Our Work Is Never Done, Part II (Ezio Auditore x Reader)
Word Count: 5926 (It’s official: I can’t write short fics. My mind is filled with complex ideas and the simpler ones never see the light XD)
Author’s Note #1: So the story took a darker turn here (my mind is seriously obsessed with such themes, don’t blame me *hides behind the couch*), but I’ve finished it as best as I could, given that the inspiration for writing comes spontaneously. This part includes such themes as torture and sadism, which are discussed but not explicitly described (or maybe there’s like one such sentence, idk).
But please, do enjoy reading this chapter! I love writing for you all, mi amici!
Author’s Note #2: This work is purely fictional and is not meant to offend anyone. I do try to check my grammar and words (I use Grammarly and Google for those), but English is still not my first language, so I apologize in advance if you find any mistakes within the fic.
Italics - thoughts/emphasis/Italian
Bold Italics - places/Spanish
Feedback/constructive criticism/comments are much appreciated, as are reblogs!
Chapter I
(P.S. I know it’s Masyaf, but pretend it’s that fortress that will be mentioned in this story.)
Somewhere in the Apennine mountains…
“Ha! I can’t believe we’ve caught them so easily! They call themselves ‘Master Assassins’?! Bah!” boasted one of the men. The other one with an eye-patch nodded his head in agreement.
“Indeed we have, amicomio! Let’s just hope that they won’t wake up earlier than planned…,“ he glanced at yours and Ezio’s bodies in the cart, one thrown across the other. The mercenaries didn’t care how you two were to be delivered. Both of you were alive and that was enough.
“Yes, let’s. I do have to admit though, this was quite a suicidal task for us, but it seems that Lady Luck kept us safe! I can already smell our reward!”
The other guy, Pietro, sent a scowl his way, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Edric! We’re not there yet. Anything can happen on the road - bandits, thieves, templars that don’t know us, you name it.” It did not wipe the smile off of Edric’s face, however.
“Be more optimistic!”
“Meh,” was his response to his overly-enthusiastic partner, but then he continued, "Oh, and pray tell, why did Rodrigo decide to partner you up with me, hmm?! With such a brain of a cow, you’ll get nowhere in your life!”
“With an attitude like that, Lady Luck will no longer smile upon you!”
Pietro could feel the anger boiling inside of him. Who did that insolent bastard think he was?! A genius?! He could only picture how they’d face Rodrigo Borgia together. He would certainly introduce his boot to their asses if his brainless partner continued to babble like an over-excited five-year-old…
“Al diavolo with your Lady Luck! If you don’t shut up this instant, I won’t hesitate to throw you to the wolves down the road!” Pietro shouted in anger. Edric clamped his mouth shut in shock, averting his eyes from his companion to your unconscious bodies.
“Grazie a Dío for the silence!”
Their journey would be a long one indeed…
*****
“Ho there, Manfredo! Did you hear the news?!” a guard, no younger than 25 years, shouted to his friend, who was standing outside on the walls of Castello D'Agnano, a fortress in the middle of the mountains that was well-fortified and comparable to none.
He received a sarcastic snort in response, “What news? That Rodrigo Borgia’s big stomach has always been a fake one?! Ahahahahaha!,” he burst out laughing, making the other guard frown. Then his laughter stopped abruptly, “Don’t make me laugh, porcellino.”
“For one, stop calling me a ‘piggy’. My nose ain’t that flat and my nostrils ain’t that big! For two, no, you knucklehead! The news is not about the Grandmaster!”
“Then what about?”
Emril leans close conspiratorially, “It’s about Ezio Auditore and Y/L Y/L/N! They’ve finally been caught! Can you believe it?!”
“Huh? I certainly did not expect that, but it’s a good thing, I guess.”
“I thought you’d be more excited than that!” Emril huffed exasperatedly, clearly disappointed by his comrade’s response. To be so dismissive of the two notorious Master Assassins’ capture was…cold and appalling if one asked him. He wasn’t against the Assassins per se, finding them very skilled and intelligent, but boy, was he excited to hear that they would be held where he was stationed. If only he could get an audience with th-“
"Stand straight!” a stern and commanding voice was heard from behind them, the footsteps of its owner coming closer and closer. It was the Captain of the Guard, Ignacio Lavola, the cruellest and most sadistic bastardo Emril has ever seen. He hadn’t seen it for himself, but those that have, have told him of his torturing ways - how he preferred to flay the prisoners alive while interrogating them or use some of the outdated torture devices to prolong their pain and agony. He shuddered at the thought of seeing people, both men and women, suffer at his hands. If he ever got to children…no, he couldn’t continue that track of thought.
He had to try and keep his composure, but Ignacio’s presence alone made him stutter uncontrollably, “Y-yes s-sir!”
Ignacio eyed him like a hawk, his facial expression giving nothing away. Emril could not stare back at him, lest he peed in his own breeches out of sheer fear. Luckily, his stutter was ignored. ’Bastardo ’ he thought to himself.
“I expect you to keep a close eye on our newest prisoners. If you treat them like 'royalty’, talk more than a word to them, or let them out of your sight, expect… severe punishment,” Ignacio continued, emphasizing his last two words with a cold but intimidating stare. His brown eyes held a clear threat in them, and knowing the man, or of his reputation at least, Emril knew that he would go through with what he just told them. As much as he was excited to meet the notorious pair of assassini, he had to swallow that excitement and distance himself mentally as much as possible. He didn’t want to die. Not just yet.
“Ehi, you alright, amico mio? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost! Which was more like seeing Satan himself, but still…,” the worried voice of Manfredo interrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to the reality. Manfredo saw his friend losing that spark in his eye he had just a few moments prior, making him worry like a big brother would. 'Piggy’ or not, this was his comrade - his friend - and he’d be damned if he didn’t help him with whatever was on his mind.
Emril eyed the retreating form of Ignacio, boring daggers into him. Oh, how he wished that figlio di puttana to die the most painful of deaths…but alas, he knew that he would never be able to do so as he was too much of a coward, or that’s what he thought. There was no point in thinking about such dark things though, so he forcefully tried to shake off his thoughts.
Turning back to Manfredo, he spoke…or more like whispered his next words, “Sto bene.”
His friend wasn’t convinced in the slightest.
“No. No, you’re not,” he paused to look around them. When he didn’t see anyone, he continued, “Is this about the Captain?”
When Emril didn’t answer immediately, he sighed. While he didn’t have a problem with the Captain personally, he too knew of his supposed reputation, and he did not want to be in his line of sight when trouble happened. Ignacio Lavola was not a merciful man.
“Look, I don’t like him either, but we can’t do anything on our own! Trying anything will only get us killed!”
“But we don’t actually know that!” Emril retorted.
“And what would you have us do then, huh?! Coddle up to him and then stab him in the back like Brutus did Caesar?! We already have to lick his boots and you see where we are?! We’re still lowly guardsmen! It’s good enough that we’re both stationed here, on the walls! Why make it worse?!”
“Then what about those Master Assassins? They’re already being brought here! Knowing their skills and reputation, perhaps they can get us out of here!”
“And where exactly would they take us?”
“O-out of here! Somewhere! Anywhere! Anywhere better than this place!”
“Yeah…right.”
Emril huffed in frustration, “Stop being so sceptical for a change, va bene?! I’ve seen what they can do! They have it in them to escape this place! We only have to give them the opportunity…”
“And get ourselves killed in the process?! No. Fucking. Way.”
“Do you trust me?” Emril took Manfredo’s face in his young hands, making the man just a tiny bit uncomfortable.
Manfredo nodded.
“Then trust me when I tell you that we can do this! We play it smart, we get farther than anyone else ever has in here. Now, I’ll ask again - are you with me?”
Hesitating for just a moment, his friend agreed, “I am, amico. I am.”
“Then listen closely. First, we’ll have to see who guards the cells, and then…”
*****
Ignacio was back to pacing in his office. After seeing to it that all the guards were aware of the arrival of his future 'guests’, he went back inside to make some additional preparations. Namely, sharpening his various hooks and blades. After all, they would need to receive a 'warm and royal’ welcome befitting their station.
Capturing them was his idea and his alone. If Rodrigo got wind of that, he would be ecstatic, or so he thought. Technically, he wasn’t going against the Templars’ principles or disobeying his higher-ups’ orders. He was just doing what he thought was right - what would benefit them all.
Looking at the map of Europe on the wall, he thought of Antonio. He knew that the man was a weak link in their Order, preferring to ignore his numerous duties throughout the years (which had to be completed if one wanted to move higher up the ladder…and avoid getting executed). He met him only once, on a grand masquerade ball in France, securing yet another marriage between one of his cousins and some fool of a noble, who immediately fell for the pretty eyes and a big bust.
He remembered their last conversation quite clearly.
Lyon, France, 1470
“My, what a pleasant surprise to see you here, mon amie!” Antonio threw his arms around one of the nobles, who judging by their cheerful expression, was very much happy to see him.
“Indeed, we haven’t seen each other for two years! Can you believe it?!” the nobleman paused, “Oh, it’s been just horrible without seeing you here!”
Was that a blush creeping up Antonio’s cheeks? No, it must have been the heat of that place getting to him.
“Well, I was very very busy. Making deals, investing, and-”
“-partying, hmm?” the nobleman teased playfully.
“Uh, well…yes. That’s not why I’m here though.”
“Oh, I’m all ears.”
“Forgive me for being blunt, but I’m here to find my cousin a suitable husband.”
The nobleman raised his eyebrows, “Who?”
Antonio gave him a meaningful look, making his friend raise his eyebrows into his hairline even further.
“Oh. Oh! Now I get it! Pardon me, my friend, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so forward!”
“One has to be a little forward to get on this life. Trust me, I’ve been mulling over this very conversation all week before arriving here.”
“Hah, well…I don’t know about that. How does your cousin look like? What is her name?”
“Violetta, and she is standing right over there!” said Antonio while pointing to a woman in a yellow-green dress chatting with the other women.
“She does look beautiful, but before you make me choose, please consider making another man her husband. I have a close friend here this evening and I’d very much like you to meet him.” He waved for Ignacio to approach them. He sure hoped that he wouldn’t be forced to endure another boring conversation about women, wine, and politics. He was far above those things.
“There you are, amie! Antonio, this is my friend, Ignacio. Ignacio Lavola,” the nobleman gestured to the man beside them. A dark look passed Antonio’s eyes. That man…he knew him. He knew him through his reputation as a sinister sadist alone. A lot of templars trembled at the mere mention of his name… the Butcher of Souls.
“A pleasure to meet you!” he forced the words out of his mouth. “Any friend of Christophe’s is a friend of mine!”
“And mine as well…”
They were ready to shake hands, and when they did, Ignacio squeezed Antonio’s hand just a little harder than necessary. The man recognized him. If he played his cards wrong, he’d be another one of his victims, he just knew that.
Ignacio let a cold look pass over his present company, seemingly unbothered by the tense atmosphere between him and the lesser templar, “So, why I am here, Christophe?” Always blunt to the point.
“Ah, but weren’t you standing there all bored just moments ago? Armaund’s new political ideas were clearly failing to keep you interested. You looked like you would fall asleep at any moment! I decided to save you from that.”
“And for that, you have my sincerest thanks. I sense that there’s more to it though.”
“And you are right about that! The thing is, Antonio is looking for a good husband to his cousin, Violetta. I told him to speak with you before deciding. After all, you’re not married too!” 'But clearly not a good man,’ Antonio thought to himself.
Ignacio was undeterred by his 'friend’s’ request. He wasn’t looking for marriage. He wasn’t looking for love at all, but the least he could do was amuse him. And make Antonio squirm a little in the process.
“Ah, yes. Violetta. That woman in yellow, oui?”
Christophe answered before Antonio could speak another word, “Right you are! She is very beautiful, isn’t she?”
“She is. Though I…fail to understand what makes her so special. Besides being Antonio’s cousin, that is.”
“Care to elaborate on that, amie?” Christophe looked over at pale-faced Antonio, not noticing how rigidly the man was standing. He was a good man, but oblivious to many things (such as Violetta’s jealous personality Antonio 'forgot’ to mention).
“I-I…,” the breath was stuck in Antonio’s throat. Why did he lose his confidence all of a sudden? Why couldn’t he utter a single word out of his mouth? Was it because of Ignacio? Was his presence that scary to him? The thoughts were rushing in his head like the busy cardinals when choosing a new Pope, and his heart was beating a hummingbird flaps its wings. All that insecurity about being a 'bad’ templar came forth as though something popped open a cork on that 'closed jar’ (or someone more like). And it was eating him alive.
“Is something wrong?” Ignacio asked him, still as stone-faced as before.
Antonio tried to muster up his courage again, praying that his voice wouldn’t betray his nervousness. He could also feel his eye wanting to twitch, so he blinked a couple of times to keep it under control.
Taking a deep breath he spoke, “No, I suppose nothing is wrong with you wanting to know about her. She is not as special as the queen of Spagna perhaps, but her impeccable skills with musical instruments and a talent for sewing make up for it, signori.”
“And what else?”
“Well…she does have a bit of a mean streak, but it doesn’t necessarily make her a nasty person…”
“Hmm, you are honest, at the very least. Though I would not take such a woman for myself, she would still suit you all the same, Ignacio. You share a trait, however bad one, but that should bring you closer to each other, no?”
“Yes-”
“Now, let me go and announce the opening of the Grand Ball! The ladies are itching to dance!” declared Christophe and then left the pair in a hurry, seemingly excited to officially start the event. Antonio and Ignacio were finally alone (despite being surrounded by the crowd of people).
“So what is a pathetic little worm like you doing in this place? Cementing another useless alliance, hm?”
Antonio bristled at his tone, his nostrils flaring, but he tried to reign in his anger so as not to cause a scandal, “You think you are smart, ehi?! My scheming with marriages may not bring much to our cause, but having hands in important people’s pockets brings something to mine.”
Ignacio smirked in amusement, “And what might that cause be, exactly?”
“I…,” Antonio couldn’t find the right words, instead he huffed like a petulant child, “You know what?! Fottiti te e il tuoculo compiaciuto! (Fuck you and your smug ass!)”
The man before Antonio chuckled lowly, taking his insult in stride. To anyone else, he looked like he was about to faint from the stifling heat, being all red in the face, but Ignacio knew that he was actually silently fuming at him, looking like he’d burst at any moment. Oh, how he enjoyed seeing them all get angry like that because of him. It made him feel the power he had over them - that he could manipulate their emotions just as easily as he could peel the skin off of his victims with a sharpened blade. They were like putty in his hands.
He placed his heavy hand on the templar’s shoulder, keeping him in place. Leaning in, he whispered in Antonio’s ear, “If you think the Grand Master won’t hear about you being lazy and far too selfish for your own good, I’m afraid you’re mistaken, amico. If nothing else, your tiny ass will still be served on a silver platter to me, one way or another.” With that, Ignacio left Antonio alone, but the man was once again trembling in his boots, his heart imbued with the fear of him, and the desperation to leave that place as soon as possible. Antonio would not stop fearing him until his own death.
Even after so many years, he still thought that the conversation between him and the tiny templar could not have gone any better. Before sending the hired mercenaries to capture the assassins, he mentioned (rather offhandedly) that he would pay them more if they took care of him as well. For once, he didn’t care enough to kill the man himself, letting someone else do the honours (frankly, the years have taken its toll on him and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to play the game of 'cat and mouse’). Thankfully, no one would miss Antonio - not even his numerous cousins.
Sitting back in his leather chair, he proceeded with polishing his knives, wanting the assassins to see their own reflections in it. He would have a good time carving them up…
Two days later…
Your head felt so heavy that you thought it was filled with lead. Not only that, but the pain could not be more unbearable than what you were currently experiencing. Like someone had a knife stuck in your skull. Your temples were throbbing, your ears were ringing, and your mouth was as dry as a desert. All in all, you felt miserable.
Next to you, Ezio was sitting up against the wall, looking at anything but you. When you made a hissing sound, however, you knew you had his attention.
He didn’t spring up when he heard it (since he was still very tired after such a long ride), but his eyes were filled with concern for you. He spoke to you as quietly and as gently as possible, “Y/N! How do you feel?!”
You couldn’t look him in the eye due to the pain you were in, but you still answered, just as quietly, “Miserable. Tan miserable. You sure there’s no knife or an axe stuck in my head?”
He looked very confused at your question, not recognizing the joke, “What axe?! What are you talking about?!”
“Ah, just forget it. It was a poor attempt at a joke anyway,” you moaned in pain, putting your head between your legs. That action did not relieve it, however.
“We need to get out of here, wherever 'here’ is!”
You looked around yourself with tired eyes, seeing how dirty and damp the cell was. A rat hole near Ezio. And was that a big spider in one corner on the ceiling? The place was truly awful but despite the aforementioned conditions, you thankfully had enough space to move around if need be. Being cramped up in a tiny space (even if it was with Ezio), did not sound like a good idea, or rather like a comfortable one.
Your current wish was to get rid of the headache. Whoever dropped something heavy on your head should better be running away from there or else you’d stick one of your hidden-blades in theirs.
Ezio didn’t look any better. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes were tired but angry, and both of you were stripped off of your assassin robes and weapons. What a great situation that was!
Sitting up a little, you inquired, “Do you know…who dropped us in here? I could have sworn I heard male voices talking at some point, or was it just a dream?”
Ezio nodded, “Si. I didn’t see their faces but I saw their clothes. They were mercenari.”
“Ugh! Wish we knew who hired them to do this! It’s like they were actually waiting for us in Basilica!”
“Templars.”
“W-what?!”
“It was the Templars. Turn around and you’ll see the banners with a red cross on them.”
Indeed, when you peeked over your shoulder through the iron bars, you saw what Ezio was talking about. The white banners with the infamous red cross. The true mark of any Templar stronghold.
“So we’ve gotten ourselves into one of the worst situations that could ever happen? ¡Mierda!” you swore under your breath. How could they have captured you both so easily? How could you not see the mercenaries? You thought back to it, trying to make sense of all the things that had occurred within the church.
For one, when you asked the girl to hand you some clothes, you saw a sorrowful look pass over her face, but it was a momentary one so you did not pay it any more attention. For two, the servants’ quarters were completely empty as though everyone was suddenly forced to leave. And last, when the mass had gone for some time and you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer, you spotted not one soul roaming the halls. The moment you went through all these memories, it finally clicked.
“Ezio, they knew we were coming. It was an ambush.”
He looked up at you, waiting for an explanation.
“Did you see the girl’s face when she looked at me? It displayed her sorrow over something, as though she was apologizing for something we didn’t know.”
“No. No, I didn’t. What about it?”
You continued, “She lead us through the servants’ quarters, but did you see how empty they were? Like everyone completely vanished? The mercenaries were already there, so by forcing them to leave, they ensured to no one would call for help…or see what they were planning to do. And then there were no priests in the halls because most of them were templars themselves, so they most likely decided not to interfere.”
“Most of the priests?”
“Ezio, it’s been a long known fact that templars take the positions of power, whether small or big, to ensure that no one would be suspicious of them. They smile in public but sneer behind the closed doors. And think about it, who would believe that a mere priest would order the deaths of people behind their backs?”
He should not have asked such a stupid and irrelevant question, but the worry for you both clouded his mind. He wanted to get you and himself out of that place and find your way back to Monteriggioni. He only hoped that Claudia wouldn’t throw a fit at hearing about your capture.
Before he could say another word, he heard numerous pairs of footsteps approaching. You perked up at the sound as well, lifting your head and straightening your posture. Ezio scooted over to you, and you gladly took his hand in yours - both for comfort and reassurance. Whoever approached you, you would face them together.
Unfortunately, it was a group of well-armed guards who judging by their faces, did not want to deal with any potential acts of defiance. The one without a helmet stepped closer to the metal door.
“Our Captain has requested your presence,” he pointed his gloved finger at you.
“Me? Why?” you asked, but then caught yourself and tried to ask something else, “Wait! Before you answer my previous questions, tell me what’s his name first!”
“Maestro Ignacio Lavola…commonly known as The Butcher of Souls, madonna Y/L/N,” he answered calmly.
“And how do you know my name?”
“You are not as inconspicuous as you think you are,” the guard eyed you and Ezio, his eyes carrying nothing but contempt in them. “All Templars in Italia know of you both.”
“So what will be done to us? Do we get to see a rope around our necks or do we get a chance to be purified by fire?” your voice was dripping with sarcasm, and Ezio gave you a warning look, already fearing what your fiery persona would do if unleashed.
Instead of answering, the guard gave a tiny nod to his comrades, who proceeded to lift your weak-from-exhaustion frame up. You decided not to fight them, knowing how futile it currently was to try and escape with a headache and tired muscles. You pointedly looked at Ezio, willing him to not do anything stupid. He clenched his jaw in anger but then looked at you sadly, not wanting for you to go. It wasn’t an ideal plan, but perhaps you could learn more from the Captain himself (praying all the while that you wouldn’t see his sadistic side).
Ezio was now all alone.
*****
The room you were brought into was lit by a large fire roaring within the fireplace, the orange tongues dancing in the air. Before the guards left, you were tied to a chair - so tightly that it actually hurt. You cursed yourself for drinking too much one night and then boasting to everyone about how you could escape any confinement like a professional. Damn Mario’s sweet wine to oblivion!
“Ahhh, I see you’re already wiggling about, my dear?” That voice, that smooth fucking voice laced with amusement, echoed from behind you, each word sounding clearer as Ignacio walked in.
“What exactly do you want from me?”
“Nothing exciting from you. Well…only your death,” he explained. “A prolonged one…,” he added darkly.
“Do your worst,” you retorted.
Ignacio smiled, showing his pearly-whites, “As you wish!” and just as he said that, he stabbed your thigh with a stiletto, that went through the limb like a knife through butter. You screamed loudly in pain, unknowingly making the guards shiver on the other side of the wooden door.
Ezio woke up from his little slumber with a start after hearing a feminine scream echo off of the limestone walls. He knew it was you up there. His heart clenched with worry at listening to your agony, making him stand up and rattle the metal door with a death-grip. Any second wasted in that cell, was bringing you closer to your end, and he’d be damned if he let that happen. Not before he told you he loved you…
“Hey, Ezio! You there?!” a boyish voice startled him out of his thoughts, confusion summoning a frown on his face.
“Who is that?! Come out from the shadows!”
“Not so loud, please! We don’t have long until the other guards come back, messere!” Emril stepped from behind the corner, holding a ring of keys in his hand.
“Who are you?”
“Your chance to be rescued. You have to promise me something though…”
Ezio was not in the mood for playing games, but for your sake, he was willing to hear the young man out, “What?”
Emril looked at the other man, now visible to Ezio, before turning his attention back to him, “You and your lover get out and take us with you. We want to leave this godforsaken place behind and start a new life!”
“But she’s not my lo-”
“Whatever! Do we have a deal?”
“I don’t like how suspicious it seems, but I won’t turn down your help.”
“Eccellente!” With a gleeful expression (reminding Manfredo how idiotic his friend could be), Emril opened up the cell door, letting the Master Assassin out.
Manfredo approached him with a pile of robes in one hand, and Altaïr’s Armour hanging off of his other. Changing as quickly he could, he was ready to leave that place behind, but not before rescuing you from Lavola.
“We have to hurry! Y/N’s life is at stake!” Ezio’s voice trembled with worry. His romantic feelings aside, he was desperate to have you back in his arms again, consequences be damned.
Thankfully and somewhat unexpectedly, the guards were all gone. Not one was in their vicinity. He looked at the pair of the now former guardsmen, and asked quietly and lowly, “Where is the Captain’s room?”
“Further ahead,” answered Emril, “it’s at the end of the hall to the right. You won’t miss it.” But before Ezio could take another step, Emril put a shaky hand on his shoulder, not wanting to anger the Master Assassin even more.
“Wait! What should we do?”
“Find ourselves some horses.”
“Will do! Be careful!”
“I will.”
*****
The moment Ezio stepped inside the room, he wanted to throw up at the sight before him. You were still bound to the wooden chair, but instead of seeing you well and awake, he only saw what the sadistic bastard had done to you.
Your body had suffered from multiple stab wounds, blood still seeping from some of them. One arm was completely covered with bruises, and all of your fingernails were removed. The sight was truly awful, but he couldn’t turn his gaze away.
Approaching your form, he brushed aside your hair had that was obscuring your face. It was completely bruised, just like your arm, but with additional cuts across your nose and left eye (which was thankfully left intact). At that very moment, Ezio wished you that you never were an assassin. That way, you would not have had a target on your back. 'But then I’d be left defenceless, ’ your voice echoed in his mind, reminding him that his wish was a selfish one, however he wanted it to be otherwise.
“A p-pretty s-sight, isn’t s-she?” a man’s voice gurgled behind him, making him turn around in surprise. It was Ignacio, lying in a pool of his own blood, that came from his crotch and gut. Following his line of sight, Ignacio weakly chuckled.
“That bitch m-managed to stab me w-where it hurts m-most. W-with a hidden-blade in her b-boot. I must say t-though, that was very clever of her.”
Ezio kept silent.
“Never knew I w-would go out like t-that. Still, I’ve m-made my peace with it.”
Now it was Ezio’s turn to speak. His voice was sharp and menacing, “You don’t deserve peace, you bastardo! Only your victims do!”
“Do you r-really t-think all the men and w-women I killed were innocent?! They were all bastards! Just. L-like. M-me,” with the last word spoken, he gurgled up more blood, his arms twitching for a moment and then falling beside him completely still. The Butcher was finally dead, though Ezio wished he could kill him with his own two hands.
Returning back to you, he untied you from the chair and picked you up bridal style, before leaving the castle. Outside in the courtyard, however, he was met with the man that took you out from your shared cell. He was looking at Ezio with a stoically.
“I am glad he’s dead. You have finally put an end to him.”
“Not me,” he looked at you. “It was her.”
“Doesn’t matter. He will never bother anyone again and that is enough for me. Rodrigo has wanted to get rid of him for a long time now anyway.”
“Then do send him my regards.”
“I will, Ezio Auditore. Today, you may leave. No man shall lift a blade against you. Let us leave the fighting for another day.”
Ezio couldn’t agree more. He did not want to shed any more blood - not with you in his arms.
And so he went outside the gates, spotting a wagon with horses waiting for you both. Emril and Manfredo were smiling at him.
“Let’s get you both home, shall we?”
Ezio nodded, and then carefully laid your body on the wagon with hay, before climbing up himself. The road home was a long one, but he would survive the wait, all the while keeping an eye on you and finding a doctor to sew shut your wounds in the nearest town or village.
A week later…
“Gah!” you suddenly shot up from the bed, clutching your side and breathing like you’ve been running several miles.
Noticing that you were awake, Ezio stood up from the windowsill and quickly approached you.
“Easy, Y/N! Easy…You’re still wounded, amore.”
“What?! Where am I?!”
“We’re back at the Villa Auditore. We got out of the castle.”
Memories rushed back to you - Ignacio. Him stabbing you. You stabbing him back. Then falling into oblivion.
Tentatively, you reached for Ezio’s rough hand. He readily placed it in yours.
“How did we get out of there? Who rescued us?”
“Manfredo and Emril. They were the guardsmen there, but had a change of heart and wanted to leave, just like us.”
“Then I suppose I should thank them later, if they’re still here, that is.”
“They are, and you will have an opportunity to do that later. I promise,” he spoke gently, but you saw that he wanted to say something more. There was that certain spark in his eyes, certain emotion, that made him seem like he was out of this world. And in a way, he was.
“Ezio, what is it? Stai bene (Are you alright)?”
“I…I almost lost you in there, Y/N. You were bleeding so profusely that I thought you would die in my arms that night…,” he answered quietly, the sadness creeping onto his face. You wanted to reassure him that you were still alive, but he placed a finger against your lips to keep you silent.
“I thought I would never tell you that I loved you before you died. That I would never have you in my arms again. You never really reciprocated my attempts at flirting, so I decided to use another approach - to just be there for you, and hope against hope that you would love me back.”
You gasped at the revelation, your thoughts racing in your head. So that’s why he ceased flirting with you incessantly. You thought that he was no longer interested in you.
“So I must ask you - is there a chance for us to be together?”
You squeezed his hand and looked him in the eye, letting your other one touch his face, “Of course there is, Ezio. I was afraid you didn’t like me that way. Sure, you flirted, but when you suddenly stopped doing that, it seemed like you lost all interest in me.
Ezio looked at you, shocked to the core. You loved him back. You. Loved. Him. Back! If he were a five-year-old, he would jump with glee, but instead, he embraced you, being mindful of your injuries.
You hugged him back, inhaling his scent. He smelt of fresh linens, roses, and of his own musk - that always drove you crazy.
”Te amo,“ you whispered.
”Ti amo anch'io, Y/N.“
After a moment, Ezio broke out of your embrace and immediately pressed his lips to yours - thus making a statement to the world (to his friends, family, enemies, and other women who would surely become jealous) that from now on, you and himwould never be separate souls again.
*****
"You know, our work is still not done, and I doubt it ever will.”
“Then let us do our best.”
You hummed in agreement, “Sí, let us.”
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