying her fingers across the surface she looked back at Vasiliy and jerked her chin meaningfully. He brought their torch closer. As she watched him, she smiled. In his heavy soldier's coat, dusty grey _ushanka_, and heavy coil of rope slung across his chest, he almost looked like the ruler he would most likely be: stoic, dedicated, and righteous.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied, "Bring the light closer."

She heaved a breath and focused.

Eagle Vision came easily and the symbol of the Assassin order appeared on the stone, lower than she would have expected. Hastily, she let her vision shift, experimentally touched the back of her wrist to her nose, and breathed a sigh of relief.

It had to be prolonged use, then. Good to know.

She went down to one knee and ran her gloved hands over the area she had seen the symbol, not surprised to discover an anomaly in the stone.

"Pass me the hammer and chisel," she whispered breathlessly to her comrade. Vasiliy was equally intent as he procured the items for her. Alessa carefully tapped at the suspicious patch and managed to chisel off some badly mortared stone.

As the pieces fell to the ground in a gritty sound of sliding crushed rock, Vasiliy muttered something too complex for her to make out; sounded like a cross between a curse and a prayer. Entranced, Alessa dug her fingertips into the crevices of the locking mechanism she had revealed to remove the last bits of mortar.

"Huh," she said, leaning back on her haunches to inspect what they had found. Vasiliy knelt beside her and, holding the torch aloft, reached out to touch his fingertips to the keyhole.

"That figures," he said, "You don't happen to have a key, do you?"

She was perplexed, and then saw the tiny Assassin symbol once again, carved into the metal just below the keyhole. Lifting her left arm, she abruptly looked over her shoulder,

"Did you hear something?"

"What?" Vasiliy asked, jerking to his feet. He cocked his head to the side, listening, "Nothing."

Alessa shrugged. Damn. Looked like she wasn't going to fool him a second time. He wasn't leaving her alone like he had back when she'd first met him.

"See if you have something in your tool kit that will fit in that," she suggested.

When he was preoccupied with that, she swiftly unsheathed her hidden blade and jammed it into the lock.

It fit perfectly and a quick twist made something heavy, deep within the bowels of the earth, rumble. The sound actually made her insides feel a bit strange and she pressed a hand to her sternum as the bass rumble persisted. She retracted her hidden blade and hid the action by making it look as if she were re-sheathing her belt dagger.

She turned and needn't have worried about the act. Vasiliy was staring at the ground beneath their feet in a combination of horror and manic glee as dust rained down on their heads from the ceiling of the stone tunnels as they continued to rumble ominously.

A sharp crack brought both of their attention back to the stone door that was withdrawing somehow into the ground, revealing an ancient set of stairs leading down into darkness. The heavy rumbling stopped.

The air seemed to be sucked down that forbidding hole, as if the cavern/hole were holding its breath, awaiting their decision on whether or not to descend into its depths.

"Okay then," Alessa said, with a relieved breath.

Vasiliy looked from her to the door, his eyes a bit wild.

"Okay then," he replied with shaky laughter.

He insisted on going first with the torch and they descended the steep staircase. An overwhelming, unknown scent inundated them. It was like the scent of time, of _old_, made up of individual sensory elements: the heavy, dusty scent of ancient stone; the oppressive stillness and chill of being deep underground, the weight of the earth hovering above them; the all-consuming, terror-inducing, almost _tangible_ press of the dark …

"How long has the city been here?" Alessa asked, her voice small in the overwhelming dark that the torch did little to brighten.

"At least since the 11th century," Vasiliy replied, still sounding dazed, "Stories say, however, that this site on Borovitsky hill was very special, thus the reason for raising the church on it."

"You don't say," Alessa murmured, excitement thrumming through her chest. Ancient places kept alive through stories. It was like something out of another's life.

She lost count of the number of steps they descended. They must be deep indeed.

The end came abruptly.

"Right or left?" Vasiliy asked, timidly holding his torch first one way and the other, to no avail; it looked alike on either side.

"Left," Alessa said, very quietly.

"Why are you whispering?" Vasiliy whispered.

"I don't know," she replied, just as softly, "Do you want to be the first to talk in a normal tone?" She gestured to the expectant darkness, "Be my guest."

He wheezed with quiet laughter, not wanting to pierce the silence even with mirth.

They consulted the map. This lower level was a veritable warren of dead ends and the going was frustrating. They used the chalk to mark off the 'dead' passageways and systematically managed to pick their way through the confusion.

Soon she forgot exactly how deep they were in the mental exercise of determining the route through.

"It's like a maze," Vasiliy commented.

"This is the last tunnel," Alessa said as they came to yet another dead end.

"No, it isn't," Vasiliy said, looking up. Alessa followed his gaze and saw an opening large enough for a man Dino's height to pass through – if that man could scale the sheer wall… Alessa squinted, shifted her vision…. Yup, yet another Assassin symbol glowed with its own light in the darkness near the top. She briefly wondered if they could have skipped the guessing and followed invisible Assassin symbols all the way to their destination.

Not that she had any intention of finding out.

"Up it is," she said to the prince.

"How?"

She studied the height, looked at him, looked up…

"If you give me a boost, I can make it," she said.

"A boost…" Vasiliy's expression was skeptical. Alessa grinned at him.

"Yes, here, back up…" she adjusted his stance, showed him what she needed him to do, and then stepped back to assess again. His face was priceless,

"You're going to do it, aren't you?" he said dazedly.

"_We're_ going to make it happen, now concentrate; the timing has to be exactly right…"

She leaned forward, swung her arms experimentally at her sides. She wasn't fond of sprinting but she needed the impetus. She dug her toes into the dirt, grinding the balls of her feet down for purchase and then exploded into motion. She sprinted at the prince, who looked totally astonished for a fleeting second before the lines of his face settled into an expression of complete focus.

She timed the length of her steps and reached him just in time to step into his linked hands. In the time it took for her to step forward, Vasiliy had tossed her high with a grunt of effort, and her toe hit the wall. She managed to actually push herself the extra length up and she scrabbled at the edge for a breathless moment before her fingers gained purchase.

"Ha!" Vasiliy's voice echoed weirdly down the tunnels as she swung there and he exulted. Giddy laughter reached her ears and she craned her neck to look down and see him. He was beaming up at her like a boy, his face flushed with effort and the rush of success.

Feeling rather excited herself, Alessa dug her fingertips deeper into the stone, sending a stinging cascade of dirt and small stones down into her face, before tensing her gut and heaving herself up over the edge in a single, fluid movement…

"_Cazzo_!" she hollered as she gained the ledge, only to nearly tumble over the other side. She scrabbled against the stone as her body slowly slid over, and managed to catch herself just before the passing the point in which her weight would turn into unstoppable momentum. Breathing like a bellows from the effort, she hauled herself up with a more conservative movement and rested there for a moment on her hands and knees, panting.

Vasiliy's laughter had stopped,

"You okay?" came his concerned inquiry.

"Fine," she called down, "Good toss, by the way."

"What's up there?"

"Not much," she replied, getting to her feet and dusting off her hands, "The ledge isn't very big; I almost went over the other side."

"What can you see?"

"It's too dark."

"Haul me up; I'll bring the torch."

He tossed the rope up and she managed to hold it while he climbed, agonizingly slow, hampered as he was by the torch.

Both of them panting, they eased into a sitting position, their legs hanging over the edge into the blackness that the torch did little to penetrate. They were literally blind to their next move. They had no way of knowing how far down the ground was from the wall on this side. There was no way to scale the wall and she wasn't taking the risk of climbing down the rope; if the drop was too deep, a fall would kill or, at the least, severely injure one of them.

"Maybe we should turn back… you know, come back with better provisions?"

Alessa made a noncommittal sound, leaned forward as she squinted furiously, trying to see something… anything. Then, not knowing what else to do, she used her Eagle Vision again.

The darkness didn't change, but damn her if that 'invisible' ink didn't shimmer into existence. It revealed that she could jump across three beams and gain the opposite side. It didn't reveal what lay below.

Shifting her vision back to normal, she felt her body tremble violently once in fear at what would happen if she fell. Then she took a deep, steadying breath and consulted the map.

Vasiliy was silent as she studied the lines on the paper. When she looked at him, his eyes repeated his earlier question.

Alessa shook her head,

"No, whatever our destination is lies just beyond this obstacle. I'm going for it."

He nearly recoiled in shock at her statement and she could only give him a rueful shrug. She eyeballed him and then reached forward to his jacket lapels. He had wisely worn only a light coat made of wool. It looked quite worn and she suspected that he normally wouldn't have much use for it. Leaning towards him, she slid her hands inside his coat and gripped the liner. By the texture, it was made of rough-spun, unbleached linen and would be perfect for what needed.

So focused was she on her thought process, that she didn't notice that he had gone very still. His body heat had warmed her hands in those brief moments, especially where her knuckles brushed his ribs. When she looked up into his face and noticed his expression – half-confused, half-encouraging – she grinned at him,

"Mind if I borrow this?"

"Uh, yes?" he said, the confused half of his expression taking over.

"Thanks," and without further ado she ripped his liner out of his jacket.

She wadded the torn handfuls of cloth up and tied the ends together, then held the wad out to him.

"Light it," she said.

He looked at her like she was stark raving mad, but he did as she asked. She watched the torch dip down briefly and touch the cloth, which began to burn with satisfying speed. With a quick flick of her wrist, she tossed the burning ball in a perfect arc across the chasm. It briefly lit the beams as it passed over them and landed on the other side, sputtering a bit before it went out.

"Hurnh?" Vasiliy managed, staring at the distant embers that still burned faintly.

"I'll do it," she said to him.

"Yeah, uh huh, and then what?"

"We'll see when I get there."

"You're crazy."

"I've been called worse," she said. He moved aside to give her a clear start. The torch may have trembled a little bit, but she wasn't pointing it out to him – guy thought she was going to try to jump the beams blind.

Getting to her feet, she took a breath, shifted her weight experimentally, and went to the balls of her feet. It was silent save for her breaths, which came as if she were preparing to dive under water or something. Then she shifted her vision.

The beams gleamed softly in the dark and suddenly her nervousness left her – this would be easy; she made jumps like this all the time. She was able to take a single step to launch herself forward into the darkness. She sailed through the air and landed on the first beam without incident. She didn't hesitate, but bent her legs and sprang for the next one. On the third beam, she slipped, startled when the thing creaked alarmingly, and crashed onto the stone floor beyond it with a decidedly unladylike grunt and curse.

"Made it!" she called out to Vasiliy's torch-bearing form across the way.

"What now?" he called.

She didn't reply, distracted as she was by the Assassin marker gleaming on a heavy wooden lever. Without hesitation, she reached out and grasped the thing, wrenching it out of its cradle and cranking the cog as far as it would let her.

A deafening metallic screech distracted her and she lost her enhanced vision. She was plunged into the dark for a terrifying moment before she realized that things – _big_ things – were settling into place between her and the prince. It was fucking unbelievable: stones the size of small monoliths were rising to create damned pathway across the dark chasm.

"No way in hell," she told them.

But there they were. And she wasn't in hell.

Unless one considered hell to be a dark pit beneath an ancient hill in the middle of nowhere.

Then… yeah… she was in trouble.

"Jesus…" she heard Vasiliy whisper just before tentatively stepping out onto the first pillar. They held their breaths for a moment but the thing remained firm.

They followed the passageway deeper for a short distance before they passed into a new area, one that Alessa felt actually might have a ceiling higher than what she could touch. A large, waist-height urn stood before them. Vasiliy considered it for a moment before dipping the burning head of his torch into it.

They were forced a step back when a gout of flame burst forth before settling back to burn diligently with a steady light. At the edge of the light's radius there was another urn. It became almost a game, lighting each consecutive container until a circular room was revealed.

Vasiliy placed the now superfluous torch into a sconce and they began to explore.

Oh yeah. It was definitely a crypt. The corpses had turned to dust long ago so most of the niches were empty. Alessa walked up to one and began brushing centuries worth of dust and cobwebs from the letters chiseled into the stone.

"Aleksandr…" she read out loud, making slow progress to free each syllable, "Yaroslavich… Nev… skiy…"

"What?" Hurried footsteps accompanied Vasiliy's near-shriek. He crashed into her in his haste.

"Who is he?" she asked. The man beside her looked like he was going to burst. He kept trying to form words that didn't come, and his hands flailed about in his frantic attempt to communicate,

"He is the father of Daniil, the first prince of _Moskva_. He's supposed to be buried in Vladimir! He's the forefather of every prince to rule this duchy, I… he… he's," a torrent of Russian rushed out of him and became garbled.

"Fascinating," Alessa breathed, wondering what it would be like to know her own family history so far back in time; she didn't even know who her grandparents had been. Vasiliy was the living, breathing extension of the man who lay as mostly dust before them, the embodiment of immortality.

The prince had gone to his knees before the dusty niche and was praying fervently. She moved away to give him some privacy, walking slowly around the circumference of the large room. The names were all in Cyrillic, some even contained a character or two she was unfamiliar with. The corpses were all dust, some niches still contained bits of moldering cloth, and one even contained a lock of golden hair that hadn't yet disintegrated.

But she was looking for… something. As amazing as it was for Vasiliy to find the final resting place of a long-dead ancestor, the map had to be leading her to something more profound. Once more, she fell into eagle vision…

The glyph appeared over a niche a quarter of a way around the room from Nevskiy and Alessa nonchalantly made her way there, letting her vision go back to normal. A brief pang twinged at her right temple, but she was able to ignore it.

She scraped the Cyrillic carvings clear: General Vsevolod Kobyla.

Alessa didn't know who the man had been, but apparently the Assassin Order found him important. Breathing an apology to him, she reached into the niche, sliding her fingers over the stone within, trying not to disturb the remains, and was rewarded by the discovery of a slot on the back wall of the tomb. She had to lean into the tomb to brace herself against the back wall with one hand while she dug at whatever had been jammed into slot.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," she murmured in agony to the pile of dust she was practically lying in. The object suddenly popped free of its resting place and she cracked her head on the way out of the hole.

Rubbing the back of her head where she had hit it, she looked at her prize.

It was a small, leather-bound journal. It was startlingly well-bound for its apparent age. The thing was surprisingly heavy, too. The name "Kobyla" was tooled into the leather on the inside of the cover when she opened it. A quick perusal revealed pages and pages of tiny, cramped writing in an unknown language.

Figured.

With a sigh, she tucked it securely in the inner pocket of her borrowed jacket. She'd have to look at later.

And on that note, she returned her attention to Vasiliy…

"What the…?" she said.

Vasiliy had procured his own treasure, an elaborate staff that came to his shoulders. It had to be made of solid gold by the apparent heft as he handled it. It, like everything else in the tomb, was covered in grime, but that didn't hide it's apparent worth.

"Nevskiy's staff," Vasiliy said, his voice toneless with awe.

"What are you going to do with it?" Alessa asked.

"I have to leave it… for now," he said simply.

Alessa handed him the map,

"There's nothing here for me," she said, ignoring the heft of the journal in her pocket, "It's a good thing you came along or I might have considered this a wasted trip."

"Ah yes, then it's a good thing," Vasiliy agreed.

With a last admiring glance, he gripped the staff in his fists before returning it back into the clever little alcove that appeared to have been carved just for it in the wall next to Nevskiy's tomb.

It seemed anti-climactic to return empty-handed, so to speak, but she and Vasiliy did just that. The ascent out went much more quickly than the way in and before she knew it, Vasiliy was helping her back into the upper level of tunnels that the royal family used daily. A lever just inside the secret entrance made the door close back up.

"I can have a lockpick made that fits that," Vasiliy said as he considered the mechanism, "No need to deprive you of your dagger."

"Thanks," Alessa said, very carefully ignoring her hidden blade at her left wrist.

The two had just exited the Dormition and were nonchalantly navigating the streets back to the palace when Alessa spotted a familiar figure.

"Dino," she said, startled.

"Alessa," he replied gravely. Alessa could smell the vodka on him, "And Vasiliy. Now that we've established who we are, um, what are you two doing…" he gestured vaguely at their filthy clothing that was a marked contrast to their festival finery.

"Treasure hunting," Vasiliy piped up.

"Uh huh?" Dino said in confusion.

"Nevermind," Alessa said, "I'll tell you later. Vasiliy, are you okay to make it back to the palace?"

The prince scoffed,

"No one will question me. It's my father's palace."

"Yeah and you're supposed to be ravishing me right now. How are you going to explain?"

"Ravishing?" Dino asked, completely interested now. Vasilliy grinned and hitched up his trousers manfully,

"Oh yeah. You coming back then?" He didn't bother to make his invitation subtle.

"No," she hissed as Dino guffawed, "Just tell them you let me out some secret entrance or something so I wouldn't be embarrassed."

"Wouldn't it be a secret exit, in that case?" Dino pointed out helpfully. Alessa glared at him and the men descended into companionable laughter.

"You're alright, Prince," Dino said with a hearty cuff to the man's shoulder. Vasiliy stumbled.

"I'm sorry," Alessa said helplessly to Vasiliy, who was looking a little alarmed at the big Assassin's exuberance, "Dino!" she chided.

"Bah! Can't help that he's a little guy!"

"His fight is on New Year's Day," Alessa said, returning her attention to the prince, "Will I see you then, Highness?" she asked.

"Only if I don't see you before then," Vasiliy responded, eyeing Dino warily as he wandered over to bother a few courtiers leaving Ivan's ball, "You'd better get him out of here before he offends somebody important." A wry grin.

Alessa snorted,

"I should. See you soon."

She felt her hand grasped as she turned away from him and he drew her back into his presence. Her heart began to pound in alarm, but he only pressed his lips to her knuckles, eyes sparkling,

"It was fun. And because of you, a family heirloom has been recovered. Thank you. It is a marvelous gift."

They grinned at each other, the smiles too bright and suddenly awkward, before he mumbled a more hastened farewell and disappeared back into the Cathedral.

"Come on, big fella," Alessa said, dragging Dino away from the now giggling trio of women and single scowling man.

"Your boyfriend's guards really know how to drink. Not like those scrawny thieves. Vasiliy's boys are real men."

"You're such a horse's ass," Alessa told him as she steadied his weaving form by slinging one of his long arms around her shoulders for support, "I bet you didn't do any research on patrols like you were supposed to, did you?"

"The only research I did was finding out what's at the bottom of a bottle of vodka. I did find out that they all think I'm going to lose the next fight. Dunno why."

"_Fottere_, be careful Dino," she breathed.

"Whuss that?" Dino asked suddenly, abruptly leaning on her as he pointed up at the sky. Alessa staggered at the shift in his weight and looked up. They were in a darker part of the Kremlin by now, well out of the way of the revelers coming and going from the palace.

"I don't know," Alessa replied, unable to figure out the unusual phenomenon going on in the sky.

One of the towers loomed nearby – the _Sviblova_ – and Dino thought it would be a good idea to climb the thing, a feat they managed with as much inebriated cursing as giggling before they finally made it to the top veranda. Both of them breathing heavily from drink and exertion, they collapsed together in a cranny formed by the stone walls and the heavy stone railing. Their backs against the wall and feet braced against the rails, they had an unrivaled view of the sky.

She had heard Markku speak of the _aurora borealis_ of his native land. But she never in her wildest imagining had conjured up what she was seeing now. Bright against the deep indigo carpet of stars, the sky was awash in red. The currents of light were visibly, constantly shifting, like the sea made incorporeal. It rippled across the breadth of the sky like the skein of silk at her hip, a mystery that she was grateful to have experienced.

Dino slung an arm around her and Alessa fit herself against him. They were quiet for an immeasurable length of time; it could have been a couple minutes or a couple of hours. Together there, the cold meant nothing in the presence of their combined warmth. Fatigue was wiped away by shared wonder.

"This is nice," Dino eventually said in the easy comfort of their native language. Neither of them took their gazes from the miracle in the sky but Alessa nodded in agreement against his shoulder and reached up to link one of her hands in his.

"I'm glad you're here," she said spontaneously, buoyed by her preoccupation with the lights in the sky and by drink and the carefree attitude of the night's activities.

"Me too," he replied.

"I don't know any other man that I've felt this way with. Is there something wrong with us?" She was trying to be polite, but she should have known better…

"I don't know," Dino replied with equal brevity, "For all intents and purposes, you and I should have fucked a long time ago."

Alessa squeaked in astonished mirth and then snickered,

"You're such a pig," she said, "But I feel as if I should be offended by your blatant disregard of my… er, charms."

"Funny thing is, I can't imagine being like that with you – too much like a sister."

"Why do you think we organize ourselves into relationships like that?" Alessa wondered out loud, "Platonic or romantic? Because you're right, it makes better sense for us to be together than for us to be with anyone else."

Dino's chuckle rumbled through his chest,

"I know; Claudia is way too good for me. And Ezio is _definitely_ too good for you."

"Oh," she murmured dreamily, as she turned her cheek against the fur of his coat, "_Ezio…_"

"Don't drool on my furs," Dino remonstrated and she giggled,

"Not drooling," Alessa rejoined, "And speaking of… when did you and Claudia, ah… because you know, that whole thing came out of nowhere…"

"Yeah," Dino said, slurring a little bit. Alessa didn't think it was from drink. "I… well you know when she killed all those soldiers after the Juan Borgia assassination?"

"Sure."

"I never looked anywhere else after that. It took me a while to convince her…" his tone was smug.

"Yeesh, _Dio_, I don't want to know," she laughed, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would help him to keep from elaborating.

"Well at least she and I didn't sit there and dither like you and Ezio. It took almost a whole _year_; what's wrong with you two?

"Well… he – I… see," she sputtered off into silence, not entirely sure what she had been trying to say.

"Interesting," Dino remarked.

"What?" she asked warily.

"Apparently the key to your, er, heart, lies along a path so strewn with confusion and obstruction that I wouldn't have stood a chance anyway; probably would have made more of a mess."

"Is that supposed to be philosophical?"

"You know it."

Alessa laughed and they considered the shimmering sky for another period of time – enough for the cold to deepen noticeably. So when she spoke again, it was like the chill took away the force her breath gave the words. She sounded dull, tinny; a small voice in a dark void,

"Tell me about… Angelina."

She felt his chest swell under her cheek and his arm around her tightened subtly.

"She…" a deep breath, "She didn't deserve her fate."

"They usually don't," Alessa whispered.

"Every Borgia soldier I kill does not bring her back, doesn't save her from the attack I wasn't there to prevent, doesn't…" his voice caught and Alessa tightened her arm already embracing him, reached her free arm around to complete the small circle of comfort she tried to offer him.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no…" Dino's body relaxed against hers once more, "I haven't done her justice by keeping her to myself. She was an artist, you know. Not like you; she never drew a straight line in her life," he chuckled, "But she had a way with her plants. It's like watching you with a paintbrush – single-minded devotion bringing something to where there was nothing."

"Did she teach you?"

"I'm not the horticulturist she was, no. But she did supplement my medical knowledge with things no one had ever heard of. She taught me the link between filth and infection of wounds. She used successfully used plants for ailments I would have had no idea what to treat with, much less believed actually _could _be treated."

"You should write it down," Alessa said, "Knowledge like that should be shared, not lost."

Dino scoffed,

"Are you kidding me? Most of the time when I treat people, I don't tell them. Just slap a leech on them, maybe bleed them. They don't even notice the teas I pour down their throat."

"You do make an awful lot of bad tea," Alessa joked, "But I understand; it's hard, trying to help those who insist upon holding on to their ignorance."

"Like you don't?" Dino said snidely.

She bristled,

"About what?"

"I can't love him!" Dino mocked in falsetto, "Because he doesn't love me."

He chuckled when she pinched him.

"Yuck, what are you talking about?" Alessa whined.

"You and your Ezio."

"He's not mine," she muttered.

"See, there you go; of course he is! Man's a known womanizer, but Claudia says she hasn't seen him with anyone but you since you became an Assassin."

Warmth suffused her and she resolutely pushed it away. Dino laughed.

"See? Even your silences are stubborn. Tell me how much you love him or I'll spike your tea with a laxative tomorrow."

Despite herself, she laughed,

"When did this become about me?" she asked.

"When you opened your mouth to get all personal. Tit for tat, _tesora_. Now spill."

Alessa opened her mouth. Closed it. Dino sighed dramatically.

"Stubborn," he tsked.

"_He's my world_," she whispered at the same time, the words wrenched out into the open. She was mortified.

Dino went still,

"Ah," was all he managed.

"Vito died. Ezio saved me from the same fate. I suppose it was inevitable that it would end up this way. At least for me. I never expected him to return the sentiment. I'm frankly still surprised that he does."

"Why?" Dino asked.

"Don't know, probably because I'm like one of your patients: too convinced of my current paradigm to toy with the idea of changing it."

"Oh, so a world where you and Ezio are open with each other about your relationship is so incomprehensible?"

Alessa considered the fading red aura unfurled across the sky,

"He's not mine," she said finally, trying to voice feelings that she herself didn't understand, "We are together now, that's all."

Dino tensed again but his voice was pitched with careful nonchalance,

"When did you become such a pessimist?"

"Can you see him settling down, giving up his Order, giving up who he _**is**_… just to be with one woman? To be a normal man? Because I can't. I want it so bad. I… I love him. But I will never ask him to do it. Because I know he never will."

"Don't be so sure," Dino eventually said, "The prospect of his own mortality will eventually occur to him. Probably already has. When we return to _Roma_, in your condition…"

"I'm not pregnant," Alessa interrupted.

"You know for sure?"

Her silence was answer enough. Then,

"It's not the… same as it was… before. Is that why you've been such a pain in my ass lately?"

"You've lost one. I won't let you lose another. Not on my watch. Not going to let the Templars take this away from you again. Not going to let them take away anything from me or mine again."

It was too much. She clutched him closer; somehow voicing everything in plain speech with Dino was just as profound as physical intimacy. Ostensibly a very different way of sharing trust, but in effect very much the same. There, on the rooftop, covered in layers of fur and wool, not even seeing his face; Alessa found herself more vulnerable to Dino than she had ever been with anyone else. Ever.

"What's your real name?" she suddenly asked.

"Wha-?"

"Your real name," Alessa urged, "What is it? Dino is always short for something."

"Er…"

"Tell me, you fucking pansy."

He snorted, then admitted,

"Ferrante…"

"Well that's not so bad. What –"

"After my father."

Alessa laughed. Couldn't, in fact, stop laughing,

"Ferrandino?" she wheezed.

"_Little_ Ferrante," Dino confirmed in a grudging tone, "When I went mercenary, I only gave people the abridged version, for obvious reasons."

After she had stopped laughing, she sat up to look at him, her expression solemn,

"If I really do end up a mama someday… my first son… I will name Ferrante. And only you and I will know why."

His startled expression was satisfying as hell, and she continued on, feigning ignorance to his pleased surprise, "My ass is freezing to this roof, let's get out of here."

Dino grunted, not bothering to hide the pleased grin on his face,

"I suppose," he gestured to the sky, "Show's over anyway."

"Yup," Alessa agreed.

They hastened for warmth and sustenance and rest – and just managed to beat the sunrise.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Palace of the Facets still exists today as the oldest preserved secular building in Moscow. These days it contains the throne room that our Assassins visited. Today, the Russian president uses it as an official ceremonial hall.**

**Seven hills in Moscow!**

**Aleksandr Nevskiy was actually a Prince of Vladimir. He's a pretty important guy in Russian history due to his status as a warrior and leader and he's actually been canonized by the Orthodox Church. So yeah, the man's a saint. Hee!**

**The Sviblova tower (later renamed the Vodovzvodnaya tower) of kremlin (on the southwestern corner) looks vaguely similar to Galata in Constantinople. For reference, the Moscow tower is about 61m tall; Galata is about 63m tall without its spire. Vodovzvodnaya wasn't built by Solari or Aristotele, but by yet another Italian architect in the same time period. Just noticed it looking through some pics I took when I was in Moscow and incorporated it into the story. Sort of surreal to make those connections and link yourself to history.**

**That's all for now... see you guys at Dino's fight!**


	39. Moscow: The Last Fight

**A/N: What. The. Fuck. Yeah. Five months guys, I am an asshole. BUT! I think it is worth it: 39, 40, and 41 will all be posted within the week. There was alot of figuring out which scenes should go where, and some plot problems to figure out, but I've gotten there! And just in time for ACIII! Now, I know I don't have excuses for waiting so damn long, but it's been a busy summer. Two hockey tournaments, a mud run, and a warrior dash. I joined another hockey team (co-ed! weeee!) and have been literally busting my ass. But moscow is essentially DONE on my end and we'll be getting back to Rome very soon.**

**So, for those of you that are still hanging around - THANK YOU! Shamazaki, as always, has been providing excellent beta service and I don't know what I'd do without him. Yay! Shamazaki!**

**So. Here we go. Shit's going from okay to WTF?! reeeaaal quick. Lots of musical inspriation. wish I could share my pandora station with ya'lls!**

**OH! And we have 'bookcovers' now, right? Friggin' sweet, 'cept I can't draw. Anyone wants to donate some artwork, I would love you forever. Like, fangirl, love you forever! Mwahaha! No, seriously, seeing my OCs drawn out from your imaginations would make me giddy like a teenage girl in love...**

**Hooray for ubisoft, without whom we would not have an amazing AC franchise!**

* * *

Moscow: January, 1502

_**Dino Demasi**_

Dino curled the sand between his toes, enjoying the feel of the fine grains as they rasped against the soles of his feet.

He cast his gaze out over the mixed crowd of nobles and commoners as each group hurried to make their final bets. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that Alessa appeared extremely pale in her deep green, almost black gown. The prince, on the other hand, was a startling contrast beside her; brightly clad in crimson and green. And he was animated, vigorous motion beside her pensive stillness.

The Prince certainly had given the Assassins unwitting aid. After announcing that he would sponsor Dino's Moscovian fighting career, minor noblemen, wealthy merchants, and even some of the _boyars_ who had lost favor with the Grand Prince had presented 'gifts' – mostly of the monetary type – in exchange for their favorable word to the increasingly popular choice for heir.

As he watched, a smaller figure in white robes and matching wimple and veil walked up to Alessa. A slender hand peeped out from the snowy linens to rest upon the Assassin woman's shoulder in greeting: Irina. He would recognize her energetic little form anywhere. Alessa smiled at the teenager and said something. Irina nodded and took the chair on Alessa's other side. Then both faces turned towards him, their eyes wide.

Irina's shone with barely contained excitement. But Alessa, her eyes seemed almost fever-bright.

Dammit, he had told her not to worry so much. So what if everyone in the entire city of Moscow seemed to think he was going to lose this fight. Dino hadn't met an individual so invincible that he couldn't somehow be beaten.

Except for maybe Ezio.

Who wasn't here.

So, ha!

Alright, he admitted to himself, _maybe_ he had focused a little more diligently on honing his hand-to-hand skills. Just in case. Not to mention that Khiril had been on him like stink on shit for the past week, leaving Alessa to coordinate with their allies in setting up their final performance. Clandestine meetings with Dmitriy, Talya, and Nikolai had his sister-in-arms coming and going… even Elena had spared some of her precious time to come to his partner's aid.

_Fucking ice queen…._

Whoops.

No need to get distracted.

_But really, what a haughty b- -_

His musings were interrupted by the crowd's sudden stillness. Looked like he was going to finally get his first glimpse at his sparring partner, err, opponent. Mortal enemy. Yeah.

Dino casually shook out his shoulders and sauntered over to lean on the wall near where Alessa and Irina sat beside the prince. Putting his weight on his elbows as he lounged, he waited impassively for his first look.

All his casual movements were a ruse; inside, he was slowly easing himself into that place in his head he liked to go when he fought. That snarly, dark place that Khiril always told Dino to avoid. The man said that logic and focus were the keys to winning hand-to-hand battles.

Dino respected the man. He really did. And he took his sponsor's advice to heart.

But he had nurtured that dark part of his mind carefully. Gave it free reign when it needed to flex itself and roar at the world in defiance. And then hidden it back away when it became a danger.

As the shadow of his mysterious opponent resolved itself into a man built much like himself, Dino grinned in a show of teeth. His opponent's response was to do the same as the crowd began to erupt around them.

In that moment, Dino recognized a kindred spirit in the man that stood across from him.

For Dino, everything went away. The entire world disappeared save for himself and his enemy across the circle.

Because for the rest of the world, this was nothing but an exhibition. It was a 'civilized' way of pitting man against man, covering up true violence in a sparkly patina of showmanship so that the spectators didn't have to think too closely about visiting the primitive parts of their minds that made them yearn to spill their neighbors' blood.

Yeah. Whatever the fuck it was, Dino didn't care. He embraced it. He didn't feel the need to hide his primordial urges behind a civilized façade right now.

With an efficient, indifferent movement, Dino uncurled himself from where he leaned against the wall.

People were here for a fight.

Well, he was going to give them a fucking fight.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

"Hmmmm, I think this might be a good one," Vasiliy murmured in wry aside to her as the two men in the circle faced off silently.

"And you'll be able to fund your army for a year on your winnings," Alessa blustered with a flirtatious liveliness she did not feel, not taking her eyes off the silent drama in the ring. It was unsettling. The other fighter was like a carbon copy of Dino: tall, strong, a long reach, well-balanced and lithe. Their hands hung loosely at their sides, fingers curled slightly.

And they were so still.

Achingly still.

Usually the opening of fights like this involved a lot of circling, testing of the opponent's speed and agility, and lazy strikes designed to test the opponent's reach.

There was none of that here. Alessa reached over to clasp Irina's hand in hers, meeting the younger girl's mis-matched eyes briefly. God, the whole situation was eerie; Dino's face had settled into an expression she had never seen on his genial countenance before. His brows furrowed and his lip lifted slightly, like a silent snarl.

She'd seen Ezio do that before. And Tullio. It was a feral, violent, nearly insane expression and it scared the hell out of her.

The roar of the crowd came to a crest and then she suppressed a blurt of alarm as the two men exploded into motion. She couldn't ascertain one man's movement from the other's; it was all fists and feet and fucking swirling dust as they kicked up sand in their haste to get at each other.

The noise was incredible. Alessa herself felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest but she couldn't move to voice her sentiments like the people around her. She felt like a speck of calm in a sea of movement and noise.

Inside, she was anything but. Her muscles were painfully tensed as she watched Dino move in one of the most amazing displays of martial ability she had ever seen. He and his opponent were equals in speed, strength, and agility. The crowd had noted it, too. Knew that there likely wouldn't be a battle like this in their little circular arenas for years to come, if ever.

The men in the ring were big and they were built of heavier muscle as compared to the average man. They should have been slow, their movements ponderous. But they weren't. Through vigorous training, they had overcome their natural disadvantage as governed by their physical size. They were shockingly fast.

And so the blows were punishing, brutal. Each man scored hit after hit, even as they blocked others. The intensity was so ferocious that Alessa wouldn't have believed even a first-hand account without seeing it with her own eyes.

Three minutes went by.

Four.

Five.

The men slowed somewhat and now she could make out individual cuts where skin had split over ridges of bone: Dino's cheekbone, his opponent's orbital arch, the ribs, the knuckles, the blade of the jaw.

And still they battled.

The roar of the crowd had died down some, and many had gone still like herself: too drawn in by the awesome display to waste even a second's glance away. Sometime during the match, Vasiliy had reached out to grasp her hand. He held her so tightly that his knuckles were whitened. She was so engrossed that she didn't notice her numbed fingers.

Six minutes.

Seven.

The men breathed heavily, their muscles gone rigid and trembling with fatigue and tension and aggression. The cadence of the fight changed. The heated and furious exchange of blows turned into something more profound as they found their rhythms and their second wind.

The supple chests heaved as they breathed heavily, but with remarkable ease. Alessa couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the men's strikes; now that they had bludgeoned their way through that amazing opening, their hits were more controlled. The transition revealed the countless hours of training behind each well-placed strike and she especially envied the forearm strength. Lazy-appearing swings would suddenly cannon into deadly force at the flick of a corded wrist. The brute power required to turn a fist or open hand into a crushing weapon was something she would never have.

Forgetting all that was at stake, Alessa watched avidly as her closest companion in the world traded blows that would have felled a lesser man. She watched, her numbed hand gripping Vasiliy's, her other fist clenched white-knuckled in the ponderous skirts over her lap. Time seemed to slow down.

She saw the next movements like they had been choreographed and carried out in slow motion. Dino swayed aside from a fake right and blocked the follow-up left-handed chop that probably would have broken his jaw. There was a loud crack as forearm smacked into forearm and Alessa winced. For some reason, Dino's opponent didn't follow up and Dino moved smoothly to gather the man up into a shoulder throw.

In a flurry of movement, the men went to the ground, bringing the crowd to its feet in a renewed burst of sound and frenzy. Alessa was the first to rush to the stone wall barricading the men in the ring and so she had a clear view of what happened next.

Even as he was pinned in what should have been a fight-ending chokehold, Dino's opponent produced something small and sharp from out of nowhere. With efficient, clinical equanimity, the man stabbed the weapon once, twice…

…and Alessa keened in denial as blood gouted from somewhere along Dino's flank.

Her brother went limp in the sand.

Time seemed to halt; the individual sounds around her coalesced into a roar of confusion and spectator bloodlust.

Alessa watched, dream-like, as Dino's opponent rose slowly to his feet, his dagger dripping – with Dino's blood – she realized in a breathtaking moment of clarity.

In that instant, colors became sharper, and the echoing tunnel of sound that had formed around her burst so that she realized that she was standing still in a sea of human chaos. Vasiliy shouting for his guards. Irina wailing a torrent of prayers. The crowd screaming like a single, monstrous being.

In that instant, Alessa took a single step backward from the wall in preparation to vault it – skirts or no skirts. Her forearm flexed slightly within its silk and velvet sleeve, her blade a deadly length against the inside of her forearm. She made eye contact with the doomed fighter – for he was doomed now – and imagined exactly how she would stalk him – no matter where he fled – and finally…

At that moment he looked at her. Looked right at _her_ and his gaze was not triumphant at all. He was resigned and there was a terrified sorrow that halted her in her tracks.

Neither of them noticed Dino move.

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Piece of shit! Piece of fucking, dripping, malodorous pig in shit!

A blade!

Fucker had shanked him out of nowhere!

The cheating, traitorous bastard was standing above him, no doubt ready to claim a hollow victory.

Over Dino's dead, stinking body...

…hopefully not literally.

Dino could feel his face twist in primitive fury as he braced himself against the deep pain in his ribs. He didn't care if he fucking died in the next moment, as long as he took the cheating son of a goat with him.

As he lay there in the sand, his breath huffing and wheezing in agony, Dino could barely focus on anything, not even the great roar of the crowd. He managed to convince one of his eyelids to peel back from his eye and had an interesting view of a drop of his blood as it traveled down the length of the short stiletto his opponent had managed to smuggle into the ring.

Dark red and glistening stickily, the bead coalesced around the needle sharp point before bulging at the base and making a tiny, bloody Leap of Faith. He watched it with detached curiosity as it went into free fall, balling up into a perfect sphere before making a wet divot in the sand right in front of his face.

He humped another breath into his chest. The pain was still sharp but he was mastering it. In that breath, his gaze went from his opponent to Alessa and he even managed a smug grin. Her eyes blazed and her little shoulders were hunched in preparation for an attack. Fierce pride fisted him in the chest…

…if he didn't make this kill, she would. It was reassuring.

But she didn't need to blow her cover.

Nope, absolutely no need.

Dino surged up abruptly in an awkward, ugly movement and grasped the blade of the weapon. It was slippery with his blood and he couldn't grip it, but he tossed it aside and waded into his opponent. The man seemed more surprised than anything and Dino wondered briefly why he wasn't fighting back.

Very briefly.

He and the man struggled, the grappling made uncertain by the slickness of the blood that sheeted from his side. Dino eventually closed his fist into his opponent's hair, blessing Khiril for making him shave his own head bald. He smashed his opponent's face into the sand, the blow disorienting the man but not doing much else.

Dino needed stone.

"I had to do it…" the man suddenly huffed as he spat a mouthful of bloody sand.

"Shut up," Dino growled, distracted as he sought something firmer to bash the guy into. Face first would be delightful.

"I had to… Assassin,"

"Shut up!" Dino snarled again, wrenching the man over to search his eyes. But now his opponent was babbling, his bleary gaze terrified by something other than the immediate threat.

That stopped Dino in his assault. Blood lust roiled within him, demanding that he finish this guy with a quickness. God, it roiled – it burned and seethed in his belly. Ignoring the sensation took an effort, and twisting his fist more securely into the man's hair, Dino brought his face close to his victim's,

"What's going on? Who wants me dead?"

"I have to," the man babbled, terror and lucidity vying for control of his mind, "I have to. They have my wife and daughter, I have to!"

And with that dubious proclamation, he tore himself free of Dino's grip, leaving hair behind. The stiletto was in his hands again but Dino wasn't having any more of that nonsense. Without any thought for his safety, he drove himself into his opponent, ignoring ineffectual slashes of the stiletto. That was the problem with stabbing weapons; they didn't have much of an edge.

The momentum brought them back down to the ground and Dino laid into the man with his fists.

He stopped when he couldn't lift his arms anymore.

A thought occurred to him as he swayed back onto his knees there in the blood-soaked sand…

_They have my wife and daughter._

Which meant whoever _they_ were, _they _were watching. Here. Right now, making sure the man they had essentially sentenced to death performed as instructed.

Problem was, he didn't know who _they_ were.

Staggering away from his opponent's body, Dino lifted a bleary head to survey the now silent crowd, his vision doubling with blood loss and fatigue.

He wondered if he was imagining the prickle on the back of his neck. Gooseflesh broke out as his mind struggled mightily to process through a haze of fatigue and violence and inexplicable sorrow.

Someone in the city knew that he and Alessa – specifically the two of them – were here.

The Assassins were being hunted.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

Unheeding of her fine surroundings in their private rooms within the Terem Palace, Alessa cursed to herself as the little needle nearly sprang out of her bloody fingers. The stupid thing was really too small to be used to stitch skin together but damn her if she was going to cause Dino any more pain than she had to.

She was so fucking relieved he was okay that she was actually feeling a little giddy.

She snickered; given the way he bitched and groaned at her, she could have used a canvas needle instead of a silk needle and it wouldn't have made a difference in his whining.

It figured. Leave it to a man to go and get himself all beat to hell and then cry about the recovery process.

And then she had to deal with…

"Khiril, can't you go do that somewhere else?" Alessa grunted at the veteran mercenary as the man paced about the room with great vigor… and utter uselessness. He ignored her, as usual, and Alessa bent her head back to her remonstrations, muttering darkly about men and their more dubious traits.

"That's not very nice, _tesora_," Dino grunted at her as she drew thread through one of the deeper slices in his flank. When she growled back at him he chuckled, then sucked a painful breath in between his teeth, "And I told you knowing how to sew was a good idea,"

"Yup, you called it," she replied, frowning as she concentrated on aligning the skin together without jarring the wound too much.

"Don't patronize me, you brat," Dino grunted, his muscles flexing under her fingers as his ribcage contracted under her remonstrations.

"Never," Alessa said, looking up at him briefly, her eyes wide with innocence. Then she couldn't help a grin.

He responded in kind and her smile turned into a grimace as a cut on his lip started bleeding anew, sending a steady trickle down his chin.

"_Jesu_, Dino, you're a fucking mess." She tossed a none too clean cloth at his face and hurriedly bent her head back to her work so she didn't have to look at his battered face. Poor guy, he'd pretty much looked like a human punching bag ever since their arrival in the city.

Not that she felt bad for him or anything.

She focused again on finishing the stitch and tied it off in a less than perfect knot. Not pretty, but sturdy. Done with the slashes, she eyed the stab wounds.

By sheer dumb luck – it would have to have been dumb, in Dino's case – none of the puncture wounds had hit anything vital. Miraculous, given the proximity of Dino's lungs and abdominal organs. The puncture wounds would heal better if left open, so she gathered up her sewing implements in preparation to start bandaging. Alessa had sent Irina to find some clean bandages after she had frightened away the royal physicians with a vile Italian temper tantrum. So Alessa hoped the girl would return soon.

Or she'd tear the sheets apart. Simple. Vasiliy wouldn't care anyway.

Their rooms in the Terem Palace weren't the most luxurious in the place, but they were exceedingly comfortable; Alessa figured that poor Baron Orsini back in _Napoli_ couldn't have done much better.

Vasiliy had given them the rooms, with the official reason being to keep his favorite fighter stabled like a particularly favored horse. Of course the rumors said it was to keep his Italian mistress close.

Alessa sighed, remembering the prince asking that fucking manservant for rope.

Men were such smug bastards.

But whatever. The place was well secured, and although the Assassins didn't feel safe sleeping there, it was a good, neutral place to meet with their allies, especially Nikolai.

Speaking of allies…

"We need to find out who he was. Khiril?" Alessa turned on her stool and wiped her bloody hands absentmindedly on her lovely skirt as she regarded the older man. Khiril's rugged and worn face was set into angry, deeply graven lines. "Khiril?" she repeated.

He rounded on her, shoulders tensed like raised hackles, scowling fiercely,

"What?"

"Who was he? The man that brought the knife? We need to find his family and find out why he was given instructions to be sure Dino was killed."

"And… protection," Dino wheezed, hunching around a spasm of pain.

Alessa eyed him in concern, frowning, and then nodded,

"Yes, before whoever is orchestrating all this gets to them."

Khiril was quiet for a moment, his weathered face crinkled into thoughtful lines, his blue eyes narrowed. Then he had some particularly alarming thought; the face crumpled into a glower. He spat something that could have been an assent, turned on his heel, wrenched the door open, and stalked out. He left the door wide open and the Assassins heard his gravelly voice bark a sharp word to in response to something out in the hall just before a quick figure skidded around the door jamb, hands full of bandages.

Watching Irina, whose jaw was rather taut, moved briskly to a corner with her burden, Alessa said to Dino,

"Can you please translate? I'm afraid that I don't understand finer nuance of that man's delectable phraseology."

"Bitchy tonight," Dino replied fondly, and then more seriously, "He's going to go find out. About Stabby's family."

As he spoke, Irina began to look a little green. The girl gave Dino a cursory, almost frightened look before her gaze skittered away from the recumbent Assassin.

Irina had shucked away the novice robes to reveal somber-colored tunic and trousers fashioned much like her older sister's. Her little feet were sensibly shod in leather boots that looked almost like a child's play clothes for their tiny size. Her pale hair, without the covering of her veil, was braided artfully over her ears and weaved into a loose braid.

Alessa sat down suddenly beside Dino's cot. She lowered her head into her hands to scrub her face and then looked back up at Dino through splayed fingers. He was a little pale under the olive of his skin and the lines of pain in his face gave him a haggard appearance. She laughed a little.

"Dino, we look like hell, don't we?"

"Just you, _tesora_. But then, I've always been the better looking one."

"Pffft," Alessa replied as she reached out to take his hand.

"Eloquent," Dino noted.

"Just so long as you know my opinion on the matter," she said matter-of-factly.

Dino let out an uneven breath and closed his eyes, shifting a bit in discomfort.

Letting him rest, Alessa stood and went to Irina, who was folding and refolding the bolts of linen with shaking hands.

"You'll tear them to shreds before we can bandage him," Alessa observed casually in Italian. Irina had insisted upon learning the language. The girl especially delighted in learning from Dino, who used any excuse to speak his native language and not Russian, which he still had difficulty with.

"Is he okay?" came the quiet response.

"He doesn't stay down easily," Alessa said with more carelessness than she felt, "He'll be fine."

"I was glad he-" Irina started, and then stopped. She fiddled with the bandages, not looking up. Alessa, thinking the girl had translated incorrectly, said,

"You _are_ glad? Glad Dino's okay?"

A quick shake of the lowered head,

"No, I _was_ glad." Irina finally looked up, her green and blue eyes fever bright, but her voice still soft, "That Dino killed him." The eyes brimmed, suddenly appearing huge in the elfin face, "Why am I happy about that? A man is dead."

Ah, hell.

Alessa really, _really_ didn't want to deal with a hysterical teenager; she had to head this shit off right now. She opened her mouth to say something wise and helpful…

…and was interrupted by an officious knock on the outer door.

Thank _God_!

"What now?" she muttered, giving Irina an apologetic squeeze on the shoulder, before going to answer it. Dino chose that moment to let out an inelegant snore. Alessa heard Irina giggle softly and grinned to herself. The kid was resilient, she'd give her that.

Of course, the smile fell off of her face with all the speed of full-blown avalanche when she opened the door to reveal Nikolai. Suppressing a sigh, she hardened her face; the man didn't listen to her unless she acted like an asshole.

Which was entirely appropriate, as _I-am-an-asshole_ seemed to be the only language he spoke.

_Dammit_, Alessa thought as she stood aside to let man pass into the room and appropriate himself a comfortable chair beside the blazing fire in the fireplace, _Hysterical girls. Snotty noblemen. Cranky bastards. All she needed was…_

Yup, here came Elena down the hall now, a tall, lean figure in thief motley. How she had gotten into the palace was anyone's guess.

Of course, Elena couldn't stand Nikolai any more than Alessa could. When she had asked the woman more about it, Alessa had received a huffy tirade about useless noblemen and their cowardice. Or something approximately along those lines…

And so her grin returned as she cordially invited Irina's older sister in, watching in unconcealed glee as the woman saw Nikolai. The fine lines of her elegant face puckered up almost comically in distaste. Nikolai looked massively bored by it all.

With a swirl of her duster that expressed volumes of contempt, Elena pivoted on her boot heel and lowered herself gracefully into a chair.

As far from Nikolai as she could get.

Alessa beamed at them both,

"Shall I send for some refreshments?" she asked graciously. Nikolai assumed a peeved expression and waved his hand at her dismissively.

"No," he said, distracted from or – more likely – uncaring of Elena's wishes, "I am here because you may be in danger." Here he tipped his chin at Alessa.

"You think?" Elena snarked, just as Alessa grunted,

"No kidding?"

The women shared a silent look of perfect agreement for once, and then both looked at Nikolai expectantly. The man abruptly looked like he had sucked on a lemon or ten. His jaw clenched as he spoke,

"Your favor with the prince may grant you some small amount of safety from whatever caused that unpleasantness earlier tonight. But we need to find out the source. Is it Templar? Vasiliy's enemies, trying to make a statement?" Nikolai paused, looking around, "And where is Khiril?"

This guy was a master of understatement.

_Unpleasantness_? Really?

In an effort to waylay her temper, which was rising by the second, Alessa excused herself briefly and stalked away, leaving the two to their own diversions.

Maybe they'd kill each other.

"Irina, _tesora_, I'll need some additional items for Dino. Could you bring them for me?"

The girl was unusually compliant. Only after detailing her requests for additional hot water and cautioning the girl to only acquire the herbs herself from the communal storage did Alessa turn back to her allies, her temper somewhat cooler.

"Look," Alessa began again. She frowned as she sat and tried to adjust her blood-smeared skirts, then gave up the primping and faced Nikolai squarely, "Obviously we need to find out who was controlling that guy. Khiril's gone to interview the family and make sure they're taken somewhere safe. We can't jump to conclusions until we have some facts."

Here Nikolai nodded, looking somewhat more calm, so Alessa focused on Elena,

"Do you think Aristotele might have some insight?"

The woman looked thoughtful for a moment before responding,

"Not sure. I've moved him back into the city to see if he is able to discover some of his old contacts within the Thieves' Guild and amongst the people. I can ask him."

It wasn't much, not to mention that Alessa still wasn't sure that there was a traitor among her allies, but steps had to be taken to find any new threats so they could be eliminated. The Strigolniki Conspiracy wouldn't exactly be a conspiracy if the plan was leaked to the Grand Prince or the Templars.

A soft knock at the door heralded Talya's arrival, the young woman accompanied by Irina, who bore a basket full of herb sachets. Talya, garbed modestly in an oversized sable cloak, quirked an eyebrow at Nikolai's presence. The man stood to greet her with courteous restraint, and then retreated to an armchair when she tried to sit beside him on the couch.

Looking pleased, the incongruously young Madame flung her heavy cloak along the back of the seat and lounged casually in the luxuriant fur, her exquisite burgundy gown draping itself gracefully over the elegant length of her body. Alessa caught Nikolai eyeing the curve of the girl's shoulder as it gleamed in the firelight and turned to hide her grin.

The young Madame loved to taunt the Assassin ally. Alessa didn't suspect that it was for any real reason other than the girl enjoying the influence the power she had over men.

She was a master of her craft… that was for damn sure.

Leaving the three to converse awkwardly while they all waited for Khiril to return, Alessa and Irina spent some time cleaning and bandaging Dino's wounds. Irina did most of the work, Dino rousing from his light sleep to give the girls direction in the preparing of tea and poultice. Irina was all too quick to get over her discomfort at handling Dino's wounds and became very interested in poking at the stitches.

Not noticing Dino's wincing, she covered one wound with bandages and asked,

"Can I try it the next time you get hurt?"

Alessa snorted as Dino frowned and said,

"What makes you think I'm going to need more stitches?"

The look Irina gave him was so bland that Alessa had to leave the area or risk injuring herself with laughter.

"Because," the girl said, "You fight like a berserker and win more by your size than your skill. You just wade in and you don't notice when you get injured. It's lucky you're so big and able to overcome attackers quickly. They can't get you because you're so _there_."

Dino's frown turned into an outright scowl and he turned that forbidding countenance over to Alessa, whose eyes were streaming with effort not to laugh.

"I do not," he said, looking for her help.

"You do too!" Irina piped up, matter-of-factly smearing more poultice onto one of the deep puncture wounds with newly efficient skill.

Dino growled, muttered,

"More size than skill…"

Gasping for breath, Alessa was barely distracted by yet another knock at the door. Wiping her eyes, she absently opened the door.

Who knew that her rooms could be such a popular place to be in the middle of the night…

"Oh! Prince Vasiliy!" she gave him a hasty curtsy and opened the door wider to invite him in.

The others had stood when she had said the prince's name, and as Vasiliy entered he glanced around curiously at the diverse gathering of company that was present. He didn't seem to notice Irina or Elena – their modest garb probably designated them as servants in his mind – and he nodded politely to Nikolai. He eyes widened slightly as his eyes ran the length of Talya in her clinging gown before he seemed to shake himself and return his attention to Alessa.

"How is Demasi?" he asked.

"He'll be fine," Alessa said, "The wounds are mostly superficial."

"Fantastic," the prince replied, "And the Lieutenant?"

"Uh?" Alessa stammered, "Lieutenant?"

"The trainer. Lieutenant Valdimirovitch. Is he here?"

"Err, Khiril? He's gone to speak with the family of the… fighter…" Alessa trailed off, mildly bewildered.

Vasiliy grinned,

"Ah. Then I know the matter will be well handled. You didn't know? About him?"

He assumed an expression of slight surprise as she shook her head mutely, confused as fuck. Then he grunted, saying,

"Not surprising, it's keeping with his character – or what I know of him," Vasiliy paused to consider her briefly while she waited for him to elaborate, "He was instrumental in my father's victory at throwing off the yoke of the Great Horde. At the River Ugra, over two decades ago, it was the Lieutenant that provided much of the intelligence on the enemy, thus assuring my father's victory. He could be a celebrated hero, but he chooses not to."

_That's because he's an Assassin,_ she thought, _And most likely working to further _our_ cause_.

"Oh," was all Alessa could manage, wondering what to do with the information. Vasiliy continued,

"When he returns, advise him that he can come to the captain of my guards should he need anything to assist in his investigation."

Aha.

The occupants of the room remained silent, and it could have been awkward, but Vasiliy was comfortable in assuming command, something that somehow surprised Alessa, who so often was only with him in private. His public persona was more self-assured and forceful than his private one.

In a brief moment of clarity, Alessa was suddenly apprised of the true nature of the man. In private, he worried, he confided, and he fretted. But he revealed none of that in public, revealed not a hint of weakness, and she suddenly realized that he would be an amazing leader. His steely public identity was tempered by a remarkable level of introspection.

"… a minute of your time?"

"I'm sorry, what? Yes, of course, Highness," she replied, distracted by her thoughts and just now noticing that the prince was speaking to her.

She let him lead her into one of the smaller sitting rooms. The fire was down to glimmering coals in there, plunging most of the room into intimate twilight. He drew her near the glowing coals, subtly maneuvering her so that she stood the closest to the warmth of them.

He was a large shadow in the dimness, his shoulders widened by a heavy cloak of black bear fur. She noticed that a shadow of a beard was starting to grow on his face, evidence of his developing status as leader of the court and the church.

Standing there before him, she felt suddenly proud of his metamorphosis from indolent youth to responsible leader.

"What makes you smile like that?" he asked softly, his eyes unreadable in the shadows. He reached an arm out, bracing himself against the mantle of the fireplace, and leaned just a bit closer.

"You do," Alessa replied, beaming up at him in honest pleasure, "You will make a fine leader. I don't know much about your Aleksandr Nevskiy, but I think you are worthy to follow in his footsteps."

Vasiliy looked taken aback for a moment, and Alessa suspected that he had been hoping for a much different answer. But then his expression was suddenly suffused with quiet pride.

"Thank you," he said and reached up with his free hand to touch two fingertips to her chin. His hand was trembling ever so slightly.

"Vasiliy," she whispered.

"Hmm?" he asked, his eyes intent on hers as his head tilted to the side.

"The fight tonight? You need to consider the possibility that it might have been a message for you."

His pupils dilated as his hand moved to curl gently along her jaw. Then he made an impatient sound and pushed himself off of the mantle, after which he rose back to his full height.

"You make me crazy, Aleksandra," he said, turning away from her to plop into the single cushioned chair just past the light cast by the coals. He stretched his legs out towards the fire and his head fell back on his neck.

Alessa went to kneel quietly on the floor beside him, resting her hands on the arm of the chair, and placing her chin on her hands. After a moment, Vasiliy raised his head to look at her.

"My nephew," he said.

"You think he's behind this?"

"If the attack was intended to send me a message? Absolutely, yes. But I think that this was a plot against Demasi. I discovered that one of my guards had been replaced at the last second. The replacement allowed Demasi's opponent to smuggle in the weapon and then disappeared without a trace. My nephew would have been sure to leave a token behind to mock me."

Alessa shifted slightly, turning to watch the intense heat shift the colors of the coals. The almost imperceptible hiss of steam escaping the bed of heat became louder as the silence between the two of them deepened. As she turned her face to let her cheek lay on her forearm, she felt his arm come to rest along her shoulders, the silk-covered weight reassuring as turbulent thoughts swirled in her head.

"Well," she finally said, looking back up at him and his intent eyes, "I have complete faith in your men, that they will discover the truth. But until then," she half-stood, leaning over the arm of the chair so that he could see her face better, "Please have a care for your safety, Highness, I couldn't bear, -ulp!"

His arm, still around her shoulder, suddenly snaked around her, pulling her off balance. She fell into his lap, and his hands came up to her face.

He kissed her, thoroughly taking her off her guard; ever since that first night, the prince had always kept a polite distance. Even though she could feel his desire for her, he had never taken liberties.

Compared to that fumbling, drunken interlude back when she had first met him… yeah, he definitely wasn't drunk this time. Alessa flailed in his embrace. Unable to gain any kind of purchase, off-balance as she was, she finally just grabbed onto him. Her fingers sank into the thickness of his fur cloak.

His beard was rough against her skin, but he kissed her with a surprising kind of gentle fervor. She probably could have broken free, but would have injured him the process because he was so damned intent.

And…

…well, damn her, but she liked it.

Feeling wretched, she kissed him back. She was confused as hell and simultaneously drawn to his need.

Suddenly he stood, and she let out a startled blurt as she slid to the ground. Vasiliy began apologizing profusely as he helped her to her feet.

"Sorry, sorry," he kept saying, stammering slightly.

Alessa couldn't help a little bit of shaky laughter,

"Not what you expected?" she asked, trying to make light of the situation. The prince was mortified.

"You – I… This was not appropriate," he said, his hands flailing about uselessly, "Forgive me, I only wished to express my… gratitude for your concern."

"Oh," was all she could manage.

A frown furrowed his brows and he took her hands in hers,

"Look, I will do everything in my power to discover the perpetrator behind tonight's events. It is my duty, I wish to see you safe…"

"Aha, see…" Alessa began. He silenced her, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"…You are very strong, but allow me to do this thing for you," he said with quiet command.

Thoroughly bewildered, Alessa could only nod dumbly,

"Okay," she said faintly. The prince grinned and leaned closer to her,

"I have some time later this week for that sleigh ride I promised you. Would you like to go?"

"About time," she said. He laughed and they turned to go back out into the main sitting room. The group had increased in size. She spotted Dmitriy leaning against a column in the shadows beside Talya, looking like the proverbial fox in the henhouse with his laughing, mischievous eyes and wild, curling hair.

And Khiril was back, pacing near Dino. She gave Dino a banal look as he reclined upon the chaise where she had stitched him up. He had propped an arm under his head and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. She had to look away, unable to hide the blush that rushed up her cheeks.

Stupid… stupid… stupid…

"Thank you for your time," Vasiliy said at the door, conscious of their audience, returning her curtsy with an elegant bow.

"_Hurnk_," she gulped, "You're welcome."

As she shut the door behind him, she took a moment to tell her fluster to calm the fuck down before turning back to her allies, saying briskly,

"Khiril? What did you find out?"

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

_Moskva_ was ready for the Strigolniki Conspiracy.

Aristotele's plans to emulate the long-defunct religious sect had taken on a life of their own. The city was in chaos. The citizens were confused and frightened. The leaders were on edge, and dissenting factions were at each other's throats.

In the single week since Dino's shocking – and final – fight, the tranquility of the Christmas season had been shattered.

It all started with the courtesans, who spread rumors through the nobility, their servants, and from thence the entire city:

_The Strigolniki have returned!_

The Assassins, assisted by a couple of Dmitriy's thieves, spread false propaganda everywhere: wanted posters bearing faces that didn't exist, false documents were delivered to random members of the _boyars_, and thieves impersonated heralds in order to slow – and distort – the dissemination of official news.

Ominous markings appeared throughout the city; virulent red paint dashed across doors in the shape of six-pointed stars. These homes were raided constantly by Ivan's guards – only to be found empty... or planted with documents containing fake information that led the guards to yet other dead ends.

As a result, fear had spread through the city like poison in a matter of days. Patrols had been doubled. Church attendance plummeted as the populace anticipated attacks by the mysterious figures that lurked about the churches in red bandanas – the telltale sign that one was part of the sect.

It didn't take long for the stirred pot to allow some rather unsavory bits to rise into view.

A fortuitous reconnaissance, courtesy of one of Talya's girls, had finally revealed their two main targets. Scions of the Belsky and Shuisky families were the head investigators into both the Assassin threat and the Strigolniki uprisings.

Further intelligence missions revealed that the two men were deeply involved with the Templars; Belsky was even some sort of ranking official in the Assassins' rival order. It was both unsurprising and fortuitous; the Templars would not have allegiance to their Prince, but to their order.

Alessa was forced to admit that this was a similarity between their two groups. She didn't like having any empathy at all with them and the idea gnawed at her mercilessly.

Turning her thoughts from that unfortunate, festering idea, Alessa took a deep breath; the air was so cold and fresh that it was like inhaling winter itself. The jolt to her lungs helped focus her thoughts:

The city was teeming with rumors like a dying dog infested with ticks, sucking away what little will was left to the populace. Most of them were variations on the original rumors circulated by the courtesans. All of the rumors served to turn political, religious, and secular factions against each other. And not a soul had been threatened, bribed, or injured.

Words, wielded with deliberate intent to incite, were powerful things indeed. Alessa wondered if the populace had actually taken the time to consider the rumors and measure them against observation, would their mission have failed?

Probably.

She herself had gone out in the red bandana and slashed the Strigolniki symbol across walls in red paint. She had accosted lone travelers, her appearance and stance outwardly aggressive, and yet each person she had waylaid had gotten away injury-free and still in possession of their purses. Their goal was to appear threatening, without actually singling any one person out. And it had succeeded spectacularly.

"You seem distracted… again. What do you think about so hard?"

Vasiliy's voice broke through her musings and she turned to smile at him. He had finally taken her out for the long-promised sleigh ride and they traveled out of the city. He was looking a little strained since she had last seen him and she felt guilty for that.

After all, it was the royal family that would be blamed for any outbreaks of violence.

She forced that guilty thought away and focused on the moment.

The weather was behaving itself; the sun making a rare appearance and gilding the sky with its splendor. It sparkled against the white backdrop the snow laid upon the land with that now-familiar, painful brightness. Alessa was accustomed to hiding from it under her hood. The wind was mild and the snow seemed to be settling back into the landscape like a favorite blanket.

The prince drove the sleigh himself, but a squad of his soldiers surrounded them on horseback. Each face was severe and watchful beneath its slate grey _ushanka_. The heavily cloaked soldiers were armed with crossbow or pistol, and carried various lengths of steel from saddle scabbards.

Vasiliy, in contrast, was animated and conscientious as he showed her the wilder regions surrounding the frontier city. He was caparisoned in rich black furs trimmed in white ermine. Their thick wool lap blanket was dyed bright scarlet. Embroidery in green and gold sent a flock of Vasiliy's double-headed eagle soaring across their laps.

The runners of Vasiliy's sleigh _shushed_ along the packed snow as lightly as a skiff through calm water. The sound was somewhat lulling. Tiny silver bells on the horses' harness chimed delicately in the cold air, providing a lovely counterpoint to the soft sound of the sleigh runners.

The prince had presented Ale with a brilliant scarlet cape and hood. The voluminous outerwear was sinfully warm, lined with white fur. The hood draped itself in folds about her face, trimmed in white fox fur to keep her exposed features warm, before pooling over her shoulders. The thing would be utterly useless in the field, but it was probably the most lovely garment she had ever worn.

Her thoughts faded away, and she watched with meditative intensity the skillful play of Vasiliy's gloved hands driving the sleigh through the winter landscape.

The prince guided them along a wide road that had meandered west out of the city for some distance before heading back in a leisurely loop. The view was exquisite – vistas of distant hills and sudden appearances of the river between the pines – and Alessa suspected that the road had been created for just such a diversion.

The forest would be lush and teeming with game here in the summer months. Alessa could easily envision the hunts and sport that would take place on this land.

"I'm sorry, Highness," Alessa said, "I was looking for the river to appear again." The prince nodded,

"It's funny, isn't it, how we are so attracted to the water? Vital to life and yet so dangerous. Here, near the city, the river seems calm, but there are very strong currents. I have only known of a handful of people able to swim across it. But it is the lifeblood of the city; without it, we would be locked away from the outside world."

Alessa made a noise of agreement and leaned forward to catch the next glimpse of the river to her right. The horses' pace slowed as they pulled the sleigh up an incline. With soft murmurs and eloquent clicks of his tongue, the prince encouraged the animals as the incline continued and the sleigh began to drag and jerk. She was surprised when they finally burst free of the forested slope to pull slowly around to the edge of a tall promontory on the river.

The jut of land was differentiated from the rest of the forest by a sheer cliff with a narrow strip of rocky shoreline at its base. But despite its height, it was only a means to an end: the vista it revealed was literally breathtaking and Alessa made an involuntary sound of wonder. Tiny hamlets were scattered throughout the river's valley below them, each one marked by an onion-domed church. The snow overlaid it all, making the land look like some marvelous confection from a dream.

No earthly chef could have mimicked the rise and fall of the terrain as it guided the river to the sea.

"Look," Vasiliy said, his heavily gloved hand briefly touching her shoulder as he pointed with the other, "You can see the towers of the Kremlin from here. This is the highest point for miles."

Alessa squinted and indeed made out the pointed towers of the Kremlin. The golden domes of the Dormition could be seen by the winking glint bestowed upon them by the sun.

"Autumn is my favorite season," the prince said from beside her, "The color is glorious. And look, those tall trees fronting the bluff are aspens, my favorites. Their leaves do not rustle in the wind, they tremble. I wish I could show it to you."

"Your land is resplendent, Highness," Alessa said, not taking her eyes off the visual feast spread before her.

"Resplendent indeed," he murmured.

Frowning, she turned to face him, finding that his attention was not focused on the glorious sweep of the land.

"Highness?" she inquired, her heart tapping out a nervous rhythm. Vasiliy started and leaned back in his seat away from her, his cheeks becoming pinker even under the rosy kiss of the cold.

"Uh, nothing," he replied. He didn't break his scrutiny, however, and Alessa felt heat warm her own cheeks. The silence between them became filled with purpose. She could see Vasiliy working up toward something momentous as his eyes dilated with his escalating focus on her.

"My Prince, I –" she began hurriedly. He interrupted her with an imperious ascent of a gloved hand.

"Listen to what I have to say, first," he said, inborn command strengthening his voice even as his eyes pleaded with her. Gulping, she nodded, pressing her hands to her chest in an effort to hold her pounding heart inside it.

"My father signed documents last night proclaiming me his heir in the event of his death. Only he, myself, and one of his official document-keepers was present. He has not announced the decision yet so I know I don't need to tell you to keep this quiet. What with all of the unrest the last couple of weeks…"

"I understand, _vashe visochestva_," Alessa replied, dipping her chin in respectful accord. Vasiliy's fervent eyes could barely contain his eagerness,

"The things I will be able to _do_ to make the Duchy of _Moskva_ powerful!" he said passionately, "My father expanded our lands and drove the Mongols back. But it is uneasy peace, and the frontier is vulnerable. I can make that better."

Alessa nodded, suddenly wondering if she had misread his initial regard of her.

"I will have to be away from the city quite often, Aleksandra," he continued, "Shoring up the boundaries of my territories and securing the peaceful relations of my more civilized neighbors to the west. I need someone here to care for my people, and I can think of no better a partner in this endeavor than a woman with your compassion and wisdom to do this for me."

"What…" Alessa was having trouble catching her breath, "What are you asking me to do?"

"I want you to marry me," Vasiliy said.

Her response was to _woosh_ out a breath full of startled consonants,

"Hrnnk?"

Her initial response taken care of, she woozily gulped in a great breath of cold air as the prince observed her with an expression of self-satisfied amusement.

"But – but… your father…" she eventually was able to say, barely, after a great deal of gibberish that had Vasiliy roaring with laughter.

"I have no intention of involving my father in this decision," he told her imperiously between chuckles.

"But you must!" Alessa said, frantically trying to think – this was not something she had ever in her wildest imaginings had anticipated, "The decision of who will be your consort is something that will involve your supporters. You can't force them to accept a foreign, unknown woman as your queen!"

"What do you think my mother was?" he replied smugly, "A deposed princess, with no real wealth to speak of, only the unlikely potential of her Byzantine family's return to power."

"But still a princess. And she was a _second_ wife," Alessa pointed out sullenly, "Surely your father's first wife came with many connections and a princely dowry."

"Yet the second wife, chosen by Father for _himself_, has enjoyed more influence and power than Maria ever did," Vasiliy rejoined firmly, "It is because of her strong mind and her inherent ability to wield royal power. My mother is a catalyst, and because of her presence and influence, has decreased the power of the _boyars_ in favor of my father. Noble blood alone does not a good queen make."

She seriously thought about it. God help her, she envisioned a future with him, impossible as it was. Dino, Tullio, Markku, her life as an Assassin. The images flickered through her head and even those compelling reasons could not dissuade her.

Her children would be princes.

The potential beckoned her…

…But in the end, it was the thought of disappointing Ezio that brought all her potential future with Vasiliy crashing down. The thought of leaving _him_ was too much. She stared at the man before her, heir to a throne – a fucking _throne!_ – and he could not even begin to compare with one particular man back in_ la Roma_; a man who had made her promise to come back.

It was through an unexpected watery haziness rendered by brimming tears that she saw Vasiliy's earnest and congenial expression falter.

And damn her if that didn't break her heart in two.

"I can't…" she whispered, stricken.

"Why?" he replied, his own voice hoarse with emotion.

She tried to bow her head, unable to bear the disappointment radiating from him. He didn't allow her to be a coward; with a surprisingly gentle touch to her chin, he raised her face to his,

"Why?" he repeated, guileless blue eyes wide.

Alessa forgot about the mission. That heartless, cruel bitch that was her mission and the reason for her being there in that moment. She didn't answer as an Assassin. She answered as a woman, with every bit of honesty she could muster,

"Vasiliy," she said, "The woman you marry must and should bring something to your throne. You must marry to secure your power. Your rise to the privilege must be tempered by your wisdom in all decisions. I can bring nothing to you and I am not worthy to be your consort."

"And that is exactly why I need you," he insisted, "You _understand_, and…" he silenced her with a look when she tried to voice her denial, "And…. you have been the instrument in my rise to power. Before you came, the succession was firmly entrenched in Dmitriy's favor. You are a catalyst; what else could we do together when I have the full power of the throne?"

"That was not my doing," she replied, feeling sick with rising panic.

Then a memory suddenly inspired her, one of Ezio, back in that tumultuous time when the Assassin Order had been revealed to her. She felt herself smile in relief at the memory of her _maestro's_ passionate voice as he had convinced her of her own power to alter her fate.

The memory brought her a measure of peace as she re-focused on the prince, "I am not the instrument of your change," she told him, "Merely a witness to it. You have been changed by the _events_ that merely served to steer you in my direction. Coincidence."

Vasiliy reached out to her, gripping her shoulders hard, his face twisted with anger and disappointment. Alessa met his gaze, striving only to project her confidence that he would see the truth.

"No such thing as coincidence," he rasped.

For a moment, her conviction faltered. An almost manic glint had glazed his eyes. She trembled under his grip as his hands clenched painfully – enough to elicit a small gasp as she fought not to flinch.

The sound brought the reassuring clarity of sanity back into his eyes.

And then he looked horrified.

With a strangled sound, he wrenched his hands from her shoulders,

"Forgive me, _zvyozdochka_," he said, seeming to shrink in upon himself. Aware that she had seen something very dangerous surface, Alessa leaned forward to touch her forehead briefly to his. Her arms went around him of their own accord. He turned his face so that their cheeks slid past each other and he hugged her to him. His gentle response reassured her.

All was silent save for the quiet murmuring of the guards talking amongst themselves at a discreet distance. The wind picked up, rushing over the cold land, sighing as it rushed through the needles of the pines around them. And when the prince set her away from him, she felt like her life had been spared.

"Okay," Vasiliy said.

"Okay," Alessa replied.

The prince chuckled and shook his head ruefully before regarding her with interest,

"But you'll tell me the moment you change your mind?"

"All the Mongols nibbling at your borders couldn't stop me if I change my mind," she said.

"Then that's settled," Vailisy said.

"I suppose it is," she agreed.

They spent the return ride in thoughtful, but companionable silence. She couldn't discern the direction of his thoughts, and frankly, didn't want to care. God, she didn't want to care so much.

Dammit.

She rested her chin on her forearm where it rested on the edge of the open sleigh, watching the snowy landscape rush by.

As the chill wind bloomed her cheeks with color, she thought of her reason for turning down a throne.

And smiled.

* * *

**_Dino Demasi_**

Dino and Alessa crouched stoically on top of the northeastern-most tower of the Kremlin walls, a smaller fortification that looked over the flat plain spreading away from the Kremlin to the east. Their heavily gloved fingertips rested on the edge of the roof, providing balance as the Assassins leaned forward slightly to watch the maneuverings of Vasiliy's soldiers on the great field stretching out before them.

This high, all Dino could hear was the cold wind murmuring to itself as it blew past the enduring stones of the silent tower. Every so often, some trick of the air brought snatches of a shout, the clang of metal of metal, or the brassy call of the horns the soldiers used to convey battle commands.

"It's pretty impressive," he commented in idle aside to Alessa, who had been unnaturally quiet since returning from her little sleigh ride with the prince that morning.

"Hmmmm?" was her distracted reply.

"All these soldiers? They're very disciplined," he nudged her playfully, "And they're awfully pretty, too. Look at his cavalry; such fetching red cloaks, eh?"

"Indeed," Alessa said, her attention focused entirely on something – or someone – up the field. Dino leaned over slightly to get a look at the object of her attention.

The single rider on a magnificent horse almost blended in with his soldiers, save for the glint of gilding on his armor that reached them even up on that tower in the weak sunlight.

"Aha," he rumbled, "And how is lover boy these days?"

She turned then to fix him with a scathing look, dark fire snapping in her too big eyes over the sunken hollows of her cheeks. He felt his eyes narrow. What the fuck was wrong with her that she was looking so gaunt lately?

"He is preparing to leave and tour the Duchy once spring comes; a perfectly appropriate reason to drill his troops."

"Huh. Going to keep order for his nephew? How sporting of him. I thought they were at each other's throats. Figuratively speaking; I've never seen this infamous Dmitriy." Dino considered the huge mass of troops moving about in formation below them, "Try again, _tesora_."

A big sigh. She fixed those eyes on him again, tormented. Her teeth toyed with her lower lip for a moment, before she leaned forward, speaking in a low voice.

As if anyone else could hear them up on their perch.

"His father is preparing to crown Vasiliy as co-regent and heir."

Dino fidgeted as he waited for elaboration, but none came.

"So no one else knows?" he ventured a guess.

Alessa nodded,

"Vasiliy thinks it is to see how he handles the Strigolniki Crisis."

"Ah, fortuitous then, is it not? That we were here to create this opportunity for your boy?"

He expected a snide comment in return. Instead her face paled even more – if that were possible,

"That depends on how this whole thing plays out," Alessa said softly. She looked down and toyed with the scarlet length of silk tied to her sword belt, before letting it slide absentmindedly through the rough leather covering her slack fingers. An embroidered double-headed eagle slipped out of his sight before the silk fell to rest against her hip once again, the ends hanging just over the edge of the tower..

Oh.

Now he understood. This opportunity was a double-edged blade for the prince then. Success for the prince would mean a throne. Failure would mean… well, who knew. Probably nothing good.

Dino cleared his throat,

"And Dmitriy? Ivan's grandson? Where is he in all of this?"

Alessa shrugged.

"I don't know. Vasiliy never mentioned him. And I don't understand why Ivan would make this decision about Vasiliy in secret. I can only conclude that he is pitting the two against each other somehow."

"What kind of man would do that to his own flesh and blood?" Dino wondered.

"He's the ruler of his people," Alessa muttered, returning her attention the prince, who had dismounted to confer with some of his officers. The small group huddled around a brazier of coals as they gesticulated at a large document the prince held.

"Are we ready to do this, then?" Dino prompted her. She took a deep breath, and he could see determination make her body rigid and strong.

"I am ready," she confirmed.

Together they made their way around the tower pinnacle and executed a Leap of Faith. Once on the ground, they made their way deeper into the Kremlin complex.

Dino's fairly trembled with anticipation.

Finally.

Finally they were going to end this mission: Belsky and Shiusky, Ivan's Templar investigators, were meeting at an abandoned church just outside the Kremlin walls. He and Alessa would take care of these fucks, place the blame squarely on the non-existent Strigolniki, and re-establish the Assassin Order in Moscow without Templars around to point out their whereabouts to the Prince.

He and Alessa passed out of the Kremlin through the western gate, blending with a crowd of departing merchants to avoid attracting the guards stationed there.

In contrast to the activity within the citadel, the streets of _Moskva_ were more difficult to navigate incognito. They were disturbingly empty. The general public, sensitive to the mood of the city and its nobles, were lying low. Patrols were heavy; most garbed in the crimson of Vasiliy's soldiers. Keeping his head down, Dino made visual note of random shadows in doorways, shapes flitting through narrow allies, and flashes of movement from the rooftops.

The thieves.

A dubious sort of honor guard, the thieves would descend upon anyone who escaped the Assassins.

Dino was pretty damn sure that these thieves wouldn't even have to unsheathe their blades.

Deep in the city now, he deftly avoided a deep puddle of filthy slush. The movement brought him momentarily around the corner of a dilapidated wooden building. A church swung into view before he ducked back behind the corner.

It was old building, nearly falling apart, the roof ready to cave in, but nonetheless somehow dignified in spite of its descent in ruin. The once proud domed tower listed slightly, but the tri-bar cross of the Orthodox faith still pierced the leaden winter sky.

He felt Alessa shiver as a brisk wind hurtled down the corridor formed by the tall buildings where they stood. He put an arm around her, squeezed slightly, and let go. Then, remaining sensitive to each other's location, the two Assassins separated to opposite sides of the street and went to the rooftops.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Russian history:** The Mongols (affectionately known as The Great Horde) were all over the damn place during this time period. Prince Ivan III (Vasiliy's dad) is considered to be the ruler that cast the Mongols out by refusing to pay their tributes and then making an impressive military display to back his shit up. That particular even is known as the Stand at Ubra River and occured during 1479 -1480.

**Russian Language Stuffs: **_zvyozdochka: _endearment, "little star"; ___vashe visochestva: _your highness

**Italian Language Stuffs:** _tesora/tesorina_: sweetheart; _piccina_: little one

I promise, 40 and 41 veeeery soon. Like, days.


	40. Moscow: Chasing Ghosts

**A/N: Figured I'd get this out before I head to GameStop for a particular midnight release. (!) Enjoy, my friends, I love the hell out of you guys!**

**Rough times ahead for our Assassins; let the torture begin.**

**Ubisoft is... jeez, do I need to say it?**

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

She could hear the Templars' voices get louder as she crept slowly across the heavily decayed wood supporting what remained of the roof. Peering past ancient scaffolding, she finally caught her first glimpse of the heavily furred noblemen talking softly in a group below her.

Arms trembling with the effort Alessa lowered herself silently through a crevice in the roof, easing her body through the maze of beams that creaked softly at her passage.

She maneuvered with little difficulty once she made it past the worst of the rotten wood above, making cautious leaps across the relatively solid beams that ran over the length of the nave. The Templars stood in a ragged group at the altar.

Balancing carefully on the balls of her feet, Alessa crossed her arms about her knees as she crouched on the beam exactly above Aleksandr Belsky.

Something, a feeling, made her look around suddenly, and she peered into the deep shadows that writhed in the semi-twilit alcoves running the length of the nave. She eventually spotted Dino, shrouded in half-light, as he moved like a stalking wolf towards the men at the altar.

She wondered briefly how he had gotten in – the perimeter and portals of the building were guarded – but then she forgot about it as she shrugged a coil of rope off of her shoulder. With quick, efficient movements, she knotted one end about the beam she crouched on.

While she waited for Dino to get closer to his target, Alessa tugged unconsciously at the tiny square sewn into the sleeve of her innermost tunic. The pinky-nail sized packets had been a final weapon that Dino had decided to add to their arsenal.

Inside was a light powder. A single puff into an enemy's face and the tiny particles would enter the lungs, suffocating the victim. It was a fast method of poisoning, and Dino assured her it would be nearly silent.

_Sound_, he had said, _is created by the force of one's breath_. This poison, one he called _strangle-mist_, would immediately incapacitate the lungs.

Alessa hoped she never had to use the stuff. Fucking disturbing. She shuddered and focused on the matter at hand.

As Dino reached his place amongst the shadows guarding a faded icon off to the side of the altar, Alessa silently estimated the distance to ground, and then made a noose in her rope. Once finished, she raised her fist in the air. After a moment, she could see Dino do the same.

The Assassins ticked off a count of five in the silent distance between them. When her thumb flicked out at the final, fifth measure, she let the rope fall.

It snaked eagerly to the ground, making a little_ ziiip_ sound as it uncoiled beside her.

The noise caused the men at the altar to look up, and it was at that moment that the Assassins leaped for their prey.

She drew her weapon during the exhilarating rush of free fall, but withheld her hidden blade in favor of her knuckle dagger. Alessa came down directly on top of Belsky. The impact drove the man to the ground and knocked the breath out of him. Alessa braced her knees against the floor before she punched him hard at the base of his neck. The blow of her reinforced knuckles made the Templar agent go unmistakably, irreparably slack.

She leapt off of her target and just barely avoided the deadly edge of a sword as it whistled past her ear. She rolled over her shoulder, the impetus of the movement helping her surge to her feet. Without stopping, she whirled to block the second swing from sword with her left vambrace, wincing at the impact.

Now inside the sword-bearer's reach, she jammed her knuckle dagger into his ribs. Using his shock to her advantage, she hooked her free arm around his neck and ducked beneath his arm to avoid the attack of another Templar. The blow from the second Templar finished off the man she was using as a shield. Her arm was still twined about him, and she staggered nearly to her knees as he went down.

She lost her dagger at that point, lodged as it was in a bone, and hissed in pain as her fingers were wrenched out of the hilt. Lurching to her feet, she scrabbled backwards to a safe distance to assess the situation.

This second Templar was short and stocky. He kept his center of balance low as he stalked her. His shoulders bulged visibly beneath his cloak as he continually shifted his grip on the heavy war hammer that had killed his ally. She couldn't see much of his face for the scarf at his throat and the lowered flaps of his _ushanka_.

Their breaths steamed in the freezing air between them as they considered each other. Dino battled somewhere off to her side, out of her direct line of her sight, and she trusted that he'd keep his opponents engaged and out of her way.

"Clever, clever Assassin," her opponent eventually murmured, his voice a resonant bass, "You might hide beneath the trappings of an extinct sect but we will always know you."

A silver Templar cross glittered like a star somewhere within the folds of his winter cloak, catching her attention. Taking her eyes from the sight, Alessa swallowed her misgivings to move into step across from him, careful of her footing in the semi-darkness of the abandoned church.

Part of her remained aware of Dino's battle as he fought off two others but she forced herself to focus only on the man she circled. She made note of everything: the crumbled altar that she moved behind briefly, the outflung arm of Belsky's corpse that posed a trip hazard, a pile of rubble she could use to kick at and distract the Templar.

She darted in, testing his reach. The _whoosh_ of the hammer seemed to warp the air it passed through by virtue of its weight. But while the thing would probably shatter whatever part of her body it managed to hit, it was definitely slow.

Alessa was hesitant to engage the Templar too closely, however. As the breadth of the shoulder and the depth of the chest attested, she would be finished if he managed to get hold of her.

She feinted again, twisted aside. She was startled to find herself breathing heavily, her heart pounding too hard within her chest; she was exhausted.

It was absurd; her training since arriving in _Moskva_ had intensified. Dino, Dmitriy, and even Khiril had worked with her in whatever down time they had. She should be at the peak of her physical fitness. Instead, her chest heaved as she backed away from the Templar, her fingertips felt numb with fatigue. She curled and uncurled her fists to offset the sensation and doggedly focused on her battle plan.

The Templar was tiring too, but not physically. Not in the least. He was growing impatient with her feints and she knew she had to come up with something quickly.

A sudden burst of activity from the other fight indicated that things were coming to an end. Alessa used that split-second of distraction to explode into motion. She charged towards the Templar, noting with satisfaction that he was firming up his stance to take a really good swing at her.

Alessa's martial training had been guided by many people, but she had been drilled by Ezio himself in the ability to move without projecting her intention. She recalled the briefest flash of memory; herself and Dino, surrounding the Master Assassin, constantly moving – and brutally slapped down with a heavy practice stave anytime the man saw them coming.

Which was _every single goddamn time_.

But anyone else without Ezio's seeming pre-cognition, Alessa could fool with increasing regularity. So she was confident that her body betrayed no intent of her doing anything but rushing inside the Templar's guard.

Perfect form aside, the Templar was expecting her. By the slight twist in his shoulders, the subtle shift in his stance; he was expecting her to go to his left.

Huh. Son of a bitch.

She was forced to improvise – and swiftly. So she went right instead.

The head of the hammer became more intimidating the closer she came, and it was not all cool logic that spurred her into the precise spin that took her out of its reach.

Her calculations were flawless; just as she reached the outermost edge of the weapon's range, she glided along the imagined arc, following it back to her opponent's body. There, safely past his deadly weapon, she moved with him as he hastily checked his swing. The sensation was intimate; she let her body react to the cues provided by his.

With an almost casual movement that was no less deadly for its careless appearance, Alessa plunged her hidden blade into the man's exposed kidney and leapt away.

He merely grunted and turned towards her, hefting his weapon – this time with noticeable difficulty. Alessa crouched, waiting, just in case.

"You think you've won?" he said, lowering the hammer as if it suddenly wearied him. He swayed at the knees as he managed another step, the hammer dragging heavily along the floor. He took a couple of breaths and his free hand went almost unconsciously to his back. He glanced at the redness soaking his glove dismissively before going down on one knee.

The whole situation was putting her on edge; he was taking it all so calmly. Suddenly wary, she looked around, ignoring him as he chuckled to himself, now on his hands and knees. She went to him, barely noticing that Dino had just dispatched his final opponent. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she fisted the heavy fur there and dragged him up to meet her eyes.

He was pale with blood loss, and sweating heavily, but his eyes burned with the intensity of a fanatic.

"How many are waiting out there?" she asked him, shaking him a little. He grinned, blood staining his teeth macabrely.

"Clever," he said in grudging approval, "And many, to answer your question; you'll never get past them."

"_Requiescat in pace_," she told him as she thrust her hidden blade into his throat.

Leaving him there, she hurried to Belsky's body to loot it.

"We have to go, Dino, now," she said to her partner across the room, who was dragging Shuisky's body across the floor by his heels.

"Why?" he asked as he reached her. Alessa ignored him, focused on getting the noose around Belsky's neck. She pulled the red bandana off of her head, feeling strands of her hair come loose from her braid and straggle across her face. With an impatient movement, she used her forearm to push it back even as she tied the bandana around Belsky's ankle. With Dino's help, she hoisted the body up with the noose, so that it swung from the rafters.

Her heart pounded with the effort and Alessa fought to slow her breathing as Dino produced a bundle of red cloth from a pouch on his belt.

Another red bandana went around Shuisky's ankle, and, still hiding the effort it cost her to move briskly, Alessa replaced the one on her head. She retrieved and sheathed her knuckle dagger. Their disguises checked, Assassin hoods firmly tucked out of sight in their long leather dusters, the two crept to the vestibule and peeked out a crack in the church's door.

Just as they had planned, a few guards milled around unobtrusively outside.

Witnesses to the Strigolniki murders of Prince Ivan's investigators.

What they hadn't planned for, however, was the full platoon of soldiers marching up the street.

From two different fucking directions.

"Ready to run like hell?" Dino asked her with a grin.

"Like a rat on a sinking ship," she agreed, checking her buckles one last time and feeling a surge of excitement pluck at her exhaustion. She loved free-running.

Dmitriy's so-called Wolves had set up 'safe' circuits leading away from the staging point of the church. The ingresses had been marked by drapes of white cloth just that morning, while Alessa had been with the prince. The routes were selected for their high visibility but avoided direct paths through the residential districts…

…Stay your blade from the innocent.

Alessa's stomach roiled; some rioting and mindless destruction was inevitable, hell, even desirable. Nothing like inciting a good bit of violence to cement the villainy of the fake sect with the Grand Prince. But, _Dio_, she hoped there wouldn't be civilian deaths.

Of course, first they had to get out the front door. From the noise, more troops were coming. Alessa could see that they weren't Vasiliy's men. Were they the mysterious Dmitriy's, the Grand Prince's grandson and Vasiliy's rival for the throne?

"Ah, fuck it," Dino said suddenly, "I think this one's going to have to be improvised."

"After you," Alessa said graciously, stepping away from the door.

Dino didn't hesitate; he kicked open the rotting church doors and the Assassins burst out amidst the group of Templar guards. Their bandanas were bright splashes of color standing out from the more somberly garbed soldiers and Alessa experienced first-hand what it was like to stand out in a crowd.

Her legs churning hard, she settled into a rhythm, darting past a young guard still trying to unsheathe his sword, and dropped into a roll to avoid the wild swing of another man in her path.

Once she regained her feet, she was clear of the small knot of Templar guards and one of the white cloths billowed gently in a random breeze just in front of her.

"_Andiamo_," she said to herself as she rushed up the stack of crates and leaped for the ledge of a window. Her momentum drove her up and she rapidly scaled the remaining distance of the building to the roof. A crossbow bolt thudded against the wood just behind her and she felt the splinters spray across the backs of her legs.

Pumping her arms, she sprinted forward in a burst of real speed, thankful for the flat stretch that enabled her to get past the soldiers amassing in the street below her.

Shouts and the clang of multiple men in armor sounded from the street. Across the way, she saw a brief flash of Dino's red bandana before he disappeared behind a chimney. Focusing on her next effort, Alessa spotted a white strip of cloth tied to a lantern pole off to her side.

She veered in that direction, took a leap from the edge of the roof and hurtled through the air, the palms of her hands slapping firmly onto the horizontal brace of the lantern holder, and kicked her legs out. The movement launched her forward onto an abandoned market stall and from there to the center of a broad thoroughfare.

Behind her, the soldiers were shouting instructions and hastily turning about. A few of the men that had been in the rear – but now found themselves facing a fleeing Strigolniki conspirator – broke rank and hauled ass after her.

Up ahead, Alessa spotted her next signal flag and she slowed a bit, just to make the soldiers think they were closing in, maybe clump them together into an ineffectual group… But another crossbow bolt _pinged_ into something beside her and she gave up the pretense, not really interested in being shot in the back.

A few more steps brought her to a teetering stack of barrels and she grinned. Her breath chuffed out in rhythm as she hopped up the stair-stepped, precariously stacked kegs. Satisfying crashes and shouts of alarm dogged her steps as she deliberately pushed the things over. She almost lost her footing as the top barrel tipped over before she was ready, but with a spectacular flailing of her arms, she regained her balance and started her next obstacle.

The architecture of this city differed immensely from that of _Roma_. Building materials were the most obvious difference, but in _Moskva_, very steeply sloped roofs allowed snow to fall off the roofs instead of accumulating. Snow was heavy and could easily cause even the sturdiest roof to cave in.

A clever trick, but those particular rooftops were a real bitch to climb – especially when they were covered with the delightful combination of half-melted snow and slicks of ice…

...Which was right... exactly... now.

Cursing to herself, half sliding down, half sprinting up, Alessa managed to scuttle up the steep roof. She reached the pinnacle of the bastard and took a split second to look for her next flag. Down again – this time it was a good couple of stories to the ground. To make things more complicated, a high stone wall ran around the building close to where she planned on landing. If she jumped too short, she'd be behind the wall and lose precious time getting over it. And she simply could not jump far enough out to land beyond the wall. She could make it close, but not quite far enough.

Behind her, a few enterprising soldiers had gained the roof and were making their way cautiously to the top, where she was standing. They were having just as difficult a time navigating, but it was time for a decision.

She rushed through a few different scenarios in her mind before bursting into motion once again, running full tilt down the steep decline.

The house had been well built and the sturdy wooden tiles provided the firm surface she needed. She reached the edge and dove headfirst for the ground. Her arms stretched out before her, Alessa whooped in delight at the free fall, the top of the wall rushing at her at an exhilarating rate.

Her hands contacted the top of the wall and she pushed herself forward and out, swinging her legs forward and aiming her feet at the ground. She pin-wheeled her arms a few times to adjust her balance and landed square on her feet for an instant before going forward in a roll to absorb the impact.

She turned and gave the soldiers on the roof a jaunty little salute as they dithered at the edge, unable or unwilling to attempt a repeat of her performance. But they could see her, and they yelled for their counterparts on the ground. Seconds later, she heard the clattering soldiers on the next street over change direction.

She was nearing the center of the city now, close to the Kremlin. At the rendezvous point, she and Dino would be met by the thieves, who would draw off the soldiers before they all went to ground in the catacombs beneath the city. Once there, they would all make their way to the Wolves' headquarters and lay low for a few days while things calmed down and the Grand Prince began actively seeking out Strigolniki members.

Which didn't exist.

God, Aristotele was fucking brilliant.

One final course remained. As she slowed into a rhythmic, distance-eating lope in plain view down the center of the street, Alessa could hear some engagements occurring nearby. Good. The two factions – Vasiliy's and his nephew's – were fighting.

Her pathway to the next rooftop, marked by the white flag, was blocked by a pair of soldiers in red surcoats with the green eagle – Vasiliy's men.

_Merda._

She didn't want to kill them as they were ostensibly on her side. But they didn't know that, and would only see her red bandana.

Slightly panicked, Alessa slowed almost to a walk, her eyes darting about for an alternative. She very nearly skipped this route in favor of an un-tested circuit but decided against it. The thieves were keeping these routes clear for her so she could escape safely.

She was fast and she knew she was an excellent free-runner, but at some point her luck would run out. She needed the safety of the pre-planned routes.

Her training with Ezio took over. In her mind, she heard his voice, as she always did when things became difficult. He was the touchstone to everything in her that was an Assassin. Alessa listened; she knew the training wouldn't let her down.

The soldiers stood directly in front of a series of handholds would easily get her to the rooftop she needed to gain. But the fact that they stood within the alley meant that another wall stood parallel to them. She couldn't go through the men, but she could go over them.

Satisfied, she picked up speed into a sprint, running straight at them. They noticed her – and her bandana – at that point and drew their swords. Alessa ignored them, focusing instead on her body and what it needed to do. With a final, extra-long stride, she flung herself recklessly forward, using a handspring for a distracting movement. It also gained her enough height such that she could grab the top of the ten foot wall across from the soldiers, and then launch herself backwards from the wall and twist in midair to gain the single story rooftop above their heads.

She left them behind, shouting their bewilderment.

It was quieter up here, and Alessa took her time, catching her breath. Her breathing was wildly out of control, which was dangerous. She timed her rhythm and her jumps by her breath. Imperfect timing would result in disaster on the rooftops.

As she vaulted across narrow streets and jogged at the edges of the roofs, Alessa began to draw more and more attention. Shouts of alarm and commands to catch her began to sound in her wake. Civilians and soldiers alike were incited into conflict by her appearance.

Somehow, over the growing racket, she heard footsteps mimicking her own. She spared a glance back and was surprised to discover a pursuer. Lightly armored, the man was built like one of the more agile thieves – slender even beneath his winter clothing, long legged, and possessing all the grace and agility of a cat.

Competition.

Delightful.

Without wondering too much who he was Alessa redoubled her efforts; she was more concerned about the crossbow on his back. They were about three stories up, and she had to shake this guy. She was near the end of her strength – the handspring had chewed through most of her stamina – so she couldn't spare the energy for a fight.

They were running parallel to the river. Here, a seawall had been built to strengthen the shoreline and rose a good ten feet above the water.

Maybe…

No, it'd be fucking freezing and her clothing would drag her under the ice floes built up along the edges of the river. Add the current beneath the ice and…

But still…

Making her decision, Alessa dove for the ground, rolled to her feet, and without missing a step began sprinting across the street running alongside the river. A waist height railing guarded the edge of the seawall and she went straight for it. Behind, she heard her pursuer hit the ground, perilously close.

Even worse, she heard the snick of the crossbow as a bolt was put into place.

Her arms churning and her legs going full stride, Alessa dove for the railing. She went over the edge, smelled the frozen tang of the river, her hands never quite leaving the narrow bars of the railing. She dropped down past the level of the street and twisted her body with an effort. At the same time, she grabbed the base of the railing where it was driven into the pile on helping to hold the wall.

Muffling her breathing into her scarf, Alessa clung there like a bug, toes braced against the wall.

Her pursuer cursed, obviously thinking she had recklessly dove into the water and she heard his footsteps slow to a walk as he approached the railing. Looking up, she saw the tip of the crossbow come into view, then the man's hands…

She surged up, pushing up from her toes, thighs screaming with the effort, and buried her hidden blade under the man's collarbone. Blood spurted onto her face and, blinking furiously to clear her vision, Alessa hooked the man over the edge and into the river.

She lowered herself back down below street level and stayed there a moment, catching her breath yet again and listening for pursuers. When it sounded clear, she pulled herself up and completed her circuit with relative ease.

"Where the fuck were you?" Dino demanded when they reached their rendezvous point.

"Oh, you know, decided to take tea, go flirt with some of the sailors at the pier; I thought I had time," Alessa wheezed, leaning over her bent knees as she caught her breath.

"Pffft," Dino scoffed, and then took a closer look at her, "You okay?"

"Yup, the routes weren't so smooth, and I had a couple of adventurous soldiers get a little too close."

"Lucky," Dino said enviously, "I couldn't have picked a more boring route if I'd tried."

"So what now?" Alessa asked, her breath coming a little easier, she pushed off her knees and peered around. The sounds of multiple battles made a constant background noise. The full din was muted by the high buildings surrounding the small square the Assassins found themselves in.

"Er, well, Dmitriy was supposed to meet us here with a couple of his –"

A shot rang out and the Assassins immediately dove for cover.

"_Cazzo_," Dino hissed beside her as they scrambled for a protective alley, "Looks like we know why they're not here. Who the hell is that? If that's that miserable bastard who tried to shoot me last month I'm going to tear him in half!"

"There's an entrance to the catacombs in one of the buildings near here," Alessa whispered, aware that whoever was shooting at them might hear her, "Let's go."

They hustled through the narrow alley, Dino having the shuffle through sideways. Alessa let him lead, turned to face the opposite direction, reaching back to grab his belt for guidance – not that there was room to veer off course – to watch for anyone to enter the confined lane.

She almost fell when they suddenly popped out of the other end. Stumbling, she gratefully used Dino's steadying hand to bring herself upright and the Assassins ran again.

Another shot rang out, dimpling the cobblestone in front of them, and Alessa yelped as a third shot followed closely after the second, indicating that there was more than one gunman.

"_Cazzo_," Dino said again, succinctly recapping their predicament. They began to zig-zag, not daring to take to the rooftops where they would present excellent targets to whoever was up there.

"Just a couple… blocks… over…," Alessa panted.

"You sure you're okay?" Dino asked as they dodged around a pile of debris and bodies left behind from a small skirmish, "Because you sound like – "

"Shut up," she snapped, more terrified by her weakness than angry at his suspicion.

Dino grunted and turned suddenly down another alley. She was hard pressed to respond. Within the relative cover of the corridor, Dino took her hand firmly in one of his and practically dragged her along behind him.

Up ahead, safety waited.

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

When she didn't protest at his assumption of control, Dino really began to worry. Not to mention her abnormally heavy-footed steps were going to reveal them; they echoed nice and loud between the closely spaced buildings.

She sounded like a giant, wheezing duck flapping along behind him.

Smothering a bubble of hysterical laughter, Dino entwined his fingers more firmly with hers and focused.

Dino really didn't want to go back out into the open, but he didn't have a choice. They just needed to cross the next street and they'd be in the access building to the catacombs. He planned on destroying the entrance behind them, burn the building down, maybe.

Dmitriy would be fucking pissed, but it was too bad. Alessa was his responsibility, and the Russian thief would just have to find another dilapidated building in which to open another catacomb entrance.

Safety beckoned and he didn't bother with the door, just crashed through it, using the weight and heft of his body to simply tear a hole through the wood. He hauled Alessa in behind him and she came uncomplainingly as he tossed her deeper inside.

But the little entryway apparently couldn't stand any more strain on its supporting beams and Dino heard an ominous creak from above. He froze, as if his not moving would help matters.

It totally didn't.

Unable to even blurt out a curse, he hurled himself further into the building after Alessa, half-landing on her. He scooped her up beneath him and sheltered her as the creaking and groaning reached a culmination.

The little wooden lean-to that had comprised the building's side entrance collapsed, rather spectacularly, actually.

"It won't help matters if you bring the building crashing down around us," came Alessa's inevitable comment from somewhere beneath him.

"Saved your ass, didn't I, _tesora_," he said, rolling off of her. As he reached a hand down to help her up, he continued, "They were on us the whole time. Like they were herding us. Fucking weird."

"Pistols aren't exactly the most accurate weapons, but you're right. Something's going wrong," Alessa said, grunting a little as she got to her feet. Blood had dried in a rusty smear across her face and as he watched, she raised her forearm to scrub at it.

Smudging it even more.

Gross.

Dino reached out and pulled the red bandana off her head, and then did a more thorough job for her.

"Thanks for not spitting on it," she muttered, embarrassed. He grinned. "So," she continued, "Shall we find the entrance?"

"I don't know," Dino replied thoughtfully, "I think we should just leave."

"We can't exactly just walk out the door –"

"I mean, leave Moscow. Now."

"Oh."

They were silent for a moment. Then Alessa spoke,

"We have to re-establish the Order here," she said softly.

"Bah!" Dino gestured in frustration, "It's just – we don't know who to trust anymore. Any one of our allies could have been betraying us the whole time."

"Missions don't play out perfectly all the time," Alessa said, her voice gentle as Dino felt himself getting worked up with anger. He felt her touch his bicep briefly and looked down at her. She stared up at him, her face earnest, eyes intent. He almost wanted to pass all of the inconsistencies off as coincidence.

Almost.

Until he looked past her surface features.

He was a doctor. And he knew something was wrong with her. If it wasn't pregnancy and she wasn't dying of acute poisoning, someone had to have been giving her something.

In small amounts.

The whole.

Fucking.

Time.

And he had allowed it to happen.

The fatigue. Her unusually blasé attitude. The loss of weight and strength. He growled to himself softly, suddenly furious.

_Who was it?_

"No you're right," he grumbled, watching her eyes widen in alarm, "We stay. And we will find out who is betraying us."

Her shoulders slumped, but he suspected it was with relief.

"Look, _tesora mia_," he said, "We have to run one more time, and then –"

"Do you smell something?" she interrupted him.

"No, I –"

Suddenly he did smell something.

Smoke.

"Dino," Alessa whispered, clutching him as a heartbreaking frisson of terror clouded her eyes briefly. Without her hood, her hair escaping its braid to straggle in messy, sweaty strands about her brow, her eyes looked huge and vulnerable and he had to resist the urge to soothe her.

For it was definitely smoke. If they didn't find the entrance to the catacombs, they'd be burned alive, trapped inside the building.

As tendrils of the ominous substance began to slither in along the ceiling, Dino cast his gaze about frantically, unconsciously clutching Alessa to him.

He spied an exit to the streets. It would expose them to the shooter, but it was a damned sight better than burning alive.

"Out," he said, dragging her in that direction. She didn't resist and they reached the heavy wooden portal. Pulling the latch, Dino pushed hard…

…and didn't go anywhere. He wedged a shoulder nice and tight against the door, figuring that it was warped shut, and strained hard. It gave somewhat before hitting an immovable object on the other side.

"It's blocked," Alessa said, peeking through the narrow gap he had made.

"Where do the catacombs come out at?" he grunted, giving the door one final, great effort before giving up.

Alessa shook her head in frustrated uncertainty, jogging over to one of the doors. He watched her place her hands over the wood and then snatch them back. As she did, more smoke began to creep in under the door.

They tried the other portals out of the room with similar results.

Growing frantic, the smoke getting thicker by the second, Alessa began tossing rubbish aside, stamping on the floor, looking for an escape route, for anything. The smoke drove them to their knees; the air was better lower down. Dino was eyeballing the walls, looking for rotted wood, maybe he could break through one of the walls…

"Up there," Alessa said suddenly, pointing to a crawl space entrance near the peak of the roof.

She was right. They didn't have time to find the entrance to the catacombs and they couldn't get out of the damn room. And even if they could break out of the barricaded door, whoever had started the fire would be waiting for them.

Coughing now, the two made their way across the open floor as a sudden increase in the smoke brought a wave of heat with it.

Too fucking bad that heat was going to eventually kill them, because it felt damn good at the moment. Dino actually had to resist the urge to shuck off his heavy jacket and luxuriate for a bit.

"Give me a boost," Alessa said as they reached the far wall.

"Just make sure you don't leave me down here," he attempted as a joke. She responded with a withering glance as he threaded his fingers together. She stepped into the cradle they made and he heaved her up. She scrabbled at the edge briefly before getting a firm hand hold and then pulled herself up, first her torso, and then her legs and feet disappearing into the crawl space.

Her head popped out a second later.

"Come on!" she said, gesturing frantically before reaching her arms down for him. He took a running start, manfully ignoring the plumes of smoke and the first flames of the fire behind him. The heat at his back was blistering now and he was both alarmed and amazed at how fast it was spreading.

He jumped and caught at her hands, trying to take most of his weight in his legs as he clambered the rest of the way up. Unfortunately she had to bear a heavy amount of his body weight and he cursed his size for the first time in his life.

The crawlspace was dark and heavy with smoke. It seemed to lead away from where the fire had been started, but Dino was concerned that flames could have been set in multiple places.

"Go," he hissed, pushing Alessa ahead of him. Then he covered his nose and mouth with his scarf. It helped his breathing somewhat but he was beginning to realize that the smoke might kill them before the flames ever reached them.

Up ahead of him, he heard Alessa coughing into her own scarf as she twitched her hood over her head. He crawled half beside her as she slowed, ramming his shoulders into the backs of her thighs to move her along.

She stopped suddenly. He couldn't see a damn thing for the heavy smoke. He felt her body wrench and strain for a moment before it fell still. His heart leapt when she stopped moving, and then began pounding in terror.

"Alessa," he said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, "Alessa!"

God, they were done.

Trapped inside a fucking hole in the middle of nowhere.

Claudia would fucking kill him.

He banged a fist a few times at the floor in mute frustration, doing nothing more than bruising his knuckles.

"Fucking stop," he heard Alessa snarl. Her voice was like music and he grinned. "We can get out here," she continued, "But the hatch is warped. I can't open it."

"Move over," he blustered, hiding his relief. He contorted himself backwards, twisted onto his back, and scooted forward as she got out of the way. The space narrowed almost uncomfortably tight but he could faintly see the outline of a framed doorway. Cocking his right leg back, he landed a couple of powerful blows to no avail.

Damn thing didn't even groan in protest.

"Fucking entryway collapses," he wheezed, his chest heaving as he continued to kick, "But stupid little tiny…" _kick…_ "fucking…" _kick…_ "door won't… HAH!"

An impossible wrenching nearly popped his knee out of its socket as his foot suddenly went through the wood. A couple more strategic kicks popped the rest of the wood out and he wriggled out feet first onto a narrow ledge that circumvented the low dome they had been crawling about in.

Leaving his ass hanging out practically in mid-air made him feel damned vulnerable, but he ducked back into the hole to help Alessa out. Careful to look around for attackers, he realized that the closest building was in jumping distance.

Without further ado, he tossed Alessa across the short gap, ignoring her blurt of surprise, and then followed her.

They coughed and retched and spat for a couple breaths and then got to their feet, intent on getting away from the burning building. Dino was shocked to see that most of it had already been engulfed by flames, and the dome was just now being consumed.

"_Jesu Maria_," he murmured reverently.

The Assassins limped their way a few more buildings down before dropping into the protected area between a rooftop and a turret to catch their breaths. Consumed as they both were in managing their aching lungs, there was no flippant banter.

Some time passed as black smoke continued to billow into the sky, consuming the doomed building they had been trapped in.

Dino's throat was scratchy and he had some slight discomfort remaining in his chest, but he began to feel better and more alert as he gulped in the clean air. While Alessa recovered, he quietly scouted their surroundings.

The sun was already beginning its descent. Dark would be upon them soon and they needed to make a decision before the cold really set in.

"I really want to catch you," Dino muttered to the burning building and the traitor it represented.

"Maybe we still can," said an almost unrecognizable voice beside him. He didn't exactly jump, not really.

"_Jesu_, Alessa," he said, "I don't know how you can be so quiet after all that sloppy free-running you embarrassed me with earlier."

"_Fotiti_," she grumbled, her voice scratchy and faint.

Excellent; if she could banter, she was okay.

They picked their way back across the rooftops, carefully to remain in the lengthening shadows. Dino was astonished that they had never camouflaged themselves with soot before. Alessa's smeared face practically melted into the shifting darkness. Grinning to himself, Dino followed her to the ground.

She pressed a hand to her sternum briefly and stopped once they reached ground level, but then went right back into motion so he didn't check on her. He followed silently, looking around constantly. He was so intent on every place but in directly in front of him that he almost barreled her over when she stopped at a corner.

She didn't look at him, kept her gaze directed somewhere just around the corner. With her rear hand, she reached up to tap a finger alongside his jaw before pointing.

A lone figure leaned nonchalantly against a wall across from the burning building, watching it dispassionately.

"Son of a bitch," Dino breathed, feeling his eyes narrow. Alessa spun to give him a warning look to shut up, but the man perked up anyway. Fucker must have amazing hearing for he looked directly at the corner they were hiding behind.

The Assassins held their breath.

Eventually the man relaxed somewhat, but didn't go back to his former nonchalant position. Instead, he unbuttoned his heavy coat to reveal a bandolier of throwing knives. Dino nearly cursed again as he noticed the dark streaks of soot marring the man's white linen shirt. At that point, inexplicably, with a sudden burst of movement, Alessa rushed out of cover, making straight for the arsonist.

Surprisingly, he didn't use one of those throwing knives, but merely sidled up a nearby wall and onto the roof.

Dammit.

Dino had had enough rooftop free-running to last a lifetime.

Alessa didn't seem to be bent on catching up to the fucker, though, and Dino realized that she was deliberately driving the chase on to try and find out what the destination might be.

This guy would lead them straight to their traitor.

Hopefully.

Their target was taking a leisurely route towards the river where it looped east and then back south, just east of the Kremlin.

Dino was beginning to doubt the value of this plan when the man took a flying leap across a gap to a higher rooftop. Alessa was right behind the target by this point and she jumped the gap to cling to a window ledge just below the fleeing man. He hung from the edge of the roof and Dino could clearly see him look down at his partner with lethal intent.

Swinging by one hand, the man reached for a throwing knife as Alessa struggled to gain height. Dino, in helpless fear, reached out and tore a wooden shingle from the roof. He was still the length of the building away and he would never make it in time.

"NO!" he hollered like a madman, trying to distract the target to no avail. With a final, impossible wrench, he took another fill tilt stride, not even trying to time his jump, and hurled the shingle as hard as could at the same time.

It was comical, really.

Like throwing a shoe at a charging bull.

Dino crashed into the closed shutters covering a window a full story below Alessa, catching a glimpse of the target contemptuously ducking the thrown shingle. Scrambling, half-inside the building, half-outside, Dino leaned out over the broken sill just in time to see the target's victorious expression fail.

All of the target's weight had been hanging from a single point at the edge of the roof and his wildly shifting weight became too much for the carpentry. Seconds after he swung away from the stupid shingle, the weakened gutter gave way.

With a bloodcurdling shriek, their target fell, his arms wind-milling in a frantic attempt to stop his fall. Alessa pressed herself into the building as he fell past her, and Dino ducked back inside to avoid the falling body. Struggling with the remains of the shutter and window, Dino didn't see the man contact the ground.

He fucking heard it, though.

Yeesh.

Dimly, he became aware of a matronly Russian woman beating him with a wooden spoon and shrieking Orthodox curses at him.

"_Prastitye, prastitye_," he muttered, hastily extracting a few coins from a pouch. He was still figuring out Russian money and ended up just chucking his entire money pouch on the woman's table. Most of the coins were flung onto the floor in his haste to crawl back out the window, but the shrieking stopped.

There was only one body on the ground, so Dino heaved himself out the window and got to the roof. Alessa crouched there nervously, but sank back onto her rear when she saw him. With a nervous chuckle, she fell onto her back and wheezed with laughter.

"We should be dead right now," she hiccupped.

Dino couldn't agree more and he crawled over to her. He flopped to his stomach, his shoulders shaking in the same dark humor. They indulged in nervous laughter for a few minutes before dragging themselves into more proper cover, in a weird architectural feature that brought two steeply pitched rooftops together.

They huddled together in the nook, sharing warmth. The sun was nearly down now. In the distance, Dino could see that multiple fires were burning. Every now and then he picked up snatches of battle. One particularly large skirmish looked to be taking place inside the Kremlin itself.

Concerned, for Irina was at the convent within the Kremlin walls, he spoke,

"We should go find them," Dino said, gesturing in that direction.

"Hmmm?" Alessa said, languidly turning her head away from the warmth of his shoulder in the direction he indicated, "Yeah, maybe we should." She blinked a couple of times and said in a more focused tone, "Yes, let's go."

In the gloaming, the fires seemed to glow unearthly and red, reflecting into the sky. He saw Alessa give the fires a troubled look before her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the Kremlin. They stood and stretched – it probably hadn't been a good idea to sit for so long – and were just beginning to descend to street level when movement caught Dino's eye.

He reached out and snagged Alessa in his arms, dragging them both silently to lie flat against the rooftop and clamping a hand over her mouth just as two figures came into view, passing the little cranny they had hidden in without seeing them. Filthy with soot, the Assassins blended perfectly.

The figures were white-hooded, but lacked the signature Assassin peak. The color just seemed to be a coincidence.

But they sure as hell fit Irina's description of the duo that had broken into their inn before Christmas.

Neither Dino nor Alessa spoke after the two had disappeared below the pitched roof. They exchanged a single knowing glance and got to their feet silently. No banter. No attempts at making their presence known. Instinctively, both of them knew that the hooded figures were imminently more dangerous than anything they had yet encountered that day.

The Assassins were forced to use every bit of skill they had to trail the hooded men and remain undetected. A couple of times, Dino was sure they had lost the two, but they invariably reappeared. It seemed that the two were casting about, trying to find a trail, for they moved in ever widening circles and once Dino and Alessa figured out the pattern, it became easier to trail them.

They must have given up. It was full dark. And cold. The trail had led them east of the river and towards the Kremlin. Dino was surprised to realize that they were in the vicinity of the Grand Prince's personal stables.

The targets went to street level, while Alessa and Dino tailed them from the rooftops. On the outermost edge of the city, where the Grand Prince's mounted units kept their horses, the hooded men stopped to speak to a third figure, also hooded.

They trio retreated to a shadowed corner, and Dino pressed himself against a wall next to Alessa, who peered around the corner, squinting to make out the mysterious group.

"Can you see who it is?" Dino whispered against her ear. She shook her head and watched a bit longer before her body suddenly tensed.

Alarmed, he pulled her back against him and tilted her chin up so that he could see her face in the darkness.

"Who?" he murmured, heart in his throat.

"It's…" her eyes were wide, glazed with shock. She swallowed thickly and he felt her hands clench in his jacket at his hips, "It's…" she stuttered and he shook her mercilessly,

"Who?!"

"Dima," she said quietly, almost to herself, obviously reeling from the excruciating betrayal.

"What?! _Our_ Dmitiry?!" Dino exclaimed in a whisper, leaning over her to confirm it visually for himself. He felt his face harden as he beheld the curly-haired thief, "That little…."

"I'll go after him," Alessa said, her voice stronger and her eyes narrowed as she watched the Master Thief part company with his probable Templar allies, "Go find Elena; we'll need her help. And have Irina warn the rest of allies."

"I don't know," he said, frowning at her, as they backed carefully away from the corner and jogged silently down the street to the next block, where they huddled in a doorway, "We shouldn't split up - -"

"It's fine," she insisted, a hint of exasperation sharpening her voice, "I can still blend and I'm the better free-runner; he'll never see me."

Okay, fine; it kept Alessa out of the majority of the rioting he'd have to fight through to get to Irina and then Elena. He would never have spoken a damn word about his misgivings, but she would be safer doing a simple trail. It looked like Dmitriy was getting ready to leave the city… and the fighting that Alessa, for all her bravado, probably wasn't up to at this point.

Dino passed over his cold weather kit to supplement Alessa's gear and passed over his extra boot dagger. They didn't have any long distance weapons between the two of them, but there was nothing for it.

They absolutely could not miss this opportunity.

"Be careful, _tesora_," Dino said in the near darkness, leaning down to bump his forehead against hers. He had an itchy feeling down his spine; a safe, simple trail, right?

_Cazzo._

"I will," she murmured, "As long as you do the same."

Dino scoffed and she winked at him, a mere ghost of her salacious self, but salacious nonetheless.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

She watched Dino, and the two of them engaged in a shared moment of fierce emotion before each took a simultaneous step backwards and then turned away from each other. Alessa didn't look back as she started back down the street, silently adjusting her equipment as she loped around a building. She positioned herself in the shadows just around the corner from the traitorous thief and his dubious companions.

Ezio would have been able to hear their conversation – the man was imminently gifted – but she didn't have her _maestro_'s almost superhuman abilities so she merely observed. As far as she was concerned, interpretation of body language and facial expression was almost as useful.

Unfortunately, she couldn't make out the faces of Dmitriy's mysterious friends. They were heavily cowled and masked, disturbingly similar to how she and her Assassin brothers garbed themselves for missions. They moved fluidly, very lithe; their efficient grace unmistakably martial. Alessa suspected that the smallest figure was female.

Their clothing was mottled mostly grey and white with some slashes of black; they would blend well out in the snow-covered countryside. Her own garb, streaked as it was with filth from the day's exertions, tended toward shades of black, brown, and grey; she realized that she would not be well camouflaged in the snow. Amidst the dark color palette of the city, yes, she knew for a fact that she could melt into the shadows.

Why she was lingering on these thoughts, she didn't know. She was mentally babbling because she was confused as hell.

Dmitriy, his almost feminine curls in their typical riotous disarray, was speaking quietly but animatedly, his hands gesturing with their characteristic expressiveness. The betrayal was painful; Alessa's chest ached as she watched his dark, honey-colored eyes light up with familiar enthusiasm. She hadn't gotten one inkling of an impression that he would actually betray them. She supposed that his charismatic personality and easy leadership had been to blame.

Even though it was right there in front of her eyes, she couldn't believe it.

She was so torn with disbelief that, when the larger of the two cowled figures turned for an instant, Alessa could make out a sculpted chin framed by a short beard. For a wild moment, she thought she was looking at Ezio. In that brief, euphoric instant, she felt all of the weight of responsibility for this mission simply… lift.

He was here.

_Grazie a Dio_, everything would be alright.

She hadn't been betrayed by anyone…

Then she caught the cruel cant to the mysterious man's lips and the slight hitch in his gait and was ashamed of herself for indulging in childish fantasies.

Furious, she narrowed her eyes and focused.

Unfortunately, while she had been acting the fool, the unsavory trio had concluded their business and the mysterious figures were melting into the shadows across the way.

Ah, dammit.

Frantic to salvage the situation, she waited a moment for the duo to get out of the area, before exploding into motion and hurtling around the corner and into Dmitriy's attention.

"Alessa?" he asked, glancing about nervously, before tying his horse's reins back the hitching post.

"Dmitriy," she panted, skidding to a halt just before him and pretending not to notice his nervousness as she feigned catching her breath, "The riots… Dino… I've been looking all over for you…"

Dmitriy stared at her, honey-colored eyes flickering up and down before his features hardened,

"What happened with the Templars?" he asked.

_Oh very good_, she thought admiringly, He's even more practiced a liar than I am.

"We got them!" she said, "But I lost Dino and Elena in the crowds, you have to help me!"

She looked up into his eyes then, just as they darted aside to glance somewhere behind her.

And her heart sank. She only had time to give Dmitriy a wounded look expressing her hurt at his betrayal before a great force made the back of her head explode.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Russian: _Prastitye _(excuse me, sorry)**

**41 next week. Gotta play some ACIII!**


	41. Moscow: Convents and Prisons

**A/N: I am SO sorry and I want to open this with a promise: if I decide to abandon this story, I will make some sort of final chapter stating that. That being said, the last hiatus was not planned, intended, or justified. I have too many hobbies, but mostly I am lazy. I made that disclaimer in the very first chapter!**

**So. For those of you that are hanging around... THANK YOU. For those that might have stumbled upon this fic for the first time, I hope you found something you like!**

**Thanks for reviewing DragonsFlame117, CarnivorousOak, Uscjoey, MasterAssassin2012, Wolfman-053, flyingcrispi, ecnal, TLMonkey, and MagpieMinx. Reviews make me happy and you've all been so supportive.**

**Shamazaki has the busy going on and won't be able to beta for now. If you see big problems, I am always open to constructive criticism. Also, if anyone is an artist and wants to make a book cover for this fic, I'd give ALL the credit where it's due! OH! Found a cool youtube vid by hamps19 with the song Warrior Concerto. It uses AC:R and it's amazing! Dudes, hamps even slips in a hidden blade sound bite just before they drop the bass and I about spazzed the first time I heard it! XD hamps19 made my favorite AC video with "Beautiful Lies" a couple years ago.**

**OK. Enough. AC is owned by ubisoft...**

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Studiously ignoring his feeling of uneasiness, Dino sped up into a loping jog. He had to get to his allies inside the Kremlin to tell them that Dmitriy was a traitor.

Yeah, and then he'd beat some answers out of the curly headed thief and find out just who exactly those hooded bastards were.

Because the hooded bastards made him nervous.

A couple of blocks down, Dino turned a corner and found himself amidst the remnants of a battle. By the violent sprawl of the bodies left behind, it looked to have been fierce and brief. The two groups must have found each other by surprise. Further down the street, a lone horse without a rider shied nervously at his appearance.

Double-headed eagles were tooled into the fine leather of its bridle. The saddle was slightly askew, probably as a result of whatever force had taken its rider.

"Hey boy," Dino crooned softly to the beast. The horse's ears flicked towards him and it steamed a noisy breath into the cold air. It took a single step towards him, its hooves ringing eerily in the twilit street.

Dino held a hand out invitingly as the horse's ears swiveled back and forth while it considered whether or not Dino was a threat. It huffed out another anxious breath but took another step forward. As he inched closer, Dino could see that this was a courier's mount, one of Vasiliy's. The courier pouch was nowhere to be seen.

As he reached for the reins, the horse's head abruptly reared back and it shuffled backwards.

The reins were just barely out of his reach.

Fucking animal.

"I'll make sure you're sent to be a plow horse if you don't get over here," Dino growled at it. He turned his back on the animal and feigned disinterest. He heard the scraping of a hoof against stone as it shifted its feet uncertainly. Then a good solid _clop_. And another. And…

Slowly, without looking, Dino reached back behind himself and snagged the reins. He turned and rubbed a glove over its muzzle.

"Stubborn nag," he murmured to it fondly as it tossed up its head in alarm, "You remind me of Alessa."

But after a couple more meaningless words, and fond thumps on its neck, the animal relaxed. Then, totally unconcerned for having just been caught, the horse snorted and slobbered over its bit. Dino chuckled.

"_Perfetto_."

Having acquired a mount, Dino put his foot in a stirrup... and paused, a niggling feeling making him hesitate. He patted the horse's neck while absent-mindedly removing his foot from the stirrup, eying the battle scene that cluttered the street. With a final pat, he tied the horse's reins to a hitching post in a short alley and picked his way back over to the bodies.

Five wearing the red and green of Vasiliy's faction. Eight in navy and gold. He idly looted the bodies, not finding much in the way of wealth. Standing over them, he wondered why the fuck he was dawdling when he needed to get to the Kremlin.

Finally, one of Vasiliy's men drew his eye. The dead fighter had fallen a little apart from the fight, looked like he had taken a bad wound and tried to drag himself away. An arrow in the back had halted his escape. Dino went to a knee beside the body to get a closer look.

The clothing was filthy from where he had dragged himself through snowy slush half melted by blood. Something about the clothing… this one had lighter armor than the others, and only an empty scabbard for a short sword.

The courier.

From his kneeling position, Dino turned his torso, adjusting his view so that he was peering down the street in the direction the man had been crawling. The man had been going for his horse.

He had carried something very important, had tried in vain to complete his mission to deliver it.

But the courier pouch was missing. Usually those things were well marked, indicating that the bearer was to be allowed swift, unimpeded passage. Strict laws in every nation protected couriers, especially those under royal standards, so that information could be efficiently disseminated.

Of course, the symbol of the courier's pouch was also a shining beacon, begging to be stolen by the enemy.

Dino settled back on his haunches, swearing softly. Whatever this guy had been trying to deliver was long gone. There was nothing Dino could do about it.

Still…

Heaving a great sigh of irritation – why did he care anyway? – Dino broke the arrow haft off just where it entered the courier's body and pushed the man over onto his back. He closed the sightless eyes with a brief prayer and noted with approval the expression of determination that had followed the man into death.

It had to have been a very important message. Something Dino himself wouldn't have placed in an ostentatiously marked courier's pouch.

A feeling of something… dammit, something important, urged him to remove his gloves. Clenching his fingers in the frigid air to encourage blood flow to the digits, he began to pat the body down.

The body wouldn't have retained the warmth of life for very long after death, minutes at the most. Not in the heavy winter cold. Dino suspected that the battle in which this man had died hadn't taken place too long ago. Probably not even an hour.

He found the message in a clever hidden pocket sewn into the lining of the man's leather vest. His questing fingers retrieved a thick, square envelope. Dino tugged his gloves back on with his teeth while simultaneously breaking the seal and ripping the message open.

It took him some moments to struggle with the Russian alphabet before he was able to translate the short message. The letters had been slapped onto the parchment hastily, the ink hadn't been allowed to dry before the message had been folded, and he couldn't translate some parts. But the message was startlingly clear:

"_Beware treachery, Prince Vasiliy. … discovered your nephew … ordered your death. … Conspiracy… …if the Strigolniki uprising erupts into violence, his assassins will strike ..."_

It was signed with a large letter 'I' and a yellow wax seal bore the imprint of an eight-pointed star. Dino didn't know who the "I" was, but the star was part of Nikolai's coat of arms.

The contents of the letter prompted Dino to surge to his feet. Before he rose to his full height, he was already running to the horse.

Once mounted, he dithered; he had to warn his allies that he and Alessa had discovered the traitor. On the other hand, Vasiliy was kind of an ally too. And if he already hadn't been stabbed in the back, so to speak, the man didn't have much time.

Fuck.

Not really coming to any sort of conclusion, he figured he'd just better get his happy ass to the Kremlin first. He was sure a solution would present itself.

There was noticeably more activity the closer he came to the great fortress. The horse galloped hard, admirably ignoring the violent bursts of activity as it coursed through the streets. Its steel-shod hooves rang against the frozen cobblestone in counterpoint to the clang of weaponry. Dino leaned low over its neck and urged the beast on with no more effort than sporadic slaps of the reins.

At one point, he burst around the corner into a full blown riot – civilians fighting against a faltering deployment of the traitor prince's soldiers. Wondering where the hell this troublesome grandson was in this increasingly confusing conflict, Dino was startled to find himself before the eastern gates of the Kremlin.

The massive things were still open, but a huge contingent of Vasiliy's soldiers were guarding the massive portal into the citadel.

They saw him coming, and Dino watched one of the NCO's shouting at the pikemen to form ranks. Dismayed, Dino realized that they weren't going to let him in.

Not that he blamed them, but he certainly wasn't going to take this shit lying down…

"Prince Vasiliy!" Dino bellowed, standing in his stirrups, waving the courier's message in the air, his horse at a full gallop. The line of pikes wavered briefly as individuals looked back to the sergeant for direction. The man called out for them to hold the line and the bristling wall of steel firmed up once more.

Disgusted, Dino drew his horse to a sliding, scraping, skittering halt. Throwing his leg over the withers, Dino didn't even wait for the animal to stop before he tumbled to the ground. He stumbled a few steps as he gained his balance, bracing himself with a fist planted onto the ground.

He stayed down, trying to appear non-threatening and shouted for Vasiliy in Italian.

He was so intent on his mission that the Russian simply wasn't coming to him.

Then, in frustration, he held the letter up once more, simply repeating his request for the prince.

"…_volk'!"_

"_On rimskiy!_

"_Rimskiy Volk'!"_

_The Roman Wolf._

Excited chatter swelled through the ranks and Dino slumped a bit in relief; they recognized him.

It paid to be a fucking celebrity.

Grinning now, he got to his feet and even discovered that he recognized a couple of the men.

And Alessa thought he had been wasting his time enjoying vodka with Vasiliy's soldiers? Pah!

A couple of hearty backslaps later, Dino had the satisfaction of being ushered into the Kremlin – with his very own firing squad of crossbowmen, no less…

…and…

…the exact location of the prince.

He left his horse with the soldiers at the gate so the platoon leader could send a messenger to some officer fighting out in the city proper.

The fire team leader brought Dino up to speed on the situation:

The Strigolniki had attacked and murdered the Grand Prince's investigators and escaped. Hundreds of people had seen at least two murderers in red kerchiefs fleeing the scene.

Once the rumors of the shadowy sect's return had been discovered to be true, a witch hunt had begun, led by none other than Dmitriy the Grandson, Vasiliy's rival for the throne. But instead of restoring order to the city, the soldiers had begun attacking Vasiliy's patrols, starting full on warfare in the streets.

Civilians had taken up arms and joined the ranks of both sides

Dino's initial feelings of smug gratification at the success of Aristotele's plan had slowly faded into dismay and then downright horror at what the Assassins had wrought. Dmitriy the Grandson had used this opportunity as an excuse for fratricide and civil war.

Innocents would die.

Grimly, he focused on the crossbowman's report.

Vasiliy was at Cathedral Square – on the very opposite end of the citadel, thank you very much – preparing his cavalry and heavy infantry for deployment to stop his nephew.

The information solved Dino's dilemma; the convent was on the way there. As he broke into a sprint in the correct direction, he figured that he'd simply grab Irina and Elena, make sure Vasiliy was informed of the extent of his nephew's treachery, and then go back and get Alessa.

Easy.

Except…

…the convent was on fire.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

Her throbbing head dragged her from oblivion and started up a clamoring host of complaints. She realized that she was very cold, almost painfully so. Pinpricks of agony needled into her fingertips and toes. Grunting with the pain as she moved and pins and needles attacked her limbs, Alessa waited until the sensation subsided and then curled up into a ball to keep warm and catalogue her situation.

Hard surface. Throbbing head, obviously. Stink of blood and old fear. Freezing cold.

Freezing.

Her mouth was unbearably dry and tasted foul – like old blood.

Fucking disgusting…

But other than that, she appeared to be all in one piece. As she worked up some saliva in an attempt to get the taste from her mouth, she supposed that was something.

Carefully she cracked an eyelid open and a bloom of panic started in her chest, rushing through her body and energizing her limbs, warming them, so that they trembled with the urge to move.

She was in a cell. Bars in a tiny window up high on the only door to the room. No handle. The faintest hint of light came in through the window to reveal scattered wisps of straw marring what was otherwise an astonishingly clean floor.

She opened her other eye. She had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor and must have lain as she had fallen. She brought her stiff, cold fingers to her mouth and breathed on them. Her right shoulder and temple vigorously began an assault for her attention. Figured; they'd probably dropped her on her damned head. Slowly, she adjusted her limbs, then gave up on the pretense of resting and clambered to her feet, wincing at the hammers in her abused skull.

Her coat and her weapons were gone. No boots. In the dank cold she stood in stockinged feet and nothing but a pair of leggings and her tunic. They'd even taken her belt.

Fucking great, even if she tried to run, her stupid pants would fall around her ankles. That would for sure strike fear into the hearts of her captors.

Glum, she retreated into a corner facing the door and leaned her shoulder blades against the wall.

Had to think.

Her first attempt sort out the cluster fuck ended up in a frivolous temper tantrum. She was furious with herself for being so damn stupid as to have gotten caught.

Seriously, what had happened to _just follow the target_?

God, Ezio would have kicked her ass had he been here. No, no. He'd have given her the bland, expressionless glance that would have conveyed the volumes of his disappointment. Her chest ached at the thought.

And Dino… She'd never hear the end of it…

But if she ever got her hands on Dmitriy…

Her lips curled back off her teeth silently and her fingers contorted. She longed to sink those bare fingers into his throat.

Betrayal.

Why?

There was a special place in hell for traitors. She was sure of it. If she got out of this, she'd have to go to good old Dante to find out.

It took some time to calm herself down enough to think rationally. Her head throbbed even more and she slid down the wall to clutch it in her hands. All was silence as she plotted, going through dozens of potential scenarios in her head.

During her brainstorm, she discovered that she still had the tiny packet of Dino's poison stitched inside her sleeve. Enough for one, maybe two deaths if her victims were standing close together. It gave her a sense of control and the relief gave her strength. Ah, but so much depended on...

…the guard coming towards her cell.

He walked softly, but she could clearly hear the rattle of keys at his belt. A growing semi-circle of light wavered in through the bars in the door until the guard was right outside.

An intensifying jingle of the keys and laborious give of a heavy padlock preceded a sudden bloom of lantern-light that momentarily disoriented her. The near-darkness had made her exquisitely sensitive to light and Alessa squinted painfully as the door to her cell opened to allow the guard through.

Young.

Remo's age maybe.

He cautiously set a wooden bowl of porridge and cup of water on the ground just inside the door, eyeing her the entire time.

Yeah, like she was really that fucking stupid…

Or maybe she was; could she get past him and make a run for it?

Abruptly, their eyes met and Alessa was reminded sharply of Remo's sad, pleading gaze.

"Please… eat," the young guard said to her, his voice trembling and quiet, "The things they have planned for you… They're not going to poison you before…"

Fear hit her like a punch in the gut and her heart began to race. It was not a feeling she particularly liked. She kept her expression carefully schooled as the young guard watched her pityingly.

Uh, yup… the pity was too much…

"Get out," she snarled, glaring at him with every ounce of malevolence she could manage. Her forceful words even managed to project a small amount of righteously enraged spittle. Nice touch.

His response was to slam the door just behind him as he scurried out and she listened to his uneven footsteps scuttle down the corridor. Waiting until the sounds faded entirely, she huffed out an uneven breath and, carefully ignoring her pounding heart and the terrified anticipation souring her gut, crawled across the expanse of the cell floor to inspect the food that had been left for her.

She ignored the congealed mass of porridge and focused on the water. She sniffed it, took a tentative taste on the tip of her tongue, rolled a spare amount around in her mouth…

Ah, what the hell, like she'd really be able to tell if it were poisoned…

Greedily, she chugged the liquid down, slinging the cup aside in furious disappointment when all it did was accentuate her thirst.

She had to get the hell out of there.

Returning to her corner, Alessa sank to the floor and tucked her legs into her tunic for warmth. They really had taken everything: her weapons, armor, boots, belt… If she could escape, she'd be at the mercy of the cold unless she could first secure the accoutrements that would keep her warm. And those would be well guarded; she'd literally only obtain them over their dead bodies.

_Madre de Dio_, she thought, _Help me_.

Closing her burning eyes – they were still smarting from the brief glimpse of lantern-light – she settled her head back against the wall, her skull bumping dully against the cold stone. She ignored the complaints of her body and steeled her mind.

Whatever came, she would have to act perfectly the first time. Mistakes would mean certain death. With the little knowledge she had, she plotted.

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

The building was made of stone, so it wasn't burning with the ravenous inferno from which he and Alessa had narrowly escaped just hours ago. But the fact that heavy black smoke was coming from somewhere within the compound was definitely concerning. Dino wondered if the Kremlin had somehow succumbed to the violence outside.

Making a decision, Dino gave the parchment sheet over to the crossbow squad leader. He could get it to the prince while Dino investigated. Its information was no longer up-to-the-minute – not now – but might provide evidence against the nephew when the whole fiasco was settled.

One of the men volunteered to accompany him, something for which Dino could only be grateful. As they jogged towards one of the convent's side entrances, the men grunted brief introductions. Dino didn't pick up the corporal's name; too many fucking consonants, as usual.

As they approached the convent, Dino eased his black mask across his face to shield the smoke, and used his body to smash in the heavy door of one of the side-entrances. He shouted for Irina even as the wood splintered and he tore through.

Smoke was a light, swirling fog here. It was mostly concentrated along the high ceiling.

As he hurtled around a corner into one of the scroll-copy rooms, he startled a couple of looters from their enterprise.

"Get the fuck out," Dino barked, drawing his sword and in a single movement, sweeping it up to point back the way he had come. The men scurried out, darting past him hurriedly as Dino watched them impassively. He lowered his sword and immediately heard the faint sound of a scuffle from further within the convent, just as the retreating footsteps of the looters faded from hearing.

Throwing himself through the distance between himself and the fight, heedless of stealth, Dino thought he was racing to the rescue of just another pair of looters before he realized that they were actually accosting one of the Sisters.

The men didn't wear either Vasiliy's or Dmitriy's colors, and Dino wondered if they were some enterprising civilians before they turned to face him.

Clad in functional, non-descript leather armor, they appeared to be only lightly armed. Dino was a little confused until his perusal got to their faces and he noted the dark, broad-cheeked visages and tip-tilted eyes. Then their allegiance became very clear.

Mongols.

Russians had been fighting the so-called Golden Horde for centuries. The fact that they were here, in the city the Grand Prince had worked so hard to drive them from, was dire indeed.

And the fact that they were within the Kremlin itself meant that Dmitriy's treachery ran not just against Vasiliy, but against his whole country.

Ah well, he could care less about the squabbling princelings, an opponent was an opponent and Dino brandished his sword with deadly efficiency, a lazy grin on his face,

"You boys are a long way from home," he drawled. Behind him, Corporal Crossbow snarled something vile as he, too, figured out what was going on.

One of the men, a wiry, hatchet-nosed bastard, grinned right back at him and tossed the sister aside like a piece of refuse. Her blurt of feminine shock wakened something primal in Dino's chest.

The Mongol rushed him, producing a matched set of wicked daggers. Dino parried without thinking, the first strike whistling past him harmlessly. But he was surprised by the second strike, nearly indistinguishable from the first. The man moved the daggers like they were mere extensions of his body, the graceful movements heavily resembling his _maestro_'s easy skill.

So natural was his skill, that Dino mistook the third strike for a wasted stray movement. It might have been the last mistake of his life, if not for the peerless training provided by Ezio.

He jerked back just in time, hissing as a burning pain licked across his jaw, nearly taking off his ear. Settling his teeth firmly, Dino ignored the near miss, and yet another, impossibly fast strike. He let the lightning quick hit get absorbed by his right vambrace, barely feeling it as he busted the fucker's face with the pommel of his sword.

Yeah.

Take that.

Fast, shallow hits were all well and good for scaring rookies, but to Dino, they were a waste of time and energy.

Got to get right to the heavy hitting.

His powerful blow disoriented the smaller man and Dino wasted no time dispatching the bastard with his hidden blade.

He didn't have time to evaluate the technicalities of his kill; a terrified shriek caught his attention.

He went immediately after the second Mongol, who had been hampered by the sister. The brave woman, utterly defenseless, had nonetheless tried to aid Dino by throwing herself against the legs of the second Mongol.

For her efforts, she'd ended up on the point of her attacker's knife. Cold rage filled him at the loss of innocent life, and Dino waded into the killer, who never stood a chance.

It had all happened in the space of seconds, and Dino's crossbowman had only just finished loading the damn weapon.

Well, at least they were ready for the next attack.

Satisfied that his back was covered, Dino sheathed his sword and went to the dying woman. He sank to his knees beside her as she gasped around her pain. Blood welled brightly through the pristine silks of her robes. Her eyes, when they met his, were filled with a fading terror and a growing, resolute peace.

"Where is Irina?" he asked as he gathered her up in his arms and cradled her slight body to his chest, offering what comfort he could. Death shouldn't be faced alone. She seemed grateful for the physical closeness and inside he wept for the loss of such a brave soul.

"The… inner courtyard…" she managed. The woman grimaced in pain, but managed to make the request, "Will you save her, sir?"

Dino gripped her hands in his, touching her bruised knuckles to his lips, and nodded,

"I will. _Requescat in pace_."

A single tear slipped free of one of woman's dark eyes even as they glossed over. Ever so gently, Dino laid her back on the ground, carefully crossing her hands over the wound in her abdomen, as gently as if she were still alive. A light brush of his fingertips closed the eyes forever.

Then, with those same hands, he smashed a heavy fist into the ground once… twice… trying to contain ineffectual rage.

Stupid, senseless waste!

He knelt there, silent for a moment, with his head bowed, and paid homage to a woman he hadn't known – who he would never know – that had nevertheless given her life to buy him a few precious seconds.

"Come on," Dino said gruffly to the silent crossbowman, his voice rough with barely pent fury. His shoulders were bunched under his armor as he broke into a run. His fists clenched in anticipation.

He had no fucking idea where he was going, but figured that he was heading in the correct general direction. Inner courtyard could only mean deeper into the sprawling complex of interconnected buildings that comprised the convent.

Thankfully, the place was mostly deserted; the majority of the sisters must have been attending service when the attacks started. Even the fire cooperated, chewing happily through an unconnected outbuilding. The smoke never got thicker, and he didn't find any more nasty surprises in his search.

Then the sounds of another conflict bumped into his questing senses, drawing him towards it with the sweet sounds of promised combat and the opportunity to break some more bodies. Keen on indulging his violent fantasies, Dino doubled his speed, hearing the Corporal panting behind him as the man struggled to keep up with his long stride.

Dino barreled around a final corner, the scene before him astonishing in its array.

The inner courtyard was a garden open to the elements. A columned portico sheltered the perimeter and eased one's passage from interior to exterior. Or vice versa; depended on your preference, he supposed.

The plants were mostly hibernating for the winter, sheltered with canvas and straw. Shrubs and small trees were like silent skeletons, untroubled by the human drama unfolding beneath their branches.

So instead of the serenity of a winter garden, Dino found more bloodshed and active violence. Another sister lay writhing and bloodied in the snow, her white robes indistinguishable from the purity that spread across the ground.

A trio of Mongols, dark and sinister in contrast to the fragile figures they threatened, was nonetheless still being kept at bay.

Irina, looking alarmingly frail as she stood her ground before them, brandished a small meat cleaver. Her teeth were bared in feral terror and tears streamed down her elfin cheeks, but she snarled vile threats at her assailants that made his balls shrivel reflexively.

A chuff of startled, but proud, laughter huffed out of his chest from grudging approval of the girl's skill with words.

But then he focused, Irina hadn't noticed him yet and her face strained with the force of her will. For that was all that held the men at bay, their amused uncertainty at her ferocity. The girl wouldn't stand a chance if they attacked. The reason for her intensity was the huddled figure behind Irina, an older woman, who hunched on the ground in pain, staunching a wound low on her waist.

Dino took it all in in the time it took to inhale. He dimly heard the crossbow release and the dull thud as the bolt hammered into the man closest to Irina.

The other two Mongols turned to the new threat, one of them keeping a wary eye on Irina as the girl backed away from them. Dino made sure she was safely huddled in the corner with the injured Sister before he turned his full, lethal attention on her assailants.

The Mongols were impossibly quick. Before he even noticed the man move, he felt a new slice snake across his hip in a hot flash of intensity. He didn't feel the pain, though. Instead, he barreled into the aggressor, knocking the breath out of the man when Dino smashed his elbow into the solar plexus. In an extension of the same movement, Dino snapped his fist up and deployed his left hidden blade.

His deadly blade still buried in the Mongol's quivering throat, Dino was already in a deep, low stance as the second one rushed him, sword held high. Dino shuffled inside the weapon's range and released his right hidden blade, making a hole in the hollow of the doomed man's throat.

"Irina," Dino said, sheathing his hidden blades and not seeing either body slump to the ground. He jogged over to the girl's side as she murmured urgently to the terrified sister on the ground, "_Tesorina_, are you alright?"

"Yes," the girl replied, her voice only barely trembling in deference to her inexperience.

"Where is Elena?" he asked.

"I don't know; she left earlier this morning."

Dino growled softly in frustration, cutting off his initial, more vulgar reply when the sound caught the older woman's attention.

"It's okay, mamma," Irina soothed, as the injured woman tried to scoot away from Dino, whimpering her soft terror.

"Your… mother?" Dino said dumbly. He took in the lines of the face and imagined them free of the stark fear and the barest touch of age – it was very much like Elena's face: long, elegant, graceful.

Gaping, some part of him finally recognized her fear, and Dino backed away slowly, giving his attention back to Irina,

"We have to go _tesorina_, and I can't leave you here. You're both vulnerable to attack. Is she able to walk?"

"But Elena said –" Irina began.

"Elena," Dino interrupted, "should be here if she wants her orders followed."

He was astonished when the girl tittered, hiding her mouth behind her hand. Oh yeah, right, he was taking her side against her sister's, of course she'd love it.

He was starting to grin himself – Elena would be so pissed at him – the teenager's enthusiasm and delight were contagious. But when he took a step closer, sheathing his sword with a swift snap, her laughter turned into a noise of dismay as her mother's complexion faded. Turning a corpse-like grey, the older woman fainted.

Irina looked at Dino almost apologetically,

"She doesn't… around men she…"

"It's fine," Dino replied uncomfortably, not sure what to say. What did one say in this exact situation?

Fuck.

He sighed, "Look, we have to get you and your mother to safety. And then we have to find your sister. You have any ideas?"

The girl looked thoughtful, then downright mischievous,

"The Terem Palace," she suggested.

Yeah, she _would_ make that suggestion; the girl loved the unbridled luxury of the rooms Vasiliy had set aside for them to use whenever they pleased. The Assassins had never slept there, but it had always been a good spot for their meetings with Nikolai.

And the girl was right to choose it; it would be safe.

With a prayer that she wouldn't awaken, Dino scooped Irina's mother up in his arms. _Jesu_, but the woman was tiny – she might have given Elena her face, but she had given Irina her diminutive build. He felt like he was carrying a child.

Which somehow seemed to make the past transgressions against this woman somehow more heinous – if that were possible.

Glancing at the crossbowman, who had remained at a discreet, respectful distance, Dino led the group carefully out of the convent.

Irina directed them through the lesser used corridors. In the end, Dino was thoroughly turned around and, as such, nearly dropped his burden when they stepped outside.

The girl had managed to get them all the way the Cathedral Square, very close to the palace, which was good.

What was not so good, however, was the full scale battle that had broken out between Vasiliy's soldiers and a group of Mongol swordsmen.

While Dino gaped – how the hell had so many infiltrated the fortress? – he heard his name called in a familiar voice.

Dino turned,

"Nikolai," he said in greeting to the nobleman, who was looking a little less regal than normal in what appeared to be well used battle harness. His normally well-dressed ally was looking a little rumpled; a startling transformation from normalcy.

The scuffed leather armor, reinforced with metal plates, would have been more appropriate on a low ranking field commander. He was sensibly garbed in thick bear fur and a chainmail coif was draped over his head. His leather gloves and some of the horse's tack had been stained yellow and black in deference to his House colors but were the only concession to his rank.

A heavy mace hung from a saddle scabbard, the metal flanges crusted with blood and, er… matter.

Less regal, but undoubtedly more useful.

Nikolai nodded in greeting, his gaze sweeping disinterestedly over Irina in her white robes and her mother, whom Dino had hurriedly bundled into a discarded blanket, before saying,

"The other Sisters are safe inside Dormition Cathedral. There should be one more with you…"

"Dead," Dino replied tersely.

Nikolai's face paled noticeably. He looked at the girls again, hard. First at Irina, and then the limp form in Dino's arms. His face changed, relaxed. He kneed his horse closer,

"_Toma_? _Galushka_?" he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. Dino noticed the sharp look Irina suddenly gave the nobleman before she edged away, tucking herself into Dino's side opposite the other man.

"Give her here," Nikolai said, his face falling back into its normal mask of disinterest. Dino shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't – " he began…

"Dino," Irina said in a breathless, wondering tone, "It will be alright."

Dino felt his brows crash down and he frowned, first at the girl, and then, more dubiously, at the other man. Finally, his body twitching with the urge to fight in the battle that was swelling in a discordant mass within the church-fronted Square, handed the woman up to Nikolai…

…and was startled as fuck when the nobleman took the unconscious woman reverently, with all the tenderness of a lover.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

Seconds that felt like hours passed as Alessa struggled to prepare her mind for what would be needed to escape. The deep cold of the place and the worsening pain of her head hampered her ability to focus and so the simplest of thoughts required all her energy as she huddled in her corner.

She rocked there in the near darkness, frustrated, her thoughts silent. No plans would help because she simply didn't know enough about her situation. So, slowly, methodically, she picked the stitches out of the poison packet. With a great effort of will, she forced herself to stop shivering and held her breath for the brief moment it took to pour the fine, sand-like particles into her left palm.

Carefully closing her fingers around the deadly substance, she turned her head to the side and took a full breath, watching as the steam from her exhale plumed out around her briefly before slowly dissipating into the cold air.

Wrapping her arms around her knees, she tucked her legs in closer to her chest and resumed her rocking. The movement helped to keep her somewhat warm and wouldn't waste too much of her energy. She couldn't wait any longer…

It took her a moment to force herself to her feet in the frigid air. She took a readying breath, tugged her tunic straight, and then moved to the door. At the last moment, she deliberately stumbled so that she crashed into the closed portal with a satisfyingly loud and painful impact.

"_Pomagitye mnye_!" she yowled, ending the phrase with a convincing retch. She pounded on the door with her fist. "_Idiyote_! _Tepyer'!_"

It took a moment – enough to make her think the damn ruse wasn't going to work – of pounding her fists into bruised, scraped tools of inadequacy before she heard a pair of footsteps coming her way.

She listened as two guards' voices reached her ears:

"But she's a woman, Igor," one was saying plaintively. He sounded younger than he had looked and as she listened, his voice cracked in places… that painfully awkward stage of adolescence.

"Doesn't matter, boy," the other one said. This one was definitely a veteran, with a similar rasp like Khiril's. He coughed heavily and wetly, and then resumed speech, "She's dangerous. _Those two_ said so. And frankly I'm of a mind to listen to them. Especially after that female out there gutted Matvey."

"Matvey deserved it," the younger one said, a surprising note of satisfaction firming up his voice. The older guard grunted and muttered something. Their voices got louder as they got closer. Alessa's curiosity briefly wondered if _those two_ were the hooded figures she had seen with Dmitriy.

Yup, those pricks were next on her list.

But one thing at a time…

"Igor, I still don't want to…"

"Hush, boy," the older said as they arrived outside her door and then, "Back off!" he barked at her.

Alessa complied, allowing herself to tumble bonelessly to the unforgiving floor and drag herself into the middle of her cell. She made sounds of pain and curled herself up into a ball of agony.

The door to her cell opened when one of the men kicked it hard. It bounced back against the wall behind it with such force that it nearly closed again on the backswing. She saw the older guard through a barely slitted eyelid as he stopped the door's recoil with a heavily gloved hand. He took a few cautious steps into the cell before letting the butt of his halberd lightly touch the ground before her face.

She let lose a torrent of Italian, vicious curses that translated through the tone of her voice and the vehemence of pained breaths, if not through the actual words. The older guard – Igor? – looked taken aback briefly, but he didn't move away. He watched her with detached curiosity and she saw no sign of the second guard, the young one. As Igor poked at her casually with the blunt end of the halberd, Alessa sensed that the other was loitering outside, though, either too ashamed or too squeamish about imprisoning an apparently defenseless woman to come in and assist his partner.

But she needed them both in there with her…

"You've poisoned me," Alessa finally bit out in accusatory Russian, turning her stricken gaze upon the guard that looked down at her in aloof bemusement.

"Sergey," Igor called out, not looking away from her as she trembled with faked convulsions. "Sergey…" the older guard broke off to cough wetly, then cleared his throat as if it pained him and continued, "She's faking."

He hitched up his trousers and came to his haunches beside her, reaching out with those heavy gloves to roughly grasp her chin,

"Aren't you, girlie?"

He smelled like musty sweat and his breath was foul with sickness as he coughed again, abruptly shoving her aside as he hacked and then spat on the floor beside her.

"Sergey!" he called again when he had caught his breath, "It's nothing, stop acting like a little girl. Come in here, boy, and I'll show you how to handle this girlie, here."

As Alessa watched Sergey enter cautiously, she didn't notice Igor settle his halberd against the wall until he suddenly wrenched her to her feet. A frisson of terror iced her spine as he shoved her face against the stone wall, one hand at her neck, the other at her hips, pressing his body against hers to pin her there. The deep chill of the stone seeped through the thin linen of her undertunic as Igor roughly tugged at the hem of her trousers.

Bracing herself, Alessa heard Sergey's blurt of scandalized inquiry, and acted.

"Igor," she whispered as she struggled under the heavier man's weight.

He turned his head to just the right angle and she slammed her head back into his face. He didn't let her go, but his grip loosed enough for her to spin in his arms and bring her left hand up between their faces.

Inhaling briefly, she opened her fist, and softly puffed a controlled breath over the material in her hand.

The effect was immediate. Igor inhaled sharply… and then… nothing. His hands left her as he clutched his throat, primal terror replacing the lust and greed in his eyes.

Leaving him, Alessa darted towards the boy, who tried to run.

Blessing Ezio for the training, she leapt for him, landing cat-like on his back. They tumbled the ground and she cranked her arm around the front of his neck. She wrapped her legs around him as his arms scrabbled back for her.

When he got to his feet, she felt like she was on the back of a wild horse. The kid was still skinny with youth, but strong and rested and hadn't sat in a freezing cell for hours after taking a blow to the head. Grimly determined, she held on, squeezing tighter each time the kid exhaled.

He crashed her into a wall so hard that her skull snapped back and cracked against it so that she saw stars. The pain was so great that she thought she might just vomit on the kid. But she set her teeth and hung on grimly.

Her perseverance was rewarded; that mighty effort appeared to have been his last.

He sank slowly to his knees, struggling to pant against the vise-like grip she had around his windpipe. His narrow chest heaved under her and they went to the ground.

Alessa lay on top of him for a moment after he went out, resting against the warmth of his slack body, before she struggled to her feet, head whirling. She staggered about for a moment, breathing heavily, and a part of her mind knew that she was totally confused and vulnerable. If someone had heard the short struggle, she was done.

But they hadn't. And after she got a couple of deep breaths in, her thoughts settled.

Finally, noting Igor's failing, gasping breaths, Alessa looted Sergey and took his boots. They were wider than she was used to but damn near the right length. She took his sword-belt and weapons, and dragged his overcoat on. She stood over him for a moment, wondering if she should kill him, and then decided against it.

He might not remain innocent for long in his career path, but at that moment, killing him would be against her Creed.

She found a length of twine in one of his pouches and tied his wrists to his ankles behind his back. She tore a strip from his undershirt and gagged him with it.

By the time she finished that, Igor was dead and she murmured a brief prayer over him. She didn't hesitate to loot him either.

Then, more or less fully clothed again and well-armed, she hustled up to the door of her cell and peeked carefully out into a short hallway. She could see the guard room from her vantage point. The short scuffle between her and the two guards hadn't resulted in much noise, so she was careful as she inched her way towards the well lit room, uncertain of the presence of more guards.

She needn't have worried; the small room was empty. And hers was the only cell it guarded.

A totally inappropriate swell of pride flushed her momentarily; dangerous enough to warrant her own honor guard and solitary confinement, how nice!

She was drawn to the fire in a big stone brazier between the pair of stools. A canteen half full of water sat next to one stool, a bottle of clear liquid, presumably vodka, by the smell, sat next to the other one. With a greedy movement, she snatched the water canteen up and drained it. Then, suddenly aware of exactly how cold she was, Alessa sidled up to the hearty flames and held her chilled hands over them.

Fucking.

Bliss.

Basking there in the sublime heat, she figured that she could be crisping the skin off of her digits and wouldn't give half a damn. The warmth – no, heat – felt so good that she grimaced to keep a moan of relief down.

Purring like a fucking cat in a patch of sun.

She was a self-indulgent idiot.

Justifying the precious seconds spent warming herself took more precious seconds. But finally she was able to muster up the gumption to continue on with her escape. With a rueful sigh, she rubbed her protesting hands together before stuffing them into Sergey's still-sweaty leather gloves.

Grimacing with distaste, she cast her gaze over the guard room, hoping to find anything else she could use in her escape. The place was barren except for a leather cup full of dice that had been set down beside the bottle of vodka.

She began to jog down the only hall leading away from the room. Her stiff muscles protested, but she forced herself to continue her wooden movements. Hopefully they would warm up and get limber, but in the meantime, she jogged steadily, moving carefully around a corner here… waiting in a dark alcove over there… listening… and so very careful.

It didn't take long before she moved past a dimly lit room. Her peripheral vision caught sight of some familiar items, and she skittered to a halt, catching hold of the jamb to halt her momentum and then peeking around it.

God loved a woman in deep shit, apparently, for there were her hidden blades wrapped neatly in her red and green sash…

…all neatly laid out beside a selection of grisly tools.

A full body shudder that had nothing to do with the enduring cold of the place wracked through her. Her teeth chattered as her gaze snagged on the implements.

Didn't take much imagination to wonder –

_Merda!_

Still shuddering, Alessa snatched up her vambraces and hastily strapped them on, tying the red sash around her hips over her stolen sword-belt. Then she barreled out of the room like her ass was on fire, holding back a sudden cough as her throat tickled again in the hall. And just as she was struggling to keep the noise down, she heard voices.

Frantic shouts sounded from the direction she had just come.

Starting up a litany of curses in her head, Alessa opened a random door and ducked inside.

Just in time, too.

Footsteps pounded in the hall just outside and it was only a matter of time before she was discovered. She'd been damn lucky up until now.

Fighting down a feeling of panic, she forced herself to look around calmly. Focused on controlling the breaths and…

…a window!

The thing was up near the ceiling and had been boarded shut for the winter. But it would be just big enough for her to squeeze through.

With a plan to focus her, Alessa's burgeoning panic melted away and she started to really take in her surroundings.

Initial curiosity turned into a dawning sort of mad glee…

…gunpowder.

Markku probably would have come up with some brilliant plan to creatively use the stuff. Alessa, however, was intimidated by the sheer amount of the stuff. She settled for using a few of the barrels to block the door and stacked a few others over by the window.

Working quickly, she made herself a sturdy platform from which to work and clambered up. She heard random snatches of the guards outside every once in a while as they called out to each other.

They were searching for her.

Clambering to the top, she knelt near the ceiling atop several hundred pounds of explosive material. Wedging one of her hidden blades under the first board, she began the work of opening an escape route.

A few moments later, she had removed the three planks and set them beside her. Clenching her jaw, she peered into the dark hole that had been revealed…

_Cazzo_…

…and…

Yes, definitely, _cazzo_!

The window might once have let out from a sub-basement into a street. But some genius had decided to build a guardhouse onto the original perimeter of the underground jail cells.

What she was looking at – and hearing – was a crawlspace directly beneath the floor boards of a very busy room full of men looking to capture her.

Well, not like she had a choice.

She slid back to the stone floor to prepare herself. She shucked off the big, heavy coat and tossed it up top. She'd have to crawl like a damned slug for who knew how far and the space was so close that she couldn't do it in the coat.

Frustrated, half-frightened, and pissed off, she resisted the urge to punch something. Instead, hand trembling, she gripped the edge of some wooden shelves. Bowing her head, she clenched her fingers, squeezing hard, and was surprised when the edge of the dry-rotted wood broke off in her hand.

Coils of what looked like thin rope slithered to the floor. Curious, she picked up a length of…

…God truly was her friend…

…fuses.

Sparing only the briefest of seconds for a self-congratulatory grin, Alessa began to knot every single length of the stuff together.

Served the fuckers right for storing incendiaries with the means to detonate them.

* * *

**A/N: No history for now. But, if any of you are curious, when I originally imagined the characters, Alessa was the only - so far - who is loosely based off of areal person. I have had this ongoing girl-crush on Cristina Scabbia, the lead singer of Lacuna Coil. She is so fucken cool and quirky and badass, yet manages to remain feminine and humble. I love watching her interview, I just, she's so amazing. So yeah, I don't do much description of Alessa, so if you don't have a clear picture of her in your head, check out Cristina. Heh, I almost named Alessa as Cristina, but then you get the OTHER Cristina. :/**


	42. Moscow: The Escape

**A/N: It's kind of cool, I remember almost three years ago when I opened a new folder and hastily titled it "One Assassin's Battle," (thinking that it would just be about the one assassin recruit) I hoped that I would get at least ten chapters to fill up all that empty space. Now, the OAB folder sits on a 1GB flash drive and has over 80 documents on it. I have plotlines and characters just waiting to be used, all I need is more focus and more dedication. It's going to be my 2014 resolution - to write 500 word per day.**

**I'm going to be moving from Michigan to Georgia in the next month; by Christmas I'll be living in Atlanta. So I probably won't post until around that time. The next chapter - hell, the next five or six chapters - are outlined and scene-set, they just need the details added in. So I have been making progress in my long absence; even have a modern plotline brewing.**

**For those of you that have stuck around, I thank you. ****I hope you continue to enjoy my struggle to get this story out. Also, thanks to flyingcrispi for reviewing and getting my ass in gear! **

**I also hope that you have been enjoying pirating with Edward Kenway! He's so sassy! It makes me wish he were real; we'd be best friends. XD**

**Don't forget, any artists out there, I would LOVE a book cover for this fic if anyone has ideas. I can't draw or work the digital paintings worth a shit so any help would be appreciated...**

**On that note, Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft, whom I still have not forgiven for killing Desmond... :(**

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

While Nikolai worked to tuck the unconscious woman securely in his arms on the saddle, Dino fidgeted.

"We have to get to the Prince," he said to Nikolai. The nobleman, distracted, didn't answer right away. When he did, his tone was irritated,

"If you think you can find him, be my guest, Demasi," he grumbled, "I've been searching for the boy ever since this riot broke. Then the Mongols appeared – out of nowhere, mind you – and the Grand Prince and His Highness caught the bloodlust and deployed with their troops in different directions."

"The gate guards said that Vasiliy is still within the fortress."

Nikolai lifted a hand in a gesture of disgust, encompassing the surrounding din that echoed weirdly from between the buildings.

"It's chaos, even in here. In the darkness, no one can see what units are deployed where to even bring a semblance of order."

Dino harrumphed. He looked down at Irina, who appeared very pensive as she stared fixedly, with glazed eyes, up at Nikolai and the unconscious Tamara. Then he cast his gaze at the buildings around them.

Coming to a conclusion, he suddenly lifted Irina and tossed her behind Nikolai in the saddle. The girl yelped once before throwing her arms around the nobleman to avoid sliding off the back of the horse's rump. The beast danced sideways before Nikolai reined it back under control, burdened as he was by the women. Then the nobleman turned a soured expression towards Dino,

"What the – ?"

"Look," Dino interrupted, "The numbers of your enemies are small. They are succeeding only because they are harrying the platoons and decreasing communication between allies. Get the girls to safety. I'll scout the area. Meet me on the Dormition steps with what's left of your soldiers."

Without waiting for the man to respond, Dino spun on his heel and took off down a nearby alley. The noise of the disjointed battles dimmed as the high walls of one of the churches rose up around him.

Casting his gaze about, he spotted a series of handholds and heaved himself up the wall to the roof. Careful of his footing on the sloped roof, he crabbed his way up to the pinnacle of the building. From there, he grabbed hold of the giant orthodox cross and hauled himself up onto it.

He jammed his feet between the cold iron crossbars of the thing, braced his shins against it, and carefully uncurled himself to his full height.

Atop the cross, he was rewarded with a full panoramic view of the Kremlin environs. Even with night settling in, he could easily see where the dark clad Mongols were creating lines of conflict and moving the more brightly colored Russian units away from each other.

Dino squinted, concentrated, and shifted into Eagle Vision, ignoring the odd sensation that his eyeballs were telescoping out of his head.

A quick perusal with the inexplicable skill Ezio had taught him and Dino found the Prince, a tiny figure limned in gold.

He shimmied back down to the roof proper and vaulted over the alley between the church and its neighboring building, some noble family's fancy Kremlin residence. A perfunctory Leap of Faith took him down into a sheltered stable yard, and from thence into the street leading to the Dormition.

At the church he was delighted to find Nikolai – sans Tamara and Irina – barking orders at a couple of platoons of light infantry.

The soldiers wore the Assassin ally's colors and looked to be both well-trained and experienced in the use of their swords and maces. As Dino eyed the lines, he found himself becoming envious of the satisfying heft of the Russian maces.

No fancy wrist-work slicing and stabbing like the swordsmen, just brutal force that could cause some serious blunt trauma.

He was just getting ready to address Nikolai when he heard his name being called.

For a wild moment he thought Alessa was back already, until he turned around and saw Elena loping towards him. As she neared them, he realized that Elena was frantic, her normal expression of polite disinterest was fractured into a mask of barely contained hysteria,

"Mamma! Irina! Have you seen them?"

Dino caught her by the shoulders as she lurched to halt before him, shaking her slightly,

"They're fine. They're safe."

An almost immediate change took over her, and the tension melted out of her body. He was amazed at the control she had over her emotions as she extricated herself from his grip.

'Thank you," she said, almost below the level of his hearing. She said it so quietly that he wondered if he'd imagined it. A sort of startled relief stole over her expression.

Then almost as quickly the tranquility disappeared and her blue eyes focused on him with a great deal of urgency,

"Dino," she said, "Dmitriy has betrayed us." Her tone was carefully modulated, but she appeared to be close to a breaking point, her words came out in a voice as treacherous and uncertain as thin ice.

"How do you know?" Dino asked, startled by her admission. She looked just as taken aback,

"You already know?"

"Just found out," he replied, frowning at the memory, "Alessa is tracking him to find out more as we speak."

Elena's eyes widened,

"No!" she said forcefully, "She cannot, it is too dangerous!"

"I think she can handle it," he replied testily.

"No, you don't understand." Elena cursed eloquently, then warily eyed Nikolai as the man dismounted and came to join their conversation.

"Peace_, dorogaya_," he said to her, "How did you come to this information?"

Elena's jaw clenched and she turned her face away, her throat convulsing as she swallowed hard. Dino watched her fist clench the grip of one of her pistols as if she comforted herself with the thing's presence. Then she faced the men, her eyes on Dino,

"Dmitriy called me to a meeting this morning. In secret. I figured it was to go over last minute details for the mission today. But when I got there," here she paused, visibly forcing her normal disaffected expression over the troubled lines of her face, "When I got there, he had assembled men I had never met before.

"He didn't know I was an Assassin! How could he not? He thought me one of your independent allies and sought to persuade me to join with him. I didn't know, Dino, I didn't, I swear!"

Dino waved her statement away dismissively,

"What happened? Were the hooded men there?"

"Yes! The ones Irina saw last month! They didn't say anything and I still don't know who they are, but they are very dangerous. They are looking for some hidden vault located in the city, but their specific targets are you and Alessa. They have been hunting you since you arrived."

His gut clenched in alarm but there was no further time for discussion; they had waited too long and the fighting had spilled into the area around them.

"Right," Dino said, "No time. Nikolai. The Prince's men are only a couple of streets down that way," he pointed, "If we can stop this wave, we can break through to him and get him to safety. Do you have archers? Crossbowmen?"

"_Nyet_," Nikolai said, shrugging. Dino grunted in disappointment, then turned to Elena,

"Are you a good shot with those?"

"Pffft," she replied, "Of course."

"Then get to high ground. Pick off any of those fucks that separate from the group."

Elena grinned and he was pleased to see her dash off, apparently all too eager to follow his orders without question.

"That was easy," Dino said in an aside to Nikolai, who grinned back at him in perfect accord. Neither of them wanted Elena in the middle of pitched battle.

Ah yes, pitched battle.

Dino drew his sword eagerly as Nikolai barked orders to his soldiers. Without waiting, he hurdled down the long, shallow steps leading from the church into the street. He heard the distinct sound of booted feet jogging in formation behind him. The clink of metal against metal, the rhythmic footsteps, and the scrape of steel against leather as weapons were unsheathed: it all combined to create the sound of pre-battle.

They moved as a unit down the street towards the first knot of Mongols. Dino heard Nikolai shout out a command and noted with approval the efficient manner in which the soldiers either sped up or slowed down to arrange themselves into a 'V' shaped formation. He found himself at the tip of the human spear and raised his sword in the air as he spied the first group of Mongolian warriors.

Voices roared around him wordlessly as he and the Russians plunged into a full sprint and crashed into the messy group of enemy. Dino was plunged into the thick knot of Mongolian without further ado.

The little fuckers were fast, but he startled them with his appearance, his superior size causing more than a few to stumble as they lost their footing to his momentum. The stumblers were immediately skewered by the Russians.

The other Mongolians recovered from their surprise with aplomb however, and Dino was dismayed to watch two Russians, who hesitated too long after their kills, fall to join their enemies in death.

Then the work began. Dino quickly realized that his sword – and most of the Russians' – were too long compared to the Mongols, who wielded shorter, curved blades that whirled through the air faster than most of the heavier infantry could parry.

He and his allies swiftly found themselves on the defensive, forming ranks with their backs to a building while the Mongols swarmed them. At first, Dino could not discern any sort of order to their attacks and thought them mindless barbarians. But in the process of fending them off, he realized that they attacked in trios, independent of the large group.

Oddly enough, it reminded him of a flock of birds; one trio would begin shifting in a certain direction and suddenly all them would move.

Too damn bad Dino didn't have much use for birds.

He spotted one triad start their swarming pattern and hustled his ass over there, dodging the flicks of curved blades as they tried to stop him. With a great inhalation, he leaped the final distance, batting aside a horizontal swipe of a blade with his vambrace and beheading the man in the same movement.

Then he spotted another triad starting to lead the larger formation into another flocking pattern. He dodged his way across the slushy cobblestones, raised his sword, and…

"Fuck! Elena!" he barked at her as he threw himself wildly to the side to avoid hitting her as she stabbed one his targets with one of her throwing daggers. As he stumbled and corrected his stance, he saw her withdraw the vicious little blade and then fling it in one smooth movement. It leapt eagerly into the throat of an enemy that had been behind her.

The force of the hit knocked the man ass over elbows. Dino watched, fascinated, as Elena withdrew the little blade from the dying man's throat, as casually as if she were plucking a flower out of the ground. Then,

"No! Fuck you, Demasi!" she snarled, absentmindedly wiping the blade on the still dying man's coat with angry, flickering movements, "You sent me up there to get me out of the way, you –"

Any further accusations were cut off as their enemies redoubled their efforts. Dino and Elena threw themselves back to back and Dino began applying his sword liberally to a duo of the howling Mongols.

"Whatever, _tesora_," he grunted, as he parried a simultaneous attack from his aggressors, "You want to die down here in the dirt, go right ahead, I won't stop you."

"Don't patronize me, you _bolshoya shishka_," he heard her growl at him, her own voiced strained with her physical effort, "I cut my baby teeth on these little cowards."

Despite himself, Dino chuckled at her bravado. With a last, massive effort, he dispatched his two enemies and spun to help her.

He needn't have used such urgency, even as he took in the scene, she dove into a low roll and came up under her attacker's swing to slice at both the man's femoral arteries. Dino leapt forward to relieve the man of his sword as the man went down, screaming and clutching helplessly at his wounds.

Meanwhile, Elena, cool as a queen, rolled gracefully to her feet. She gave him a sour look and then flicked her gaze around for the next skirmish.

But it appeared that Nikolai's soldiers had overcome the pack of Mongols. Men were dispatching injured survivors with grim efficiency, so Dino turned his attention finding Nikolai and discovered that the man had already found them.

The man was stalking towards them, looking thunderous, and Dino wondered idly what the usually calm nobleman was so pissed off about…

"What is she doing down here?" he asked Dino.

Oh.

He felt, rather than saw, Elena bristle, and merely folded his arms across his chest, cocking his head once in Elena's direction as he said,

"Why don't you ask her yourself, she's right there,"

"I will not… She… It…" Nikolai sputtered.

"I will not be sent away like a small child, to _safety_," she said the word 'safety' like Claudia would have said 'horse piss,' "with only two pistols for long range weapons. I am more useful down here."

She folded her long, lean arms across her chest and assumed a stubborn expression.

As Nikolai's face turned a rather interesting shade of purple, Dino hastily interrupted,

"We need to move on. The Prince is not far and I can still hear the sounds of fighting. Shall we press on?"

The nobleman and the thief probably would have stood there all night – hackles raised, spitting words like two brawling cats – so Dino took matters into his own hands.

As they engaged in what was probably an epic verbal battle – Dino couldn't tell, their Russian had descended into a dialect that was usually only spoken by the meanest of street thieves and gutter whores – he jogged over to the soldiers and informed them that their leader needed them to advance.

It worked, as the platoons began to move out, the sounds of their argument broke off, replaced by the very distinct sound of two people rushing after him.

Elena spat a final, pissed-off sentence and withdrew to the other side of the troops, as far away from Nikolai as she could get.

Dino whistled softly,

"You might just want to let this one go, brother," he said to Nikolai, who looked like he was chewing on razor blades.

The man grumbled something, then barked,

"The next group is this way?"

Dino just nodded once and they all fell into a slow jog.

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

_Okay_, Alessa thought to herself, _You can do this, you're crazy enough! And not just run-of-the-mill crazy, either; you're crazy like Markku, crazy like Ezio!_

Yup.

Because she had to be an absolute, fucking lunatic to go in that damned hole.

Okay, she –

Okay, she had this.

Buzzing with manic energy and resolute, she edged into the crawlspace. Turning around awkwardly, she reached back into the little storage room and pulled in the long fuse and the heavy coat.

Before clambering into the claustrophobic dark hole, she had dragged the barrels away from the door and stacked everything into an innocuous heap. Now, as she pulled the planks back into place, sealing herself into the hole and letting the fuse hang inconspicuously through a splintered corner, she hoped that a casual search of the room wouldn't reveal that she had been there.

Lucky.

She was lucky no one had searched it yet.

With the small comfort of that little security, she began the hard work of wriggling through the truly small space. The excitement of her plan began to fade very quickly, and Alessa began to have to try very hard not to think too much about how _close_ everything suddenly was.

The space was so narrow that she had to scoot along on her belly, her head jacked sideways and scraping her cheek along the ground. She couldn't even lift her forearms high enough to get real purchase with her elbows; the ceiling, err, floor, was just too damn low.

Simply put, she was royally fucked if she couldn't find a way out.

The slow suffocation of panic began to steal upon her, and she focused on the fuse clenched in one hand and the heavy coat in the other. If she didn't know that she'd freeze to death without it, she'd have left the damned thing behind.

She had to stop and rest, often. It was frustrating, but she couldn't afford to become exhausted. She already halfway to passing out with fatigue and she still had to run once she escaped this damned rathole.

And speaking of rats…

A monstrous, furry bastard skittered around in the shadows cast by the trickle of light through the barely-there slats between the floorboards above. She swore the damn thing was as big as a cat and she hoped it came closer because she was going to stab the fucker right in its nasty, pointy, little fanged face. She caught the glow of a single beady eye as she tracked its movement.

Hopefully it wasn't going back there to bite her in the ass.

Her muscles jerked involuntarily with the absurd, yet somehow terrifying image in her head and she had to take yet another break to calm herself down.

Chuckling softly in hysterical glee, her teeth chattering in the beginnings of panic, she focused again and began to make good headway. Inches at a stretch.

Yup, she was the craziest bitch of them all.

The self-deprecating monologue was good motivation and she really began to get into her stride, err, crawl, when her counterparts above her personal hellhole got riled up all of a sudden. The cadence of their speech turned staccato and some began to pace.

News of her escape must have trickled into the general population.

Up until that point, she had been able to avoid having someone walk directly over her, but her luck and skill couldn't last with all of this movement.

Her heart practically stopped each time someone got near her. Logically, she told herself that no one could actually see her. The gaps between the floorboards were miniscule, providing barely enough ambient light for her to see by.

But crammed in that tiny space, unable to move her head from side to side, unable to lift any part of her body more than a couple inches off the ground – and the fucking rats ready to chomp on her ass – those damned gaps seemed huge.

Any second, one of them would look down, see her, and she'd be pinned like a fucking bug.

Dammit.

She didn't want to be a bug.

Grimly, she kept at it, moving one agonizing inch at a time, the fuse clenched in one fist, the heavy coat clenched in the other.

And then some dumb _cazzo_ decided to stop pacing _right on top of her_.

Right.

On.

Fucking.

Top.

Her mouth gaped as she tried and failed to draw breath; the slight give of the floorboards just enough to cut off that miniscule space left for her to inhale. Every exhale deflated her lungs even more as the damned bastard continued to stand there.

Her hands scrabbled uselessly in the dirt, the gloved fingers clutching at nothing.

Spots appeared in her vision, and then began to swarm to the edges of her view, blackening what little visual field she had. The burning in her chest grew…

…she sobbed once, silently, desperate to just _breathe_…

…and the weight lightening suddenly, like the whole of the world was lifted from her chest. A great _woosh_ of air expanded her lungs and she nearly gagged with the relief of it. She blew like a bellows, unable to draw the full amount of air into her body in that tiny space, and had to spend precious minutes bringing it all back under control.

As she lay there, gasping like a fish in the dark, she suddenly realized that her ordeal was nearly over.

Not far from where she lay panting, she could make out the shape of another access point. And going by the muffled sounds and patterns of movement above, the portal would lead outside.

Invigorated by hope, she pulled herself the rest of the way in an enormous, ceaseless effort. Wriggling like some sort of demented snake, Alessa humped her way across the increasingly freezing ground and was rewarded by panels that hadn't been nailed shut.

Blessing the laziness of whatever worker had last been down there, she pushed through.

BREAK

_**Dino Demasi**_

Somewhere in the middle of the fight, Dino spotted the Prince and began the slow, methodical work of carving himself a path.

All the merry little bands of Mongols appeared to have converged directly on the Prince and what was left of his forces. Their numbers were astonishing for having been spotted nowhere near the city for months.

But magical powers of teleportation or not, they still fell readily enough to his blade.

To his surprise, Elena kept pace near him, and appeared to be using the momentum of his fighting to her advantage. He could see her, in his peripheral vision, as she darted in to pick off fighters that were focused on him, watched as she flickered up behind a man he had engaged to slit the throat.

It was all very impressively mercenary.

Dino suddenly found himself beside the Prince and some of his concern faded.

The princeling's familiar face reminded him of Alessa, however, and that repressive feeling, that little touch of worry crept back into his heart.

One thing at a time, though.

"I thought you Russians were over this kow-towing to the Khans," he blustered to the Prince as they began to work through a fresh wave of Mongols.

"Yes, it's all very fifteenth century," Vasiliy huffed. The Prince sounded exhausted, but was still laying about with his fancy sword energetically enough. Dino saw with approval that Elena had taken up a position at the Prince's back and was doing a damn fine job covering the royal behind, too.

The addition of Nikolai's troops to Vasiliy's turned the tide of battle, and it wasn't much later that the Mongols were forced to retreat.

As the last fighters scattered, Vasiliy bellowed for the troops to chase them down. His sword dripped gore as he swung it this way and that, directing his troops out into the darkness to hunt down the fleeing Mongols.

Nikolai's guards broke down into fire teams and did their Prince's bidding, while those soldiers wearing the colors of the Prince began to set up a defensive perimeter.

Dino found himself alone with Nikolai, Elena, and the Prince. Vasily looked startled as Elena took up a silent position next to Dino, and he asked,

"How many do you have?"

"Uh?" Dino asked, startled.

"Women," said the Prince, all guileless and everything, appearing not to notice as Elena's face pinched up into a dangerous expression…

"God, no," Dino hastened to say, "She's not mine, I mean…" he made frantic, placating gestures at Elena as her mouth opened in the beginnings of one of her tirades, "Just let it go, Highness."

Elena clucked disapprovingly with her tongue and stalked a little ways off, idly kicking at and then looting a dead Mongol.

Vasily eyed her for a moment suspiciously, before turning a bemused expression back to Dino and then shrugging,

"Fine, then can I have Alessa?"

"You're serious aren't you?" Dino said to the Prince, who looked hopeful, "I don't even know what you want her for, she's –"

"This is all very fascinating," Nikolai broke in, his tone mildly disgusted, "But perhaps Your Highness should retreat to the Palace while we root out the rest of these invaders."

Vasiliy looked briefly irritated, and gave the nobleman such a look of haughty disdain, that Dino had to suddenly find his feet very interesting before he embarrassed himself by laughing.

"I have no intention of hiding within my palace like a woman while those… those… _heathens_ are in my city, and I –"

"Watch out!" Nikolai shouted suddenly and Dino, thinking another attack was coming, placed his body in front of the Prince's and drew his sword…

But the nobleman was moving towards Elena, who had had the same thought as Dino and was heading straight for them.

Dino watched in utter astonishment as Nikolai crashed into Elena, hard, so that the much more slender woman was thrown forcefully to the ground with a blurt of surprise and pain.

And then a shot rang out.

Loud.

Unmistakable.

Time seemed to become thick, viscous.

Bewildered, Dino waited for a bloom of pain, for Vasiliy's angry shout, for… something.

And then Nikolai fell.

BREAK

_**Alessa Ricci**_

It was dark outside. Was it because not much time had passed? Or had she spent at least a full day unconscious?

She suspected the latter and wondered uneasily where exactly she was.

She lurched down the narrow alley the crawlspace had let her out into, lacking all of her normal grace.

She felt drunk. God, she was going to put her foot directly in the ass of whatever rat bastard had hit her in the head.

She tittered a little bit.

Rats.

They hadn't taken a bite out of her ass after all.

Covering her mouth to stifle her laughter, she crouched on the ground. The length had barely made the distance and she had to stretch her head and shoulders a short way back into the crawlspace, ass and legs still out in the alley. With shaking hands, she set a spark from Igor's flint and steel to the oiled length. As she scooted back out of the crawlspace, she watched it idly, making sure it stayed lit; it would take a while to burn all the back to the barrels of powder.

Maybe it wouldn't even make it…

…oh, well.

She didn't have time to worry over it.

Shivering, she buttoned Sergey's heavy overcoat snugly and began to feel her body heat warm it from within.

That done, she staggered to her feet, observing her surroundings with what little mental alertness she had left. Then, doggedly, she moved further into the shadows of the alley and managed to get to the roof of the building in which she had been confined.

For a while, Alessa just watched the movements of the soldiers below. Small groups of two and three moved quietly through the streets. Half lying on the roof, Alessa watched one group as they made a thorough search of the alley she had just vacated.

Breathing a sigh of relief that the snow on the ground had been churned into slush and wouldn't reveal her path, Alessa crept away from the area.

A shout of alarm went up in her alley and she put on more speed as she went over the roof.

They'd found where she had come out.

Pushing herself as she never had, Alessa fell back into instinct. Ignoring the protest of her body, she fled.

There was no other word for it. She was fleeing.

There was no plan, no forethought. They hadn't spotted her, but it wouldn't take much deduction for them to figure out where she was.

On the rooftops.

The images of the hooded men haunted her as she scrambled from roof to roof, specters of Death.

Were they rogue Assassins?

They'd have her training, her skill set, and they'd be very dangerous if it came to open conflict. Hell, _**if**_ she made it to open conflict; they could be watching her even now.

She didn't have time to ponder and, ignoring the imaginary twinge between her shoulder blades, slowly she came to realize that she was in a walled compound far outside the city proper. Full darkness crouched menacingly just outside the tiny huddle of buildings and the paltry lantern light that the narrow streets in gold.

Panting, she made her way to the main gate. She knelt at the edge of a wooden building – the stables – and beheld her escape.

So close…

The timber walls, well maintained and very smooth, would be impossible to scale. She _had_ to go out the gate.

The bastards knew it, too, and as such…

…heavily guarded.

She wondered why they were wide open.

Probably to make it look so damned inviting.

Smart and sadistic.

Still…

She slipped over the edge of the roof and dropped carefully to the ground, more to keep herself moving than for any real reason.

She eyed the gates avidly, watching the movements of the guards.

There were too many, even if she could slip past one group, three other groups would spot her.

Still, it was the weakest point in the compound's perimeter. But the more she dithered, the bigger chance she risked of getting caught.

Wraithlike, she hoped, Alessa ghosted from one shadow to the next, keeping her movements limited so as not to draw any eyes toward her.

Like a slug, she eventually crawled into a pile of hay, just to catch her breath and reassess the situation. As she lay beneath the rustling, prickly hay, she heard a familiar voice,

"I told you idiots to post more than two guards and I _told_ you not to enter her cell unless myself or one of my associates was present! And now she's escaped. Explain."

The curt tone was Dmitriy's, one she had never heard out of him. He almost sounded like another man, but no, here he came down the street, adjusting his heavy leather gloves and striding along next to a stricken solider. Stray curls of his hair peeped out from beneath his fur _ushanka_.

First of all, who the fuck was Dmitriy that he was ordering a soldier around like a lackey? And why was the soldier wringing his hands like he had been brought up on charges punishable by death?

Alessa didn't hear the soldier's answer, she was distracted by a chirrup from within the stables and the sounds of a carriage being brought out into the street.

The blessed thing came to a halt neatly in front of her where she lay flat on the ground. She saw Dmitriy's boots scuff to a halt on the other side of the carriage next to the soldier's shuffling feet.

Quickly, without thinking too much, she scooted about and then rolled swiftly under the carriage. With a great effort, she tucked herself into the undercarriage of the transport and prayed that she'd be able to stay there for…

…well she'd figure it out once she got out the gates.

"Find her," Dmitriy's matter-of-fact voice made her heart leap, "And this time do whatever it takes to keep her restrained until I return. She only needs to be able to give me information, so make sure that you don't interfere with that, eh?"

Dirty, rotten bastard.

Alessa watched the soldier's heels click smartly together just before he turned to leave.

Why was he saluting a thief?

The carriage sagged a little when Dmitriy got in and Alessa had to jerk her fingers away from a pinch point in the support frame before they were crushed.

Then they were in motion.

The jolting was excruciating to her sore body and Alessa had to clench her jaw and fight to remain where she was.

The horses were trotting, but it seemed that they were moving at a crawl as Alessa worked every muscle of her body in order to remain in place in the jiggling, jolting, swaying undercarriage.

So much for this being easy, she thought to herself grimly as the gates neared.

She feared that they would stop but the view she had from her vantage point was nothing but good. A whole platoon of feet moved aside for the carriage as it passed through the gates and then they were out.

So it turned out that that was the easy part. She was so near Dmitriy that it would be a shame just to drop off the carriage and disappear into the night.

Oh hell no.

She would have answers, and an accounting.

Spurred on only by her determination to have a confrontation, Alessa struggled to move to the back of the conveyance.

It was extraordinarily difficult, to say in the least.

Once the carriage had reached a straight stretch of road, the coachman had urged the horses into a ground-eating canter, accentuating the movement beneath the carriage greatly.

It complicated her efforts and she nearly sobbed in pain and frustration as she tried to work her way along the struts and axle.

Her chest heaving with effort, Alessa eventually had to jam herself in place for a moment to rest. She figured the space she was in was directly below one of the carriage seats. She wondered idly if Dima was sitting right above her. Could her hidden blade break through the wooden seat, give the traitor sitting on it a bite in the ass he'd never forget?

She grinned to herself at the image.

Rats.

But no, probably wasn't even the right seat.

Her perch, however, afforded her a view of an entirely different type of opportunity.

Vito had specialized in making weapons. But as a blacksmith, he was also required to make the various metal parts that people used in their everyday lives: nails, tools, buckles, the hoop-like staves for wine barrels, and parts for wagons and carriages.

Just like the pin that had wiggled its way loose from the axle and wheel mechanism.

As she reached out to grasp it, she figured that it would be too difficult to extract, after all, the things had to be pounded into place with a hammer. It would take a great force to remove it –

_Or maybe just a bit of rust_, she thought with glee as it crumbled apart under her ministrations.

That bit of vandalism done, she figured that she'd best get moving; she had caught her breath again.

By the time she had reached the back, she was utterly exhausted and breathing hard. She took a few moments to let her muscles rest and her breathing come under control. Then carefully she clambered up onto the roof of the carriage.

She was silent as death as she sidled forward. Then, quickly, she snaked arm around the carriage driver's neck to clamp a hand over his mouth while her other hand stabbed him in the neck. When he slumped, the dead weight of his body nearly dragged her entirely off of the carriage and she made a soft blurt of surprise.

As she struggled to extricate herself of the body, they dying man suddenly jerked spasmodically in her arms, jerking the reins hard to side.

Chaos.

Alessa tumbled over the side of the carriage as it swerved suddenly, just barely managing to use the body to cushion her landing.

Snow and trees and a moonlit sky collided as she bounced off the body, the breath getting knocked entirely from her lungs.

She felt impacts as she tumbled sideways, faster and faster, crushing into small trees and rocks jutting from the hillside…

Hillside?

She rolled faster, skidded sideways as she tried to halt her momentum, unable to stop herself even as she tried to regain the breath forced from her lungs at the impact of her fall. Snow and dirt and a plethora of soggy leaves and sharp sticks poked into her and made their way down the back of her coat.

There was a sudden dizzying freefall and one final, abrupt impact, and then the world stopped moving. Her arms and legs continued to windmill weakly, as if she were still falling and trying to catch herself.

High above, she heard the high-pitched whinny of a startled horse and a spectacular crash. Panting, she lay for a moment in the following stillness.

The night seemed muffled around her. Sound and sight were muzzy through her fatigue and shock.

An insistent calling of her name roused her and she sat up abruptly, her head whirling and throbbing anew.

As she clutched her head in her hands, she heard him calling her name.

"Alessa? I know you're there,_ dorogaya_," he sounded almost friendly and she shuddered in revulsion. She didn't answer, merely lifted her head from her hands and plucked clumps of snow and dirt out of the folds of her coat. The heavy leather had saved her from bad scrapes and cuts, but her ribs ached from some impact. She couldn't remember what she'd hit on the way down, but, looking up, she saw that she had fallen over a heavily forested slope fronting the river. The final fall had been a good six feet onto a large boulder partially sunken in the ice floes along the shore.

"Alessa? You had better run. When I don't arrive as planned, your own personal Reapers will be coming after you," his tone was almost playful. It was too much.

"Go to hell!" she snarled up at him, her voice sounding weak and pitiful. Disconcerted, she cleared her throat, and then jumped aside as a throwing dagger clattered into the rock just next to her.

"_Cazzo_!" she choked, rolling aside, clamping her teeth together.

"I missed, didn't I?" came the slightly mocking tone from above. When Alessa didn't reply, she could almost hear him shrug, "Ah well, have appointments to keep; I'm missing out on how things are playing out in the city. Your princeling is probably dead by now, by the way. And your partner."

Alessa refused to believe it, her chest a seething, red-hot ball of hatred. She started to pick her way away from the side of the road.

Even so, she still heard his parting words,

"Ironic isn't it? I couldn't have carried out these plans without your assistance – unwitting as it was."

She'd show him unwitting.

_Gah! You are useless,_ she thought as she doggedly stumbled further out onto the ice, away from the road. It was dark, he couldn't see her, and maybe she could…

"Fare well, _dorogaya_," he called, "If the wolves don't get you, the Assassin hunters will."

Alessa ignored him. He couldn't see her in the dark, and neither could she really see where she was going. She had to pick her way carefully along the treacherous ground along the riverbank. Thick shrubbery ran rampant here, and she had to edge out even further on the wedged clumps of ice to get around them. Snow fell into her too large boots almost immediately.

Well, she thought, at least it's the middle of winter, the ice should be solid.

Of course even as she had the thought, one of her feet plunged through a thin skim of ice that was covering a slow moving rill of water. Trembling at her luck – the water was quite shallow here – she drew her dripping foot out of the freezing water.

She had made some headway in getting away from the crash scene and she hunkered down into a less dense thicket. The lowest branches were just high enough for her to sit if she bent her neck.

Wolves. Real ones. With big, pointy teeth.

They'd rip her throat out. It would hurt.

Fuck.

And hunters?

Was it true?

Were they Templars? A splinter faction? Mercenaries hired by the Templars?

A sudden spike of pain at her temple distracted her. She stifled a groan and laid her head in her hands.

Pitiful.

She was so. Fucking. Pitiful.

Like a sweet, wee bunny, hiding in her burrow, shivering in the cold over some stupid hairy animals that she'd seen no sign of and some anti-Assassin task force that was probably a head fuck perpetuated by a lying sack of… of... Shit, she couldn't even come up with a good enough insult.

Her teeth chattered and she resolutely clenched her jaw and simultaneously heaved herself out of her bunny nest and to her feet.

Ignoring the increasing numbness of her foot squelching in her wet boot, Alessa let the cold darkness surround her.

She made a few deductions based on how she had fallen and the direction the carriage had been headed and reckoned that the city was downriver.

Time to march.

* * *

**A/N: I'm thinking of posting shorter chapters, keeping them in the 3k-5k range. just to see if that makes me update any faster... I guess we'll find out.**


	43. Moscow: Shot in the Dark

**A/N: Ok, it's official. I am losing it. This chapter is short and sweet. The next one will finish out Moscow. I thought I had originally lost most of it and was struggling to rewrite. Then I found it – HANDWRITTEN – in one of my OAB notebooks. The hell. So I am going to give you this while I transcribe the rest onto computer.**

**Got out of Michigan just in time; they've had a helluva winter back home. Of course Atlanta went apeshit when they got a couple of inches of the white stuff. It was HILARIOUS!**

**All my AC games are in storage while we find a house. Except for Black Flag. I like Edward. Did I mention that he's sassy? Yes. Sassy.**

**Any-who, Ubisoft, Assassin's Creed, yada-yada.**

* * *

_**Dino Demasi**_

Elena recovered enough from her stumble to assist Nikolai to the ground.

"Stupid, stupid!" She kept saying to him, clutching the lapels of his coat and shaking him. Dino wasn't sure whether she was talking about the nobleman or herself. Vasiliy was barking orders at the soldiers to find the gunman.

Narrowing his eyes, Dino used Eagle Vision.

In the shadows of a nearby alley, he spotted one of Dmitriy's thieves, hastily reloading a rifle.

The same one who had tried to burn him and Alessa alive.

"I'll get that little bastard," Dino snarled.

It was probably the same fuck who had shot at him when they first arrived, too.

The man saw him coming and dropped the rifle. Gunpowder and bullet pouch went flying, too. Dino ignored them as he hurled himself forward in a sprint, long legs eating up the distance between him and the thief.

The thief was fast, not surprisingly, and Dino had a hard time keeping up - even with his longer stride.

He was beginning to think about attempting to head the thief off at an alley and was starting to recall all of the Kremlin streets in his head when he realized that he wasn't the only one chasing the man.

Elena was right behind him, keeping pace. When he glanced at her in surprise, he noticed that she didn't even look like she was trying hard. The woman looked like a loping deer or something. Her strides were long and firm, but she looked almost lazy as she sprinted along behind – no, beside - no, _past_ him.

"Be my guest," he panted. He thought he saw a small smirk twitch her lips.

With the speedy female doing well on the ground, Dino decided to go for high ground. If he lost the thief, Elena would still be on him.

With a heave, Dino stair-stepped up a wall and hurled himself onto the roof of a dark stable. He heard one of the horses whinny in alarm as his footsteps rumbled the wooden shingles. His boots broke through the ice-encrusted snow caked up there, the sound like shattering glass.

Once he got over the faint dizzy sensation he always felt when changing elevations abruptly, he burst back into a sprint, hopping across narrow alleys. He had to concentrate pretty fucking hard to time the jumps, sacrificing his speed, but managed not to fall off and bust his ass.

Whoops, there went his target, turning a corner and…

And, well, coming right for him, actually.

Elena was whirling something above her head as she hurtled around the corner.

With dark glee, Dino leapt off of a rooftop, landed precariously on a fence, and managed to topple right on top of his quarry. A dark object tangled with the thief's ankles at the same time, and a weighted object bashed Dino in the face.

Shaking the stars out of his head, Dino manhandled the thief around to face him and drew back a heavy fist. His knuckles crackled as he clenched his hand in anticipation of…

"Don't kill me! I know where they took the girl!"

Startled, he barely managed to pull his punch. He ended up smashing his fist into the cobblestones beside the panting thief's head. His gauntlets absorbed most of the blow, but it still hurt. Sparks flared and faded almost instantaneously as metal crashed into stone and Dino wasted no time hauling the thief to his feet.

Elena stalked up beside the men, her face cold and cruel in the dark, barely breathing hard. A fine sheen of sweat made her skin luminescent in the moonlight. Dino caught the thief eyeballing her warily and shook the guy a little bit.

Little fuck shouldn't be worried about the woman right now…

"You have my attention," Dino said conversationally. He kept his voice tightly controlled; no need to let the guy know he was confused and worried.

A crafty expression stole across the smaller man's face. He licked cracked lips nervously,

"They have her. Let me go and I'll tell you everything."

"Obviously so you can go tattle to Dmitriy," Elena broke in. She casually drew one of her throwing daggers and inspected its edge. The metal's sheen had been buffed to dullness, making the weapon look fiercer than it should have.

"Yes, so just tell us now," Dino urged.

"If I don't return, they'll kill her," the man gurgled. Dino tightened his grip,

"They'll kill her anyway," he snarled, baring his teeth as he pulled the man closer.

The thief scoffed,

"You both know that we are at an impasse. Elena, _dorogaya_, you know that this won't end well."

She didn't reply, and Dino didn't see her move, but suddenly the tip of that little dagger was a breath away from the thief's eyeball.

"Don't even move," she murmured, "Don't speak."

While the thief watched her, eyes wide, she absentmindedly rummaged through a pouch at her hip with her free hand, never taking her gaze from his, her blade never once wavering. She produced a length of fine cord and held it out to Dino.

He tied the bastard, gagging him while Elena retrieved her tripping chain that had tangled around the thief's legs. A small chunk of metal weighted either end and was probably what had hit him in the head.

"Nice throw," he muttered.

Her response was a quick grin that startled him in its suddenness.

"New toy," she responded.

"You'll have to share one day."

"Perhaps."

He grinned back at her and hauled their quarry to his feet.

"So what do we do with our little friend here?" he asked.

"I'll take him somewhere… safe. You return to the Prince. We can question this one later; if Vasiliy gets him, we don't know what he'll reveal. This is Dmitiry's second." She looked briefly troubled, and then narrowed her eyes, speaking directly to the thief. "Nikolai is dead. You killed him."

Dino almost didn't catch her final words.

"Say again? Are you sure?"

Dammit, they needed Nikolai. The man had been a strong Assassin supporter and had managed the Moscovian Assassins' finances. He cleared his throat.

"_La Rosa_. Tonight."

"I'll see you there," she agreed. She turned and drew one of her pistols, thumping the thief in the back of the head with the butt of the thing as the man tried to slip free.

Certain that she had the situation in control, Dino re-traced his steps. It was a little tricky as part of the chase had gone over rooftops, but he managed just fine.

Cathedral Square was milling with Russian troops. Torches bobbed everywhere in the darkness. The Mongols were retreating, dead, or being mercilessly executed. Vasiliy strode among his soldiers, bellowing orders. The man seemed more comfortable on a battlefield than in court.

Dino considered his words carefully as he approached the man. He decided against revealing that Alessa was missing; the guy would freak – and ask the wrong sorts of questions.

Vasiliy spotted him while he was deliberating. He held up the rifle that Oleg had discarded, shaking it liked an angry fist,

"Demasi! Who was that man? He killed Zachariev!"

"We lost him. Elena is still tracking him, but he disappeared into the warehouse district."

"Bah! Crawling with thieves, that place. I should raze it to the ground."

"Oh, uh," Dino stammered, "Where is Nikolai?"

"I had him returned to his family," Vasiliy said dismissively, "How should I know what they've done with him? Is Aleksandra safe?"

"She is well guarded, Prince," Dino lied smoothly. Vasiliy grunted, more interested in deploying another platoon that had assembled from a nearby barracks.

"Good, you're dismissed, Demasi. You will take the best care of her. Tell her I… Er, well, I would like to see her tomorrow night, when this has all settled down."

Dino bobbed his head in acknowledgment, trying not to grimace.

He wouldn't be able to keep the abduction hidden.

Elena found him pacing at _La Rosa_, where Talya watched him as she lounged on one of the couches. It was well past midnight. Dino pounced on the woman as soon as she walked in. Her face was drawn and haggard; she looked as if she had aged years.

"Where is he? What happened?" he asked, as rapid fire as his Russian would allow him.

Elena merely glared at him through red-rimmed eyelids. Her face was puffy and swollen; she had been crying.

"Oh no, he didn't get away did he? Dammit woman, I-"

"Fool!" she almost-shrieked, "There are bigger problems!"

He bristled; he didn't like being bitched at.

"For your information, girlie, the only thing of importance to me is Alessa. If she is killed, I- I –"

He raised his hands threateningly, clenching his fists at the dangers he had no control over.

"Okay now," came Talya's soothing voice. Dino could feel himself calming under her soft tones. He felt his shoulders loosen a bit, but couldn't quite stop looming over Elena, who glared up at him with fierce, icy eyes.

He felt Talya's cool hand slide up his forearm, squeezing him gently just above his elbow. Trembling, barely containing frustration, he let himself be led to a couch. Talya deposited him there like a moping child and then went and collected Elena's stiff figure.

The courtesan rang a little silver bell and a servant came to bring them chilled wine.

As the niceties were observed, Dino could feel the darker emotions leaking out of him like water from a cracked canteen. He lowered his face into his hands, strugglingto control himself, and then raised his head to the lovely courtesan before him.

"Dino," Talya said, "Alessa is strong and capable. Accept that she is either already dead or fighting to escape. She can wait for the moment. We'll start with Elena."

Opening his mouth to protest, Dino suddenly caught on to the desperateness etched on Elena's face. Feeling a pang of sympathy, he waited.

"Aristotele is dead, murdered." she managed. "Nikolai is dead. And… my mama, she is dying."

Dino lowered his face into his hands. Too much. He heard Talya murmur something soft and comforting. But all he could think was that Alessa was next.

Dammit, if she were killed… well, he would want Ezio to murder him, as promised. He would cheerfully haul his ass all the way back to Italy and hand the Master Assassin the weapon to do it.

Desperately, he focused.

"How?" he croaked, his voice betraying him. He cleared his damned throat and started again, "How did Aristotele - ?" He couldn't even finish.

"He was in the city. I brought him. He wanted to be here when – " Elena stopped abruptly and looked away. Talya reached out and settled her hand softly on the other woman's shoulder. The courtesan looked to Dino,

"What will you do now?" she asked.

"Interrogate Dmitriy's second," he replied immediately, "You want to help me, Elena?"

The tall woman's bowed, shining head shook back and forth once. Dino felt something inside him soften at her attempt to remain stoic.

"We can't be everywhere at once," he told her, "It is impossible to save everyone when you're surrounded by enemies."

"I thought they were safe, Mama, Aristotele…" Elena said, her voice like a tattered cloth, "To be betrayed by one I have trusted for so many years, it… I can't…" She stood abruptly, her eyes eerily wild in a face struggling to remain impassive. "You'll find Oleg at Mikhail's."

She stalked out of the room.

Dino stood, grim with purpose. Talya gazed up at him,

"Be careful," she said, "We can't afford to lose any more Assassins. There are not many of us left."

The night had deepened. The cold was almost audible as it shifted around him and he hunched his shoulders against it.

Mikhail was a silent, stoic guardian at his forge. Oleg, Dmitiry's second, was bound across one of the massive anvils near the forge. The ring of hammer on steel drowned out the man's attempts to shout through his gag.

As Dino entered the forge and saw the little bastard glaring at him from within his bindings, something in him snapped.

He stalked across the room, drawing his dagger as he moved. The defiant eyes widened as the man tried to scrabble away from whatever he saw in Dino's face. Without hesitating, Dino approached the man and thumped the handle of his dagger against the man's head.

Oleg went limp with unconsciousness.

His chest heaving, Dino stood over the bound man. Red smeared across his vision. Mikhail's hammer rang in counterpoint to his racing heart.

It took him a minute to realize that suddenly the blacksmith was beside him, rugged features grim as he crossed massive arms over the sooty apron covering his chest.

"Bring her back," the man rumbled, slapping a heavy hand into Dino's back before he vacated the room.

Determined, Dino used his drawn dagger to slice through the rope, making sure the wrists and ankles remained bound. Bending his knees, he crouched and then shifted the man's weight over his shoulders. The straps of his armor creaked against his muscles as they strained, lifting him to his full height.

"Dino? _Cosa stai facendo_?"

The innocent little voice made him close his eyes for a moment as he firmed his heart.

"Irina. Not now, _piccina_," he grunted, firming his shoulders up under his burden.

Only then, feeling safe at his full height, did he turn to confront the girl. She blinked up at him trustingly, the cat-like green and blue eyes glowing with hero worship.

"You should be with your sister," he said harshly, deliberately speaking in Russian, ignoring the fact that she wanted badly to only speak to him in Italian, "She'll be needing you now."

"She's like a pathetic little shadow of herself," the girl said scathingly. Dino winced at her acid tone.

"Don't you think you're being a little harsh?" he asked her bluntly, "Your mother may be dying."

"No," she replied, just as terse, shrugging her shoulders dismissively, "So are you going to torture him?"

"Yes. I mean... what?" he blurted, "Why would you think that?"

"Because that's what I would do."

Oh.

He believed her, too. Her chin was set stubbornly, her jaws clenched as if she was getting ready to do battle. Elena did that thing with the chin too; it didn't bode well.

As he mused over the similarities between the sisters, he suddenly wondered from which girl the mannerism had originated. Elena was the logical choice, but gazing at the blend of child-like earnestness and adult resolve in the teenager's face, he tentatively revised his initial impression.

No matter, he thought, Irina could be tough all she wanted. There was no way he…

"Let me come with you," she said.

Yeah, there it was. And she wasn't asking, she was _telling_.

"No," he growled.

"Are you going to stop me?"

Ooooho! Now the little shoulders were bunching up even more. Little chit. He snorted and then shrugged his own shoulders, which were beginning to feel the strain of the unconscious man's weight.

"Suit yourself," he said, heading for the door as she scrambled to catch up, "But…" he said, rounding on her suddenly so that she stumbled backwards in her haste to keep from running into him. He reached out to steady her, surprised by the slightness of her shoulder and trying not to let it show on his face. He leaned down to her eye level, the slack weight on his shoulders making his abdomen work hard to accept the extra weight. He watched Irina's eyes widen slightly as he grinned coldly,

"But don't come crying to me – or to Alessa, _**especially**_ not to her – when down the road you wake up screaming in the middle of the night."

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed hard and her pupils dilated. The blackness caused the extraordinary colors of her eyes to nearly disappear. He watched a fine tremble go through her body but her voice was firm. It was admirably even and clear,

"I won't. I want her back too."

He gazed at the girl, frozen by surprise, before turning away abruptly, ignoring the sudden lump in his throat.

He was a fucking baby.

Jaw clenched, he continued,

"The empty warehouse just down the street from here. It's isolated," he said thickly, "Grab A – Al… grab her toolbox. It's over on her workbench."

He watched her follow his instructions and then scamper out ahead of him to make sure their way was clear. As he followed at a more somber pace, he felt like the serpent in Eden.

He picked a corner in the building, and started a small, hot fire on a heap of rubbish he swept into a pile on the stone floor.

The thief awakened in the meantime and remained still as Dino hefted the wooden box full of metalworking tools before dumping the contents onto the ground beside the fire. His movements deliberate, he picked through them, setting a few into the coals, inspecting the edges of a couple others. He drew out his whetstone and drew it casually across the small curved blade of a carving tool.

The tools had been well-cared for and didn't really need the sharpening.

Whatever. Had to whet the appetite, right?

He chuckled to himself and displayed the tool as he rasped it against the stone,

"Get it?" he asked the thief, "Whetting the appetite?"

The man's complexion paled, but Dino could tell that the thief wasn't totally convinced by his display.

No matter. The thief would be entirely convinced of Dino's resolution in a short time.

Still chuckling weirdly to himself, Dino set the razor sharp tool down and reached into the pile of Alessa's instruments. His laughter stopped abruptly when his fingers discovered a circular metal medallion, half-finished in one of Alessa's patterned knots. He heaved in a couple of breaths to slow his pounding heart, clenching the piece in his fist before setting gently back down into the box.

And so he was uncharacteristically rough when, a few moments later, he sliced the gag away from Oleg's face. The thief winced as blood welled out of a nick sliced into his jaw in the process.

Dino settled onto the floor beside the bound man, crossing his legs at the ankles and clasping his arms around his knees. He rested his chin atop his knees, not letting his panicky anger show on his face. Silently he watched the man watch him.

Torture wasn't something he'd pride himself on in the years to come. But he found that right now, in this moment, it was something he was going to relish. As he watched, Oleg's wary expression turned stubborn… and then the emotions that Dino was waiting to address: disbelief and contempt.

Little bastard didn't think he'd go through with it.

Dino let the stare down go on for a while before he spoke, noting somewhere in the back of his mind, Irina's silent presence in a dark corner,

"I will ask you nicely only once," he said steadily and tonelessly, "Where is Alessa?"

He picked up an almost dainty pair of pliers.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Italian: _Cosa stai facendo_?" What are you doing?**


	44. Moscow: Oncoming Storm

**A/N: too many files! Ahhh! Okay, so here we are. End of Moscow. I have three different files for this chapter, had this go down a couple different ways, but felt that this was the best way to go about things based on the plot wrap-up that I'm working on. Time to move on. If this thing was a book, this would be the last chapter. I've got another viewpoint coming along very soon and am hoping it will add some variety to Alessa and Dino.**

**musical inspiration: "Fate" by Our Last Night, "The Devil Within" by Digital Daggers, "Losing my Religion" by Lacuna Coil, "This War is Ours" by Escape the Fate, "Lost" by Within Temptation**

**ubisoft made the AC universe and it's AWESOME!**

* * *

_**Alessa Ricci**_

The cold hurt.

Her fingertips ached and no amount of clenching and breathing on them helped. Her wet right foot had gone blessedly numb, but her left foot screamed with pins and needles. The numb foot felt like a heavy stick at the end of her leg and little jolts of pain shot up the front of her right thigh.

Yup. No one had told her how painful it would be to freeze to death.

Her body betrayed her, fatigue dragging her limbs down and dragging her from a clumsy jog into a pathetic shuffle. Gasping for breath, she looked around. The silent trees regarded her solemnly, not offering aid.

She considered one of the giants for a time, her sluggish mind trying to work. Then, dumbly, a slow thought propelling her limbs, she climbed the thing.

Even without leaves, it was rough going, the smaller branches grabbing onto her thick overcoat and trying to drag her back to the ground. Up this high, every movement of the branches was exaggerated by the wind and she clung desperately. It was terrifying; she could not feel her fingers well enough to know if she gripped the tree as tightly as she needed to.

She climbed doggedly, her face pressed into the cold, scratchy bark, avoiding the dizzying view as she rose above the main canopy.

The wind picked up, whistling past her ears. Her hood was scraped from her head and her hair whipped out into the wind. Her body temperature instantly cooled, and she spared a moment to drag the hood back up.

She huddled there for a moment, shivering hard, and then raised her head, ignoring her body's clamoring for warmth.

The forest was a dark smear below her. The sky was patchily bright. An ominous bank of clouds made the western horizon dark as pitch. The moon struggled to illuminate the rest of the landscape, but Alessa could only make out the contrast between the Moscow River snaking through the forest.

She followed the silvery coils in one direction, noting the encampment where she had been imprisoned some distance away. A great plume of smoke rose from it and she grinned fiercely; Markku would have been proud.

Twisting away from the sight, she followed the river in the opposite direction. As her eyes adjusted, she barely made out a faint glow on the horizon – Moscow.

Elated, she committed the gentle turns of the river to memory, mapping herself a path towards the city – and safety.

The glimpse of the correct direction gave her a burst of energy. Still, her descent consisted more of falling than actual climbing.

Cursing the noise she was making – sound carried well out here – she slid the final few feet to the ground. Pieces of bark and small sticks rattled to the ground around her, some pattering on her shoulders and head.

Re-orienting herself, she compared the lay of the land to the map in her head and set out again.

The branches above her shifted restlessly, uneasy in the gusting wind. She looked up once, when the moonlight dimmed; tattered clouds plucked wispy tendrils across the moon. Under the canopy of bare branches and soaring pines, however, the air was calm.

Silent.

No insects whirred, no night animals scampered through the thickets. It was as if the entire world had died, with only the distant moaning wind as her companion.

Centuries of pine needles cushioned her steps. The previous snow storms had barely penetrated the dense boughs of the evergreen canopy.

The forest was ancient. There was nothing like this in Italy to compare. The trees were huge and intimidating, and guarded dark secrets.

Wolves.

Vasiliy had told her about bears, too. Would she encounter one? They were large, solitary creatures, the size of which could be hinted at by the massive bearskin cloak he often wore.

As she trudged determinedly forward, Alessa felt that the wind, as it rasped through the needles and bare branches, was decidedly eerie. She glanced up at the dry branches, quivering slightly above her in the escalating wind.

What was this land? It was so different from her own, how had people survived here? She began to believe all of the fairy stories that Vasiliy had told her. What was the snow maiden called? _Snegerochka_… Alessa imagined a tall, haughty beauty with blue eyes and pale hair… kind of Elena, actually. In a crown made of icicles and garbed in snowflakes.

Brrrr.

She looked again at the branches.

If she started a fire, she could be warm in minutes.

Once the thought entered her head, she couldn't get rid of it.

As the painful chilblains crept from her fingers to her hands, from her toes to her feet, the urge to build a fire became all-consuming. It was like trying to ignore a hot meal after days without. Like trying to fight off desperately needed sleep during a difficult mission.

And after a time, she simply couldn't stand it.

After a stern lecture in which she informed herself that she'd stop just long enough to warm her extremities that were in real danger of freezing, Alessa settled herself into a little dip in the terrain. Well shielded by young, bushy pines, she fumbled her flint and steel out of her pocket.

She hunched protectively over a tiny huddle of ancient pine needles and began scraping the implements against each other. The familiar sound that meant warmth and light made her skin tighten into goosebumps at the anticipated pleasure.

Frustrated with her attempts, she dropped her flint long enough to rip her gloves off, convincing her fingers that if they would just cooperate, then glorious warmth would be theirs before any other body part.

What had she been thinking about? Oh yes. Magical creatures…

The Firebird in the painting. What she wouldn't give to have that sizzling bastard perched on her forearm right now.

Magical creatures both terrible and wonderf—

_What was that?_

She froze, straining to hear over the forbidding silence.

Wind, like thousands of whispers in the darkness and –

No.

Not the wind…

Voices.

Squinting, she could make out a faint pinprick of torchlight…

She hurriedly killed the fragile sparks eating into the needles, knowing instinctively that it wasn't Dino come to save her. Her blood ran with cold that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Hastily, she stuffed her flint and steel back into their pouch. On her belly, she slithered out of the fold in the land to peek warily out into the forest, pulling her gloves back on with her teeth. She didn't notice the needles and forest debris as her clothing scooped it up into each eager opening.

Carefully, ever so carefully, Alessa scooted under one of the pines.

A torch flickered teasingly in the trees, its carrier walking in a direction parallel to her current position. The persistent wind paused, so that she could just make out their voices. Closing her eyes, she heard an unknown male speak,

"The storm will be here in an hour, maybe two. We need to find her before then."

A female responded; her voice carried much better than the man's and Alessa heard it like the woman was standing very near,

"I don't want to be stuck out here during a storm; stupid Assassin."

The tone was petulant, and just shy of strident, but Alessa cringed at the venomous hatred that marked the woman's tone. The man replied,

"She's wily as a fox; she's been casting about in different directions, trying to throw us off her trail. But we're getting closer. These tracks look fresh."

_What?!_ Alessa screamed inside her head as she figured out what the man's words implied.

She had thought she was going in the right direction. It meant that –

Fuck.

She just - was she lost!?

Fuck!

She bowed her head in mute frustration and looked up to see a second torch being lit.

"If we split up, we'll cover more ground. Worse comes to worst, settle in for the storm. It will kill her. We'll meet back in Moscow."

"We'll find her before it starts," the female said, "she's dead either way, but I'd rather have a body to show for our efforts."

Alessa had heard enough.

And she was fucking pissed. She hadn't gotten her fire, she was flailing about in the dark like a lost child, and now she had these assholes closing in.

It wasn't her best mission. Not by any measure of the idea.

Nearly weeping with the effort, she wormed out from the little thicket of trees into the opposite direction of the tall, dark, and deadly coming for her.

She was tempted to fall back and keep an eye on her pursuers, have them meet her hidden blade perhaps, but she rejected the idea immediately. She wouldn't last in a fight; she needed the element of surprise to aid her.

She didn't think she could manage any kind of surprise at this point.

Alessa stumbled as her numb feet encountered a depression in the ground. The forest had spilled her out onto a small meadow fronting the river. The ice floes had bunched up in a bend here, forming a relatively sturdy path across.

Tentatively, she picked her way across the churned up snow and frozen mud at the shoreline. Her eyes snagged on a single, unmistakable print in the snow.

Wolf.

_Big_, she thought dumbly.

There were feral dogs that lurked in the wilder areas surrounding _Roma_, but nothing like this. The creatures that had raised the infamous founder of the city were no more. She paused, cocking her head and listening carefully.

Silence, punctuated by the lurch of water against ice. The river was like a sentient creature with a deep heartbeat that thrummed against the underside of the ice.

She picked her way across the precarious surface, stumbling once or twice as she tripped over ridges that were becoming harder to see.

On the other side, she plunged back into forest, noting that the moonlight was getting weaker.

Solitary flakes of snow were beginning to appear. They didn't seem to fall, but appeared out of nowhere. Gusts of wind accompanied them, making them swirl gracefully against the backdrop of night.

It was mesmerizing.

Almost bewildered, her eyes tracked a single flake.

The frail little speck was at the mercy of the wind, and she was able to watch it as it was swept away from her and out into darkness…

…into stealthy movement that was most ominously alive…

Alessa yelped as shadows became creature and the huge black wolf eased into view. Its back was hunched in the hint of attack, its hackles raised, teeth bared in a silent snarl.

There in the darkness, aided by her exhaustion and fear, the monster looked like something that had been spat out of Hell.

Alessa had never been more terrified of anything in her life. A caw of sound came out of her, and the beast seemed to take heart in her revelation of weakness. It prowled closer and Alessa stood there in transfixed horror.

Then her training took over, Ezio's voice drilling her for those countless hours.

_Anticipate… and strike!_

_Anticipate…_

Grimly, she held her left arm out, hidden blade silent and waiting in its sheath. She brought her right forearm up in anticipation of blocking the bite to her throat. It was excruciating, but she crouched defensively.

The wolf seemed to hesitate, sensing the change.

"Come on!" she taunted, her voice weak and cracked.

The sound made the beast lower its head and Alessa's heart stuttered with the anticipation, and then…

The wolf charged, impossibly fast and yet Alessa felt herself calm, felt the world slow in the inevitability of confrontation.

Smoothly, her body seeming to have forgotten the dire threat of winter, she stepped back, her rear knee lowering to the ground, right arm still up. She punched out with her left hand and her hidden blade speared the wolf through the roof of its mouth.

Its hot breath rushed out into her face and it flopped to the ground. Dead before it could make a sound.

The weight dragged her with it and she lay on top of its almost hot body, panting as if she had sprinted a mile. She honestly felt like her heart was going to explode there in her chest even with her battle won.

As she lay there gasping, she had to move. She doubted the wolf had been alone; Vasiliy said that it was rare to find one without its pack.

Not to mention the people in the forest.

Coming to kill her.

She heaved herself to her feet. Counted her steps. Fighting the cold was like carrying a weight. The wind was incessant, merciless. And she could no longer stop shivering.

Eighty steps.

The pain in her toes and fingers was excruciating.

One hundred and fifty steps.

The air burned her lungs with every dogged breath. The moonlight dimmed for longer and longer periods of time as larger, heavier clouds came in abreast a mournful wind.

Four hundred.

She stopped once. Twice.

Alessa sank to the ground and huddled into herself. She drew her arms deep into her sleeves and tried to breathe some warmth into her gloves.

Failed.

She stood. Staggered another step.

Then, with a vicious curse, she turned to a nearby pine, intent on ripping needles off of it to start a fire –

Idiot.

Needles on the ground.

Her mind, frozen and slow with cold, forgot all thoughts of stealth as she greedily scraped up a haphazard pile of tinder. She moaned softly with the pain as she stripped her gloves and juggled out her flint and steel.

She went cross-eyed with fatigue as she bent over her implements, then her eyes over-compensated and the pile of needles seemed magnified as she struck out a shower of sparks. The tiny specks of flame fell in agonizing slow motion. She watched with dazed focus as a couple hit the dry tinder and flame brightly before winking out. She managed another strike with similar results.

Instead of being frustrated, a wave of apathy descended over her. After hours of throbbing pain, agonizing cold, and dreary fatigue, it all suddenly went away.

Her shivering stopped. Confused, she sat back on her haunches. Her eyelids fluttered closed.

Once.

Twice.

A soft sound.

The faintest whisper of a booted foot on the forest floor.

The soft give of leather as it caressed steel.

Instinct.

Alessa's eyes flew open even as she fell to her side and rolled.

The wicked flanges of the maces were buried in the detritus on the ground.

Somehow, she was more upset at the scattering of her tinder than the threat to her life.

Huh.

Her frozen muscles shrieked as she turned her roll into a movement that would bring her to her feet.

Except it didn't.

Ungainly, Alessa managed to clumsily dodge the mace as it came for her again, this time clipping her in the ribs.

She yelped – the sound coming out as a croak. She heard the impact more than felt it – a dull _thunk_. Part of her was curious about what kind of damage it might have done, but more of her was interested in using the impetus behind the swing to propel her to her feet.

Hastily, she backed away from her attacker, right arm instinctively curling around her body to protect her injured left side. She held her left arm out, readying her hidden blade.

Hunched over, Alessa struggled to take in her attacker's movements.

It was the hooded man, of course.

A cocky grin appeared on his face, crooked white teeth contrasting with the shadows created by his hood. His nose was long and hooked down at the end.

"Who the fuck are you?" she barked. Even in her confused state, she was alarmed at how weak she sounded. She made an effort to firm up her defensive crouch as the man laughed. He hefted his mace casually in his hand and began to amble in a slow circle around her.

Her clumsy feet scuffed up the needles on the ground as she gamely followed.

"Assassin," he sneered, stopping for a moment to eye her derisively before continuing his slow circling, "You're looking a little bedraggled."

He swiped at her nonchalantly and she stumbled back, badly over-reacting. Hastily, she went back into her defensive stance. She couldn't see his face but could sense his scornful expression.

His voice certainly dripped with it,

"You, Alessa Ricci," he pointed at her with his mace briefly before resting it back on his shoulder, "you were supposed to be a challenge. And look – " he stopped talking suddenly and darted out at her.

Alessa only managed to raise her left arm in a pathetic, purely defensive maneuver that exposed the inside of her forearm.

The mace smashed into the underside of her bracer. Excruciating pain punched through her arm and into her skull, making her vision go black for a split second. She heard her hidden blade snap just before she heard one of the bones in her arm break. Then a strange looseness in her arm. Gritting her teeth, she scuttled backwards, her back slamming into a tree.

She gagged in the aftermath of the initial burst of pain, and then snarled raggedly as it rushed back over her to settle in for good.

She tumbled over onto her rear end, unable to halt her ungainly fall as her injured arm curled into her chest. Sprawled awkwardly, she glared balefully up at her attacker. Her chest heaved in the aftermath of her efforts.

He eyed her, his head canted to the side.

"Do it," Alessa ground out through her teeth. If she could get him close enough, she could stab him with her right blade.

"No, no. That wouldn't be very fun, would it? I think I'll wait for my partner. She's quite inventive. She'll make sure you have some time with your pain before you depart."

God.

"Do you think she'll be long?" Alessa asked, "I think the cold air will get to me first – urrrggghhh!" she gasped as he kicked at her vaguely. The movement as she tried to avoid his boot seared her pain more strongly to her bones.

"Hurt?"

_Come closer, you fucker_, she told him silently.

"No, I just wondered, does your face always look like that, or do you actually try to be so fucking ugly?"

His grin vanished,

"Sad for you, Assassin. I'll make sure it's the last face you ever see."

"Then why don't you? Oh yeah, waiting for a woman to come to your job because you're ballsless."

Aha. There it was.

Manic anger crumpled his face into something truly frightening. He eased his mace off his shoulder and drew a – wait…

Was that a _sickle_?

It wasn't the typically cheap, rough-hammered iron sickle of the poor farmer. This was smaller. Steel. Elegantly curved in deadly imitation of a crescent moon.

Fuck.

She'd misjudged him. Usually dropping a line about a man's parts made them want to…

Oh! Here he came!

She could almost see what he was going to do as he leaned over, free hand out to grab her injured arm.

She stabbed her right arm into his chin so hard that her hidden blade on that wrist skipped over his skin as his chin rocked back and out of the way.

No matter. In the split second that his muscles bunched in an effort to get away from her, she swiftly brought her arm back and plunged the blade into the hollow of his throat.

Blood gurgled over her, steaming in the freezing air and filling her mouth and nose with the sickly scent of wet copper. She retracted her blade as he toppled forward onto her and she cried out in renewed pain when his body weight crushed her and her broken arm into the frozen ground.

Grunting in pain and effort, Alessa scooted sideways out from under him and crabbed to her feet.

She had to, had to…

Who were they? Templars? They had to be Templars, but these two seemed different. Maybe…

She couldn't focus enough to follow the thought. Instead, she decided that she definitely needed to kill the second tracker.

A trap?

Blearily, Alessa looked around, then set into motion. At first, she tried to cover her tracks.

Tried.

So tired.

She noticed a sticky warmth in her left coat sleeve.

Frozen. Stuck the fabric together.

Ignore it.

Alessa realized belatedly that she was on her knees, staring at the brushy crown of a fallen oak.

All she could focus on were its bare branches. The smaller, lighter branches would have snapped off easily for kindling. The thing had fallen in the summer; most of the shriveled leaves were still attached.

Pain throbbed along her arm up into her shoulder and she looked down at it. She had fallen when her feet sank into a patch of snow, come through the broken canopy created when the giant had fallen. A bright smear of blood colored the white ground.

An idea kindled in her fuzzy mind.

Alessa systematically left tracks on her way into the fallen tree's thick brush. Thin branches led to thicker branches. She straddled one awkwardly. It took a long time to find her balance and even longer to scoot up the branch to where it hovered over her obvious path.

_Yeah, follow that bitch. I'm dying, come and get me…_

Lying on her stomach, she settled her body. She would fall easily from here.

Alessa shivered hard, the rush of the life and death struggle from moments before leaving her limbs. She clenched her jaw hard, but involuntary shudders racked through her body. The branch she clung to trembled slightly. Its movement was lost in the wind that was sidling under the canopy.

Settling in for the wait, she began counting in Russian with the intent of making it to one thousand.

In the crystalline silence she strained for sounds of her pursuer. The wind picked up, rushing through the trees. It made a singularly different whisper through bare branches and the needles of the pines. There was no luxuriant rustle of thick leaves. It was a lonely sound that the wind made as it moved unimpeded through the forest made barren by winter.

She was silently mouthing the words somewhere in the five hundreds when a bloodcurdling scream sent a jolt of shock through her chest.

Sounded like her Assassin-hunting friend had found her kill.

The scream descended into a heart-rending moan and Alessa clenched her teeth against the despair that filled the empty space between the trees,

Silence followed. Fragile silence punctured by the dark, lowing wind. Alessa's muscles – those that she could feel – trembled in agonizing wait.

Funny, the silence was more intimidating than that unearthly wail of grief. Alessa could almost empathize. Losing a partner, discovering a close ally suddenly when a mission should have been easy.

No.

Because that would make her enemies… human. Like herself.

And that was a dangerous mindset to foster.

Alessa pinpointed the exact moment when her pursuer latched onto the trail she had left. A sharp intake of breath, and then the hesitant steps of before firmed with purpose.

Alessa heard the woman hesitate outside the tangle of branches. She eased her right arm away from her body, jaw still clenched to stop her shivering.

A cowled head appeared, ducked through the lower branches, and then straightened up. The woman was taller than she was, but that was all she could tell about her assailant from her position.

Her muscles were tense with anticipation – or the effort not to shiver, she wasn't sure – and the wait was agony as the woman looked around carefully before proceeding.

It was interesting, how people were not conditioned to look for danger from above, Alessa mused, as the woman crept ever closer.

The cowled body was still just out of her reach when Alessa's body betrayed her. A hard shudder seized her muscles and she shivered, the branch shaking hard.

_Merda!_

No time. Alessa lurched off the branch, hidden blade engaged. Her assailant looked up and shouted a denial as Alessa fell towards her.

The woman moved quickly. She darted away from Alessa's killing swipe and Alessa missed her entirely. She hit the ground hard, twisting desperately to avoid landing on her injured arm.

The air _whoofed_ out of her chest as she landed flat on her back.

The hooded woman crouched beside her as she gasped, a renewal of her pain paralyzing her. Alessa couldn't see her eyes, but she could feel them assessing her. Sure enough, the woman prodded at her injured arm and Alessa snarled with pain.

She easily blocked Alessa's second attempt to stab her, and pressed Alessa's uninjured arm under her knee. She was effectively pinned.

"He got you before you killed him, eh?" The woman said evenly.

Alessa struggled, trying to free her arm, but couldn't budge her attacker, whose mouth turned down in disappointment,

"You're weak, Assasssin. It doesn't make for a satisfying kill." She unsheathed an innocuous dagger; it almost looked like an eating utensil, more utilitarian than deadly. Alessa felt the blade caress her neck and went still.

The edge was razor sharp.

The tree above them groaned as a gust of wind made the branches wobble. For Alessa, there was nothing but the certainty of the blade at her throat.

She didn't hear the slow, ominous creaking of the heavy branch above them.

In a rush of chaos, a final crack like thunder brought the entire branch down upon them. Alessa's pursuer was slammed into the ground where she hunched over Alessa, her knife burning a line of fire across the tender skin of Alessa's neck.

Stillness.

Alessa groaned after a moment, not sure what had happened.

The big, heavy branch blocked her moments to the left. The still woman was sprawled across her chest, impeding her breaths. Awkwardly, her injured arm tucked into her chest, Alessa dragged herself out from under her pursuer, who didn't resist as Alessa freed herself.

She scooted backwards away from the downed woman. There was a terrible stillness to the woman's limbs. Alessa got painfully to her feet and approached, her body tensed, right hidden blade already out.

She toed the woman over onto her back with some effort.

Bright, pain-filled eyes glared up at her. Alessa was startled, but didn't move away.

The branch had broken her back.

Alessa looked bemusedly up at the dead branches scraping the sky above her.

"A- Assassin…" hissed the dying woman.

"Gonna tell me what you wanted?" Alessa asked, unable to conjure any emotion except curiosity.

"You. Dead."

Alessa scoffed,

"You a Templar?"

"And more," a pained cough garbled the words, but the woman continued with the single-minded focus of the dying, "You Assassins would be better served to turn your efforts to shaping mankind to a Templar mold." A trickle of blood preceded a grimace of pain. The woman's final words were gasped out with great effort, " The free will you preach of is just an illusion. Mankind is nothing but of flock of sheep in need of a shepherd."

She looked up pityingly at Alessa, startling the Assassin; the dying woman shouldn't be pitying _**her**_…

Death stole across that gaze, leaving Alessa feeling that somehow the woman had won something.

Grimly, she knelt to close the rapidly freezing eyes, "Better for a handful of us with free will than the all-encompassing slavery your Order would offer mankind," she murmured.

Right?

This was bullshit; she shouldn't be out here contemplating philosophy, she was just trading one form of danger for another out here.

Perturbed and heavy of heart she staggered away from her kill.

Out in the open, she looked up, swallowing past the inexplicable lump in her throat. The snow was falling heavier, and the storm clouds had swallowed most of the sky. Despite that, the moonlight remained steadfast. It silvered the snowy landscape, restful to her eyes. She had never been able to see so clearly at night even with a full moon to light the sky.

She found the river again, but couldn't remember if she was to follow it or make her way through the forest one more time.

Fuck.

She eyed a tree. Maybe she could…?

God, she couldn't. She could barely put one foot in front of the other, much less climb high enough to get a viewpoint.

In that moment of realization, she found herself on her knees. She leaned into the leeward protection of a tree that must have stood beside the river for centuries. With the little protection it offered, she curled into a ball, shivering.

Alessa didn't know how much time passed, if any at all, but eventually a feeling of lassitude stole through her. The pain of her frozen limbs was subsiding; she almost felt warm. With a contented sigh, she relaxed, gave in, sank into the unnatural sensation. A relieved sigh eased out of her and was swallowed by the cold winds, but she didn't care. She felt like she was sinking into a warm bath.

Her heart stuttered. With a cry, she staggered back to her feet and… did something. She honestly couldn't tell if she was able to stagger even a single step before she went down again. A sound passed her lips and she shamed herself by admitting that it had been a half-smothered, hopeless sob.

Her chest heaved from her efforts; she literally could not make her body move. Her toes and fingers felt too big and clumsy and she couldn't even make a fist.

She'd just rest for a moment.

Her living foes were vanquished; she had prevailed and should have been exulting in her victory. Instead, she would fall prey to Nature. She would fall helplessly to the cold and nothing she could do could combat the specter that hovered just out of reach.

Still, she railed against it, a harsh sob escaping again, a discordant effort against the deadly serenity that was holding her…

And then she gave in, settled into the relaxing embrace of a cold so deep that it was warm, drowsy, sluggish…

…Ezio…

The briefest flicker of his image appeared on the backs of her eyelids and she felt herself smile. What had he asked, just before she had come to this frozen hell?

What was it?

The thought perturbed her, kept her from totally relinquishing herself to the cold and the dark.

Slowly, so slowly, she opened her eyes. The moon was full… surreally bright in the midnight sky. Alessa's vision was snagged by the purity of the light as it limned the contours of the land. The trees were ghostly in the pale light…

Her eyes went unfocused and she flailed about within herself, groping for something that she wasn't exactly sure she wanted.

Oh yes…

Ezio.

She breathed his name; let it out to the wind. His name passed over her lips, but wasn't a sound; she didn't have the strength for that.

What had he asked her?

The moon caught her attention again as her body still tried to struggle against what her mind had already succumbed to. She shuddered in the cold.

And then it all stopped.

The frail, white moonlight streamed through her, took hold of her vision. She was vaguely aware of the faint puff of her breath as it passed over her lips, a tiny spark of life that flickered and began to die out in the endless cold …

Snow was coming faster now and the clouds were nearly across the moon. She had the sense that once that light was extinguished, it would be the end for her. She whimpered again, a final effort, but her voice was soundless in the merciless cold.

And then…

Nothing.

BREAK

_**Abstergo Industries**_

_**Acquisitions Research Department**_

A white glare, blinding. I close my eyes to protect them, but find that my eyes are already closed. My fingers and toes are tingly almost to the point of pain. And my chest is heavy. It is an effort to breath.

I panic.

I attempt to physically struggle to no avail. Primeval terror, old as life itself – the fear of death, the struggle against oblivion – it hovers over me like a dark shadow and the white light dims briefly.

I thrash weakly, an agonizing writhing that results in the sluggish twitching of my unresponsive body and abruptly the terror vanishes.

I float.

And I am content for now, to be free of the crushing helplessness of death.

"What happened?"

The exasperated male voice startles me. Although it sounds far away, echoing faintly like something from across a huge space, it is acutely irritating and I shift minutely in an attempt to get away.

"The subject desynchronized," came a calmer, more soothing male voice. I like that voice; it reminds me of the white place. It is toneless, formless, but its very neutrality was what imbued it with the sweet lassitude that I find so tranquil.

For I am formless. Sensory deprived. And indifferent.

"Why?" barked the other. I cringe; he is bringing me back and I don't want that.

"The subject desynchronized because the ancestor died," came the nice voice, now sounding slightly exasperated itself, "It's not a… pleasant experience."

"Doesn't matter; this one volunteered when we discovered the genetic link. The kid made the choice to do this."

Volunteered? For what? I just want to go back into the white light; it's nice there. Quiet. Peaceful.

But something is bothering me about this… whatever is happening… Something… It wasn't supposed to happen that way…

The voices fade in and out as I attempt to drift back into the whiteness. But the annoying one grabs my attention again. Like a fucking mosquito. I wonder briefly what I need to do to squish him...

"The ancestors have found the Russian girl. Synch them. And figure out how to get a synch with the fourth one; he's already there. In Rome. I don't know why you haven't done it yet. Re-synch with Ricci. They all were close to Auditore; one of them must have found out where the temples are!"

Wow. Noisy guy was getting really worked up. I am interested in what the second is going to say…

"I've found a node for the Russian girl. But, the fourth has been difficult. Synching the genetic memory is dependent upon the subject gaining empathy with the ancestor. And this second man is... wrong... somehow. Emotionally or mentally… broken. It's creating difficulties with finding a node."

"I don't care about your excuses. The subject needs to empathetic? We manufacture pharmaceuticals for Christ's sake; _make_ the subject empathetic."

"But... that's not ethical... Dr Vidic, please…"

"This one volunteered to do whatever was necessary to help us. I don't see the problem here. Do you?"

A faint sigh, then:

"No, sir."

The nice voice is grudging. Very grudging. I wonder why.

Footsteps start up and then fade; the sharp, fast rhythm is very much like the staccato bark of the owner's voice. I am glad when they're gone. I decide that I don't like that person.

"Alex…" the voice says , "Alex!"

I am startled; the man is speaking directly to me. Stiffly, feeling as if I am moving through gelatin, I turn my head slightly in the direction I think the man is.

"Alex, you don't have to do this. I can get you out."

The voice is soft, pleading. I don't care. I turn my head away from him.

"You're an idiot," he says softly, a note of disappointment in it. Whatever. I don't care; somehow I know that this voice will hasten me back into the white light and I am ready to go back.

I am ready…

* * *

**A/N:**

**What do you guys think? Should I write side missions like Moscow as a separate fic and stick to the main AC storyline in OAB? Or would you rather have it nice and chronological as it is? Heh. Maybe I can get this sucker up to 500K words... I don't think either way will get me to post faster, but as far as organization goes, I'm not sure what to do. From here on out, with the extra POV, the assassins will be on different side missions at the same time. Not to mention the time we're gonna start spending in modern AC universe. So, multiple side plots with an underlying main plot in one fic or publish further side missions separately?**


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