Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Serenissima Repubblica di Venezia, 1488

When Ezio had been born, he was still. 

As a child, he seemed to try to make up for the lack of movement by moving as much as possible at every given opportunity, and even in the opportunities in which it wasn't given. 

His mother had never once scolded him for his constant tapping and fidgeting, or his need to run around in full sprints instead of walking civilised-like, and Ezio now thinks it was rather that she was just inherently thankful that he was capable of such movement after the scare of a stillbirth. Other mothers would have clipped him round the ears for it, but his mother was always somehow vaguely proud of the shenanigans he could get up to with his elder brother. Perhaps it was what made her parent him so freely, allow him to behave so boisterously in manner as well. 

After Petruccio’s sickness, this only doubled - having a bedbound son unable to move so much must have reminded Maria of her almost stillborn son, and she was freer than most of the house was with Petruccio, always stroking his hair and letting him wander past the courtyard and to the start of the strada on his better days. 

A mother simply doting on her youngest, some would say, but Ezio knew the truth- or at least he thought it did. 

Of course, learning he was an Assassin unwrote all of those justifications of the way he had been parented into something different. No longer did he think he was allowed to roam so freely because of his birth complications, but because he was picking up the skills for becoming an Assassin later on. Training with his father he never got to complete. A life he never got to live. 

“Well look at this. Happy birthday, amico mio.”

His jaw drops and his head snaps towards the familiar voice.

“Leonardo… when did you get back?”

He looks at his feet then up again with a face glazed in mischief. “Just now. I couldn’t miss a special day.”

“Good to see you again, Leonardo.” Rosa says, successfully diverting the attention away from the previous conversation with Leonardo’s timely arrival.

“You as well,” He nods at her. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Oh, not at all. Go have fun, boys.” She smiles warmly. 

Ezio turns back to Rosa and gestures with the shipping manifest in his hand. 

“Thank you for this, my dearest amica. There is so much I have to thank you for that I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Stop it,” She shakes her head. “He’s come all the way back for you. Don’t keep him waiting.”

With a smile and a thankful nod, he leaves Rosa to turn to Leonardo. He rushes forward to embrace his friend, and then realises very quickly that his body is not going in for a hug, but instead intending to plant a kiss on the man. He stops midway with his chest tight and glances around, but not a soul seems to notice his error in forgetting where he is.

“Uh,” he hesitates, lowering his arms. “Let’s walk.”

The two men fall into step together out of the ports of the San Marco district, strolling past a background of the basilica beside them and to the quieter districts behind. Ezio glances over Leo as they make their way around the basilica and out of sight of the guards that stand afront and patrol the square. He assesses the familiar red of his hat and the tools on his belt. The summer has made Leonardo’s freckles deepen in hue - were there always that many across his cheeks and forehead or have they multiplied?

Either way, the speckled shade of brown on his cream skin makes his eyes seem all the more blue, and the way they crinkle with smile lines and the onset of wrinkles is gorgeous. 

He’s staring. Is he staring? He’s staring. 

“It’s so good to see you again. How was Firenze? Same as ever I imagine. You look well. You look good.” He babbles like an idiot.

Leonardo just smiles. “The Soderinis are generous patrons. They have treated me well. What of you?”

“I’ve been well enough. Better now.”

The painter hums gently. Neither of them can seem to keep the grins from their faces in each other’s presence. 

“I can’t believe you’re here. How long are you staying?”

“I’m finished.”

“What?”

“I finished it early. The commission. Can you believe it? Me, early! I was so focused on it these last few months, Ezio, I was like a man possessed. You should have seen the things my hands did to that canvas.” Leonardo gestures with his hands, squaring out an imaginary frame. 

“Strangely I find myself jealous of a few sticks of wood and paper. Shame I missed it. Care to demonstrate on me?” Ezio leans closer to murmur so that they are not overheard in the quiet street.

The teasing was not meant to be some kind of challenge. Ezio was hoping it might fluster the other man, earn him a blush or something witty in response. But the inventor does something Ezio does not expect at all.

Leonardo crowds him into the corner of an abandoned alley and pulls down his hood roughly to kiss him senseless. 

Ezio can’t even make a sound of protest - not that he would. But even with a knack for surprise wall kisses, the shock and thrill that runs through him at the feel of the solid brick behind him and the solid man in front of him, pressing him into it from mouth to thigh as he works his lips fervently, is enough to make his heart spike and blood rush south.

This is how everyone else feels when I do this to them. I have been missing out, clearly. 

Leonardo pulls back like he’s coming to his senses, but the kiss was enough to leave their mouths wet. Ezio thinks he saw stars. He blinks them away.

“That’s what you’ve been doing? You can’t blame your jobs for… finishing early…”

Leonardo darts his eyes around, paranoid, but they were lucky enough to stumble into the narrow alley without being seen. 

“Forgive me. That was extremely risky.”

“Did you hear me complain?”

The painter strokes his uncovered hair. “I couldn’t help myself. I missed you.”

“If you missed me that badly then kiss me again.”

Leonardo looks tempted, but he pulls himself away entirely. 

“Not here. What I have planned requires a closed door.”

“Oh?” Ezio says his interest piqued. A thrum of excitement runs through his body down to his toes. 

“Shall we head to the bordello?”

Ezio very nearly trips over. 

“That is a line I never thought I would hear come out of your mouth. But you’re a few years late. A trip to the bordello would have been a nice gift for the twenty-year-old Ezio, not twenty-nine.” 

“Grown so old for such frivolous encounters?”

Ezio laughs. “They’re nice, but I’ve grown to prefer a mellower kind. The kind found in certain workshops, say.”

Leonardo chuckles. “The workshop isn’t exactly in a liveable condition without all my things, and it’s hardly the most romantic of locations for a special day. And I would class only half our encounters as mellow.”

The corners of Ezio’s mouth begin to curve as he recalls rough hands on bare skin and a lingering soreness. Just the way he likes it.

Leonardo continues. “I assume you’re still renting your attic room at Sister Theodora’s?”

Ezio nods. “Some days, when I’m not at the thieves’ reclaimed palazzo or Bartolomeo’s Quarters in the Castello. It’s quiet up there at this time of day and no one will bother us.”

Though he’d hardly agree that the workshop wasn’t a romantic spot. They had spent quite a many romantic nights there.

Leonardo takes his hand and kisses it chastely before they exit the alley, a reasonable distance apart. 

“Perfecto.”

The bordello is quiet, owing to the hour of the afternoon, but Ezio’s hope of sneaking Leonardo through the front door is derailed as one of the courtesans catches sight of him. 

“Okay, quickly and quietly now—”

“Ezio! Please no more benders— Jesu Christo! Is that Maestro Leonardo?!”

Ezio groans. 

“You have returned! And to our brothel no less!” She continues, waltzing down the stairs at breakneck speed. 

The courtesan is tall, just a couple of inches shorter than Ezio and Leonardo, and her hair is a deep red. At the sight of her, Leonardo makes a sound of recognition. 

“Ah. I remember you.”

“You do?”

“Valeria, no? I met you a while back in the market when I ran into messere Antonio. You did me a kindness when the stall trader became aggressive.” 

“Oh, it was nothing,” she sways with her hands behind her, a toothy smile crooked. “Though I’m flattered you remember me. How wonderful of you to come by. Venezia has missed your art dearly.” 

Leonardo looks a mix between bashful and sheepish. 

“It seems I have grown quite a name for myself these days. Thank you, bella madonna.”

“Ooh, what a charmer!” She purrs, twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger. 

In her other hand is a Carnevale mask. Her dress is cut lower than usual on the chest, even for a courtesan on duty, her shoulders and cleavage emphasised. Ezio thinks she has wonderful skin; in some places it is freckled with birthmarks so densely it is difficult to see the pale underneath, especially on her shoulders. 

Behind her, another courtesan wearing a Carnevale mask resembling a cat follows her path down, and despite the slender frame and length of dark hair, the courtesan is not female.

“Matteo.” Ezio nods at him. It has been a very long time since their first meeting in Theodora’s back room. Even with a mask on, Ezio has seen enough of the courtesan while staying here over the duration of Carnevale to know the slinky gait of his walk. The courtesans were rather like a family unit here, and it has rubbed off on Ezio. He is now certain he can identify most of the courtesans just by their footsteps now.

Leonardo is taken aback with the sight of the gnaga cat mask, however, and with Matteo’s presence here. 

Ezio smothers a grin to himself. Leonardo has come a long way from uptight Firenze back to the liberal Venezia. 

At the sight of Matteo, Valeria leans to obscure him, positioning herself so her breasts were angled more to Leonardo. “Perhaps you need some time to rest after your long journey, sì?”

Leonardo steps backwards at the proposition.

“I’m not sure now is a good time.”

“If she’s not to your tastes, there are others.” Matteo makes a show of taking off the gnaga mask, uncovering himself to the men like a gift.

His features are just as Ezio remembers them, softened edges and delicate angles. His eyelids sit low on his eyes and it gives them a fox-like and almost permanent bedroom stare.

Which he is currently giving Leonardo, Ezio realises. 

And is that a flush on Leonardo’s face?

Glancing between them, Ezio finds both courtesans are giving the painter interested, tempting looks as the Assassin stands there, sidelined. 

“What is going on here?” Ezio murmurs.

Valeria turns to the other courtesan suddenly. 

“Oh Matteo! Every time you come by you ruin my chances. Away with you!”

“Never. I’m ahead in the scores, and you resorting to dirty tactics is not fair play.” 

“What is going on here?” Ezio says again, loudly. 

Valeria looks to Ezio to complain.

“Me and Matteo are in competition. Bed the most men by the end of Carnevale.”

“She didn’t believe me when I said male courtesans rise in popularity over the festivities - enough to put her out of business entirely.”

Leonardo perks up. “With the law loopholes, it isn’t surprising.” 

Matteo lifts an interested, knowing brow. “Oh, you know of those, do you?”

Leonardo clears his throat.

“I lived here for almost seven years.” Leonardo says. “With the Carnevale laws it gives homosexuality a way to be excused. The parades are entirely about playing a part. Just as a drunk man cannot be arrested for disorderly behaviour as long as he is playing the part of a drunk, sodomy is lawful as long as one of them plays the part of a woman.”

“And an Assassin remains incognito if he is playing the part of an Assassin.” Ezio adds with a grin. 

Hence, the gnaga mask that was perched on Matteo’s face. He is without the entire outfit though - while he wears a lady’s undershirt and a corset, he is without the skirts and makeup.   

“Though you’re missing some items if you’re looking to be a seen a legal woman in the law’s vision without repercussion.”

Matteo’s eyelids stay low when he tilts up his chin. “Only if that’s what you’d like me to be.” 

It’s a simple movement, but it does wonders for creating tension in the hall. Even Ezio feels below his collar get warmer.

Valeria scowls. “And then you wonder why I have to resort to extreme methods.”

“What kind?”

“She’s been walking around topless.”

Ezio’s brows raise in interest. “Has she now?”

“I have to do something to get clients’ attention.” She shimmies the torso of her dress, fixing it. “So, Maestro? What do you say?” 

Matteo steps forward, almost pushing past Ezio in the process. 

“With all that knowledge on the Carnevale laws, I severely doubt he’s interested in you.” 

Leonardo holds his hands in surrender, backing up from them both, but he doesn’t get a moment to decline the invitations before Ezio jumps between them all. 

“He’s not here to play the pawn in your games, he is here for work. I am taking him to my study upstairs.” Ezio bats them both away, annoyedly. 

“A shame.” She sighs. “It’s a slow day too.” 

“Perhaps another time.” Leonardo says politely, and Valeria flushes with hope. 

“Of course, messere.” She winks, trailing a finger from his collar to his chest. 

Matteo is less overt with his flirtations, knowing the delicacies of his kind of clientele - too eager could scare them away, but too gentle and they might not want to take the risk. 

“You know where we are should you need us for anything. Carnevale will go on for a little longer, and my room is open.” 

“Thank you.”

Ezio raises his brow at Leonardo that remains until Valeria and Matteo are long gone. 

“Another time, eh?”

“One must keep up appearances.” He shrugs innocently. 

“Next she sees you, she’ll hold you to that. Matteo too, likely.”

“I don’t know how you can get in or out without being swarmed.” Leonardo comments, as Ezio takes his hands to lead him up the stairs. “The ladies and gents look like they love you.”

The staircase curves when it reaches the second floor, and the walls and wood are much less decorated the further up they travel.  

“I’m not fool enough to use the front door. I usually come through the roof hatch.” Ezio comes to a stop at the top of stairs in the attic, then dots a finger under Leonardo’s chin and presses till his neck is craned upwards to the hatch he is now standing under, just outside the bedroom. 

“Ah. I see.” Leonardo says, chin to the ceiling. 

Ezio homes in the upturned jaw, leaning closer to work at the tight collar with his fingers to unleash the skin. Leonardo ushers them through the bedroom door with Ezio still clinging to him. Even with the attic being quiet and lonely, he’d feel safer behind a fixture that was closed and private. They stumble inside with hands over each other, like they can’t bear to be out of each other’s space for even a moment to gather themselves, already losing themselves in one another.  

“Besides, they look doubly in love with you. You look— God you’re so handsome. If this keeps up I’ll have to fight them away with a broom.” Ezio says as he struggles with the fastenings of the collar, making a content sound when he finally gets it free. “Like a nagging wife.”

“Nagging wife? You spend too much time chasing cheaters.” Leonardo almost laughs. “No, women like my art, not me.” He shrugs, absentmindedly. 

“What?” Ezio pulls back a moment. “Don’t try to be a jester Leonardo, it does not suit you.”

Leonardo grins as Ezio attaches himself to his collar bone, working his mouth downwards as he pulls aside the front fastenings of the clothing. He has, since the time of Leonardo leaving and only coming by for brief visits, got into the habit of leaving marks and love bites on Leonardo’s milky skin as a way to leave a little memory for the inventor to keep. 

“I am not. They like to be involved in art. I asked more than a few courtesans to model for me on multiple occasions when I wanted to draw a feminine shape.” 

“And they didn’t pounce you?” His voice is muffled by the kisses he peppers into his chest between the gap of his doublet. “I can tell you Valeria had absolutely no interest in your art just then. I mean that as a compliment of course.”

“Of course,” Leonardo smiles. “I suppose they were happy that someone was seeing them as more than a mere object of sex. Truthfully, I rather think they enjoyed my conversation.” He admits. 

Ezio finally pulls back and lock’s eyes with him. “As do I, but I am hopelessly distracted with other uses for your mouth, caro.”

Ezio tilts his chin to kiss him thoroughly, but Leonardo breaks away too soon. 

“I forgot to mention. I made an important discovery that I must share with you.” He pants with excitement, what is likely both from the kiss and the idea of sharing his discovery. 

Ezio whines at the loss of his mouth. “You’re bringing this up now?”

“It’s about the Codex.”

“Tell me later.” Ezio growls, kissing him again. 

He’s more adamant with this kiss, and Leonardo lets him have it, moving his mouth against him with equal eagerness.

“Impatient.” Leonardo tuts, when they break away again.

“It’s not that I don’t want to hear about it. I haven’t seen you in so long. You’re acting as if you didn’t kiss me in a darkened alley because of your own lack of impulse control less than twenty minutes ago.”

Leonardo blushes furiously across his nose. “And what of it?” 

Ezio works on taking off Leonardo’s tool belt and the sleeves of his doublet to try and get it free, pulling off the offending item entirely. “Nothing. I like to see you reckless and hungry.”

Leonardo bats his hands away and manoeuvres him against the wall, a mirror of their earlier positions when they were outside, but now they are behind a closed door as Leonardo wanted and he is free to do as he pleases. 

“Well, I have not tasted you in so long.” He grumbles a counter argument. 

Ezio lets out a sigh from his chest. “And my birthday comes but once a year.”

Leonardo stands back, to Ezio’s dismay, and considers him carefully. “Let’s not waste it, then. What would you like for your birthday gift?”

“How much time do we have?”

He rumbles with gentle laughter. “An eternity if it were possible to spare it. I’d spend it all between your legs.”

Ezio shivers when he feels Leonardo slip closer, mouthing under his jaw, the stubble of his facial hair scratching wonderfully against the sensitive skin. He nibbles against the lobe of his ear, and then kisses behind it, licking and mouthing at the gap between the ear shell and the hairline. 

Ezio chokes a moan aloud, taken aback by the surprised pleasure. He had no idea how much of an erogenous zone that place is for him and it makes Leonardo smile into his skin. 

“Mm, is that a good spot?” Leonardo murmurs, continuing to paint images with his tongue on the sensitive area. 

“Tell me more. What else— nnng… would you do if you had the time?” Ezio’s knees almost buckle, eyes rolling back as he melts into the onslaught of kisses.

“I thought you said you had other uses for my mouth, caro?” Leonardo mimics the term of endearment with light-hearted mocking.

“As I also said, I much like your conversation. They are most— ah... stimulating.”

“In more ways than one, I hope.” Leonardo says lowly into his ear, reaching down to finally, finally cup him through his breeches.

Ezio thinks he might pass out. He’s so, so tired of living like a celibate saint. 

“What do you want then, amore mio?” Leonardo purrs.

Ezio closes his eyes and tips back his head, trying and failing to think of an answer with the keen distraction working between his thighs. It’s been too long. 

“So many things,” Ezio starts and doesn’t quite finish. “A bed and fewer clothes would be nice.”

He is shocked when Leonardo releases him promptly - far too quickly that leaves Ezio in a state of longing for his touch, a move no doubt done intentionally for this exact purpose - and steps back to gesture towards the single bed. 

“Lead the way then.” He says with intent, eyes loaded and goading, as if the bed isn’t only a few feet away from them. “Don’t forget about your clothes.”

Ezio unplasters himself from the wall and wanders over, eagerly pulling at the buckles on his bracer with his teeth. 

Leonardo folds his arms against his bare chest. He’s still in his boots and pants but he is without his torso layers, and he watches as Ezio struggles. 

“Would you like me to help?” 

“Always.” Ezio finds himself grinning when Leonardo gets to work on removing the many ties of his assassin’s robes.

“What is so amusing?” Leonardo quirks a fond brow at him, glancing up from the concentrated stare he has placed on the blade, careful not to hurt himself as he slides it off Ezio’s wrist with care, fingers tracing over the skin he unsheathes as he does so. 

“Nothing. I’m just… very happy to see you.” Ezio feels his chest lurch with something he has not felt for a long time. More than just a year, maybe more than a decade.

His grin is infectious, and soon Leonardo is grinning too. He puts the blades carefully to the side, hand still entwined with Ezio’s, and brings his knuckles up to his lips to kiss between them.

“And I you.” He murmurs.

He undresses Ezio slowly at an unbearable pace, roaming his eyes carefully over every section of skin he reveals, as if he is configuring the pieces to a puzzle.

Ezio is completely hard and throbbing by the time Leonardo lays him on the bed to remove his boots and riding leggings. He lifts his thigh to elevate the boot, then becomes distracted with the back of his knee, grazing his teeth into it over the fabric. 

“Leonardo. Please.” 

The boot finally comes off with a bit of give. 

“Since we’ve fulfilled your only want of the day with a bed and fewer clothes, perhaps I can suggest something.” 

Ezio perks up excitedly.

“What do you want to do?”

“Since it’s Carnevale…” the other boot is more difficult and takes a bit more wriggling. “And we’re in a bordello… how about we try… playing a part?” 

“We don’t have masks.”

Leonardo takes off the rest of Ezio’s clothes. “We don’t need them. Besides, I’d rather look at that pretty face of yours.”

“Okay.” Ezio can do a bit of roleplay. “What roles then?”

Leonardo removes his own shoes and breeches as he considers. 

“How would you interest me?”

“What?”

Leonardo looks back.

“Pretend you are a courtesan. How would you interest me into your services?”

Ezio’s mouth falls open slightly, and he props himself up on the backs of his forearms to cast a look down from where Leonardo stands over him at the edge of the bed, head to toe. His cock twitches, full and curved, and it leans slightly to one side. 

Ezio’s mouth waters so badly he has to swallow before he speaks. 

“If I were a courtesan, and you walked into my brothel, I’d have fallen to my knees then and there to suck you.”

Leonardo cracks a smile. “Subtle.”

“But you wouldn’t like that.” Ezio continues, as he shifts backwards on the bed so Leonardo can climb between his legs. 

“I wouldn’t?” Leonardo is unconvinced, smoothing a hand through his thigh hair as he lines them up.  

“Well, you might, but how am I to know? We are strangers.” Ezio says, getting carried away already. “You’d much prefer a little… marinating. Long knowing looks from across the room. A touch on the shoulder, can I help you, messere? It’s never said once between us but you know what I am, and I know what you are.”

The way Leonardo’s breaths deepen the more he talks, Ezio knows he is on the right track. Ezio feels them fan his face, breaths of desire.

“It would hardly be something so difficult to know. The room would be filled with beautiful women ready for me and I would have eyes only for the other man.”

Ezio bites his lip. 

Courtesans were downstairs tripping over themselves to get this, and Ezio gets it for free. Without even trying to serenade him with assets or charm.  

“Keep talking, bello.” Leonardo says, nudging aside his face to seek out the sensitive spot behind his ear again that he had come across earlier. “When I ask you for the finest courtesan you have, what next?”

Ezio’s voice carries to the ceiling when he feels the suction. “Ah.. I- I lead you to a room. Tell you she will be with you shortly, and you take me by the wrist and say you are looking at the finest courtesan already.”

“Absolutely.” Leonardo rumbles, his hips grinding into Ezio’s when they find a good ledge against him. 

It’s so good it makes Ezio dizzy, being groped and grinded on, and every movement of Leonardo rubbing the underside glans of his cock head with his own has his eyes rolling back into his skull. 

“You’d kiss me like you’ve never tasted anything better. Like I’m the last drink in a wasteland.”

Ezio stokes up his shoulders to cup his face, pulling him away from his ear and making sure his attention is on him. Leonardo leans in, thinking Ezio is going for a kiss, but the Assassin has other plans. 

“Then we’d fall into bed, get to this stage of undress and I would say to you,” 

Ezio flips them over in the bed, making Leonardo grunt in surprise, blinking up at him.

“How might I service you, Signore?”

The inventor is still in shock at the sudden trade in position, finding no answer to give him. 

“Well?” Ezio presses. His cock is pounding with arousal against Leonardo’s nakedness, and he knows Leonardo can feel it too. 

His eyes fall to Ezio’s lips, the scar, then his tongue darts out to wet his own. 

“Put that mouth to work.”

Ezio shifts downwards immediately, but Leo catches him before a full descent.

“The other way around. It is your birthday.”

Ezio is puzzled only for a moment before his face smoothes in understanding. He flips around to park himself reverse-saddle on Leonardo’s chest, inching himself backwards so he lines up with his face. 

The inventor reaches up to grasp around his waist with his thick hands, meeting Ezio’s ass with a wet tongue. 

Ezio gasps softly. He leans back over Leonardo’s body to do what he got into this position for, picking up his cock from where it sits by his belly button and giving a firm stroke as he wets his mouth in preparation. He licks from base to tip and back down again, twisting his around the base and teasing the tip and foreskin. Leonardo moves his tongue in tandem, licking against his hole vigorously, just as Ezio relaxes his throat and sucks him down, both of them pleasuring each other simultaneously.

It’s different and wonderful; occasionally Ezio will feel his eyes flutter with the pleasure of being eaten out, let a groan slip, and the vibration will cause Leonardo’s cock to throb in his mouth as he lets out his own pleasured hums against Ezio in a never-ending cycle. They suck and lick each other till they drip and gasp, until the younger man decides he wants more.

Ezio pulls off the cock, and it flops back against Leonardo’s stomach, pulsing. He nudges his forearms between Leonardo’s legs to spread them further apart, trying to lift up his thighs to make his ass more accessible in this position.

Leonardo stops his own act of pleasuring abruptly.

“What’re you doing?”

“I have to be thorough in service if I hope to be paid.” Ezio replies innocently and continues his quest.

Intrigued, Leonardo entertains him, lifting up his lower half. Ezio holds back his legs for him in the folded position and bends his neck to lick his hole as well.

They are a tangle of limbs, some strange, all-consuming Ouroboros. An ancient alchemical symbol of unity and the infinite, in which both Creation and Destruction were entwined as two forever. 

Leonardo spoke of his desire to spend an eternity between Ezio’s legs. The Creator, in every sense of the word, partaking in the acts of procreation. But Ezio wants to be consumed. As a Destructor, a taker of lives, he wants to spend an eternity falling into the other man, until there is nothing left but them, and eventually, not even their bodies left behind as evidence of their consummation.  

Equal opposites and opposing forces locked in stalemate and preventing each other from acting out their natures, entangled in each other for as long as forever lasts. 

But forever is not very long, in reality. It is not a comfortable position for an extended period, and Leonardo is not as flexible, but Ezio lays siege to the whole area, his inner thighs, his hole and perineum, and makes the most out of it while he can.

Leonardo gasps, his grip on the other man’s waist tightening, then Ezio can feel him licking his way into his ass again, pressing with a firm tongue to push inside with the tip. His ways are methodical in rhythm that Ezio tries to replicate, hoping to give him the same amount of crazy pleasure he is bestowing onto him.

Leo’s cock sits hard against Ezio’s throat in this position, and every movement of his mouth and jaw against his ass massages Ezio’s chin into his balls and perineum, making Leonardo’s fingertips press roughly into his soft skin, his tongue fuck deeper into him. Ezio feels a familiar warmth steep into his lower belly, pulse through his cock. 

Lifting his head, he sighs throatily. “God, Leo, I could come like this.”

“Come then.” Leonardo utters between keen licks, not halting. 

“Surely not yet?” Ezio breaks off into an exhale of question, releasing Leonardo’s legs in surprise. He loves this, but they do not meet often, and Ezio does not want to be barred from receiving his cock. 

“My dear Ezio,” Leonardo can read his mind. “Did you really think I came all the way back here, on your birthday, just to make you come once and then leave like a one-night stand?”

He removes a hand from his waist to take Ezio’s cock, hanging and hard, and tugs at it with just the pressure and firmness he likes as he licks away, pressing his tongue up and against his hole.

Ezio is finished.

“God above…” he murmurs with his teeth grit, as a few more rough pulls rip an orgasm from him.

It seems rather sudden to be this strung along this far, but the roleplay did wonders for turning him on, and it washes over him in waves, sending his stomach coiling and his cock pulsing. His hips and thighs tremble, forehead resting on Leonardo’s stomach as he pants through it, and Ezio feels him hum and kiss the backs of his thighs as he comes wetly into his hand.

Once he’s got his bearings, Leonardo pulls his face away from Ezio’s body and he can hear the sound of the inventor licking his fingers clean. 

He lifts up from his forearms, looking back over his shoulder in hope to catch him in the act, but he can’t see much. 

Leonardo gives him a light smack on his bare ass instead to spill out a question, squeezing the pliant skin into a rough handful.

“Oil?”

“Hnnn…” Ezio shudders. “Just there. The bedside.”

There’s a rustle of wood and glass. Leonardo gives him a scoff when he finds it, at the sheer size of the jar, and Ezio can almost see the eyebrow raise he knows he is being given.

“This is a bordello.” He attempts to salvage his pride. 

“And I’m sure you make it see plenty of use.” Leonardo falls right back into character, or perhaps it was genuine, who was to tell. 

In his haste to get the jar open, Leonardo fumbles with it. A soft curse of merda leaves his lips, and some cold oil spills down Ezio’s leg, making him jump. 

“What exactly are you planning on fucking back there? My legs?” 

“Do not give me ideas. Your thighs look delectable from this angle.”

Ezio seeks out his cock again to keep his mouth busy while Leonardo warms the oil first on his fingers and then against Ezio’s hole, teasing the muscle into relaxation till it softens to his massaging. He takes his time with him, knowing he can with satisfaction already subsiding in Ezio’s veins, leaving him unlikely to rush him forward in impatience.

Ezio whimpers around Leo’s cock when he feels the fingers squeeze themselves inside one after another, pushing onto his prostate with accuracy, then working him open. He pulls off from Leonardo’s cock with a light pop so he can focus on the feeling of being stretched out. 

“The ladies around here say you’re some sort of Maestro.” Ezio returns to their roles.

“They would be correct.” Leonardo’s voice is concentrated. He doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers. 

“They fawn over you. Say you’re good with your hands.”

“What do you say?”

“I need some more time to decide— please don’t stop.”

Ezio pushes his hips back to meet the opposite force, and Leonardo crooks the curve of them, rubbing the pads of his fingers against his prostate and pulsing dull pleasure into Ezio with every slow thrust. 

Once satisfied with the sufficiency of the preparation, Leonardo removes his fingers. 

“Come around this way. Climb atop. I’ll give you something more than my hands.”

Despite already being satisfied, Ezio almost falls off the bed with how quickly he tries to flip himself over. They fumble around a little to find a comfortable position, Leonardo sitting up to lean against the headboard and fixing a cushion behind himself, Ezio swinging his leg over his lap. 

“It might be a while before my body catches up with how much I want this.” Ezio says, spreading his hands over Leonardo’s shoulders. 

He’s not hard by any stretch of the means, but he will be soon after he feels Leonardo inside. He doesn’t care too much regardless; he doesn’t need to be hard to feel good, or to make Leonardo feel good either. 

“No rush, bello. I told you I’d spare eternities right here.” Leonardo bites gently into his bottom lip as he aligns up his cock and puts a hand on Ezio’s waist to ease him onto it.

“There you go…” he whispers, “Just like that, Ezio.”

The head of his cock parts the ring of muscle and Ezio slides down onto him till he is fully seated, till Leonardo is buried to the hilt. He paces himself as he descends, drawing out the fulfilling pressure of being filled with cock, pushing its way into him as he bears down onto with his weight. He rocks slowly once his ass meets Leonardo’s hips, adjusting to the feeling of something being inside him, and he lets out a dull exhale.

Ezio gives Leonardo a tentative bounce; short strokes to inform him he’s ready, then he’s off, riding him like a stallion in a race to the finish line. Leonardo still has him by the waist, and he thrusts up his hips to meet Ezio’s as they come down, working them both into a natural rhythm. The shorter front strands of Ezio’s hair falls in his face as he jostles on his cock, and his full chest follows the movement, pecs bouncing enticingly.

The inventor casts a lustful gaze down Ezio’s torso, admiring him. When he puts one of Ezio’s brown nipples into his mouth, he sticks out his tongue so it flicks itself against the tip of it with the movement.

Ezio feels his cock twitch back into life. 

He continues, lapping his tongue over the areola to coax it to a firm pebble and suckles on it once it’s hard, pinching it between his teeth with an appeased groan.

Ezio tightens his grip into Leonardo’s shoulders as if he is a predator sinking claws into prey to prevent escape. Leonardo releases his nipple to catch his eye so they can fall back into their roleplay.

“I’m lucky. To have caught the best courtesan in this bordello.”

Ezio pants a laugh. “Do I pleasure you well, Signore?”

“My cock feels like it’s melting in you.”

He yanks Ezio a little closer, and Ezio dives right in rocking down onto his cock with a fever again as the thrumming pressure becomes sharper, and his cock begins to swell with renewed arousal. It’s quicker than he thought it would be, and even Leonardo is giving him smug looks as they watch his cock harden from half stiff to rock solid within a few more minutes of rocking against each other, a bare concealed look of I told you so.

Two Ouroboros snakes? Perhaps Ezio was mistaken. Between them there is only the one. 

How easy it is for Leonardo to sway him like a serpent, as it did with the apple to Eve. He tempts him so easily, convinces him of things he would otherwise pass by in fleeting.  

They fuck for a long time, a beating rhythm becoming an uneven one as they draw closer to the edges of their cliffs.

Leonardo finds Ezio’s hand where it rests on his shoulder, slapping over the back of it to squeeze it, and Ezio feels his stomach flutter, cresting his high quicker than he thought possible.

He rushes to take Leonardo by the hand and bring it to his cock, squeezing in encouragement to touch him. Leonardo complies, stroking up a rhythm that has Ezio throwing back his head and bringing his hips down onto Leonardo’s cock with more vigour. 

Ezio finishes first. He usually does, simply cannot hope to keep himself contained around this man, but with him already coming earlier he hadn’t expected to hit this bridge so quickly. However, it is the first time in a long time that he’s had Leonardo this way, and Ezio was itching for something that could mimic this kind of closeness. Nothing could touch this realm of pleasure, or match the warmth from the inventor’s body, burning inside his own. 

Leonardo watches with his lips parted, mouth just slightly agape as Ezio comes, magnetised to the sight. It is not his cock or his torso he watches, but he looks into Ezio’s eyes. He watches Ezio’s face twist into bliss, and it makes the Assassin’s thighs clench on the lap below him, his back arch into a sharp curve.

Ezio’s throat is dry from all the panting and harsh moaning that has escaped it. He brings his chin back down to Leonardo.

“Keep going inside me till you’re satisfied.” He breathes, working back up into a rhythm.

They had fallen out of sync as Ezio reached his peak, and it takes a little work to get Leonardo back up there. He fucks Ezio a little longer, while he is loose and plaint from orgasm, relaxed. It seems that now he has fulfilled his goal of satisfying Ezio as he wanted, he is now ready to chase his own end.

He sits more forward against the headboard, grabbing Ezio by the ass to spread him more, giving him the room he needs to drive home with as much strength as he needs. He slams upwards into Ezio’s hole in rough and jilted strokes, murmuring nothings and everythings, things Ezio is too scrambled from overstimulation to understand.

“So perfect. Can I… inside?”

Ezio can just about comprehend the ask of permission, and he’s nodding immediately with a moan, nuzzling into Leonardo’s hair as he fills him up and comes inside, burying himself deep to spill his release within Ezio’s hole.

“Ah…” Leonardo gasps against his skin, arms trembling around the other man.

They hold the position a little while longer, till they have the willpower to move. Ezio pulls off of Leonardo’s softening cock with a quiet shlick, flopping on top of him.

“We need to bathe.” He says, snuggling closer into him.

“You will just get us dirty again. Let me have you once more later on after some dinner, then we will bathe.”

Ezio purrs an approving agreement, but it’s half-hearted - he’s also tired.

“After all that, I don’t think I have it in me for more later on. Maybe tonight before bed, if you play your cards right.”

“Kissing behind the ear and roleplay, then? I was taking notes.”

Ezio scoffs a laugh.

They settle into a more comfortable position for cuddle, but still a tangle of limbs on top of each other. Leonardo plants a soft kiss on his temple as they link and wrap arms, Ezio’s foot tracing into the other man’s calf like a cricket rubbing its legs together.

They don’t say much in the glow of post-orgasm, they don’t need to. Ezio lets out a few content breaths, deep rushes of air from his nostrils against Leonardo’s neck. Dozing in and out of consciousness is easy with the rush of postcoital endorphins and the warmth of another’s body heat, and they coil together into and infinite loop difficult to tell where one of them ends and the next begins.

After a very, very brief time of contently laying together, Ezio is disturbed by Leonardo suddenly jostling himself out from underneath him to leave the bed.

“The Codex!” He shouts, leaning over to find his clothes, looking for the page amongst his satchel. “Oh, you are a mighty distraction for work, Ezio.”

“I see now why you had to take a year off to part from my company.” Ezio yawns into his hand and rises from the bed as well. 

He looks around for something to wipe off with, but there’s nothing clean other than his clothes, and his facecloth is already soiled. With limited option and it being dirty from oil spills and messy stains anyway, he strips the sheet from the bed and dips the cleaner corner in the water from his basin by the ewer. When it is sufficiently damp, he rubs himself down till he is clean enough to be comfortable. 

“I bought you another gift as well, actually. For your birthday.” Leonardo says over the sounds of the scuffling leather bag. 

“You didn’t need to, just having you here is enough. Come here and hold still,” he says absentmindedly, reaching to pull Leonardo closer by the wrist so he can clean him as well. The inventor digs through the satchel as Ezio resits himself on the edge of the bed and loops an arm around his lower back, pecking a quick kiss on his stomach before wiping down his front. He is completely soft now, and Ezio loves the way his hips dip inwards and how the freckles get lighter the lower down his body he goes. He cleans diligently through the hair below his belly button and on his pubic bone, and the backside as well, not even noticing Leonardo already has what he is looking for in his hand and is ready to present it. The inventor waits until he has his attention.

Ezio glances at the fabric in the other man’s grasp before going back to cleaning, but the familiar colours re-catch his attention, and he looks back at it, his face dropping. The sheet in his hand falls to the floor when realises what he’s looking at, and then he reaches for them to take in his own hands, examining them carefully. 

They are Auditore flags. 

“How did you get these?”

Leonardo sits beside him on the bed edge, putting his satchel down. 

“One day I was passing by your old palazzo, and noticed them still hung up on the walls. I paid a thief to climb up and fetch them for me, but understandably, from the abandonment and long years in the weather, they were tattered beyond belief. I took them to the best tailor in town, and had him reconstruct them with all the material he could from what was left. I wanted to save as much of the original banners as possible.”

Ezio feels his throat close. Occasionally, Ezio has thought of the old family palazzo in Firenze, the things that had been left behind in their swift departure. It made him sad to think that he could not return to the home he had been born in and wondered what the fate of it had been after the abandonment. He had not looked into it because he did not want to know the answer, whether it be repossession or destruction. The palazzo might be the banks’ property now, but Leonardo had managed to save what mattered. The heart of his family, that meant infinitely more to him than bricks and stone. 

“Thank you. I’ll take them back to Monteriggioni with me. We will hang them around the villa. I don’t know what to say.”

Leonardo smiles, tucking a long piece of Ezio’s hair behind his ear that has come loose. “You don’t need to say anything.”

Again, the feeling of his chest lurching overcomes him, a warm feeling he can’t describe. Leonardo turns away to finally take out the pages from his satchel. 

“Here are the Codex pages you left with me. I found something very interesting while translating them. I don’t know why I never saw it before! But when put together, the markings on the back clarify into words.”

Ezio puts aside the banners to take the parchment for a closer look, and Leo brings out his book to skim for the right pages to show him his decoding and translating work, pointing it out.

“Here: ‘The Prophet will appear when the second piece is brought to the floating city’.”

“Prophet…?” Ezio’s voice rumbles with thought, remembering something his uncle said long ago. “‘Only the Prophet may open it’... ‘two pieces of Eden’...”

“What are you saying?”

“My—” He starts his explanation, but hesitates.

He is not in the habit of divulging Assassin business to Leonardo so openly, in an attempt to keep him safe.

But Leonardo is so engrossed in his work anyway now it would be futile. That, and he was a smart man. If Ezio was not to tell him something, he would just go out and find the answers himself.

And Leonardo is not just anyone. 

Eventually, he starts again. 

“We’ve known each other a long time now, Leonardo. If I can’t trust you, there is nobody.”

Leonardo’s eyes glisten, a hidden smile. 

“My Uncle spoke of this, a very long time ago when I first began collecting these things. My father was deciphering a Prophecy hidden in the Codex leading to an ancient vault that holds something… very powerful. If the Templars get their hands on it, I don’t even know what could happen.”

“Grandioso. But if some of these pages were taken from Templars, then they may already know about the Vault too.”

Ezio rubs his chin. “What if that’s why they sent the ship to Cyprus in the first place? To find this Piece of Eden, and bring it back to Venezia?”

“The floating city.” Leonardo agrees. “But who is this Prophet it speaks of?”

Ezio has not a clue, but if only the Prophet can open the Vault, what did it imply of a man so influential - so important?

“And two Pieces of Eden… does this mean they have one already?” Leo asks.

“I hope not. It may mean I am trying to fight a losing battle.”

“Not necessarily. Even if they have one, they need two. As long as you keep the second Piece from falling into their hands, it means the Templars cannot open this Vault.”

Ezio goes quiet for a long time before he speaks, memories of the last ten years falling into place.

“When my uncle told me about the Codex, I was too young and too brash to accept that it was anything more than an old man’s fantasy! But now I see… the killing of Doge Mocenigo to put their politicians in the Circle of Ten; the Pazzi Conspiracy against the Medici to have a Templar banking family funnelling money to their cause; even the murder of my father who was collecting the Codex pages - it wasn’t just a fight for power, he was killing everyone who stood in his way of getting to the Piece! This is all part of his plan to get to the vault… that Spaniard!” 

And his brothers? What crime had they offended that left them deserving rope at twenty and thirteen? 

“I’ve spent ten years collecting these pages as nothing more than a glorified hobby, when it should have been my priority! All the Templar activity in this city and every other wretched city in this godforsaken land has been nothing but a ploy, a game to keep me out of the picture while they prepare to welcome this Piece into their hands! And I have been unknowingly roped into this play of power, in far beyond my depth just aiming to avenge what I have lost! Yet for years I’ve felt more going on between the lines than I’ve been able to read - and every time I’ve tried to voice it I’ve been told I’m overthinking!” He grinds his teeth. 

Leonardo strokes down Ezio’s bicep. 

“I know this is incredibly frustrating, but do not turn anger at yourself.”

Ezio turns to Leonardo so sharply it almost makes him jump. 

“I’m not. The boat arrives from Cyprus tomorrow. I plan to be there to meet it. Whatever it carries, I will take. And whatever Prophets it brings, I will kill.”

Leonardo can no doubt see the rage and determination in his face. 

“Buona fortuna,” he lets out a wishing of luck as if it is a prayer. “Stay safe.”

This year brings a warm summer, the kind that leaves Ezio itchy under the collar. It’s a heat that isn’t quite stifling, but is a noticeable warmth that traps air between layers of clothes and stops ventilation so even his breaths inhaled are warm, discomfort working its way inside the body, in his lungs and veins and difficult to escape from.

He stands at the highest point of L'Arsenale, watching the ships come in at the port. The morning sun does not brighten as the day passes, but fades behind clouds that grow in thickening clumps, dimming the light but not cooling the heat.

Eventually, a large and extravagant ship comes in from the sea, and just by the look of it Ezio knows this ship is the one. 

It also helps that there are several guards in full shiny Borgia armour gathering around it as docks. Ezio can always rely on the Templars to be Visibly and Extravagantly Templar. 

Among it all, something else catches Ezio’s attention in the corner of his eye as the guards disembark the ship with the Piece of Eden, something familiar. 

“Is that… Uncle Mario?” 

It is. His uncle stands at ground level, hiding out of sight of the guards and blending into the crowd passing him by. He juts out his head from the brickwork of a building, eyes on the soldiers, then tucks himself back into his hiding place. 

Ezio looks away for a moment back to the Piece of Eden, and when he tries to seek out the familiar shape of his uncle again he finds he has disappeared. 

Confused, but keen not to be distracted, he puts his attention on the Piece and keeps it there. It is passed from one set of guards to the hands of Borgia courier, and he takes off with it out of L’Arsenale. 

“Where are they taking it?”

Ezio follows immediately, his uncle forgotten, and he hangs back enough to not be seen, but close enough to keep up with the swift changes in direction. The courier is fast and agile and jogs at a decent pace, sometimes breaking into a full sprint to try to get to his destination as quickly as possible. 

Ezio hops across canals after him, watching him take the long way around, and he comes to a realisation.

He’s not trying to get there quickly. He’s a trained courier, with experience carrying important things. He is weaving and extending his runs in case someone is following him, hoping to lose them on the way. The Templars have spared no expense, and it makes Ezio doubly motivated to keep up with him. 

He follows into the Cannaregio district, the furthest north, where houses and buildings are less common and there is less habitation. No witnesses or leering eyes. 

The courier comes to a slowing stop in front of a quad of soldiers standing guard and goes between them. Ezio hangs back, unable to follow, but the captain’s voice is echoing and can be heard a mile away. 

“The Maestro Borgia awaits. He will not suffer mistakes. Package it correctly. Do it now.”

The Spaniard’s here? Ezio’s heart rate skyrockets. That changes things. If I infiltrate this group and take the place of the courier, they’ll lead me right to the figlio di puttana.

Ezio has two options, but not long to decide. He could slip through with a good distraction or run around the outside and swim the canal to get inside the area. He hankers on his choices, feeling a stronger pull to the first. The canal will leave him wet, and will look odd dripping with water that will draw undue attention from the other guards, risking his cover. 

With speed in his feet, he rushes to the nearest group of thieves, giving them a coin purse and beckoning them to follow without words. They know the drill by now. 

He points out the guards to them and they do their job well, effectively distracting and leading them away, which gives Ezio enough time to sneak inside.

Bent over the package, the courier does not notice him approaching from behind and he wraps his arm against his neck, crushing against his windpipe, another on his mouth, muffling his screams. It must be a clean kill with no blood, in order to spare the armour. 

The courier eventually goes limp, and Ezio works quickly, stripping the man of his armour and doing his best to get out of his own. He throws the body into the canal and then hides his own clothes and weapons by a barrel, out of sight. He looks at his wrists after pulling on the armour, and then replaces the courier’s bracers with his own, not wanting to be without his father’s blade. It has to be there with him; has to be the metal he uses to draw Rodrigo’s blood.

Ezio hears closing footsteps and fixes his helmet on, then crouches over the package, trying to look busy as the guard comes into view.

“Yes sir?” Ezio clears his throat, pitches his voice into someone younger and inexperienced. 

It was easy to feel seventeen again at the thought of wanting to spill blood.

“What on Earth is taking so long?” The captain seethes.

“I am making sure it’s correct, as you asked. No mistakes.”

It seems to be enough to convince him. 

“This is a long coming moment of great importance. Stay in formation. Make this right!” he gestures, and Ezio picks up the carrying box to take with them, following close behind. 

It is another long walk before they meet up with him, and Ezio finds his patience drawing thin. The thought of greeting the Spaniard with his blade after so long is enough to make his blood pump with rage.

To Hell with this Piece of Eden. I want him dismembered. I want him erased.

There wasn’t any act of killing that would be enough to make Ezio feel satisfied. 

It’s a thought he reiterates to himself as the man himself comes into view, in his dark cloak and black hood that mimicked Assassin design. 

Ezio followers the captain’s footsteps as he goes forward and kneels into a short bow before returning to his feet.

“Do you really have it? You were not followed?” Rodrigo says in disbelief. 

“Absolutely. Everything went perfectly. We followed your orders exactly as specified. The mission to Cyprus was more difficult than expected. There were… complications. But we have returned with the artefact and carefully transported it to you as instructed. We look forward to being generally compensated, as I am sure you have already considered—”

His compensation is Ezio’s blade being driven through his upper back in the gap of his armour, hard enough to pierce all the way through him. He lets out a scream before falling and when his body hits the ground, he unveils Ezio to the Spaniard like a curtain. Ezio steps over his body to be acknowledged. 

Rodrigo does not seem surprised. His voice is almost thankful when he speaks. 

“Ezio. It’s been a long time. You just saved me a lot of money.” He regards the fallen captain.

The two guards that had walked with them attack simultaneously, and Ezio drops the box in his arms to whisk out his blades with a flourish and finish them off, arms outwards on either side, not breaking eye contact with his family’s killer. He pulls his arms back in after holding for a moment, making sure they are dead, then draws his blades back in. 

“Rodrigo.” Ezio’s voice drips in disdain. “So, where is he, your Prophet? Because it seems not a soul has shown up to claim it. How many have died for this, what is in this box? And look! There is no one here but us.”

Rodrigo laughs under his breath, a small chuckle becoming louder, but there is no warmth in it.

“You claim not to be a believer, and yet here you are. Don’t you see? I am the Prophet.” He unsheathes his sword, and Ezio takes a step back. “Now, give me the Apple.”

Ezio picks up a sword from the fallen guard, holding it out defiantly. 

“Come and take it from me.”

For an old man, Rodrigo has a spring to his step, and speed to his movements. He parries Ezio’s attacks and defends against them easily. He has been trained in the use of a sword, and can swing it well, but he has not used it very often. He has not had to constantly fight for his life as Ezio has.

It does not help Ezio’s case much though. What Ezio has in raw experience, Rodrigo nullifies with a level head. Ezio is too angry, and too impulsive, and it telegraphs his attacks and tires him out.

Ezio grunts and swings, and Rodrigo sidesteps it easily. 

“Is this all you have? Where is the rest of your people?” 

Ezio tries to get his breath back, panting into his helmet. “What people?”

“You really have no idea, do you? Guards!”

Several guards run up in response to his call, and Ezio can count more than nine of them surrounding him. He looks around with wide eyes, knowing he is outnumbered, but still holds his stance, ready to fight them off. As the first attacks with his spear, Ezio clenches his body to prepare to defend the blow, but the guard falls at Ezio’s feet, two arrows in his back.

Ezio looks ahead.

“Uncle?”

“Don’t worry, nipote. You are not alone.” He says as he drives his blade through another soldier.

Ezio is so bewildered it distracts him from defending, and he is caught off guard as one tries to attack, making him fall. The guard is twirled around by a grab from another hooded figure, then stabbed in the back with a butcher’s knife.

“Volpe? What are you doing here?”

The Fox helps him to his feet again, pulling him up by the forearm.

“We could very well ask you the same thing!”

Ezio blinks. “We?”

“Save your questions, Brother. Don’t let Borgia leave with that box!” Antonio says, coming into view by his side.

“Avanti!” is the familiar voice of Bartolomeo, driving Bianca into a guard’s ribcage.

Ezio stands limply in the middle of a warzone, struggling to believe what is happening around him. Chance encounters with people over the years he had thought, now all coming together for an organised resistance.

“You all shall die.” Rodrigo says, and it reminds the Assassin of what he’s doing here. 

“Take him down, we’re right behind you!”

Nodding and numb, he switches off the thinking brain and lets his body work, going into the mode of survival. Something he did a lot back in Firenze, after everything that happened. He leaves the guards to everyone else and focuses his attack on Rodrigo, throwing a swing to the Spaniard’s turned back, but the Templar catches sight of the oncoming attack at the last moment and turns, clashing the metal together when he blocks it.

“This is pathetic!” Rodrigo says, as they hold their swords against each other. “You cannot stop what is written! What lies in the Vault shall be mine!”

Ezio growls and pushes the sword away, and they clash again, hit after hit. 

“Look, friends! Our little Ezio has become quite the guerriero!” Volpe laughs, as he fights off a guard.

“Isn’t this magnifico, Ezio? All of us smashing Templar heads together? We should do this more often!” Barto barks in laughter as well.

Ezio feels wrong. They are all overly familiar with each other, and not familiar enough with him. It feels like he is the odd one out at a party, and Rodrigo takes advantage of his distraction, taunting him.

“This is a losing battle for you, hombrecito. You will die by my hand, just like your father. This war has gone on far longer than either of us has played a part.”

At the mention of his father, Ezio regains his focus, but he fills his heart with boiling fury.

“Don’t you dare talk about him, you piece of shit!” He slices away, and it just misses by an inch. Even now at this distance, Rodrigo manages to slip out of his grasp.

“Your brothers didn’t need to die, you know. I just killed them to make a point. There is no mercy when you cross the Templar!”

Ezio roars an angry and pained scream, bringing down his sword, and the sheer brute force of it is enough to send the Spaniard staggering backwards.

Finally, he has Rodrigo on the back foot, and he takes advantage. He doubles down on offence, trying to keep on him no matter what, all finesse gone from his movement, just heavy and raw violence that could border on madness.

It’s time. It’s finally time. 

“This is for my father, you—”

Rodrigo kicks him and lands in his stomach, sending him sprawling backwards. He lands on the floor - unbalanced with the cheap armour and surprised by the cheap shot - and by the time he has gotten back to his feet and picked up his weapon, the bastard is gone, running like a coward into the distance. 

He tries to get after him but is stopped by a firm hand.

“He’s gone. But we have what we came for.” Paola holds his shoulder.

“No! What were you all doing, watching him get away? I need to go after him—!”

“Do you really, now? Or are you here for another reason, my son?”

Ezio turns to the familiar voice to find another recognisable person. 

“Theodora?! What—? I don’t understand.”

He looks around at the people surrounding him. Unexplainably, there is Bartolomeo, Theodora, Antonio, Paola, Volpe, and Uncle Mario, the very people he has helped over the last ten years. Ezio pulls off the helmet in the hope it will help him think clearer. 

“What are you all doing here?”

“Perhaps the same thing you are, Ezio. Hoping to see the Prophet appear.” 

A man Ezio has never seen before steps his way into the circle from behind Theodora. Ezio barely gives him any interest. 

“I came here to kill the Spaniard. I couldn’t care less about a Prophet who never showed.”

“No show? I think otherwise. You see, against all odds, you appeared.”

“What?” Ezio finally regards him. 

“A Prophet’s arrival was foretold. And unbeknownst to us, here you are. Perhaps you were the one we sought all along.”

The man is very young in the face, but there is a maturity to his features and he is tall, and the short buzz of his hair and long robe gives him the air of a monk, a person on a higher plain. 

“How old are you?” Ezio barks at him suddenly. “Sixteen? Seventeen?”

He blinks once, unruffled by the quick and almost accusatory change of topic. “The early turn of nineteen.”

“Oh, and you’re meant to be the head of this fiasco? Was it all your idea?”

“If you are concerned that my youth betrays my experience, I have been trained in the ancient Assassin ways to safeguard mankind’s evolution since childhood. A training you didn’t receive, if I recall the stories.”

“I have twice the damn experience than you. My training was watching my family die. I was killing Templars back while you were sucking on your tetta della madre.”

“And yet, you seem to be the one throwing a tantrum.”

Anger snapping, he rushes forwards. 

“Ezio! Be civil now!” Barto says, curling a big arm around him to restrict him, but Ezio doesn’t even hear the words. 

He is far, far beyond the point of civil. 

“Who the hell even are you?” He shrugs Barto’s arm from him.  

“Niccolo di Bernardo dei Machiavelli.” The young man replies. 

“And where have you been all this time?”

Again, the accusations do not succeed in throwing him off. 

“As you mentioned earlier. I would have been but nine years old at the start of your journey. Still I am an Assassin just like you, and each one of us here.”

Ezio pauses, looking around the group. 

“You are all Assassins?”

Suddenly, Claudia’s voice rings true in his head. 

You wouldn’t know a lie if it hit you in the face, brother. And it often does.

He had shaken hands and exchanged gratitude with these people standing around him. And never in ten years had he put two and two together. Had it been Claudia here, she would have figured this all out years ago. 

Did she know too? No, she couldn’t have, not from behind that desk in Monteriggioni. Perhaps it was exactly why she was given such a confined seat there. 

I was not built for this. I was the one built for a banking apprenticeship, handling money and income books from behind a desk. Father’s desk. It should have been her here instead, under the hood. It should have always been her. 

Ezio always assumed it was hard for him to trust. But it appears he still trusts far too easily. 

“It’s true. We’ve all been guiding you for years, teaching you the skill you’d need to join our ranks. I think it’s time.” Mario says. 

“A wonderful time too, we have our prize.” Antonio picks out the Apple from the box in its decorated purple pouch and puts it into Ezio’s hands. “Come with us and at sunset we can begin the ceremony.”

They all begin milling and celebrating amongst themselves, walking off to who knows where, while Ezio stands behind, and they don’t even seem to notice he is not following. Ezio looks down at the Apple pouch in his hand, then to the backs of the people he is to be following, feeling unspeakably overheated and overwhelmed. This armour is ill fitting, the Apple is heavy, it's hot and he is tired from battle, and everything being said sounds like noise.

“Stop, stop, everyone stop talking for one moment!”

The party comes to grinding halt, looking back at Ezio questioningly.

“What are you all even saying? Ranks? Guidance? Ceremonies? You’re speaking these things at me and expecting me to go along with them all?”

The group give each other glances.

“If you are all Assassins, where the diavolo have you all been.”

“Ezio…” They start, as if he is a child misbehaving, throwing back something he should be grateful for in their faces.

“Why don’t we take a moment and collect ourselves, hm? Then we can begin explaining.” Antonio starts, scrubbing at his moustache. 

He doesn’t even know if he wants to hear it. 

“I need time to think. How else am I to know that my thoughts are my own instead of what’s been fed in there from over the years.”

Paola tilts her head at him.

“Ezio, you’re being a little overdramatic—”

“Dramatic?” He whips round. “My father was murdered, and instead of telling me the secret organisation he worked for was still active instead a long dead story from a crazed man’s Codex, you quietly had me carry on his legacy, doing your bidding by killing off the men causing problems for all of you under the guise that I was avenging him. For a decade.”

He’s looking at Paola, but he’s speaking to all of them. 

“Ten years you manipulated me into nothing more than a tool. A blade! All of you. You took advantage of a scared, angry boy and you stand here a decade later and claim that it was done in the name of what? An initiation?”

Not a single one of them has anything to say.

“And you all call yourselves Assassins.” Ezio loathes, voice dripping in disdain. “Exactly how many Templars have you all killed since I stepped into the picture?”

He looks around at them all, and suddenly, he takes note of Rosa’s lack of appearance. He is unsure if that is something to be thankful for or not, mind racing. And Leonardo? How was he so well tied with his mother, and Paola and Teodora? Had he been in on it too?

Oh god, he thinks with horror, as his chest falls into his gut. 

Was Leonardo one too? Had their friendship been a farce from the beginning? Was everything between them a farce?

He had been helping him with his work for a while now despite Ezio avoiding to tell him anything too giving, but Leonardo had somehow always managed to point him in the right direction despite his apparent lack of knowledge; fixing his blades, the Codex, pointing him to La Volpe and Theodora, even the taking off on his trip to Venezia for work from Firenze the first time had been so well timed with Ezio’s own departure from his home city all those years ago. That coincidental carriage ride through the Apennine mountains together… one of Ezio’s most dearest memories… 

Had it been more than fate that had entwined them so?

It hurts too much to think about.

“Even you, Uncle. It pains me the most knowing that I had come to you at my weakest, you trained me, you watched me pick apart your library and instead of answering my questions you just let me believe that Assassins were an ancient order that died out with my father. That he was the last of his kind. And I was the only one left capable of carrying on his work.”

His fists clench. How many arguments in the villa have stemmed from this very thing, only to find out that it all could have been avoided with the truth?

“Why didn’t you tell me you were one as well? Especially when you knew I didn’t want this!”

Guilt crosses over Mario’s expression. “Nephew, I am not the man I once was. I’m drunk, I am old—”

“And I was young! Too young! I’ve spent half my life trying to get this far! And now, as I was moments away from my goal, you let Rodrigo get away!” 

Mario holds out his hands, trying to appeal to Ezio’s better side, but that better man is silent like death within him. 

“Finishing the Codex is what your father want—”

“Don’t tell me what Father wants— Father is dead! He wants for nothing! Not from his grave!” He shouts. “Do you know what he didn’t want? His sons on the noose with him. Where were you all then? Paola? Volpe?” He turns to the Florentines, then points at the courtesan. “My father saved you from the gallows all those years ago, and you couldn’t find it in you to return the favour?”

Paola looks at her feet, and Volpe tilts his chin so low the hood obscures his eyes.

“Nobody here wants justice for his death. You all just wanted a replacement. Had he been the one to survive he’d have skinned Rodrigo alive on the spot, Apple be damned!”

His voice becomes more and more angry with every word growled out between clenched teeth. Perhaps this is why Ezio has taken so long to get this far. He has not been angry enough. 

“Now you want me, your apparent Prophet to have this Apple? Is that the symbolism you’re all after? Should I hold it in my mouth then, like a pig at the table? While you all sit and dine finely for your last supper, behind your blunt silverware?” He points at every wrist, where hidden blades do not sit upon, instead where thick silver rings and gloved hands cover their branded fingers. 

“Ezio, stop this, my son.” Theodora says.

“I am not your son! I am an Auditore! My mother Maria sits in my ancestral home and wilts for the family she lost a decade ago! How can you know of a mother’s pain, having to outlive her own sons?”

As Madonna Maria did her Child Jesu, a tragedy. 

“She sits and prays to a silent God that doesn’t care to listen to her! Prays with a voice that was stolen from her! She prays to the same God that let her suffer! In the name of what? His Plan? The test that He calls life? An initiation of His own?”

Just like the Assassins standing in front of him, that dealt in death and mercy in unequal quantities. Their Creed was nothing but a religion without a God, and in the absence of Gods, men took it upon themselves to handle Their responsibilities. 

“You people are not Gods. And I am not your Prophet.”

Mario opens his mouth to speak, but Ezio holds up a hand to shup him up.

“Oh, but it hardly matters, does it. Either way you all got what you wanted all along, right here, didn’t you?” He holds up the purple pouch, then thrusts it against Mario’s chest. “So you can take your fucking Apple, and shove it up your culo.”

Mario takes it as it hits his heart like a bullet wound, and the Assassin releases his hold on it. On everything.

“I am done with this.” Ezio finalises. “All of it.”

When it is all said and done, he spins on his heals to leave them behind.

“Ezio!” He hears someone call behind him, but he doesn’t stop.

“Let him go,” Machiavelli says, his eyes narrowed as Ezio has been ranting. He seems to understand that they will get nowhere in anger, and leader or not, the others follow his advice, but his sentence is uttered with no surrender. Ezio doesn't care.

With determination in his step, he heads to the Palazzo Della Seta. He has another person to question.

After fetching his robes and changing back into them, Ezio’s footsteps are no less angered when they fall into the white marble of the palazzo. It’s quiet here, most of the thieves inside for supper, but Ugo sits out in the courtyard with a friend, twirling a knife between his fingers. Ezio ignores him and walks right past, calling for Rosa. 

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“Ugo, I am not in the mood nor do I have time for this.”

The knife whirls at Ezio’s feet and imbeds itself impressively into the marble just short of his toes, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Too good to spare me time, are you?” Ugo stands, and Ezio turns to acknowledge him. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m sick to death of you waltzing around here like you own the place. You are no better than any other grubby thief here. Just a bit more metal on your person, that’s all.”

“I earned my place here, when I helped you liberate it. And all the help I gave after amounts to nothing to you as well, I assume?”

“A few favours do not amount to the number of headaches you bring and leave behind in your absence. You do nothing but cause issues and discrepancies wherever you go and it hardly justifies your results. Half your victories wouldn’t be possible without our help, but you are praised.”

“What’s this about, really?”

Ugo squares out his shoulders.

“I’m tired of Antonio and Rosa running circles around you like you are God’s gift to His green Earth. You aren’t one of us, and yet everyone can't stop talking about you.”

Ezio feels his annoyance spike back into anger. He is still pumping from his earlier encounter with Rodrigo and the other Assassins, rage unfulfilled and with nowhere to go. He glances over Ugo’s shoulder, at his friend that has now stood as well and is giving them cautious glances, and then back to his eyes. 

“You’re right about one thing. I am not one of you.” Ezio spits. “You all just seem to care about yourselves.” 

Ugo steps forward till they are nose to nose, his face twitching.

“You have no idea how much trouble Rosa gets into for you. Day in and day out she defends you like a lawyer and you don’t deserve any of it.”

“She serves herself.” Ezio pushes him backwards so he gets out of his space, but he just comes right back like a weighted doll. 

“You don’t know a thing about her.” Ugo growls, inches away.

“I know her very well. That woman does everything of her own free will and only if it benefits her. And I have no interest in posturing with her insecure, finger-pointing guard dog.”

Ezio could see the punch coming a mile away. He was asking for it. But he lets it hit him full force, and stumbling backwards gives him a moment to relish in the sharp pain of it, bright and grounding under his skin. He needs this.

He hits Ugo back in the face quickly, and then is tackled to the floor, where they scrap each other like losing animals in a betting match. 

“Rosa! Rosa!” Ezio can hear Ugo’s friend shout as they scamper off, but neither of them stop.

Ugo bares his weight on him and hits him in the nose, and it spreads blood.

Barely enough to fill a vial. Nothing compared to what was spilled of his family. His bruises insignificant to the marring he had found on their necks. 

It’s wrong- it’s wrong of him to channel his hurt from then into this now, but he was denied his revenge and he is unspeakably angry in a way only fists can make words of. 

“Hey, che cazzo? Break it up!”

The voice of Rosa is urgent, her feet coming a stop nearby. 

They continue to scrap, until Ezio gets a good kick in that connects with Ugo’s stomach and has him reeling away, and it gives Ezio the opportunity to wriggle out and get to his feet, marching over to Rosa with a gait that sways. His words drip blood. 

“Did you know about Antonio?” he wipes at his nose.

“What are you talking about?” Rosa gives a face that is incredulous. “What just happened with Ugo—?”

“Did you know that coglione was an Assassin?” he interrupts her.

The utter shock that crosses over her face should be enough of an answer. She blinks, trying to gain her bearing out of the shock so she can formulate a proper response.

“It’s a lot more complicated than that—”

“Are you an Assassin too?”

She looks at him, eyebrows pinched, eyes pleading. 

“Answer me, Rosa. Are you an Assassin?”

She thinks long and hard, debating telling him, before the truth gives out. 

“No. Not yet taken my leap of faith.” A breath, then she holds up her left hand, her ring finger bare of mark. “If I was, you would have seen it.”

“Oh? A shame. How long have they had you on the payroll of initiation, about ten years?”

“Ezio…”

He points. “You knew from the beginning. You knew who I was from the moment you first met me when you bumped into me in the street when I first came to this city, didn’t you? Our meeting was nothing to do with fate.”

Her gaze sinks to the floor with guilt. 

“I did.”

“And you asked me to take you to Antonio after your injury so he could use me to take out the Barbarigos, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

I’ve always had a soft spot for women in distress, the younger Ezio says to Antonio, upon delivering an injured Rosa to his aid. 

So I’ve heard.

Antonio had known of his inclination to saving people, and Rosa had been the lure - the connection of Ezio to the Assassins of Venice. 

“Did you purposely get yourself injured?”

She guffaws. “No. Permanently ruin my knee? I’m not that devoted.”

“But you knew you weren’t going to succeed. You rushed in front of me to scale the wall as a ploy to stop me gaining an audience with Emilio myself, and then used our common goal to deepen my connection with the Brotherhood!”

“Under Antonio’s wishes, yes.”

“And you just so happened to gift me the ship manifest that was bringing back the artefact, no? You knew all along that their immediate goal wasn’t Rodrigo, but the Apple all along?”

“I’m sorry, Ezio. I was doing what was asked of me.”

Ezio pauses. He can’t believe this.

“You gave me a birthday gift- if you even want to call it that,” he pauses with incredulity. “Because someone… asked you to.”

Rosa wilts so badly it almost looks painful.

“Someone asked you to intentionally mislead me, for my birthday, and you thought that was a good gift idea.” Ezio continues. 

“It wasn’t like that. I argued and fought nail and tooth to make sure I was putting it in your hands because I knew how badly you wanted it.”

“Argued?” Ezio blanches. “How long have you had the shipping manifest?”

She closes her eyes tightly, like this is a bad dream.

“A while. The Assassins knew the Templars were going to Cyprus to collect the Piece. They’ve been planning to intercept them for a long time.”

“So why did they tell me the day before? Why now did they decide that it was time to inform me of it?”

“Because of the bounty hunter.”

Understanding seeps into Ezio’s furrowed face.

“She’s real, isn’t she. Like us.”

“I don’t know who she is, or where she comes from, but she threw a wrench in the works by revealing herself to you. Knowing of her existence threatened their carefully orchestrated plans. The Brotherhood wanted to keep things quiet for as long as they could, until the time was right to tell you.”

Which is why Rosa had tried to put him off searching for her and had tried to put him off the tail that Assassins still existed. If he had managed to track her down, he’d have discovered the truth of the Brotherhood, and he’d have taken it badly if he was the one to uncover the lie himself.

They did all that to conceal themselves, but he still took it badly anyway. How pitiful.

“Keep me ignorant you mean. Keep me from finding things out myself. They weren’t going to tell me of the boat's return at all, were they?”

“They initially thought your quest for revenge would jeopardise the obtaining of the Piece. It was what I have spent my days arguing with Antonio and Ugo and the rest of them about. I didn’t want them to keep this from you, I’m on your side!”

“But you were never misled! Not by the people you thought your closest friends!”

“We’re still friends, Ezio! Nothing about us changes!”

“Friend? I was under the impression that friends helped each other. All this time I thought you were one of the few people that were helping me with no gain of your own. But you’re just being pulled by strings yourself, helping to deceive me. What was it all, just some ploy to gain my trust?”

“Of course it wasn’t! I didn’t help you because it helped the Brotherhood, I helped you because you’re my friend!” 

“I wasted seven years here, doing nothing but chasing tails when I could have had Rodrigo’s head by now!” He cries. “I could have put my family to rest twice over. But they wanted to extend my grief, all so they could get their hands on that stupid piece of metal!”

He puts his face in his palm, distraught. 

“Some fucking Prophet of theirs.”

Rosa takes in a sharp breath, stepping forward. “I’ve wanted to tell you about me, and everyone. For years now.”

“Then what stopped you.” He says suddenly, making her jump back defensively. 

“Antonio and everyone warned me against it!”

“Have you no mouth to speak for yourself if it was what you wanted?”

She stares at him with wide eyes, and Ezio can tell she is trying and failing to come up with something feasible to say. 

“No answer? Don’t fret. I have one for you. You didn’t tell me because your dedication to a blind cause outweighed your dedication to the friends standing in front of you. A brotherhood you are not yet even formally part of yourself.” He says, pointing to her left hand. “Do you have any idea how alone I have felt over this decade? Thinking myself one against a thousand?”

Rosa knows, perhaps more than anyone. “You’ve never been alone. We’ve been here, always, in the background. Helping you.”

“Helping me? Is this the rhetoric you have been telling yourself as you hid things from me?”

Ezio can see in her face that she doesn’t even believe the words coming out of her own mouth. They are being regurgitated; empty and baseless. Practised statements she tells herself at night to help her sleep. 

“I’ll make it up to you. I swear.” She grasps for straws, the only promise she has left.

Ezio holds up his hand. “Save your efforts. I’m giving up the hood. You’ll make a fine Assassin though, if all they aspire to do is lie. Arrivederci e buona fortuna.”

It’s all he leaves her with. He marches past Ugo, who watched the whole exchange from a curled over half-kneel, and exits the palazzo now with one last destination in mind. 

He needs to know the last truth, and he doesn’t know if he can handle this one.

It is nightfall by the time Ezio reaches the workshop. Leonardo had brought some of his homely things with him to put away and make it a bit more comfortable to live in, but the large rooms feel empty without his inventions and clutter, and it is shell-like and hollow.

Ezio does not take down his hood on entering.

“Hello amore,” Leonardo smiles. “I thought you might come by.”

Ezio says nothing, nor does he come further into the room. Leonardo gives him an odd look, knowing something is off right away.

“Is everything okay?” He comes closer, trying to make him clearly out through the dim firelight. The dried blood catches his attention right away.

“What happened to your nose?!” He clasps his cheeks, tilting his face in examination. 

Ezio takes his wrists and removes his hands from his head. He cannot be wrapped up in this. He needs to stay impartial and distant. 

He needs to prepare himself for the worst so it will hurt less. 

“Leonardo… if I ask you something, I want you to be truthful.”

“What is it, what’s happened?”

“What do you know of the Assassins?”

“That you are one? Is this a trick question? Ezio, you hardly tell me anything about that, what am I to know?”

Ezio regards him suspiciously, defensively, assessing for lies. 

“Several of the people closest to me have just outed themselves as Assassins. Paola and Theodora to name some.”

“What do you mean?”

Ezio circles, assessing. Leonardo is good at remaining calm against the fiercest storms and changing the most stubborn of opinions.

As tempting as the Serpent made the Apple to Eve.

How different that sentence feels now. 

“I cannot find it in me to handle any more deception tonight.” 

“Deception? Ezio, hand on my heart, I would never deceive you.”

His voice echoes in the empty room, and the repeated words are almost a chorus of persuasion, reiterating the point. Leonardo’s expression changes from puzzled to understanding. 

“Oh, no no, what are you thinking? That I am one of them as well?” The scandal in his tone is real. 

“Did you know my father before he died? What he was? What our family is before you met me? Or what Paola and Theodora are before you met them?”

“I know Paola and Sister Theodora through my work, courtesans are often my models. That’s all. I knew of your family because your mother once commissioned me. I never had the opportunity to meet your father.”

He holds out his hands in surrender, palms out to show he bears no weapons of deceit, like he is trying to soothe a wounded animal prone to jump and snarl.

“Ezio, you know I’d never do that to you. I… care… about you very deeply and I’d never try to deceive you. Do you trust me?”

“I… I don’t know who to trust anymore.” Ezio cries, tears springing free. He’s tried, Lord, he’s tried so hard not to cry through all this, but now there is no wall of anger to hide behind and he feels sapped of energy and ability to hold any of it up anymore. 

His head sinks as his eyes brim, and they fill so heavily they don’t even run down his face, they fall straight from his lash line to the wooden floor in thick drops. 

“You can trust me, Ezio. Always.”

“I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“It’s alright. I’m not surprised, a revelation like that…”

“They lied, for ten years.”

“We’ll fix this. I know not how, but we will.” 

His forehead finds Leonardo’s shoulder, and he takes down his hood, stroking through his hair. 

“Ti sono vicino. Sarò sempre qui quando avrai bisogno di me. Non ti mentirei mai, meriti di meglio. Meriti di più.”

His soothings are whispers to Ezio that he only barely makes out. 

“Is this all I was born for? To be a vessel for another, the translator of generations with no legacy of my own?” 

“Of course not Ezio,” Leonardo replies.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m glad in all our years you have never changed.” The Assassin breathes out a stifled sob.

A steady thumping from Leonardo’s chest regulates against his own, only slightly out of sync.

The truth is, that in their years, Leonardo has changed. 

And if there is something different in the way Leonardo has begun to look at Ezio over time, he has not yet caught on to it.