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Chapter Text

The life of an Assassin is, mildly put, not one for the weak of heart. There is always another quest, another mission, another enemy to subdue.

Requiescat in pace. It is the refrain of Ezio’s life, the life that was destined to be his from the moment he saw his father and brothers hang in Firenze, as he watched the life leave their spasming bodies.  

Sometimes Ezio thinks he doesn’t know who he is without the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Yet contrary to Ezio’s own perception of things, there was a before as well, a time that wasn’t riddled with blood spurting to form stains on his clothes and the crunch of broken bones (and more often, necks).

However bittersweetly this before had ended, it was a part of his life as well, those times spent between bars and backway alleys, drinking and fighting with his brother, accompanied by a never-ending string of female admirers.

In those times Ezio had been barefaced and unscarred, full of naiveté and the true hubris of youth. So perhaps it was fitting that this was when he met Leonardo, in a time before he saw humans as accumulations of weak points and arteries ready for slitting.

In truth, Ezio does not remember much of their first meeting, it having been just another errand for his mother, one that he wanted to get over with to get back to his responsibilities working for his father, which he deemed more important than trifling with art.

But then, what did he know of the world, of beauty, at that time?

This Ezio does know: when he first kisses Leonardo, he is, however unconsciously, waiting for Leonardo to pull away. He doesn’t. In fact, Leonardo does the unthinkable, and pulls Ezio in closer.

Ezio thinks he could die happy, right there and then. Unfortunately, fate has other things in mind for him.  

It takes the second, third fuck for Ezio to discover that Leonardo isn’t as fragile as his appearance suggests. If anything, Leonardo seems to yearn for a hard touch and Ezio’s weight on top of him. Ezio isn’t one to complain.

These are the days before Ezio sleeps with one eye open, and they aren’t meant to last.

Chapter Text

Disaster strikes creepingly, then all at once.

One second Ezio is racing the rooftops with Federico, fetching feathers for little Petruccio, and doing errands for his father. The next, he is desperately climbing the Palazzo della Signoria where they are imprisoned, trying to glean any sort of information from his father.

Treason. It is not a light accusation, and Ezio had barely managed to arrange for his mother and sister to be kept out of harm’s way at Annetta’s sister’s with the ever growing knot of worry toiling in his stomach.

Dodging the Florentine guard across the roofs, Ezio wishes for the days of banter with his parents and nights of sneaking out to see Leonardo. But no, he can’t even think about the painter right now. Even less about whatever it is they have, the fondness in Leonardo’s eyes as they shared a bottle of red and later their bed the night before.

With trembling fingers, Ezio discovers the old chest his father spoke of, behind the hidden door in the Palazzo Auditore. He has a sinking feeling he won’t be returning here again.

True to his father’s words, he empties the contents of the chest, even going so far as to don the strange robes he found within. A combination of white and red fastenings, leather and metal, they are clearly made for combat. Ezio reckons they will come in handy these next few days. 

Yet he also wonders what his father was caught up in to have such clothes in the first place. They are well worn, not stiff and new – another peculiarity Ezio can’t explain to himself.

It seems there is much he doesn’t know about his father. Like that he must have once carried this sword, which Ezio now straps to his side. He has never been one for swords, preferring his bare fists, but these are dangerous times.

Not a second later the guards appear, and Ezio knocks them out deftly with the hilt of the sword. Unconventional, yet effective – Ezio is discovering new sides to himself, and part of him has to admit he almost likes it, who he is becoming in this crisis.

Something more than a banker’s assistant, a son, a brother – something far more dangerous and potentially deadlier, something he doesn’t have a name for yet.

Delivering the documents that will exonerate his father to Uberto is a relief, knowing that his father’s old friend will set things right at the hearing the next morning.

There is a slight twinge in Ezio’s gut, telling him it won’t be this easy, but he has grown up around Uberto, thinks of him as an uncle, and sees no reason to doubt him.   

Ezio does, however, decline the offer to stay the night. Despite all his instincts telling him this is a bad idea, he slinks across the rooftops to Leonardo’s workshop, making sure to stay in the shadows until he is at the door.

The friendship between Ezio’s mother and the painter is common knowledge, and he wouldn’t want the Florentine guard to trace him to Leonardo’s.

Nevertheless, Ezio’s world is falling apart, and he needs something familiar to keep him going through the night. If he isn’t going to be sleeping, he might as well be fucking.  

Leonardo stumbles his way to the door, hair in disarray and merely clothed in a long, soft white tunic. Right. Some people haven’t spent the night crawling over the roofs of Florence.

Ezio feels abashed for a second, worried he’s caught Leonardo unaware, and worse, maybe in bed with someone else, but Leonardo ushers him in.

His eyes widen he takes in Ezio’s new outfit. “Buonanotte. Quickly, let’s get you off the streets.”

Ezio follows Leonardo inside, unsure what it is he is asking for, if he’s even asking for anything at all. The events of the past day have been so horrific, Ezio doesn’t even know where to start explaining.

Leonardo makes short business of introductions and niceties. “I have heard the news of your family. What is it you need - how can I be of service?”  

Ezio cocks his head, considering. “I need…” His voice breaks off.

Ezio’s eyes wander around the workshop, over to Leonardo’s inherently messy worktable, which is haphazardly strewn with pieces of paper, spare bits of chalk, and…rope.

Ezio swallows, realizing the weight of his request. After all, what are they to each other? Friends tend not to see as much of each other's bodies as they have, lovers….lovers implies something Ezio isn’t willing to admit to himself, let alone to Leonardo.

So maybe they are…an affair. That feels safe enough.

A smile is tugging at the corners of Leonardo’s mouth when he sees Ezio eyeing the rope. “I see what has caught your attention. You need…a bit of control, dare I say?”

Ezio hesitates briefly, but shakes his head. “Quite the opposite, Leonardo. I need…to let go.”

The last three words are barely a whisper, but Leonardo’s eyes are sparkling in the dim shine of the candle he has set down on a nearby shelf.

“Well, in that case…let me show you to my bed.”

And so for once, Ezio spends the night bound up in ways that have nothing to do with inner turmoil.  

Chapter Text

Petruccio’s gurgles as the noose choked the life out of him. Federico’s blazing eyes seconds before the wooden plank was ripped out from underneath his feet.

Together, they haunt Ezio’s dreams as he toils on the bed provided for him at the Rosa Colta brothel.

His surprise at finding out where Annetta had hidden his sister and mother was numbed by the shock of the day and the exertion of a night spent keeping out of sight of the guards combing the streets for him.

Ezio had been grateful for the chance to escape into sleep, but rest eludes him as he tosses and turns.

His father’s last words weave their way in and out of his consciousness, never making any more sense than in the square where he had died.

“You are the traitor, Uberto – and one of them! You may take our lives this day, but we will have yours in return, I swear!”

One of whom, exactly? Who could possibly have enough power to persuade his father’s oldest friend to let him hang? How deep does this conspiracy run?

How is Ezio supposed to fulfill his father’s dying wish, to avenge his blood, when the enemy is one he does not know and thus cannot grasp?

By the time Ezio wakes, the sounds from the room next door assure him that the brothel is in full session. Yet what does that matter, what does anything matter, now that half his family has been wiped out by a single traitorous tongue?

Unable to answer any of the questions buzzing through his brain, Ezio emerges from the small chamber. Outside, Annetta’s sister Paola, who runs the brothel, is already waiting for him.

She takes one look at the sword hanging by Ezio’s side, and tuts quietly.

“What are you going to do with that? You’re not a killer, Ezio.” She pauses, lips curving into a smile. “But… I can make you one.”

Paola holds herself differently from the courtesans in her employ, less coy, more straight and alert. Her words, this strangely steadfast promise, ring in Ezio’s ears.

In another version of this story, he’d lose himself in grief, and maybe even Paola’s skirts. As it is, Ezio can’t help but compare Paola to Leonardo, and finds her lacking.

Nevertheless, Paola’s guidance proves invaluable. True to her promise, the afternoon is spent on the streets of Firenze, learning.

To his surprise, the tools Paola intends to teach him are less lethal and more stealth-oriented, and so he slowly masters the art of blending into the crowds and stealing coins from underneath their very noses.

For Ezio, who is somewhat used to garnering attention for his looks wherever he walks, this kind of subterfuge is particularly strange. 

Still, there is something powerful about passing right under the watchful eyes of the city’s guards, of dipping his hands into other people’s pockets unnoticed as he passes them by.

Back at La Rosa Colta, Paola is proud of his efforts, but does not intend to stop there. “I assume you know Leonardo da Vinci?”

Ezio’s head snaps up, mouth suddenly very, very dry.

There’s a twinkle in Paola’s eyes, and for a moment, Ezio fears that she can tell exactly how he spent the last night of his father’s life, that it is written onto his face in a way similar to how there are faint indents left on his wrists.

He tugs his sleeves down, just in case Paola’s sharp eyes happen to wander there.

“How does a painter factor into this?” Ezio is aiming for nonchalant, but falls slightly short of the goal.

While Ezio’s time with Leonardo hasn’t exactly been spent discussing hobbies, he does remember Leonardo’s words to his mother not all too long ago.

“It is not enough for me to capture the world, I want to change it as well.”  

Does Leonardo know more of this conspiracy than he has let on? Is he….involved, in ways that have nothing to do with Ezio and their…extracurricular activities?

Paola interrupts Ezio’s musings.

“Leonardo is…far more than a painter.” Her voice drips with innuendo, and Ezio’s traitorous heart clenches in his chest.

There’s no way…is there? What does he really know about Leonardo and his previous (or even current) amorous affiliations? Nothing, nothing at all. Ezio hadn’t really asked a lot of questions before cornering Leonardo into that first kiss.

Ezio shakes his head slightly, trying to break free of the swirling thoughts. Leonardo doesn’t owe him anything, it’s not like they are…boyfriends. They fuck, and that’s that. Right? So why does Ezio’s chest feel so heavy?

Paola is mustering Ezio with something akin to curiosity, hopefully chalking his strange manner up to bereavement.

“Go to Leonardo with your father’s blade and bracer. He will know what to do.”

Ezio nods briskly, and flees La Rosa Colta without another word.

It is only when he is several blocks away that he wonders how Paola knew about the contents of his father’s hidden chest in the first place.

Chapter Text

When Ezio arrives at workshop, the door is slightly ajar. For someone potentially on the watchlist of the Florentine guard, Leonardo seems quite lax about his sense of personal security.

Not that this is any concern of Ezio’s, of course.

“Leonardo? Buonasera. Paola sent me.” Ezio’s word are more than a little gruff, making clear that this visit is purely business. Then again, his sister Claudia did always say he had a terrible poker face. Oh well.

Leonardo’s head emerges from behind an easel. “Ezio! I was not expecting you this evening.”

Ezio frowns a little. Was Leonardo expecting another guest? Or was he going to pay a visit to Paola at La Rosa Colta?

“Anyways, yes, Paola. Lovely woman, I’m sure you’ll agree.” Leonardo is setting down his paints on a small wooden table, but there is no mistaking the admiration in his tone.  

“Is she now.” Ezio cannot help letting bitterness color his voice. He has no issue with Paola, is indebted to her teachings, yet something about the image of her and Leonardo intertwined rubs Ezio the wrong way.

Leonardo wipes some paint off his hands with a spare rag, eyeing Ezio’s closed off visage. “Ezio. To the untrained observer, it would appear you are…jealous?”

Ezio huffs, caught red-handed like a child pocketing a sweetbread at the market.

Most annoyingly, Leonardo is grinning broadly at him. “It’s true. You are jealous, of a woman, I’ll let you know, I’ve never fucked, nor do I ever intend to. Does that answer your question?”

Ezio’s cheeks are burning. “I’m – I didn’t – I just…”

“Shh.” Leonardo presses a finger to Ezio’s lips. “There are several far less clumsy things your mouth could be doing right now. Unless…you’d rather talk more about Paola?”

There is a wicked gleam in Leonardo’s eyes, and Ezio never wants them to stop looking that way. It suits the painter terribly well, and Ezio drops to his knees without a second thought.

His father’s blade soon lies forgotten on the floor.

Chapter Text

They eventually make it to bed, where Leonardo whispers for Ezio to mark him, to take him, to claim him. Ezio thinks he’s never heard anything hotter in his life, and happily complies.

Later, they are both languid and exchange soft, slow kisses. The candles are casting long shadows and outside, night has fallen.

It is only then that Ezio remembers the reason he stopped by the workshop in the first place. A certain number of orgasms can have that effect on a man, Ezio rationalizes.

“Leonardo. My father, he left me with an old blade of his, but it is old and broken. Can you fix it?”

Leonardo briefly hides his head in a pillow, before sighing and reluctantly wrapping a blanket around his waist.   

“What can I say, I am wanted for my talents in and outside of bed.” Leonardo smirks, and Ezio has half a mind to pull him back to into the sheets with him.

Still, he has been indulgent enough tonight, and Ezio is very curious about his father’s legacy, which seems to start and end with this old weapon.

Setting down a candle at his main work desk, Leonardo picks up the blade and bracer from where it has fallen to the floor. His eyes light up as he examines the object.

“Ah, yes, an old blade, certainly, but very advanced in its construction. I am afraid I cannot proceed further without the template. Did you find any sort of document with the blade?”

Ezio rather unhappily struggles back into his father’s old white and red armor, searching the many hidden pockets in the interwoven fabric.

“Like this?” He hands Leonardo a scroll, which Ezio has disregarded, for it is filled with strange symbols that mean nothing to him.

“Aha! Yes, it is encrypted, but alas, it is no match for me!” Leonardo exuberates.

Ezio comes up behind him, pressing his chest to the smaller man’s back, and wrapping his hands around his waist. “How long do you need? I’m afraid Paola may be wondering what we’ve been up to all night.”

Leonardo waves his concerns away, detaching himself from Ezio with a sigh in favor of scribbling furiously on a piece of paper at. “This cipher will not take long…unlike some other things tonight.”

Ezio is about to retort in earnest when Leonardo’s head shoots up. “Yes, I’ve got it. It will only need a few adjustments, but first, we need to test your commitment. Fetch me a knife, we are going to cut off your ring finger.”

Ezio’s eyes widen comically, too astonished to speak.

“Is this some fetish of yours? Taking parts of your lovers to dissect later?” Ezio knows a little bit about Leonardo’s anatomical work with corpses, he just never expected it would extend to him.

“The blade demands it. It is a test of commitment, and you must prove yourself worthy.” Leonardo has found a knife himself, and waggles his eyebrows at Ezio.  “Lay your hand on the desk and steel yourself.”

Ezio follows the request, reckoning he can probably live without one of his fingers – better than the entire hand, after all.

The knife glints maliciously as Leonardo raises it high in the air and…drives it into the wood of the desk, passing Ezio’s hand by entirely.

Confused, Ezio frowns, wondering how Leonardo’s aim is so bad when they hadn’t even been drinking.

The painter, however, is starting to wheeze with laughter. “Your face! You truly believed me! It is not necessary, not in these times, and I have to admit, I am rather fond of your fingers.”

Leonardo’s own fingers move deftly over the blade and bracer, tweaking bits here and there, using some tools from his desk, until it is finished to his satisfaction.

Ezio is about to show Leonardo exactly how fond of his fingers he should be when there is a brisk knock on the door.

Both men stiffen in surprise. The Florentine guard. It can’t be anyone else, not at this late hour.

Leonardo exchanges a worried glance with Ezio, and quickly moves to retrieve his breeches from the floor. “Hide. It is you they want, not me.”

Reluctantly, Ezio retreats into the dark part of the room, but not before grabbing the finished bracer. Equipping it quietly, Ezio tests the blade. Despite all the years of disuse, it springs free with ease, having not forgotten its lethal purpose.

“Leonardo da Vinci?” The guard at the door is bulky, his tone severe. Ezio thinks he doesn’t deserve to take Leonardo’s name into his mouth.

“I have been told that you have information about the whereabouts of Ezio Auditore.”

Dwarfed by the guard’s wide frame, Leonardo looks up at him through his eyelashes, blinking innocently. “Who?”

The guard’s eyes narrow, and he steps forward into the workshop. “Don’t play dumb with me. Where. Is. Ezio. Auditore.”  

Leonardo, still only clothed in breeches and thus bare-chested, looks achingly vulnerable. His neck and chest are still bruised with bitemarks, and the guard smirks as he catches sight of them.

“I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me where he is. Or I’ll take a look in your bed next.”

Leonardo is blushing angrily, and Ezio’s heart is beating oh so rapidly, adrenaline racing through his veins.

“I do not know his whereabouts.”

Scoffing, the guard raises a plated fist, and drives it home into Leonardo’s bare stomach. The painter doubles over, and the larger man looms over his victim, preparing to deliver another blow.

But he cannot, will not, and never will again, for a second later, Ezio is slamming his blade through the guard’s skull.

Chapter Text

The guard’s body collapses in on itself as if in slow motion. Ezio is frozen, his father’s blade dripping with a squelchy mixture of blood and brain matter.

Leonardo recovers first, slamming the still open workshop door shut before any curious onlookers can appear.

“Grab the body. We will put him with the other bodies the city supplies me with. No one ever needs to know.”

Numbly, Ezio heaves the guard’s limp body over his shoulders, following Leonardo to a dark and cold back room, where he places the body on an empty stretcher and covers it with a sheet like the others.

It wouldn’t be wrong to say that Ezio has regrets – he does, many of them. Most of them revolve around not striking sooner. Leonardo’s body is meant for many things, most of which Ezio has not even discovered yet, but taking a beating is not one of them.

Ezio turns, away from what has been rendered a carcass, and towards Leonardo.

Fragile, cocky, artistic Leonardo – and suddenly Ezio is overwhelmed by the desire to kiss, to hold, to make sure that Leonardo is still there and that his heart is still beating, unharmed by the guard’s cruel intentions.

Leonardo meets Ezio’s kiss fiercely, body flush against Ezio’s. And Ezio, Ezio is cradling Leonardo’s head in his hands like he’s never held anyone more precious, and maybe he hasn’t.

They part, breathing harshly in the dark. Leonardo is the one to break the silence. “I should…the blood…I need to clean it. I have a patron coming tomorrow.”

Ezio follows, lips still tingling with reverberations of their kiss. I have killed for him. And I would again. The fact doesn’t scare Ezio as much as it should.

There is injustice in this world, and Ezio wants to set it right. A blade seems as good a means to achieve that as any - particularly when it is one Leonardo's hands have made whole again. 

At the same time, Ezio feels like he’s crossed a line, sees it in the tense line of Leonardo’s mouth as he scrubs at the blood on the floor. A brief moment of panic sets in –  but then Ezio steels himself.

“I am thinking of taking my mother and sister to Monteriggioni. I have an uncle there, Mario, he can help us make sense of all this.”

“Mm.” Leonardo’s answer is noncommittal, and it strikes Ezio harder then it should. After all that has occurred, does Leonardo not want Ezio to stay?

“And then, maybe to Spain. Somewhere far, far away.”

A look of hurt flashes upon Leonardo’s face, but he is quick to conceal it. “Whatever you think is best, Ezio.”

Ezio storms out into the night, heedless of the guards that may be roaming, of everything and anything at all. All he wants is for the dull ache in his chest to stop.

Chapter Text

On Ezio’s way back to the Rosa Colta, no one dares get in his way. Then again, carrying around a huge sword can have that effect on people.

It is a small miracle that Ezio does not encounter any guards, but he has the feeling this has less to do with luck and more with them likely plundering the Palazzo Auditore, Ezio’s home up until a few days ago.

The memory of his father’s and brothers’ deaths sets in anew, and Ezio’s heart grows even colder. He has lost sight of what is truly important – revenge on Uberto, and justice for his family. Maybe Paola will have more information for him.

There is also the matter of his mother and sister – he has not yet told them of the occurrences in the Piazza della Signoria, hasn’t had the chance, has been dreading it more than anything. His mother and Claudia are by no means fragile – not that that makes his task any easier.

Paola is waiting for him inside the Rosa, lying regally atop a pink chaise lounge, a glass of red wine in hand. She gestures for one of her courtesans to bring out another glass for Ezio, which he graciously accepts.

 “Ezio. You’ve been gone quite a while.” Paola’s voice is lilting, playful. Ezio is not in a mood to play.

“You know Leonardo. He likes to…talk.”

Paola tilts her head. “That he does. I trust you did…more than talk?” 

For a second Ezio gapes at her, in serious danger of dropping his wine glass, until he remembers the blade Leonardo had repaired. Right. It is only then that Ezio realizes he may still have scuff marks on his knees from earlier. Shit. Well, it is too late to do anything about that. May Paola think…whatever she wants to think. She isn’t really one to lecture anyone on indecency, from what he’s heard of the goings-on at the Rosa.

“The blade is repaired. And christened, in blood. A guard stopped by, searching for me.”

Paola’s face grows serious. “I see. Do not judge yourself too harshly, Ezio. There are bad men in this world, and someone has to take care of them.” She toasts him, and they both take a deep sip of wine.

“Speaking of bad men…I have located Uberto. He will be at the Verrocchio art exhibit at the Santa Croce cloister tomorrow. Rest now, Ezio, and awaken to your father’s legacy.”

Ezio nods. Maybe this is the way things are supposed to be, with Ezio single-mindedly hunting down those who have wronged his family. Maybe love was just never supposed to be in the cards for him.

This night, Ezio sleeps soundly, knowing that his next step, if bloody, is necessary. Vengeance may make for a cold bedfellow, but it is the one Ezio has chosen.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sun is high in the sky by the time Ezio takes his place on top of a rooftop overlooking the Piazza del Duomo. The Piazza is fairly busy and Ezio’s eyes are rapidly scanning the crowds below for any sign of Uberto.

When Ezio finally locates him, Uberto is in the company of Lorenzo de Medici, a high-ranking official – did Lorenzo know of the plot against Ezio’s family? Is he in on the conspiracy?

Ezio descends, using his newly learned skills to blend seamlessly into the mass of people. He manages to catch a last snippet of conversation: Lorenzo is mocking Uberto for allying with the de’ Pazzi family.

The Pazzi! At long last, a web is beginning to take shape. Ezio’s resolve to follow this cancerous complot to the very root only strengthens.

He tails Uberto, alone once more, to the entrance of the Santa Croce cloister. From the courtyard, Ezio can hear the clinks of glasses, no doubt toasting the art unveiling inside. Unluckily for Ezio, there are two heavily armored guards guarding the only entrance. Uberto disappears behind them, no doubt ready to sun himself in the attention of every nobleman in the city.

It is then that he remembers Paola’s promise: that every courtesan in the city would aid him, at any time. Scanning the crowds, he quickly locates a gaggle of them, no doubt strategically positioned by Paola. They easily make off with the two guards, who are apparently not above the simpler pleasures in life.

Ezio slips into a group of art merchants, slowly inching inside Santa Croce. He has eyes on Uberto, is readying his hidden blade, when he hears a whisper from behind him.

“Ezio!”

Ezio freezes in his tracks. Of course… it is an art opening, after all – of course Leonardo was invited.

Cursing under his breath, Ezio debates his next step. Would Leonardo make a scene? Has he seen Uberto, and know of Ezio’s plan? Worse, would Leonardo sabotage him? It’s not a risk Ezio is willing to take.

Retracting his blade, Ezio slinks into the dark alcove Leonardo is occupying. The painter is dressed in silvery blue attire that brings out his eyes, and Ezio hates himself for noticing it.

“What do you want, Leonardo?”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Ezio sees Uberto, moving through the groups of attendees, who are loudly praising him for ridding Florence of the traitorous Auditore family.

Ezio’s vision blurs with anger for a moment, then he turns back to Leonardo, who is looking studiously at the ground. Ezio really doesn’t have any time for this. Uberto has to pay the price for his betrayal, and Ezio will not be sidetracked.

“Ezio, I… I want to apologize.”

“Don’t bother, Leonardo. You repaired my blade, I shielded you from the Florentine Guard, we are even. È finito. It is over.”

Leonardo flinches, and part of Ezio is satisfied. Another part of him wants to twist the knife of hurt further.

“Ezio…you have to understand-“

“Leonardo, you think yourself a man of the world. Trust me when I say that I have other things on my mind. If you’ll excuse me.”

After that, Ezio makes short business of Uberto. Ezio’s hidden blade finds its second victim, and Uberto dies spluttering that he was only trying to save the ones he loved. It is a privilege that was denied to Ezio, and anger flares inside of him. He lets Uberto’s bloody body collapse to the ground, and turns to the crowd.

“The Auditore are not dead! I am still here! Me, Ezio! Ezio Auditore! And I will have justice!”

The last thing Ezio sees before escaping back onto the streets is Leonardo’s stricken face.  

Chapter Text

That night, Ezio gets raging drunk in the wine cellar of the Rosa Colta, alone and numb despite his victory over Uberto.

Could it ever truly feel good to kill a man? And worse, how many more will there be to hunt down? Ezio feels like he is fighting a hydra, cutting off one head only to find that three more have sprouted in its place.

Vieri de’ Pazzi’s face follows Ezio into his drunken stupor – they had fought, before the execution, when the worst slight Ezio could imagine was Vieri’s badmouthing of the Auditore family.

Vieri had thrown the first rock, scarring Ezio’s lip – a fact Ezio can’t even be mad at, given Leonardo’s fondness for tracing the scar…and yet again, Leonardo is on Ezio’s mind.

Of course, Ezio and Federico had sent Vieri running, wounded in pride but alive  – another mistake, it seems, if the Pazzi have allied with Uberto and god knows whom else.

The whole thing has a sinister nature, and Ezio is struck by the distinct feeling that there is a piece missing, some bit of knowledge that he has not yet acquired, that will make the rest make sense.

Later on, Ezio sleeps fitfully. He dreams vividly, of a banging at his chamber door, of Leonardo calling out for him, demanding to see him, but when he sleep-drunkenly stumbles out of bed to rip open the wooden door, no one is there - save a lone courtesan, who crooks her finger, motioning for him to join her.

Ezio slams the door shut again.

Before his descent into the wine cellar, Ezio had wanted to see his mother and Claudia, only to be told that his mother had suffered a breakdown, and was on strict bedrest with Claudia at her side.

Apparently the Florentine Guard’s rough handling had left more than a little bit of a mark –  Paola had had to hold Ezio back from singlehandedly hunting down every last one of them that he could find.

“Save your strength, Ezio. The road ahead is yet long.” And so Ezio had turned to comfort in wine.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The morning dawns grey and murky, a living mirror of Ezio’s own constitution. When he wakes, it is hungover and with his arm stretched out towards the empty side of his bed.

After a brief bout of vomiting, he feels good enough to see Claudia. 

“Sorellina. Dearest sister. I have missed you. How is mother?”

Claudia narrows her eyes at his still pale complexion. “Not well. What has happened, Ezio? I have only heard whispers, and fear the worst. Where is father, where are Federico and Petruccio?”

When Ezio’s face falls, she nods briskly, although she can’t stop a tear from falling down her cheek. She wipes it away with determination. “I thought as much. We have to bring mother somewhere safe. She needs to recover.”

“Monterrigioni. Uncle Mario will help us.” It had only been a barb thrown at Leonardo, but it increasingly seems like the best solution. Especially now that Ezio has proclaimed his desire for justice in front of the crème de la crème of Florence at the Verrucchio art exhibit. Word spreads fast in a city like this; Ezio is surprised they have stayed hidden at the Rosa Colta for this long.

“Yes, Monterrigioni is the best idea for you.” Paola emerges, face somber. “Mario is a good man. He can aid you in figuring out your next step.”

Both Claudia and Ezio look surprised. “You know Mario?” 

Paola smiles mysteriously. “A lady never reveals her secrets, my dears. But first, Ezio, you need to do some damage control. The art showing has made you…notorious, to say the least. If you want to leave undetected, you need to counteract this. Tear down the posters of your face, bribe the heralds to speak of other things, hunt down those who would bear false witness against you.”

The posters of Ezio’s face are numerous, as is the reward promised: vivo o morto, dead or alive.

Still, tearing them down is monotonous work, and Ezio’s mind thoughts drift back to Leonardo. Ezio is careful to avoid the workshop - not that this helps at all with his preoccupation. It is one thing to denounce Leonardo, but to leave for Monterrigioni, not knowing when he will return…it is a bitter pill to swallow, despite all of Ezio’s attempts to think of other things.

In the end, Ezio decides he has decreased his notoriety enough to go out for a drink – although to be on the safe side, he changes out of his gear and into a simple white shirt with black breeches. The Florentine Guard will hardly assume Ezio to be out and about unarmed – and if push comes to shove, Ezio still has his fists, and one hell of a lot of anger, to aid him.

The bar closest to the Rosa is one Ezio has frequented often with Leonardo, but as Ezio reasons, Leonardo hardly has a monopoly on drinking. If a part of him is wishing to see Leonardo, well, Ezio isn’t about to admit that. Maybe he’ll find someone of similar build and look, and drown his sorrows in the pleasures of the flesh – after all, in his memory, Monterrigioni isn’t exactly big on potential hook ups.

Ezio is halfway to seducing a lanky blond when he spots Leonardo in the corner of the bar, sitting alone. Ezio’s heart starts racing in his chest, unable to help himself. His potential conquest, sensing his disinterest, leaves for more prosperous connections. Ezio is left with the warm flush of too much wine and a heart that is equally torn between approaching Leonardo and running out now, never to see him again.

Leonardo looks up, casting his gaze around the bar, and it hinges on Ezio.

For a moment, they regard each other coolly, neither willing to give in. Then Ezio breaks, and heads over to Leonardo. Ezio slides onto the bench beside him, tentative.

Leonardo snorts derisively. “Ezio. Aren’t you supposed to be off to Spain by now, far away from here?”

Ezio probably had that coming. “Not yet. My mother and sister needed some time to recuperate before we can move on.”

Leonardo’s eyes soften a little, but the frown does not leave his face.

“Of course. It was foolish of me to give away my heart so easily, and to someone so…flighty.”

“You speak of your heart? When it was you who couldn’t look at me after – after I- after the guard?”

Leonardo’s face scrunches up with anger, and he beats his fist on the table. “Ezio. You – you,” he lowers his voice. “You killed for me, Ezio, does that not scare you? Can you not understand how it scared me?”

Suddenly Ezio feels very, very guilty and very, very small. Leonardo, however, is not yet done.

“How can you not know how I feel about you when I have trusted you so utterly, let you into my life, my art -” Leonardo fumbles for his sketchbook on the table, angrily flipping through the pages. It is Ezio, Ezio on every page, rendered in every possible form. “You, you, you – everywhere! And yet you do not know how I feel about you?!”  

Ezio swallows. “Leonardo, I did not…I thought you wanted me gone, for me to leave, I-”

Leonardo laughs dryly. “You, Ezio Auditore, are a damn fool.” And then he kisses Ezio, wine and desperation on his lips.

They barely make it back to the workshop in one piece, intertwined as they are, unwilling to let go of each other. The few guards they see roll their eyes and mutter derogatively about lovebirds, but no one recognizes them as who they are.

In that moment they are not Leonardo da Vinci, painter and inventor, and Ezio Auditore, future Assassin – they are simply two young men who can’t get enough of each other, whispering promises and filth in each other’s ears – they are, as they are meant to be, together.

The next morning, Ezio slips out of Leonardo’s bed before the painter wakes, and does not return to Florence for another two years.  

Chapter Text

It gets easier, the killing, it really does. Or at least so Ezio tells himself.

Ezio also tells himself he will return to Florence, to Leonardo. Yet the months drag by, and Ezio is learning just how much hard work goes into being an Assassin.

When Uncle Mario first tells Ezio about their family legacy, of the eternal fight between Assassins and Templars, Ezio dismisses it as fantasy. But Mario has no reason to lie, and it does make a certain amount of sense, a generations-old feud full of backstabbing and treachery.

Every day, Ezio rises early and trains with Mario. It takes this rigorous exercise to realize just how much of Ezio’s survival so far has been up to chance and luck, the work of allies like Paola and their assistance. While Mario does not say so explicitly, Ezio is sure Paola is an Assassin as well – there is no other explanation for her connections and skills.

However, the remaining Auditore are not the only ones to take refuge in rural Tuscany; upon their arrival in Monterrigioni, Vieri de’ Pazzi and his men had attempted to finish what Uberto had started. Luckily Mario had showed up just in time, and so Vieri fled, to fight another day.

Ezio becomes intimately acquainted with Monterrigioni’s blacksmith, whose wares compliment and upgrade Ezio’s father’s old Assassin attire. There are a few other shops as well, among them an art merchant, but Ezio can’t bring himself to stop by there, not after leaving Leonardo behind without so much as a farewell. 

Leonardo. Ezio thinks of him often, of how he would flourish under the Tuscan sun, how he would paint the blue skies and the fields of red poppies and Ezio, above all things Ezio. Maybe he still does. Ezio does not know and tries to tell himself he doesn’t care.

After more than a year’s worth of hard training and minor assassination and intelligence missions, Mario declares Ezio ready; to hunt down Vieri, who has taken up residence in the heavily guarded San Gimignano. They ride at dawn, Mario and Ezio and a league of mercenaries, to make an end to Vieri and to send a message to his father Francesco: that the Assassins are back with a vengeance, and are coming for him next.

Vieri dies with a curse on his lips and without spilling any useful information. Ezio is angry, so angry that he kicks Vieri’s corpse, over and over, furious that he has spent over a year away from Leonardo only for so little to come of it. He is so blinded by rage that Mario has to step in and teach him the words that will follow Ezio all his life: requiescat in pace. Rest in peace.  

There is a larger goal for the Assassins too: the Codex pages, like the one Leonardo translated to repair Ezio’s blade, with the potential to lead them to a Piece of Eden, a powerful artefact that mustn’t fall into Templar hands. Mario is eager to meet this mysterious painter and translator from Vinci, and Ezio remains quiet, unable to convey that he doesn’t even know if Leonardo will ever see him again, let alone provide such a valuable service to the Assassins. Somehow, Ezio doubts a simple “I’m sorry” will suffice.

Why did Ezio leave so abruptly, like a thief in the night? Ezio doesn’t have an answer himself, only that he knows he would not have left if he had faced Leonardo in the morning. It is a poor excuse, he knows, and so he pours all of his emotions into training, into becoming stronger, a better Assassin, if he cannot be a better man.

Vieri, meanwhile, was only a minor accomplice in the malicious plans of his father. Francesco is still in Florence, and as it becomes clear that Ezio must seek him out there to follow the Templar conspiracy, he deliberates, citing more training and better weapons as an excuse to stay in Monterrigioni. But he cannot put returning to Florence off forever, and Mario increasingly makes jokes about kicking Ezio out until Ezio decides it is time. The prospect fills him with both excitement and anxiety – is Leonardo still in the city? Does his heart still belong to Ezio, even though he has done nothing to be worthy of it?

The roads (and by roads, Ezio means dirt paths) leading back to Florence are dusty and the ride arduous. Ezio perseveres regardless, fueled, if not by hate, then by the knowledge that the Assassins cannot allow Francesco to live, and that they need the Codex pages translated for the bigger mission at hand. He is half excited, half fearful, all nervous to knock on the workshop door again. What is the saying: a kiss with a fist is better than none?

The saying holds true, for the first time Ezio knocks on Leonardo’s door, he gets the door slammed in his face. A second time, he returns with flowers, to the same result. Ezio tries waiting at the bar where they last reconciled, to no avail. Leonardo is, so it seems, determined to keep Ezio at arm’s length – and Ezio can’t say that he doesn’t understand where the painter coming from.

Ultimately, Paola is Ezio’s saving grace. When Leonardo rejects him, he flees once more to the Rosa Colta, where Paola lends him a shoulder to cry on. Although the artist’s name never slips from his lips, Paola has fantastic intuition, and rightly guesses who Ezio is so broken up about. That, and the courtesans have started giggling behind his back.

Paola sends Ezio to the workshop on the guise of having Leonardo set up straw dummies for Ezio to practice assassination techniques on: from the air, from a ledge, hidden in a mass of hay. It is nothing Ezio hadn’t practiced in Monterrigioni, but he is grateful for the opportunity to see Leonardo, pretense or no.

This time, the door is not slammed in Ezio’s face. Leonardo lets him in with a terse nod, and Ezio pounces on the opportunity for conversation.

“Look at this place. The last two years have been kind to you.”

It is the worst possible thing Ezio could say, he sees it by the look on Leonardo’s face, equal parts angry and hurt. Leonardo quickly composes himself again.

“But you are not the same at all, are you?” Leonardo says, with a bitter smile.

Ezio is lost for words, and Leonardo waves him off into the courtyard. Ezio quickly breezes through the assassination practices and leaves, too ashamed to say anything further. Leonardo lets him go, and that stings as much as anything else.  

At the very least, Ezio is saved from drinking his body weight in wine by word of an intelligence mission: Paola has heard of a meeting of Francesco and his allies, although she does not know where. To find that out, Ezio is referred to a man mysteriously called “La Volpe”: the fox, who Paola claims knows all of the city’s goings-on.

At the Mercato Vecchio, where they are set to meet, Ezio is furious to discover a pick-pocket has relieved him of his coin purse; he chases him down, only for a tall figure to emerge. La Volpe definitely has a flair for the dramatic - and, ostensibly, knowledge of Ezio’s intimate relations with Leonardo.

“You are…or should I say were…a friend of Leonardo’s, no?” The tawny-haired Volpe grins, sunlight glinting off his sharp incisors.

Ezio coughs loudly, hoping to avoid the question. La Volpe just raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose you could say that,” Ezio finally gets out.

“If a man is judged by how he treats his friends, oh, Ezio Auditore, you are in trouble, indeed.” Volpe waggles his finger at Ezio in judgement.

Jealousy sparks in the pit of Ezio’s stomach as he wonders just how intimately acquainted La Volpe and Leonardo are. Then again, it’s not like he and Leonardo committed to each other, not with Ezio’s disappearing act the morning after…

“It is, as they say, Volpe…nothing is true, everything is permitted.”

Volpe shakes his head disapprovingly. “In our business, maybe, but Ezio, in love? A losing bet if I’ve ever seen one.”

Ezio, who is not used to being lectured like a child, being, as he is, a killer on multiple counts, pouts ever so slightly.

“That pout doesn’t work on me, caro. Nevertheless, enough talk: Francesco and his allies are meeting at Santa Maria Novella tomorrow at noon. Use the catacombs underneath the church to listen in on them, and you will be wiser than you are now.” La Volpe chuckles. “That is, if you are wise at all.”

Cheeks burning red, Ezio makes to turn and leave. Volpe, however, is on a roll. “Did you have a chance to meet Leonardo’s….assistant? Vicenzo?”

Nausea builds in Ezio, cresting into a wave of bone-crushing despair. He has no right to feel this way, he knows as much - not that it does much good.

“Just…make sure you knock next time you’re at the workshop, if you know what I mean.” La Volpe winks and disappears in a rustle of robes.

And Ezio, dejected as he is, is left standing alone on the rooftop, where he only narrowly avoids the arrow of one of the Florentine Guard’s archers. The archer is dispatched swiftly with a knife to the chest – Ezio feels the echo of the injury in his own.

Chapter Text

The catacombs underneath Santa Maria Novella are rank and dusty with things Ezio does not even want to think about entering his lungs. He did not expect quite so much of an Assassin's work to be so…down and dirty. He is a fool in many regards.

There is minimal security in the form of a few guards, who are no match for the newly trained, armored and beefed up Ezio.

The Templar meeting takes place in a shadowy cellar room, which Ezio overlooks from above, hidden from view. Francesco de’ Pazzi is there, along with his uncle Jacopo de’ Pazzi, a fellow referred to as Bernardo who seems to be an arms dealer, and a robed figured Ezio does not recognize. They speak of conspiracy, of taking over the city. There is mention of the Medici and the Duomo, but no specifics.

“Tomorrow a new sun rises over Florence.” Ezio shivers as the robed figure speaks and then disappears without a sound.

By the time Ezio emerges through the sewage gate by the river, La Volpe is already lying in wait. “What could you learn, Ezio?”

Ezio pauses for a moment, shaking the sewage waste loose from his boots before answering. La Volpe tuts impatiently. “Yes, you look amazing Ezio, now get to it!”

Ezio shares his admittedly limited knowledge, and La Volpe gasps quietly. “The Duomo…the Medici…they are planning to kill them at High Mass at the Duomo tomorrow! In front of the entire city!”

The thought, gruesome as it is, seems to fit what Ezio has overheard. The young assassin sighs, but is eager to formulate a plan. “With everyone in the city there, I can blend in and look for Francesco, to stop him before things get bloody.”

La Volpe looks doubtful, yet does not disagree. “Alright Ezio. Buona fortuna, good luck.” He is gone barely a second later, before Ezio can ask what he will be doing tomorrow. Well. Perhaps Volpe does not like letting someone peak at his cards.

Ezio returns to the Rosa Colta, eager to wash the dusty remains of the catacombs from his body. Paola is informed of the situation, and heads to her own chamber to plan and coordinate courtesans (who, she assures Ezio, are more than capable of wielding knives.)

There is a current of electricity running underneath Ezio’s skin, and it all concerns one person: Leonardo. Will he be at Mass tomorrow? Is he in danger? While Ezio has…seen Leonardo in positions of worship, Ezio is not at all sure about his church-going habits. He thinks of Vicenzo, and his throat closes off. Nevertheless, Leonardo’s life is more important than Ezio’s discomfort, and so Ezio makes his way out onto the darkening streets of Florence.

At Leonardo’s door Ezio pauses, trying to contain his emotions. Fear, protectiveness, anxiety, jealousy, heartbreak...how they all fit inside his own limited person, Ezio will never know. His hand moves forward, curling into a fist to knock, even as he apprehensively listens for voices inside.

It is, however, not some gorgeous lover of Leonardo’s who opens the door, but Leonardo himself. The surprise is evident on his face. “Ezio! I was not expecting you. Did you forget something here?” Leonardo’s voice is curt, polite, and it hurts, oh it hurts.

“Stay far away from the Duomo tomorrow. There are evil plots afoot, and it is not a safe place to be. I beg you, Leonardo.” The words hang pleadingly on Ezio’s lips.

“I see. Thank you for telling me, Ezio.” If Leonardo’s face is still closed off, at least he is not enraged at the sight of Ezio’s face, or engaging in more door-slamming.  

“Leonardo, do you need anything else?” The voice that comes from inside is unfamiliar to Ezio, and he instantly dreads the worst.

“No, Vicenzo, you are free to leave,” Leonardo says, a soft smile curving his lips.

Ezio’s eyebrows are raised sky high as he takes in Vicenzo: a balding, elderly gentleman who walks slightly stooped over. He squeezes and putters through the door with a little groan of pain, clutching his back.

“Is he….but you…no?” Ezio splutters.

Leonardo’s answering grin lights up his entire face. “No, we aren’t, most certainly not…but you know how La Volpe is. Nothing is true, everything is permitted, and so forth.”

Ezio cannot quite believe that he has been hoodwinked by Volpe when Leonardo’s grin fades.  The painter clears his throat.

“There…there has been someone, though. Several someones, really.” Ezio turns, is about to leave for good, cannot bear more of this pain, when Leonardo goes on.

“They are…distractions, at best, and nuisances, at worst. And, quite terribly, none of them can even hold a candle to you, no matter what I do.” This time Leonardo’s eyes are doing the pleading, and Ezio’s heart stutters in his chest.

“Leonardo. You are giving me emotional whiplash over here,” Ezio finally brings out, more breathily than he intended.

Leonardo face grows dark. “You’re not exactly one to talk, Ezio.”

“No, I’m really not,” Ezio acknowledges. He takes a step towards Leonardo, makes to touch his hand. Leonardo doesn’t pull away, which Ezio takes as encouragement, fully intertwining his rough, calloused hand with the painter’s soft one.

Leonardo swallows, the sound amplified by the silence between them. “Ezio, I…I can’t just forget the past two years. You have to give me time. I don’t know what will become of us, but if we are to have a chance, we need to take things slow.”

Ezio nods, pulling Leonardo’s hand to his mouth, kissing it softly, and letting it go. “Of course. Chi va piano, va sano e lontano. Those who go slow make it far.”

Leonardo smiles, which Ezio counts as a victory. “However, I cannot let you go into battle just like that.” And Leonardo leans in, softly kissing Ezio’s cheek. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Ezio has never been so close to being arrested due to inattentiveness than he is on his way back to the Rosa, floating as he is. Leonardo still has feelings for him, Leonardo has not replaced him! Surely if this is the case, they can make it work somehow…right?

Chapter Text

In the end, stopping the Medici slaughter goes about as smoothly as Ezio and Leonardo’s relationship; that is to say: not at all.

Ezio remembers it in flashes – the morning sun burning down on his shoulders, the desperation when he can’t locate Francesco in the throng of people heading for the Duomo for High Mass, the blood spurting from Giuliano de Medici’s chest as Francesco finally materializes and sinks his blade into Giuliano’s chest, over and over, a crazed expression on his face, shouting “Muori, muori, MUORI! Die, die, DIE!”, even as Giuliano begs for mercy.

Giuliano’s wife’s screams still echo in Ezio’s ears. He jumps into action to answer Lorenzo de Medici’s call for help, unable to save Giuliano but unwilling to lose another Medici to the Pazzi conspirators.

Still, twelve against one are not good odds, even for someone like Ezio, who has been training hard under the Tuscan sun in Monterrigioni for just such occasions.

When the dagger slices deep into his side, he barely feels it, not with the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He leaves it where it is, knowing it is better not to disturb the wound; he can take care of it later, after Francesco de’ Pazzi is dead.

More urgently, Lorenzo is losing a lot of blood from his neck wound and needs a doctor; they navigate the streets, filled as they are with the citizens of Florence battling the Florentine Guard, who are firmly under Pazzi control. Ezio only hopes to the high heavens that Leonardo is safely ensconced in his workshop, with a knife at the ready, just in case.

The Assassin hides the dagger sticking in his side underneath his cloak, knowing Lorenzo can’t have his protector collapse in front of him. Lorenzo tasks him with killing Francesco and word reaches them that the Pazzi conspirators have stormed the Palazzo della Signoria, which Ezio remembers well from having visited his imprisoned father there. It’s a raw wound of a memory, the last time he spoke with his father, and it’s starting to cloud his judgement. He wants Francesco to hurt, to hurt like he did, does, and probably always will.

What may disrupt that plan, however, is that Ezio is starting to feel his actual wound more and more. But what options does he have? He could go to Poliziano, who patched up Lorenzo quite well – only that would be revealing his weakness to Lorenzo, who he does not yet trust enough to see the human side of the Assassin that Ezio has become.

Should he die – and really, what does he even know of human anatomy? certainly not enough to estimate this wound’s fatality – he needs to make sure Francesco isn’t far behind.

Ezio is grateful that he warned Leonardo; the city is in utter mayhem as he staggers towards the Palazzo. The climb up the tower dislodges the dagger, and blood spurts from the jagged incision. Ezio quickly makes use of his cloak to staunch the bleeding; it will have to do for now.

The guards are not as quickly dispatched as they would have been if Ezio were not wounded, yet it is only a matter of time before they too fall.

Francesco, now unguarded and alone, flees, jumping down the Pallazzo della SIgnoria into a stack of hay. Ezio follows him, flinching with the impact, holding his side. Yet the day has taken its toll on Francesco as well, and the Templar dies much like his son did – without spilling any information, only cursing the Assassin to hell.

Ezio whispers a soft requiescat in pace…and looks down to see that his makeshift bandage has soaked through entirely with blood. A flash of fear runs through him. He sees Jacopo de’ Pazzi fleeing the scene on horse, clearly rattled by the citizens who have retrieved Francesco’s body, undressed him, and hung him from a noose, cheering. Ezio is in no position to follow him, and so he lets him go. For now. Hopefully only for now.

As a jarring pain starts to set in, Ezio has only one thought: Leonardo. There are others, other Assassins and allies who can continue the fight against the Templars should Ezio fall, he is sure – the cause would mourn him briefly, of course, but it would continue. What of Leonardo’s feelings if Ezio dies?

One thing is sure: if Ezio is to succumb to his injury, he wants Leonardo to be the last face he sees. Damn Uncle Mario, who had always said that Ezio left his side too open in combat; Ezio wishes he didn’t have to learn this lesson the hard way.

By the time he reaches Leonardo’s door, his hands, pressed tightly to the wound, are drenched in blood, and his legs are wobbling beneath him. Ezio barely manages to call out Leonardo’s name before he collapses.

Chapter Text

When Ezio comes to, there’s a wet cloth resting on his forehead and a soft bed beneath him. He is, this much he knows, in Leonardo’s private chambers – and alive, at that. Ezio grins as he takes it all in – his continued existence, the ability to follow the Assassins’ cause further, and most of all, the chance to win back Leonardo’s affections.

What Ezio is not expecting, however, is a resounding slap to his face, delivered by the painter himself. He sputters indignantly at Leonardo, who is glowering at him from above, arms now crossed over his chest.

Ezio pouts. He had hoped for a little less brutal reaction to his recovery, not to get slapped, of all things. It could, of course, also be some lingering resentment, which Ezio could understand. Still, strange timing. “You hit the wounded now?”

Leonardo’s glower does not weaken. “I hit idiots, like yourself! What were you thinking, Ezio?! I am no doctor, you could have died on my doorstep!”

Ezio shrugs. “You play around with corpses too much not to have at least some knowledge of anatomy.”

Maybe that will come off better than if I had died I would have wanted it to be in your arms. Ezio does not want to squash the tender beginnings of their reconciliation with such big declarations.  

“Yes, exactly, Ezio, corpses! You can’t exactly kill a corpse AGAIN!”

In spite of everything, Ezio has to chuckle a bit at Leonard’s righteous outrage. The artist’s nostrils briefly flare, but then his face softens considerably. “Next time, I’ll leave you lying there, just you watch, bastardo!”

Suddenly, Ezio doubles over, clutching his wound, which has been neatly bandaged.

Leonardo lurches forward, face full of concern, and Ezio uses his momentum to pull the artist into bed with him. Leonardo swats his arm when he realizes this is a false alarm - not that it stops him from pressing a kiss to the Assassin’s forehead. “You really scared me, Ezio.”

Ezio has the good grace to look bashful. “The Templars came prepared. Next time, I will do better.” He wisely does not mention taking on twelve members of the Florentine Guard at once. Somehow, he does not think that Leonardo would appreciate it at the present moment.

Unencumbered by this knowledge, Leonardo’s eyes light up. “When I was….undressing you - to take care of your wound! -  I found more Codex pages. May I translate them, or did you have someone else in mind?”

As loaded as the question is, Ezio is sure to tread carefully. “Knock yourself out, caro.”

Luckily, Leonardo decides to stay in bed with Ezio while analyzing the pages, leaving Ezio to run his fingers softly through his lover’s hair. After an hour or so of comfortable silence, Leonardo’s body stiffens as he looks at the Assassin.

“Ezio. These pages, they are an upgrade for your blade. An upgrade that could have saved your life at the Duomo, made sure you were never injured so badly. Why did you not come to me with them at once?”

Ezio looks at Leonardo warily. “Would you have seen me, when I first returned to Florence?”

Leonardo’s face falls. “Perhaps not. Mi dispiace Ezio - I am sorry. I would never have endangered your life like this if I had known.”

Ezio shushes the painter. “Could have, would have…let’s not dwell on possibilities. I did not guard my side, as I should have, but I am alright, thanks to you, and that is all that matters: that I am here with you.”

It is as close to a love declaration as Ezio will let himself get, and the effect of it on Leonardo is radiant.  

There has been no shortage of kisses between the two men – rough, soft, desperate, languid -  this, however, is a new kind of kiss: tentative and certain all at once, an unspoken oath, saying: I am here for you, and I will be, for as long as you will have me.

When the kisses grow deeper and Ezio is reaching to pull Leonardo’s tunic over his head, the artist wriggles away from Ezio. “We should not. You are injured, you need to recover.”

Ezio protests, pulling Leonardo back against him, nosing at his neck. “It is because I am injured that we should. Show me what I am fighting for.”

The challenge hangs in the air, until Leonardo grins impishly. “Getting your heartbeat up could be good for regeneration…”

Ezio is not one to argue with a professional.

Chapter Text

Leonardo loves watching Ezio sleep.

It’s a cliché, and a little creepy if he thinks too long about it…yet there is something about the slack contours of the Assassin’s face that reminds Leonardo of the boy who’d cornered him at the bar nearly three years ago. 

What’s more, it’s a picture that won’t last, even if Leonardo were to sketch it – and he has, oh, he has, over and over. Still, Ezio is constantly slipping through his fingers, be it by running away to Monterrigioni, risking his life on the steps of the Duomo, or going wherever else this hunt for justice and revenge will lead him next.

Ezio spends his life running through the shadows, and Leonardo can’t seem to catch up. He is, at most, an aspiring inventor, one who will upgrade Ezio’s blade, but never wield one like it himself.

Sometimes it scares him, that this is how Ezio lives – and sometimes, well, it turns him on. Life is odd like that.  

La Volpe has sent word that Lorenzo de Medici is looking for Ezio, and Leonardo knows what that means – more Templars to hunt down, more opportunities for Ezio to get hurt, far away from where Leonardo can reach him. Is this the life he is going to lead, always being the one left behind?

Over the years, Ezio has grown from a handsome boy into a beautiful man, and sometimes Leonardo can still hardly believe his luck. As a painter, he thrives off of the energies of others, and he has never met anyone quite as stunning as the Assassin curled up in his bed, drooling onto his pillow.

As if on cue, Ezio snorts sleepily, raising his head automatically to look for Leonardo when he senses that the artist is no longer beside him. Leonardo gives in to temptation and slips back into bed, where Ezio gladly cuddles against him, dropping the occasional lazy kiss on Leonardo’s bare chest.

The promise of lazy morning sex hangs in the air as Ezio’s hands wander lower, and Leonardo laughs breathlessly. “Is your side not hurting from last night’s activities?”

Ezio makes his way back up to Leonardo’s level from where he had been kissing his way down to the painter’s navel. The Assassin is sporting a cocky grin. “It’s not my wound that’s throbbing, if you get my drift.”

Leonardo is loath to interrupt, even for someone as important as Lorenzo de Medici. But then Ezio’s mouth envelops him, and Leonardo thinks oh, well, Lorenzo can wait an hour. Or three.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As much as Leonardo wishes to put it off forever, Ezio does eventually get dressed to meet Lorenzo. When he returns, his face is somber; it’s a strange look on Ezio. Joy, fierceness, desire, even anguish – he wears those well. This look does not suit him at all.

“Lorenzo gave me a list, of Pazzi co-conspirators. One of them should lead me to Jacopo de Pazzi.”

It is a new lead, new, like the cloak Ezio is now wearing – a Medici token, no doubt. Leonardo suddenly feels possessive, and wants nothing more than to claim Ezio for his, to keep him forever in his arms. But Ezio wasn’t built for cages, no matter how artfully painted.

“They are scattered all across Tuscany.”

Another fact, another crack in Leonardo’s heart. It shouldn’t be possible to live with this feeling, even though it is – Leonardo got a taste of it the years Ezio was gone. He can’t say he enjoys it.

“Come with me.”

The sentence is largely spoken without inflection, which only makes the emotion going into it more evident. Ezio’s face is a mask – not that it is well maintained. Slivers of emotion break through, though they are conflicting enough that Leonardo can't make them out clearly. 

For a second, just one second, Leonardo entertains the thought. And then dismisses it.

“Me? I’ll get myself killed - or worse, you. It’s no life for me.”

Just because it’s true doesn’t make it hurt any less. Leonardo is a behind the scenes man, finessing the instruments of killing, pulling the strings...but he is no Assassin. 

Ezio bows his head, and lets out a guttural sound, his fist connecting with the scaffolding on the wall. It crumples, and Leonardo doesn’t want this to be a metaphor.

Carefully, but not scared, Leonardo steps toward Ezio, gathers him up in his arms, smaller though he may be. Ezio lets himself be held, clings to him like there’s nothing else in the world holding him up. And maybe there isn’t. Ezio has lost a lot for someone so young.

As if he’s waking from a dream, Ezio lets go of Leonardo, shaking his head from side to side. It hurts the artist more than he can say.

Ezio, from the looks of it, is collecting himself.

“I will go to Monterrigioni, to Uncle Mario’s, first. Maybe these conspirators will also lead us to this Spaniard I have heard talk of, the hooded figure I saw at Santa Maria Novella. Mario will know more.”

Shop talk. The bitter taste of blood fills Leonardo’s mouth, and he only now realizes he was biting his tongue.

“Then you must go there.” Leonardo hesitates, and then throws caution into the wind.  “This time…don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“I promise I won’t.”

The words hold true – not that it makes watching Ezio’s back as he leaves any easier.  

Chapter Text

“Leonardo!”

Joy bubbles in Leonardo’s chest as he hears Ezio’s voice after months of solitude.

He turns, ready to embrace Ezio, public be damned, when Ezio lets out what can only be described as a gurgle. Over his shoulder, a hooded figure grins maliciously, yanking the blade out of Ezio’s throat, leaving the Assassin to crumple to the ground, blood streaming from his neck.

Leonardo wakes with a jolt, drenched in sweat and more than a bit disoriented. The dreams have been becoming more vivid the longer Ezio is away, and he has yet to find a remedy. 

Antonio Maffei. Francesco Salviati. Stefano da Bagnone. Bernardo Baroncelli.

Leonardo had learned the names of the Pazzi co-conspirators that Ezio is hunting from La Volpe – it doesn’t exactly calm his anxious mind, but Leonardo says the names before he goes to sleep at night, like a prayer, hoping most ardently that Ezio kills them quickly and without any injury that prevents him from returning to Florence.

It’s been too long since he’s held the Assassin in his arms, felt him smile against his lips as they kissed and felt the stretch of Ezio inside him as they fucked.

Volpe had suggested Leonardo find a paramour for the time Ezio is gone. Leonardo had recoiled at the very thought, and is surprised by this in retrospect, by how easily he has become Ezio’s and Ezio’s alone. It still doesn’t make the lonely nights any easier.

Months drag into a year, a year becomes two, and Leonardo remains alone. It’s not like the last time, he tries to tell himself, bile rising in his throat. And yet it feels remarkably the same.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ezio hunts the conspirators with the single-minded focus he usually dedicates to, well, loving Leonardo.

These men are no Uberto, or even Vieri – they are surrounded by masses of guards and more than willing to fight back. Ezio acquires new scars, rips open old ones, and most of all, thinks of Leonardo, and the ever more pressing question of how to reconcile his line of work with that of his lover.

Like Leonardo said, the Assassin’s life is not one for him – but Ezio cannot imagine any other path for himself anymore.

Mario welcomes him back to Monterrigioni with open arms, teaches Ezio ever more difficult skills, and most vitally, informs him that the Spaniard - that mysterious figure with the commandeering presence that Ezio had encountered at Santa Maria Novella – is in fact Rodrigo Borgia, the Templar Order’s Grandmaster.

There is again talk of the Pieces of Eden… not that Ezio pays it much attention; Assassins and Templars are one thing, ominous talk of a Prophet to come quite another. Ezio has a list of men to send to their death and he intends to do just that. The rest can surely wait. And, hopefully, lead him back to Florence eventually.

He feels Leonardo’s absence like a thorn in his side – a constant scraping against the very fabric of his existence. Ezio finds himself looking for Leonardo even in places he cannot logically be, and startles every time he sees a flash of blue eyes or a red beret on some unsuspecting villager.

When he finally tracks down Jacopo de’ Pazzi, it is a trap, leading him straight into the arms of Rodrigo Borgia, who trumps him not just in that regard, but also by leaving Jacopo on death’s doorstep.

Ezio manages to kill the last Pazzi conspirator as an act of mercy…though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t take some pleasure from ridding the world of the family that had plotted so maliciously against his own.

Still, Ezio barely escapes with his life – a much too frequent occurrence on this particular mission. He is overjoyed when Mario suggests returning to Florence to update Lorenzo de Medici on the situation…though there is a sparkle in Mario’s remaining eye that hints at the fact that his uncle may know more than he is letting on.

And, judging by Mario’s closeness with his friend Antonio, it seems that uncle and nephew may have similar issues regarding their hearts.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ezio returns to Florence in the spring of 1480, with the cherry blossoms blooming and even the dust of the road unable to dim his excitement.

His heart is in his mouth as he knocks on Leonardo’s door. There is, however, no answer. Reasoning that Leonardo is probably at the market, or painting some nobleman or the other, Ezio hurriedly quells the rising panic in his chest.

It is, however, not helped by the chuckle from behind him.

Even without turning, Ezio knows it is La Volpe. Who else takes it upon themselves to know Florence’s business at every corner, traversing the shadows like he is one himself? With much trepidation, Ezio faces what could be his doom.

“Do you know where Leonardo is?” Ezio's words are gruff, and as per usual, a poor mask for his real feelings.

La Volpe grins broadly, looking much like his namesake fox. “Leonardo has gone. Some rich Venetian has paid him to uproot his entire workshop, and he went. Took some convincing, but he went.”

Ezio feels like the ground has been ripped out from under him. “He…left? Just left?” Yes, it’s true, Ezio is headed for Venice as well, has been planning on it ever since there was word of growing Templar influence there…but Leonardo did not know that when he abandoned Florence, Florence and…Ezio.

La Volpe pouts theatrically. “Did you expect him to wait around forever, oh clever Assassin?”

Ezio throws himself into the throng of people on the street like a man drowning. Barely blinking back tears, he heads for a travel merchant’s stand, wishing more than anything that he did not have to go to Venice, where he is bound to run into Leonardo…who does not want him anymore. For who could want and wait for someone as broken and incomplete as Ezio?

He should have known Leonardo would leave him sooner or later.

Chapter Text

As fate will have it, Ezio does end up running into Leonardo in the Mountains.

All roads lead to Rome, but apparently, only one leads to Venice from Florence. Ezio is wearing dark, non-descript travel clothes, with his hood pulled deep into his face. By all accounts, Leonardo ought not recognize him.

Ezio, however, did not reckon with his rambunctious horse, which seems to sense Ezio’s discomfort and begins neighing, loudly, stopping in its tracks.

Leonardo’s head snaps around from where he is trying - in vain - to free his cart’s back wheel from a rather large stone that seems to have smashed the lower spokes.  His eyes widen perceptibly as he takes in Ezio.

The Assassin, meanwhile, has half a mind to give up his line of work and to pursue a lowkey career in something harmless, like baking, far away from Venice, when Leonardo speaks.

“Ezio. I was not expecting to see you here.”

There is something like hope in his voice, and Ezio wants to spur his horse and never look back. But the Mountains are dangerous even with reliable transportation, and he can’t just leave Leonardo stranded with a broken wheel.  

 Leonardo seems to have the same thought. “Can you lift the wheel for me? I can fix it, but I can’t lift it alone.”

Ezio warily dismounts, eyeing up the cart. There is generous room for whatever contraptions Leonardo is bringing to Venice, whatever exactly it is he has been working on these past two years.

Suddenly, the impossible situation hits Ezio all over again and it’s like a physical punch to the face, their love, the distance, that damn irreconcilable distance… here they are, headed to the same place, yet they’ve never been further apart.

Leonardo bites his lip, a single slip in his otherwise unreadable visage. How is he so much better at this than Ezio?

“I…I’ve missed you, Ezio.” It’s too little, too late, but Ezio is willing to cling to anything that Leonardo is ready to offer him.

“As have I.”

It’s the truth, and still admitting it feels like more than Ezio can take. Ezio, who still has no control over his emotions, even after all these years. Their gazes melt into each other, hesitant and curious and so, so familiar.

In retrospect, Ezio doesn’t know who moved first – all he knows is that he is holding and kissing Leonardo as if there is no tomorrow – and for all he knows, there isn’t. He takes Leonardo roughly against the side of the cart, relishes in the painter’s unabashed pleasure, aches to relearn the language of Leonardo’s body…as if he could ever forget.

They are in in plain sight of the road, but it is not a well-traveled road, much to their luck.

Ezio is still inside Leonardo when the painter sighs, a sharp contrast to his earlier bliss. “We should not have done this.”

The Assassin stiffens, and makes haste to peel himself off Leonardo. “Some mixed messages you’re sending here.”

Leonardo frowns. “This…was never our problem.”

Ezio is breaking apart all over again, and he just doesn’t want this to be over, despite the shitty odds and the distance and every mission that takes him away from Leonardo. He fumbles for words, struggling to find any worth Leonardo’s time.

“I’ll always come back for you.” He throws all he is into the words, not knowing if it will even make a dent.

“I don’t know if that’s enough for me.” Leonardo’s mouth is a thin line, and really, it should be a crime, for Leonardo not to be smiling and joyous.

Ezio is about to launch into a long-winding monologue with all sorts of embarrassing confessions….when the first fiery arrow hits the cart.

The Assassin has the presence of mind to extinguish it with his cloak before it can spread, but the message is clear. They are no longer alone.

Leonardo’s eyes are fearful and wide. “Who is it?”

“Rodrigo Borgia’s men. Quick, hide inside the cart. I will drive.”

Ezio does just that, can already hear approaching hoof steps. Only lucky for them they didn’t come, say, ten minutes earlier. At least now, they stand a chance. And Ezio will be damned if he lets Rodrigo’s men capture them. At breakneck speed, he urges the horses through the bends of the Mountain paths.

Leonardo, whether he wants Ezio or not, at least needs to be alive to make that decision.

Chapter Text

The Spaniard’s men, it turns out, are the least of Ezio’s troubles.

They aren’t the brightest bunch, in Ezio’s opinion, are not sure enough of aim in this Mountain terrain; they fall and stumble down ravines and off the cart that they are so determinedly pursuing as Ezio makes sharp turns at every chance. Still, there are many of them, and numbers do matter.

In a lull between attacks, Ezio makes an executive decision. “Leonardo! Take the reins! I will stall them so you can escape to safety.”

Leonardo opens his mouth, as if to argue, only for another fiery arrow to fly past his ear. He nods grimly.

However, he does hesitate before taking the reins, squeezing Ezio’s hand, gently but firmly. “Ezio…don’t let this be the end. Meet me in Forlì, by the ferry to Venezia. We can…maybe there is a way...” His voice breaks. 

“Yes, Leonardo. See you soon.” Ezio knows without a doubt that his words are true; he has never been able to lie to Leonardo. Not that he hasn’t hurt him over the years…but subterfuge was never any part of that.

Ezio takes a breath, jumps off the cart and switches into full-on Assassin mode: assessing weaknesses, cutting at flesh, slashing throats if it means he lives another day. Soon his enemies’ bodies are scattered across the Mountain paths and Ezio is hurrying away before the wild wolves descend.

Forlì is quaint and as grey as the skies above. Leonardo is waiting for him by the docks, and is visibly relieved to see that Ezio is unharmed. He gives Ezio a once over, freezing when he sees the fresh flecks of blood that nicely blend into Ezio’s dark clothes.

“Is that…are you -?”

Ezio laughs with his entire body, still riding high on the adrenaline of battle. “Not my blood. You should see the other guys. Well, what’s left of them.”

Leonardo lets out a breath of relief…but the respite is temporary.

“We still have things to talk about. Earlier…earlier was not exactly conducive to that.”

Ezio eyes the painter warily, and maybe just a little bit haughtily. “Conducive or not, we are good together. We always have been.” Always will be. But Ezio does not dare speak the words.

A flurry of emotions crosses Leonardo’s face, finally settling on a frown. “So…so what?”

Ezio is taken aback, and falls back a step. Leonardo’s voice builds to a crescendo.

“So you go after Rodrigo Borgia, and don’t pretend, Ezio, I know you will, and then what? Will you truly come home from it? Won’t there always be another Templar to hunt? Where does this all end for you?”

Ezio lets his head hang miserably.

“Don’t you think it tears me apart to be these two things at once, not knowing how to combine them? Maybe we are… water and oil, in the end.” Even as he says it, Ezio’s eyes are begging Leonardo to disagree.

The artist swallows, clearly overwhelmed. When he continues it is in a more quiet, hushed tone - not that this makes his words any less urgent.

“Do you expect me to spend my life waiting around for you to spend a night with me every two years? I’m only human, Ezio. I can’t live like this.”

Ezio’s hands curl into despairing fists at his sides. “So what do you expect me to do? To quit avenging my family, to settle for…an ordinary life?”

Leonardo recoils. “It is no more than you expect of me.”

“It is different! You could never be anything but extraordinary! You have your art, your inventions, you… and me, without a blade, I am nothing!”

The painter smiles, bittersweetly. “I didn’t fall in love with a blade.”

There it is. The unspoken truth of what they have. Ezio feels numb and more alive than he ever has all at once. This is a time for treading softly, for…acknowledging his feelings for Leonardo. And hell if Ezio hasn’t loved Leonardo from the start.

“Can’t we just…be, as we are, right now? I…I love you too much to let you go.” Ezio can barely believe he’s spoken the words; there’s no taking them back now.

Leonardo’s face softens, and he steps towards Ezio, cradling his cheek in his hand, the other hand on the nape of Ezio’s neck.

“Took you long enough, you idiot.”

Ezio smiles, despite everything, despite this horrible, horrible situation…and Leonardo returns it, tenfold. The kiss they share is soft and unrushed – for once, there is no imminent threat, no bounty on Ezio’s head (or at least, no more than usual).

“Leonardo I…I’m not a good bet. Chances are, I won’t make it to thirty, not with this lifestyle…but I love you with everything I have, everything I am. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?” Ezio is desperate, his voice tinged with a fierceness that he has never displayed in battle.

“Yes, maybe….maybe. Maybe you are right, and we should take it…one day at a time. We are headed to the same place, after all, the universe can’t be entirely wrong about us, can it?”

Ezio kisses Leonardo, kisses him until his lips feel raw and his knees weak. Damn the painter, for having this effect on him. Ezio doesn’t think there’s anything in the world quite like it.  

Suddenly, someone behind them clears their throat.

“Ferry to Venezia?”

Chapter Text

Leonardo, so Ezio learns, has a bit of a sweet tooth. It’s one of the things Ezio hasn’t had the time to pick up on so far, and he enjoys knowing it all the more, sneaking out at dawn to the baker’s by the canal right outside Leonardo’s new workshop. 

He always makes sures to be back before Leonardo can notice his absence. There is something so beautiful about slipping back into bed to a soft and pliant Leonardo, who reaches for Ezio even when otherwise lost to the world.

Ezio holds him, lets himself be held, and wonders…is this happiness? And if so…how long will it last? Yet for the moment, it is so easy to lose himself in Leonardo. Ezio can’t get enough of it, of him, of this togetherness.

The painter is not a morning person by any estimation – still, the crinkle of a pastry bag can get his attention, promising almond cakes and lemon tarts and whatever else Ezio can get his hands on.

It’s not that their life is suddenly without danger - the Assassin still sleeps with a knife beside the bed, would perhaps be a fool not to, but what Venice offers them is an unprecedented amount of time together.

Leonardo’s work is flourishing, mainly the construction of some godforsaken contraption meant to let a person fly…and Ezio, Ezio walks with a spring in his step and a confidence that only comes from being well and truly loved, and not from, well, stabbing people for a living.

As Ezio had suspected, Venice is a hub of Templar entanglements, and it takes him a while to get a grasp on things. After staking out the Palazzo della Seta in the San Polo district for several nights, Ezio sees a familiar face – Emilio Barbarigo, he learns, who was among the Spaniard’s men when Ezio tracked Jacopo de’ Pazzi.

The Palazzo is heavily guarded, even though Ezio itches to infiltrate it and get his hands on some Templar documents. He finds out just how heavily guarded one Wednesday, when he is observing the comings and goings, looking for an opening.

Apparently someone else has had the same thought: Ezio watches, fascinated, as a bedraggled troop of men and women attempts to make it past the brutes guarding the Palazzo. A dark-haired woman tries to scale the building, only to be shot down by archers.

Ezio knows now is the time to step in: reaching for his sword, hidden blade as ready as ever, he fights his way through to the woman, who has been shot through the leg. He debates introducing himself when she shouts at him to help her already, which he takes as permission to assist her away from the scene.

Her name is Rosa, and Ezio admires her courage. It takes a lot to undertake a storming of the Palazzo della Seta… whether it is bravery or idiocy exactly, Ezio is not sure, toeing the line as much as he does himself. Ezio has half a mind to take her to Leonardo, but Rosa has other plans, seeking refuge and medical help with the Guild of Thieves that she belongs to.

The Assassin sees them as natural allies and promises to stay in touch….even if Giorgio, the leader of the Thieves, calls Ezio’s work in Florence unrefined. What does he know, after all?

At the end of the day, however, Ezio returns home to Leonardo, telling him the tale of his day with all the appropriate gesticulations it requires. Leonardo has that expression Ezio has come to notice more and more, one he wants to describe as bliss. Still, a little shadow of doubt crosses the painter’s visage.

“You know, for a moment there, I was…not jealous, but worried. I’m sure this… Rosa… is quite beautiful. Daring, too. Probably not one to hide away when the Spaniard’s men are in pursuit with arrows and fire.”

Ezio grabs Leonardo’s hand, kissing his knuckles, which are still splattered with paint from the day’s work.

“She’s got nothing on you, Leonardo.”

For once, Ezio thinks Leonardo believes him. Nothing could make him happier.

Leonardo cards a hand through Ezio’s hair, pausing briefly as he notices its length. “Ezio…perhaps it is time to mark this new beginning with a change? Shorter hair, perhaps?”

It had been on Ezio’s mind anyways, this impractical long hair of his, easy for an enemy to grab on to. And so he sits in Leonardo’s chair, bathed in candlelight, as his lover snips and cuts, humming happily to himself.

If he looks back on his life, Ezio think it’s maybe the happiest he ever was.

Chapter Text

As Ezio’s days become longer and longer with all the work he is doing for the Guild of Thieves, Leonardo grows restless. Rather often Ezio comes home to an empty workshop, and doesn’t see Leonardo until the early hours of the morning, when he sneaks into bed without a word. 

Ezio tries not to pry, but he is seriously worried that he is losing his boyfriend. Any attempt to speak about it is immediately ignored by Leonardo, who huffily responds with “What? I can’t have a life as well? Only you are allowed extracurriculars?”

This hardly seems fair – the few nights Ezio spends with Rosa and Giorgio are a mixture of business and pleasure, filled with wine as much as with infiltration plots.

And so Ezio, to his own shame, ends up snooping after his boyfriend. He takes one night off from Assassin work, instead observing the workshop.

Leonardo leaves at sundown, heading for the Dorsoduro district. Nothing particularly suspicious per se, except the painter keeps looking behind him, as if he’s anticipating Ezio’s move. Sometimes Ezio hates how transparent he is. The Assassin slinks after Leonardo, hood pulled up high, blending seamlessly with the crowds.

It is almost Carnevale, and there are more visitors than ever in Venezia. It gives Ezio good cover as he trails Leonardo, his heart in his mouth.

The building that Leonardo makes his way into is very, very evidently a brothel, made clear by the scantily clad men and women loitering by its entrance. Ezio feels as though someone has pierced his chest with a blade, hidden or not. Is Leonardo cheating on him? Is that why he’s been so distant?

Only one way to tell. Ezio ignores the catcalls from the courtesans and enters the building. The interior is dark and subdued, very fitting to its function. There are, however, countless doors to choose from – how is Ezio meant to find Leonardo?

A woman approaches him, dressed in a lowcut dress but walking with an air of authority and, oddly, a nun's shawl that differentiates her from her employees. “Can I help you, Signore?”

“I’m looking for my – for Leonardo. The painter. Have you seen him?”

“I am Sister Teodora, I know everything that goes on here. What are you to him, that you seek him?”

Ezio frowns. “I’m his…we are…”

Sister Teodora’s eyebrows climb ever higher.

“His…” Ezio takes a breath. “His boyfriend, his lover, his significant other! I’m not in the habit of explaining what we it is we have to strangers! Now, will you tell me where I can find him or do I need to break down every single door in this establishment?!”

Ezio’s voice has risen, and suddenly, a door down the corridor opens, Leonardo’s familiar red beret sticking out of the doorframe.

“Ezio? Is that you? Did you…did you follow me?”

The Assassin is about to start justifying himself when a slender young man emerges from behind Leonardo. Shirtless. The dread that had been setting in on Ezio’s journey to Dorsoduro manifests, forming a vice grip around his innards.

Leonardo doesn’t even have the good grace to look ashamed.

Ezio smiles coldly. “I’ll have my things out of the workshop by tonight. Have a nice life, Leonardo.” He shoves his way past Teodora, who has been watching them with the knowing look of someone who sees such scenes more often than not.

A hand reaches for Ezio’s shoulder as he tries to escape across the Piazza outside from this horrible, horrible sight.

“Ezio! It’s not what it looks like!”

Ezio snorts angrily. “Because I didn’t leave you enough time to get undressed as well, Leonardo?”

“Marco…he…he’s a friend. We used to….yes, but, now, we just, we talk about art, and culture! Nothing has happened.” Yet hangs in the air.

Ezio can’t believe he thought they were happy. When did Leonardo start to slip away, when did things start to fall apart?

“He’s…it’s not exactly conventional work, what he does, but neither is yours now, is it?”

Ezio is growing well and truly furious. “So this is what it comes down to? My work? We live together Leonardo, how could you not tell me you were seeing an ex-lover? Did you not think I would notice you growing distant? Were you just waiting to see if something better had come along to dump me?”

Leonardo shakes his head, but the gesture is futile. “Ezio I…. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just…you have the Thieves, Rosa and Giorgio…and I wanted something for myself as well. So when Marco wrote me, I decided to meet him and… it’s been good. I just didn’t know how to tell you, and you’ve been gone so much…”

“Planning the downfall of Barbarigo! You’re the one who’s gone when I come home!”

Leonardo’s eyes flash. “Yes, Ezio, maybe I didn’t want to be the one sitting around at home waiting for you for once!”

Ezio’s mouth is a thin, thin line. “I think your problem is not with me, Leonardo, but with yourself. I’ll be at Rosa and Giorgio’s for the time being. You…you figure things out. What you want, and what you need. I’m tired.”

Leonardo doesn’t follow Ezio, and oh, that hurts. Ezio knows himself, knows, given the chance, he will slink back to Leonardo like a dog with its tail between its legs. But for tonight, let him pretend.

Chapter Text

The first thing Ezio does at Rosa and Giorgio’s is get lost in their wine stash. It’s not one of his better coping mechanisms, what with ending up on the floor sobbing about just wanting Leonardo back with him, but things are what they are.

Unfortunately, things are still very much the same when Ezio wakes up, hungover, alone, and properly miserable. Moreover, Rosa takes no mercy on his state of mind, dead set on showing him her climb leap technique so they can get on with getting rid of Emilio Barbarigo.

Ezio’s body groans and protests, not giving an inch. Still, at the end of the day, Rosa is satisfied with his progress, slow as it may have been. She also subtly suggests that there are groups for people who deal with problems with alcohol in the city. Ezio vows to work on his issues… although he has no idea how. But it is much easier to think about these things with a clear head and, well, less vomiting.

Another night passes, and no Leonardo. Ezio is painfully, painfully sober, and is thinking all sorts of horrible thoughts. Does Leonardo still love him? Why did Ezio have to follow him? Is this the end of the line?

The next day, Ezio is busy fetching uniforms for when the Thieves plan to sneak into the Palazzo de la Seta. Like before all assassination missions, there is a fire thrumming under Ezio’s skin, equal parts adrenaline and fear. What if Ezio doesn’t make it out of the Palazzo alive?

Ezio knows he doesn’t exactly lead a very cautious life, to say the least, but to go out with unresolved issues between him and Leonardo? The thought isn’t a pleasant one.

The young Assassin is pacing the Thieves’ headquarters, prompting Rosa to toss crumpled up balls of parchment at him, when there is a knock on the door. Ezio’s head snaps up, mouth suddenly dry. Rosa rolls her eyes at his ineptitude, and makes to shove Ezio to the door. It isn’t necessary, in the end, not that that makes Ezio appreciate it any less.

It is, indeed, Leonardo. Wearing his thoughtful, borderline puppy dog expression that he only gets when something is truly troubling him. Ezio steps outside, where he and Leonardo walk a few steps next to the canal in silence.

“Ezio, I….I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I wanted to, but….I didn’t know if you would see me, and thought perhaps I better give you some time to…digest. And I…I needed some time to think as well.”

Ezio nods stiffy, but inside, his heart is singing. Leonardo still cares about him, at least enough to seek him out. Ezio is hit by a fierce desire to make things right, take it what it may.

“I am sorry Ezio I-“ “Leonardo I have to apologize-”

They both break off, having interrupted each other, and chuckle. Leonardo waves his hand. “You go first, Ezio.”

“I jumped to conclusions. I shouldn’t have…I should have settled things between us, not followed you. I was just so scared of losing you, I didn’t know what to do.”

Leonardo’s nose crinkles. “I am at fault as well. I should not have been so secretive. There was nothing to hide, and I acted like there was. I just…sometimes I worry, whether we are going to make it, the two of us. Whether the years will be kind to us, whether there will be years…”

Ezio grips Leonardo’s face in his hands, expression determined. “We will make it through. I believe it. The years will make us stronger.”

Leonardo sighs, but there is a slight smile on his lips a second later. “I suppose only time will tell… and trust. Ezio, we need to trust each other more. I am entitled to my own life as well.”

The Assassin nods, abashed. “No more snooping. I promise.”

“I am glad we agree. Because Ezio, I would give my last breath for you.”

Ezio’s heart is thumping sloppily in his chest, gripped by something he doesn’t even have words to name. “And I for you.”

“Now kiss, you idiots!!”

The two turn around with surprise, to see Rosa hanging out the window, clearly eavesdropping, wearing her trademark mischievous smile.

Leonardo grins at Ezio. “You heard the lady.”

Ezio rolls his eyes, but this is Rosa, who means so, so well, and besides, it was his next move anyways. So he leans in close to Leonardo, enough to see those brilliant eyes and the lightest dusting of freckles over the painter’s nose, before kissing him square on the lips, a claim and a declaration all in one.

And if Leonardo has bought some rather excessive amounts of rope, well, Ezio is only too happy to let him use it. There’s nothing quite like ceding control right before a mission, so Ezio finds. Leonardo is more than willing to take advantage of that …all night long.

Chapter Text

The Barbarigo mission runs fairly smoothly, or at least, as smoothly as anything involving Ezio can run.

Leonardo, however, does not know this, and paces the length of his workshop, biting his nails like there’s no tomorrow. He picks up a paintbrush, discards it, maneuvers one of countless easels around to a different position, and back again. It is not productive, to say the least.

Eventually, Ezio returns, a track of blood on his cheek but otherwise unharmed. Leonardo could wipe it away, but then again, there’s something kind of sexy about it. He does not want to examine this further.

Cautiously, half expecting Ezio to fall apart under his ministrations, Leonardo peels off his Assassin robes. The artist runs his hands over muscled flesh, the sensations of which, while originally meant in the name of care, quickly have his blood rushing south.

Ezio smirks roguishly, clearly basking in the attention, preening a bit under Leonardo’s gaze. “Barbarigo may have been a villain…but the true villainy is that we aren’t in bed right now.”

Leonardo runs his fingers lightly down Ezio’s back, lingering on his hips, a promise of things to come. “There’s no rush, is there, caro?”

The Assassin raises an eyebrow, looking down at Leonardo’s breeches, which are more than visibly tented. “Your body betrays an urgency, even if your words do not.”

Laughing, the painter captures Ezio’s lips in a fervent kiss. “I blame you entirely.” Of course, they don’t make it to bed.

It begins innocently enough, with four little words, said in a rush of lust and desire.

Leonardo draws a breath between kisses… not that Ezio leaves him much respite, determined to kiss him senseless, clearly still riding on the adrenaline of the mission. And about to ride, well, something else.

Leonardo sighs, body tingling with pleasure, and utters those words, words he is about to regret.

“Run away with me.”

Ezio stiffens, and not in the way Leonardo prefers. Leonardo’s eyes flutter open, observing a stony expression on the Assassin’s face, a stark contrast to its previous lust.

“Leonardo. I have just come from ridding the world of more Templar scum and you want me to just…run away from that?”

A little bit petulant, Leonardo shoves his lower lip forward. “It was not meant that way, Ezio. I just…want to hold you in my arms and never let you go.”

Ezio’s gaze grows less bleak, acquiescing, and after a second’s pause, their kiss continues. But the heat and urgency has left them, and soon Leonardo breaks away, forehead creased.

“Is the idea so abhorrent to you?”

The Assassin sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, taking a step back. A defensive stance. Leonardo’s heart sinks.  At the same time, he is unwilling to take back his words, and so he fumbles for more.

“We could…I don’t know. Leave the city behind, settle in the countryside. Not Monteriggioni, but maybe somewhere further south, a little village by a river, where everybody knows everyone’s business but it’s lovely to be at home and come home and you could…become a baker, what do I know, something that doesn’t leave you splattered with blood and –“

Ezio snorts derisively.

It is Leonardo’s turn to be defensive. “Is it so wrong, to picture us together and not in mortal danger?”

Slowly, Ezio seems to realize his error, but it is too late to rewind. “You really think I could settle for a quiet domestic life when I have…all of this, right here?” He gestures with his hidden blade, eyes shining, and Leonardo feels a little sick. Of all the expressions he has seen on Ezio’s face, this is the closest he’s ever come to bloodlust.

“Yes. Stabbing people. Lovely.”

The Assassin frowns. “If I wanted to see blood, I would have become a butcher. It is justice I crave, to right the wrongs of this world. Tell me you do not understand.”

Leonardo closes his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. “Of course, Ezio. I should not have asked you to indulge my fantasy, and fantasy it shall remain.”

Ezio’s expression softens. “No, Leonardo, forgive me. You meant no harm, I just….sometimes I feel like I was born for this, like my blood is singing when I’m mid-mission. And even with everything it has cost me, I wouldn’t give it away. I’ve needed a while to see it, but this, being an Assassin, is my calling. Just as yours is the brush, so mine is the blade.”

The words have an air of finality, and it is this Leonardo needs to recognize: that this Assassin life isn’t going away any time soon. And that the time they have together is precious, oh so precious, because of it, not in spite of it.  

As much as Leonardo sometimes wishes it were different, there is something about Ezio like this that reminds him of his own desires to change the world. And so he plants a kiss on Ezio’s forehead, even if he has to lean up on tiptoe to do it.

Then he squints a little at Ezio, smile playing on his lips. “So…you won’t reconsider the baking job?”

The Assassin’s laugh seems to shake the room, and Leonardo is captivated by the sound of it, of the way it makes him feel, to have been the one to cause it.

“In another life, maybe, caro. I’ll bake lemon tarts, just for you, top of the morning.”

“And maybe in that life, I’ll be the one with the blade.”

Ezio looks skeptical. “Do you remember that one time you almost impaled yourself on - ”

Leonardo steps forward, putting a hand on Ezio’s chest. “Yes. Not something I’d wish to repeat.” He smiles, a little lecherously. “Unless, of course…”

The Assassin jumps to attention quicker than Leonardo would have thought possible. “Yes?”

Leonardo laughs, exuberant now that they haven’t worked their way into yet another fight. And why should they, when there are so many better alternatives for what they could be doing?

“Yes, Ezio. A thousand times yes.”

Chapter Text

It is some time around midnight and outside, the rain is tapping gently on the windows, a melody that ought to soothe anyone to sleep.

Instead, there is a knife at Leonardo’s throat. Not with enough pressure to draw blood, but enough to knock the breath out of him.

“Ezio. Ezio! Wake up! EZIO!” Leonardo’s voice is a little strangled, given his predicament, his heart hammering in his chest.

Ezio jolts backward, eyes fluttering open, and the knife falls to the ground with a clatter. The look of horror that instantly captures his face is enough to make Leonardo’s heart ache, no matter the rather surprising wake up call.

“Dio mio. My God, Leonardo. Did I just…?” Ezio’s voice is rough from sleep, and harsh with disgust at himself.

He rises, kicking the knife away, where it disappears somewhere into the corner of the bedroom, and looks so much like a scared little child that Leonardo just wants to gather him up in his arms. And the artist tries, to no avail.

Ezio refuses to let himself be held, instead crossing his arms in front of his body, caging himself in. “I can understand if you want me to leave. I have no words for how sorry I am, Leonardo.”

Leonardo touches Ezio’s arm softly, letting his fingertips graze the goosebumps he finds there, gratified when the Assassin doesn’t flinch away. Progress.

“If anything, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner. Not that I mind a little knife play…but maybe rather when the both of us are awake, yes, caro?”

Ezio lets out a laugh that just as quickly turns into a choked off sound, and before Leonardo knows it, he is sliding down the wall to the ground, body wracked with sobs.

This is new. Ezio is usually so tightly wound, an open book at the same time as he is surrounded by walls of his own making. Yes, sometimes he will let Leonardo take him apart, enjoys it more than a mission well done, this Leonardo knows, but there are so many things they haven’t talked about. Leonardo wonders what exactly is plaguing him, reducing him to a sniveling mess of emotion.

A little unsure how to react, Leonardo decides to grab a blanket from the bed, wrapping it around Ezio’s shoulders.

“Ezio. Tell me about it. When you are ready, and only if you want to, of course. But I am here for you, caro, no matter what it is. This is what it means to love. Let me hold onto some of this weight for you.”

It takes a bit for Ezio to recover enough to manage speech, and Leonardo sinks down to the ground next to him, firmly wrapping his small hands around Ezio’s larger ones until he is ready, stroking his fingers over the backs of Ezio’s hands in inane little patterns that seem to soothe him.

No longer crying, Ezio has started hiccupping, and snorts a little at his own misfortune. Leonardo takes this as a good sign.

“I was dreaming…about everyone, really. Everyone I’ve ever killed, everyone I’ve seen killed. They were taunting me, about how I couldn’t save them. My father. My brothers. I miss them so much, Leonardo. I don’t know how to stand the pain.”

Another tear slips down Ezio’s cheek, and Leonardo catches it with his thumb, wiping it away.

The rawness in Ezio’s eyes hurts Leonardo in his soul, and he wants more than anything to keep him wrapped up in a blanket in his workshop forever. But that won’t do. Sometimes Leonardo forgets how young Ezio is, how much he has seen.

How does one even begin to acknowledge all of that? Is there really a way to truly heal from it?

Temporarily lost for words, Leonardo lowers his forehead to nudge against Ezio’s, trying to convey everything he is feeling in the gesture.

“You have suffered things no one should have to endure. But you are not alone in this. I am right here with you, and I will be, for as long as you will have me.”

Ezio chuckles, a little choked up, but still. “As if I could ever get rid of you.”

Grinning, Leonardo kisses Ezio’s tear-streaked cheek, nuzzling against him. “I seem to remember you running after me more than the other way around, caro.”

“I like it best when we run together, really.”

Leonardo lights up at that, and some of the haunted look in Ezio’s eyes is starting to abate. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Between Barbarigo and my work on the flying machine…we deserve some time off.”

The look on Ezio’s face is so aghast that Leonardo has to laugh.

Ezio’s nose scrunches, rather adorably, if Leonardo dare say so himself.  “When the Assassins say everything is permitted, I’m not sure they were referring to taking time off.”

Tutting, Leonardo makes sure to utilize his best puppy dog eyes.  “Not much. I know your mission is important. Just a day, a day away from Venice. Let’s go to Padua, see the city. No weapons, no paint brushes, I promise. Just you and me.”

Predictably, Ezio crumples under Leonardo’s pleading. “Alright. The Thieves will survive a day without me.”

Gravely, Leonardo nods. “I, however, will not.”

Ezio swats his arm at that. “You are ridiculous.” But he is smiling a little, and Leonardo counts that as a success, especially on a night like this.

“Now, let’s get off the floor. No use wasting a perfectly warm bed.”

The Assassin flinches a little, clearly remembering the knife he had put to Leonardo’s throat earlier. “Or maybe…the floor, just for tonight? I’ve heard it’s, ah, good for the back.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Leonardo deigns not to argue. “I’ll get the spare blankets and pillows. You….you stay where you are, caro.”

Ezio nods, pulling the blanket he already has tighter around himself. Leonardo wonders if this is what he looked like as a child, having woken from some nightmare or the other. No doubt by morning, Ezio will have regained some of his composure, but for now, Leonardo is so damn proud that he’s letting himself be vulnerable. It speaks of openness, of trust, of…love.

Leonardo shivers a little of the intensity of it all, and hastens to lighten the mood before Ezio catches onto his train of thought and retreats in on himself again.

“So, Ezio, have you heard of the bathhouses in Padua…?”

Chapter Text

Of the two of them, Leonardo knows he is more of the aesthete. It’s only fitting, given his profession. And his natural inclination toward beauty. But this is just ridiculous.

“Ezio. No! You cannot go on vacation in your Assassin gear!!”

The Assassin in question pouts. Leonardo decides it is time to put his foot down.

“Not today, Ezio, this won’t work today. It’s no use going away if anyone can spot you for what you are a mile away.”

His lover looks a little annoyed, and frowns.  “Well, it’s not like I have anything else to wear.”

Leonardo’s mouth slowly spreads into a suggestive grin, complete with an eyebrow waggle. “So you are saying….we should go shopping?”

Ezio’s eyes bulge out of his head, but Leonardo is not letting loose.

By the end of the day, Ezio is weighed down with bags, carrying their purchases, and Leonardo is happily sipping some hazelnut espresso concoction a street vendor had been selling for a few florins.

A little disappointed, Leonardo takes a last sip with a loud slurp. “Now that’s what I call good coffee. None of that nonsense of drinking it black like you do.”

Ezio is about to protest….not that Leonardo is willing to have that discussion again. He quickly segues into a different direction, both conversationally and geographically, given as they are about to miss their turn to get back to the workshop.

“See, Ezio, now all is set for our journey. And it was not so bad, was it?”

Ezio, straining under the shopping bags, grumbles a little bit. “And you think those leather pants were…absolutely necessary?”

Leonardo nods vigorously. “Absolutely, Ezio. For, uh. Research. For science, really. An…artistic study?” For once, Leonardo is the one who is being completely transparent.

The Assassin chuckles. “And here I was thinking you wanted me to indulge you in that fantasy about me dropping a paintbrush…”

Ezio’s smile is all cheek and full of heat, so, so much heat. Leonardo feels a blush warm his own cheeks, which is ridiculous, given all the different positions he’s had Ezio in over the years. There is just something about this young Assassin that makes him feel like he’s discovering him all over again.

Well. It’s not entirely illogical. There’s his body, for one, those chiseled abs and-

Leonardo’s train of thought is interrupted by Ezio, ditching the shopping bags in favor of ducking into the small alley they had just passed, and kissing Leonardo senseless against the wall. The artist is not about to complain, and melts into Ezio’s embrace. 

“Ezio?! Ezio Auditore??”

Ezio lets go of Leonardo as if burned, and Leonardo is just the tiniest bit disgruntled at whoever has ruined this truly beautiful moment.

It takes a moment for the panic to set in, as Leonardo realizes that nobody should know Ezio in this city, being, as he is, a wanted criminal and, well, murderer. He is entirely ready to pass him off as Eduardo, friend of the family and a very, very foreign visitor, with no penchant for sharp blades whatsoever, when the brunette woman speaks again.

“It’s you, I knew it! Come here, Ezio, give me a hug…if you can tear yourself away.”

Her voice is heavy with innuendo and all too smug for Leonardo’s taste. And, once he sees their embrace, Leonardo realizes that he is not the only one in this alley who is intimately familiar with Ezio’s body. 

At the same time, Ezio is beaming, and really, who is Leonardo to deny him joy? Still, he can’t stop the twinge in his gut.

“Leonardo. This is Cristina, Cristina Vespucci. My…” Ezio goes a bit red himself, and fumbles for words. “Well, we, uh – you see…”

Cristina waves Ezio’s mumbled attempt at speech away with a roll of her eyes.

“We used to fuck. But he never did look at me the way he seems to look at you, Leonardo….da Vinci, is it?”

Her eyes are sparkling, with no trace of resentment. Leonardo admires that about her, almost wishing that that could be him… but then, he is very territorial about what is his. And Ezio most certainly belongs in that category.

As if to demonstrate that he steps next to Ezio again, grabbing the Assassin’s hand firmly in his own. He’s spent all day insisting to Ezio that they will be less obvious to any potential guards if they hold hands, looking as they are for a solo Assassin, so Ezio only jumps a little.

Cristina outright giggles. “Lovebirds, aye? Well, don’t let me hold you back…though, really, that shirt looks like silk, and … is that a pigeon pecking at it?”

Leonardo turns around in horror, only for Cristina to burst out laughing. “Just kidding. Your face, though! Priceless.”

Really, Leonardo thinks he could like her, if he weren’t still thinking about her hands on Ezio’s shoulders.  

Cristina winks at him, and Leonardo feels his resistance to her melt away. Not entirely, Leonardo is not that big of a person, but a bearable amount.  She clears her throat conspicuously. “Well, I need to be off, and you two are busy….still, good to see you’re still around and kicking, Ezio.”

She turns to leave, only to stop mid-step. “I normally wouldn’t ask this, but… what is your sister Claudia up to these days, anyways? I always did think she had beautiful eyes…” Cristina trails off, clearly wistful.

Ezio and Leonardo grin in tandem.

Chapter Text

Padua is bustling with activity and Leonardo’s heart feels like it’s bursting with happiness.

The whole thing feels like a stolen moment, like something they shouldn’t be allowed to have. But here they are, living and breathing reminders that any notion of “should” is inherently flawed. And it is glorious.

Like proper tourists, they wander the city armed mainly with a mountain of pastries that Leonardo picks up at the bakery right next to their lodgings.

Ezio, as always unwilling to deny Leonardo anything, is gripping the huge pastry bag with a look of grim determination, as if prepared to fend off sugar-seeking pickpockets at any moment.

It’s so ridiculous that Leonardo has to kiss him, passers-by be damned. And maybe a kiss for taking time off in the first place. And one for the fact that the sun is shining, and that Ezio actually brought the leather pants…in any case, it takes them a while to get back to reality.  

A pigeon makes to steal a sweetbread from where the pastry bag has fallen to the ground, momentarily forgotten, and Leonardo breaks the kiss to squawk in indignation. Ezio reaches for his hidden blade, apparently ready to commit pigeon murder, only to remember that he is unarmed. Leonardo appreciates the gesture nonetheless. 

They get lost, only to discover that their aimless and directionless wandering leads them to a beautiful public park in the middle of the city.

Leonardo, who could not resist the desire to bring his sketchbook (“I said no paintbrushes, Ezio, I said nothing of pencils!!”), is quickly engrossed in bringing the various blooming plants to life in his own way – on paper – whereas Ezio seems to be content simply watching him work, occasionally brushing a lock of hair out of the artist’s face with an expression that says he doesn’t quite know how he got this lucky.

Speaking of getting lucky…the fellow visitors at their place of lodging had thrown them more than a few dirty looks in the morning, given the, uh, interesting soundscape they must have dealt with the night before. Not that either of them regret it.

To Leonardo’s delight, Ezio insisted on bringing the knitted sweater that their elderly neighbor in Venezia had presented the Assassin with a week or so ago.

Of course, as Ezio’s partner, Leonardo sees it as his duty to steal the sweater when the evening grows cold. Ezio’s manly arm hair can keep him warm, or whatever. The sleeves pool around Leonardo’s hands, not that he minds in the slightest.

The sweater smells like Ezio, and Leonardo wants to live to cherish this moment forever: wreathed in Ezio’s scent, the warmth of the handknitted wool and the knowledge that there is no place he’d rather be in the universe. Judging by the squeeze Ezio gives his hand, he feels the same.

The stars rise over Padua, and for once, there is no blood flowing anywhere…well. Not in a bad way, that is. Good thing the city is plentiful in abandoned alleyways.

The respite, however well deserved, does not last.

Chapter Text

“Leonardo.”

The painter can feel Ezio’s puppy dog eyes even before he sees them.

Leonardo squares his shoulders, ready for the inevitable conflict that had begun a few days ago, when Ezio had had the most stupid of ideas to date. Which is saying a lot, for him. 

The very idea of using Leonardo’s flying machine (which is strictly a prototype, and for all Leonardo knows, utter garbage) for a mission to infiltrate the Doge’s palace…it makes Leonardo want to bash his own head in, something he has been more than liberal about letting Ezio know.

Sure, Leonardo isn’t exactly big on letting the Templar Carlo Grimaldi assassinate the current Doge, not with the Spaniard’s plans to install one of his own, Marco Barbarigo, as the next Doge….but Leonardo would willingly watch the world burn if it means keeping Ezio safe, no matter how selfish it may be.

“No, Ezio. No. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”

“But the mission…”

“Fuck the mission!” Leonardo slams his pencil down on the desk so hard it snaps in two on impact. “I am not risking your life for some mission! It is stupid, utter idiocy, even for you, Ezio!”

The Assassin huffs, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “There is a thin line between idiocy and genius.”

Leonardo snorts. “You’ve been lucky, Ezio, and you’ve had excellent allies, and yes, more than a bit of skill with your blade. What makes you think you can best the heavens?”

Eyes gleaming, Ezio leans in toward Leonardo. “Easy. Because it is your machine.”

Well. Leonardo has to admit himself flattered. And it would be a fantastic opportunity to test his contraption…is he being too cautious because this is Ezio? Is he letting romantic bias color his dreams of making someone fly?

“Fine. Fine! But only with the utmost care and all the precautions we can possibly take!”

Ezio whoops, and lifts Leonardo up by the hips with so much gusto that they both almost fall over. The Assassin’s fervor is nothing if not infectious, and Leonardo feels that little flame of ambition burn inside him that he’d almost feared gone forever. Painting noblemen, commission or no, is dull work.  

Of course, once safely back on the ground, Leonardo makes Ezio promise not to let his ego cloud his judgement, and begins with a barrage of technical talk that has Ezio cross-eyed within seconds. This is going to be one long, long night.

Hours later and mustering Ezio, whose head is resting wearily on the workshop table after all the instruction and explanations, Leonardo shakes his head once more.

“You know, it takes a madman to do this.”

Tired but ever up for banter, Ezio lifts his head, expression all callous arrogance. “Well then, you’ve found your madman.”

“I have, indeed.”

Leonardo decides in that moment to kiss that prideful expression right off Ezio’s face. And if the looming shadow of this flight test has him gripping Ezio just a little bit harder than usual…it’s not like the Assassin is about to complain. Quite the opposite, really. And loudly, too.

Leonardo only hopes their poor elderly neighbor has gone to bed already.

- - - - - - - - - - 

The feeling Leonardo is hit with when he sees Ezio crash from the air to the ground is unlike any he has ever had in his life.

He can see the scene quite clearly – failing to revive Ezio, having him turn as pale as any of the corpses that he has ever dissected. A quiet funeral, with Paola and Rosa and Mario mourning their comrade in arms. It would be devastating to Ezio’s sister and mother, who have lost so much; not to mention what Leonardo would even begin to do all by himself.

And then the heap of Ezio’s body begins to move, and Leonardo is wiping away tears he didn’t even notice falling.

Ever ready to admonish his partner, Leonardo greets Ezio back into consciousness with a smack to the head and an “I told you so.” Luckily, Ezio seems to be no more out of it than usual, even though Leonardo decides to prescribe an evening of bedrest that Ezio is much too quick to accept.

They are, unfortunately, interrupted by a knock on the door long past midnight; it is Giorgio, with bad news. “Grimaldi has obtained the poison for Doge Mocenigo. We need to act fast, or he won’t live through the next day. Do you know how to reach the Palazzo Ducale?”  

Leonardo, still protective of Ezio so shortly after his crashing from the sky, holds him possessively in his arms, and speaks for the Assassin. “It can’t be done. There’s nothing you can do. The machine isn’t built for distance.”

Giorgio deflates a bit, but tries to bargain. “Will you try to figure it out? Looks like you’re awake anyways.” He takes a piece of paper out of his small satchel. “Rosa had some ideas…”

Angry at Giorgio’s willingness to risk Ezio’s life, Leonardo jumps up, rips the paper out of the thief’s hands and tosses it into the fire. “Forget about it. If you can’t make it in time, maybe you should jus-wait. I…..I think I have it!”

Ezio stares at his lover, a little transfixed by the spark in Leonardo’s eyes as he surveys the piece of paper, which, buffeted by the warm air of the fire, is floating a little bit above the flames.

“That’s it! Ezio! A series of fires, enough to buoy you all the way from the churchtop to the Doge’s Palace!”

The Assassin looks a bit alarmed. “You want to set me on fire?”

Leonardo waves his concern away. “You won’t burn. Giorgio and his men can set fires across the city, and the hot air rising from them will carry you to your destination! It’s genius, utter genius!”

As the information sinks in, a grin spreads over Ezio’s face. “You are magnificent, caro. Magnificent, I tell you.”

The inventor stares hotly at Ezio, who he should have known would influence his inventions sooner or later. Hasn’t Ezio permeated every other surface of his being? “Not without my madman to take the plunge.”

By the door, Giorgio awkwardly clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, leave you two to it. We’ll take care of the fires. Ezio, you, uh. Get some rest. Or don’t.”

Neither Ezio nor Leonardo really notice the door when it closes in its hinges behind Giorgio.

Chapter Text

The Templar and Assassin feud is a long and tempestuous one, with many small outcomes shaping the greater whole.

Doge Mocenigo does not survive the next day.

Leonardo’s idea with the fires and the flying machine works like a charm – between kicking the heads of archers and swooping over rooftops, Ezio feels invincible - but it is all in vain.

Ezio knocks The Doge’s plate out of his hand only to find out that the Templars have poisoned the wine as well as the food. Carlo Grimaldi runs out of the room yelling that the Assassin has killed the Doge, and suddenly Ezio becomes Venezia’s most wanted murderer.

White-faced and incredibly alarmed by this turn of events, Leonardo nevertheless finds an elegant solution for Ezio’s newfound infamy – it is Carnevale, and masks are commonplace.

At the same time, Ezio feels arousal pool in his stomach when Leonardo demonstrates how to wear the mask. There is something about the anonymity of it, the power as Leonardo regards Ezio, face hidden, that has his knees going weak.

Leonardo, as ever, is not one willing to pass up a pliant and submissive Ezio.

Needless to say, not much sleep is to be had that night. And if Ezio walks a bit funny the next day…well. He knows all about necessary sacrifices, doesn’t he?

Ezio is so caught up in…things, that he almost forgets to share the new Codex page with Leonardo. For once, Leonardo is less than eager to comply with the instructions, arguing that Ezio would need a bucketload more common sense to ever work with a pistol.

In the end, Ezio wins that particular fight – but not without making a few filthy promises to Leonardo. Ezio is a man who knows how to get what he wants, after all.

And the pistol test goes well….maybe except for a poor unfortunate pigeon that flies into Ezio’s sightline, but otherwise, no need for alarm. Not to mention the advantage of shooting at a distance – one that sadly becomes very necessary that very night.

“So, how is Marco doing?”

Leonardo tenses a little, not having forgotten Ezio following him to Sister Teodora’s brothel to discover him with a shirtless Marco. But Ezio’s expression is benign, and a true mark of the growing trust between the two.

“The usual. Business is good during Carnevale. Or at the very least, Giorgio seems to be single-handedly trying to save the courtesan trade.”

Arching his eyebrows, Ezio whistles. “The very man I’ve been looking for. I need the Thieves’ help to get rid of this new Barbarigo Doge, to set things right.”

The artist nods. “Shall we pay Teodora a visit?”

To Leonardo’s surprise, the Assassin colors slightly. “I suppose it is not to be avoided…though you should know, Leonardo, that I made a bit of a fool of myself in front of her the last time I saw her. So she…knows, of us. What we are to each other.”

“I know, Ezio. I assume the whole brothel does. You’re not exactly a stoic sufferer, are you?”

Ezio’s blush deepens even further. Leonardo places a resounding kiss on his newly red cheek. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, what are we supposed to do? Pretend we are friends? Shall I call you amico mio?”

The Assassin laughs heartily. “Only if you’re doing certain other things with your mouth at the same time.”

The walk to the Dorsoduro district is a breathless one, with Ezio holding Leonardo’s hand like he has something to declare. It is adorable to Leonardo, how Ezio is fearless in so many things and yet so novice in affairs of the heart.

Giorgio, raucous and clearly in his cups, greets Ezio to the brothel with a roar after extracting his hand from around a courtesan’s breast. “Ezio! Ezio Auditore! Teodora, meet the most…talented man in all of Venice!”

The two courtesans beside Giorgio, one with inky black ringlets and the other a short brunette, survey Ezio with interest even as Teodora looks amused.

Leonardo, not to be outdone by courtesans, no matter how much he respects them on whole, smiles a little dangerously at the two women. “Unfortunately, ladies, this man’s talents are…rather tied up at the moment.”

Ezio splutters beside him, but offers no objection to the statement. Leonardo’s hand on the back of his neck makes sure of it.

A scream pierces the air. The Assassin roughly steps in front of Leonardo on instinct, drawing his sword, on high alert.

In the doorframe Marco is covered in blood and doubling over, out of breath. “Lucia! The murderer! He has struck again, cut her down like she was nothing!”

Teodora looks thunderous. “Messer Ezio, this is your type of fieldwork, isn’t it? Prove those many talents of yours.”

Ezio is making for the door before she properly finishes her sentence. Then he turns, hesitates, and rushes back to Leonardo, kissing him square on the mouth for all to see. “Take care of yourself….amico mio. I’ll be right back.”   

Chapter Text

The murderer is dispatched quickly enough with Ezio’s hidden blade’s new pistol function. No one else dies – at least, not that night. Death follows Ezio like a shade, no doubt, and will reap many more victims until Ezio himself follows. It’s not something Leonardo likes to dwell on. But luckily, some nights are more merciful than others.

Teodora, still grieving the murdered courtesan but level headed enough to further Ezio’s mission, suggests he win the four tasks that have been advertised to bring the winner a golden mask at the nearby fairground.

More than just a decoration, the golden mask grants the wearer entry to the biggest Carnevale party in town, with ample opportunity to access Marco Barbarigo, the new Templar Doge, who will be holding a big speech for the city's finest to hear.  

Ezio’s shoulders are squared and Leonardo grabs a rose from a nearby vase in Teodora’s brothel, pinning the red bud to Ezio’s lapel, and pressing a kiss to his cheek. For luck, he says, when really, it is just another excuse to mark Ezio as his in front of the world.

The Assassin preens under the attention, and Leonardo himself walks just a little bit taller than usual.

From behind his own mask, Leonardo watches Ezio partake in a ribbon-stealing challenge, but loses track of him when it’s time for capture the flag. Maybe it’s better this way; Leonardo doesn’t want to get in the way if things go sideways and Ezio needs to do his Assassin thing.

While Ezio wins all challenges presented to him, as Leonardo knew he would, Silvio Barbarigo is there to bribe the gamemaster; Templar Dante Moro thus wins the golden mask instead. Ezio fumes, but is resourceful enough to swipe it from Dante anyways – with the wise instruction from Giorgio and Teodora not to kill the Templar, anyways, lest it attract attention and stop the party.

What follows next is no surprise; Marco does not make it through the night.

Despite Ezio’s reassurances that he is fine when he returns to the workshop around midnight, Leonardo can sense the stress still left in his shoulders. So he does what he does best: taking the young Assassin apart in the way only an artist can - or so Leonardo tells himself.

Whatever his qualifications, Ezio is soon writhing underneath him, some of the steel in his eyes softening as he takes in all of Leonardo. It is a sight to behold, and one, Leonardo thinks a little jealously, that the Venetian courtesans shall never behold.

At the same time, with Ezio running out of Venetian Templars to kill, Leonardo wonders how much longer their relative happiness in the city will last.

Chapter Text

“I spent the day freeing a big, burly man from his chains. And then other, less burly men from theirs. And then we freed the military district. It’s been a day.”

Leonardo, still covering in various specks of paint from the day’s work, pouts mournfully. “Why do you get to have all the fun?”

Ezio snorts, and pulls him close, tucking his face into Leonardo’s neck despite their height difference.

The artist protests briefly, telling Ezio he’ll get paint all over him, but that only makes the Assassin hold him closer. When they finally part, Ezio has some white paint on his nose, which Leonardo wipes off with a grin and a kiss to the spot.  

It is a moment so domestic in nature that they both take a moment to hear someone clearing their throat behind them.

“So, uh, tell me about that big, burly man, fratello mio…”

The painter smiles sheepishly. “Ah, yes. My news of the day: your sister is here, caro.”

Claudia Auditore, smiling radiantly, steps forward out of the shadowy alcove. “I’d suspected you were seeing someone, Ezio…but I didn’t know you were so far gone.”

About to protest, or argue, or do something he isn’t even sure of himself, Ezio opens his mouth, only to close it as Claudia smirks. “So, the sex must be great, huh?”

Ezio goes beet red, and Leonardo decides it is time to intervene. “So, how is Uncle Mario? And Monteriggioni?”

Swivelling her head, Claudia shrugs nonchalantly. “You’re smooth, da Vinci, I’ll give you that. It’s as boring as ever. Uncle Mario drinks too much and spends all his time with Antonio. It seems I’m doomed to be surrounded by lovers.”

Leonardo takes a cautious look at Ezio to see how he is dealing with someone so close to him calling them lovers so openly…and is met by a warm, steady gaze. It seems the seasons really have changed since all those years ago when Ezio had left him in bed in Florence. It feels like half a life away.

“Anyways, before you lose yourselves in each other’s eyes, or whatever, I’ll be off. It’s still Carnevale, and I intend to get my fair share of fun…and maybe a handsome guy in my bed. Or girl. We’ll see how it goes.”  

Shaking his head in amusement, Leonardo regards the two Auditores fondly. Ezio, he can just tell, is gearing up for a lecture on the dangers of the city, to which Claudia hikes up her skirts, revealing a dagger strapped to her thigh.

“Like brother, like sister, huh?”

Claudia looks at Leonardo appraisingly. “You seem like a fairly decent person, Leonardo. How’d you end up with my idiot of a brother?”

Indignantly, Ezio splutters. The younger Auditore elbows him. “You really think he’s going to keep sleeping with you if you look like a drowning fish?”

Leonardo shrugs. “You should see him first thing in the morning.”

Grinning, Ezio’s sister starts reminiscing. “You know, when I was younger, I would sometimes stick cheese up his nose while he was sleeping…”

“Weren’t you on your way to the Carnevale celebrations, sorellina? Wouldn’t want the best picks to go to someone else…”

Claudia snorts. “Please. I’m an Auditore. Like they’re gonna get any luckier than me.”

Ezio gathers her up in a bear hug, laughing. “That should be our family motto.”

“I can only confirm that,” Leonardo pipes up, causing Ezio’s still-red cheeks to flame up even further. Oh, how he takes pleasure in humiliating Ezio a little bit. Or a lot, depending on the circumstance.

“Uh oh. I know that expression from Mario and Antonio. I’ll be out for a couple of hours at the least…you two just…get that out of your system.” She winks, slipping out the door and into the crisp evening air.

Leonardo turns to Ezio. “What about it, caro?”

Like Ezio could ever say no to him.

Chapter Text

In the early hours of the morning, Ezio confides in Leonardo, tells him what he learned between encountering Bartolomeo D’Alviano and Silvio Barbarigo: that the Doge’s seat was only ever a distraction, a cover for a ship coming in from Cyprus that has precious cargo for the Templars.

Brow scrunching, Leonardo takes it all in.

“You know, Ezio, I did notice an irregularity with the last two Codex pages….a hidden message, of sorts. I’ve been consulting the copies I made of the other Codex pages and…it all fits together.”

Ezio rolls over so his head is resting on his hands. “Tell me more, Leonardo.”

“I wasn’t sure at first, but if you’re right about the ship… The Codex spoke of a Prophet who will appear when the second piece is brought to the floating city. And that only the Prophet may open it.”

The words hang in the air as Ezio processes this, biting his lip in concentration.  “Maybe Mario was right after all…”

The artist looks at him quizzically. “What about?”

Not hesitating for a second, Ezio begins to explain. “Long, long ago, he spoke to me of powerful, almost mystical objects. The so-called Pieces of Eden. I was young and foolish back then, and thought it the stuff of legend…but maybe there’s more to it, if what you say is true.”

Leonardo considers this, growing even more serious. “Ezio. This could….explain everything. From Florence to Venice, from Rodrigo Borgia to –“ He pauses, deliberating. “To the death of your father and brothers.”

Ezio tenses at first, then takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. When they flicker open again they are full of pain, but also something else. Hope, maybe. Resolve, definitely. Leonardo yearns to grab a paintbrush, to capture the torturous beauty of Ezio’s expression.

Yet he does not dare break the spell of their conversation when it is so rare that Ezio presents himself so vulnerably.

“Maybe you are right, Leonardo.” Ezio speaks the words cautiously, like he cannot believe they are true. “Maybe this web is untangling at last.”

The Assassin clears his throat. “And just in time for my birthday.”

Leonardo’s eyes widen. It is a topic that Ezio has always studiously avoided, and he has chalked it up to painful family memories and a general disregard for the occasion.

Ezio seems to read his mind, and nods. “I figured…with Claudia here…and you, above all things you, maybe it is time to celebrate.”

Nodding gregariously, Leonardo wraps his hand around Ezio’s, intertwining them. “Anything you want, caro.”

This seems to wake Ezio up, and his usual haughty smirk is back. “I can think of a few things.”

With a kiss, Leonardo pins him to the bed. “Then let’s do all of them, in turn. And then start all over again.”

In the morning, Ezio will make his way to the ship coming in from Cyprus, and God only know what he will find there. Still, for the time being, he is with Leonardo, warm and willing, and that is a blessing in itself. A birthday blessing, just for the two of them, as it should be.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Following the envoy is more tedious than anything else. The crate that the Templar carries shimmers in the morning sun, or maybe it is just Ezio’s imagination.

He is tense, which usually isn’t a good sign, but this morning has a stroke of destiny about it; the truth is to be revealed, a Prophet will appear…if Leonardo is right. Although in Ezio’s experience, he usually is. Annoyingly so.

With a short twitch of his hidden blade, the courier falls, choking on his own blood, and Ezio scrambles to change into his uniform.

He follows the guards that will lead him to Rodrigo Borgia, almost dropping the crate a few times because his mind is not on the path his feet are taking but on his father’s and brothers’ faces all those years ago as they choked on their nooses. Is this, finally, an end? And if it is – what comes after?

The Assassin stabs the mouthy guard in front of him, not that Rodrigo seems surprised to see him at the dock. He takes care of the other two guards in the same manner, and the Templar just observes him with a slightly stern gaze.

“Ezio. It’s been some time.”

Unwilling to spend much time talking, Ezio gets right to it. “So, where is he, your Prophet? Doesn’t look like anybody showed up, Rodrigo! How many people have died for this? For what’s in this box?! And look – there’s NOBODY here!”

Rodrigo cocks his head to the side, and smiles. “You claim not to be a believer, but here you are. My dear Ezio…the Prophet is already here. I am the Prophet. Now, give me the Apple!”

He gets Ezio’s most arrogant smirk in response. “Then come and take it from me, oh Prophet!”

They both get in a few good hits; Rodrigo is clearly more skilled than the goons Ezio usually deals with. But it’s been years since Ezio watched half of his family die, powerless to stop them, and he has learned a great deal ever since.

The Templar pants. “Is this all you have? Where are the rest of your people?”

Ezio juts his chin out. “What people?”

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

It starts with five guards that are easily taken out. However, soon countless others are descending. Ezio’s stomach is sinking until he hears a familiar laugh behind him.

“Mario?”

“Don’t worry, nipote. You are not alone.” His uncle throws himself into the fray.

Ezio is so shocked that a Templar guard manages to knock him off his feet. Not a second later, a broad knife sprouts from the man’s chest, and La Volpe is helping him up.

Behind him, Giorgio of the Thieves’ Guild and Bartolomeo d’Alviano approach.

“Save your questions, brother. Don’t let the Borgia leave with that box!”

Then even more guards appear, and Ezio loses sight of his allies in the ensuing chaos. He catches a glimpse of Paola, and tries to get through to her, only to be cut off by a particularly vicious trio of guards. Teodora is there – as well as a slight armored figure that Ezio does not recognize. What are they all doing here?

Rodrigo slips through Ezio’s grasp like a snake, taunting him. “This is pathetic. You cannot stop what is written. What lies in the Vault shall be mine!”

 With the support of his allies, the number of guards still fighting soon diminishes even as the clang of metal on metal grows thicker.

The Spaniard, increasingly cornered, unleashes a vicious stream of words. “You brothers didn’t need to die! I just killed them to make a point. There is no mercy when you cross the Templars!”

Spitting with rage, Ezio lets his weapon swing back to gain the proper force to bash Rodrigo’s head in. “This is for my father, you-“

The Grand Master, who has fallen to the ground, exploits Ezio’s anger and manages to kick him in the chest. The Assassin falls to the ground, and Rodrigo flees in a swish of robes.

Paola is there, reaching her hand out to help Ezio up. “He’s gone. But we have what we came for.”

“No!” Ezio scrambles to his feet, despairing. “No, I have to go after him!”

Sister Teodora puts a hand on his shoulder. “Do you really, now? Or are you here for another reason?”

Suddenly, Ezio is encircled by his closest friends and confidants from over the years, from Mario to La Volpe. Now that the battle is over, Ezio is ready to ask questions. “What are you all doing here?”

He particularly musters the small figure, the one who has not taken off their helmet yet. Even before the helmet comes off, Ezio feels a flash of recognition. “Claudia?”

His sister beams at him. “Perhaps we are here for the same reason you are, Ezio. Hoping to see the Prophet appear.”

Ezio scoffs. “I came here to kill the Spaniard. I couldn’t care less about your Prophet – he never showed up!”

An unfamiliar man steps forward. “No? But….you did.”

“What?”

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

“Cosa? Who are you?” Ezio is not one to believe someone he does not even know.

The man smiles. “I am Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli. I am an Assassin – trained in the ancient ways to safeguard mankind’s evolution. Just like you, and each one of us here.” He gestures to those around him.

“You are all Assassins? Paola? Volpe? Claudia??”

Mario chuckles. “It’s true, nephew. We have all been guiding you, for years, teaching you the skills you would need to join our ranks. I think it’s time.”

The others murmur their assent.

Giorgio nods heavily. “We have our prize, but there is much to be done.” He presses a map into Ezio’s hands. “Meet us here at sunset.”

They disperse, melting away like the wisps of fog still hanging over the canal, where the sun has not yet broken through the mist.

And Ezio is left standing there, vindicated and confused all at once.

Chapter Text

The day is still young, but Ezio suddenly feels old, oh so old.

It’s been over a decade since everything began in Florence, and here he is, on the cusp of revelations much bigger than himself. It is humbling, it is haunting, and it is terrifying.

What he should do is go back to Leonardo, let the artist know he’s okay.

Yet his feet just can’t seem to carry him to the workshop; instead, Ezio wanders aimlessly, taking in the soft splashing sounds of the canals, of the people wandering, of vendors hawking their wares. He cherishes this floating city, but it seems their time here is drawing to a close.

Ezio is loathe to give Leonardo these news, even though he senses the painter knows it as much as he does. How will things continue for them? Where will being an Assassin send Ezio next?

Rodrigo is still out there, dangerous and likely more than a bit pissed off at the loss of the Piece of Eden. The Templars stop at nothing, this Ezio knows. What if one day, they capture Leonardo? Is it better to stay away, to keep him safe and far away from Assassin business?

Darkness falls upon the city far too soon.  

Ezio makes his way to the tower on Giorgio’s map, unsure what to expect. There is dread inside him, at the impending change, but also a growing spark of excitement. He is following in his father’s footsteps, and nothing could make him more prouder.

The Assassins appear as silently as they had vanished earlier that day.

Looking around, Ezio is surrounded by the various people who have ensured his survival, who have brought him on his journey, who have both tempered and incited him.

Still, if he’s making that list, there is one person missing. The most important of all, really.

Then Claudia steps aside, and Leonardo is there, beaming at Ezio like there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be.

And, what the hell, it’s not like everyone present doesn’t already know what they are to each other – so Ezio uses his height advantage to pick Leonardo up, swinging him in a circle, laughing until they are both dizzy and clinging to each other with exhilaration.

Leonardo brings his hands to the back of Ezio’s neck, cradling his head, standing on tiptoe to do so.

 “There you are, caro. I know I occasionally make you wait in bed, but it’s been hours. Didn’t think you had that kind of stamina in you.”  

There is a choking sound behind them and they turn to see Volpe patting Mario on the back. But there is fondness in the gazes of those who have gathered.

After all, what is a Prophet without someone to worship? 

Ezio is marked as an Assassin, although Leonardo mutters under his breath about why a secret organization would be stupid enough to have a common physical mark between all of them.

The artist gets elbowed by Teodora.

Then it is time for the moment of inauguration for the newest member of the Brotherhood – a leap of faith, right off the ledge of the tower.

As his fellow Assassins begin their descents, Ezio turns to Leonardo.

“I couldn’t have done any of this without you. Forget jumping off this tower – our love is the greatest leap of faith I’ll ever take, and I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life taking it.”

Stepping impossibly closer, Leonardo’s eyes are suspiciously watery. “All the same, caro, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take the stairs, myself.”

With a bark of laughter and a long, lingering kiss, Ezio turns, eyes shining, and dives off the tower.

Leonardo really does love a madman.

Chapter Text

Following Ezio’s initiation into the Assassin Order, there is somewhat of a desperate air to Ezio and Leonardo’s interactions. Every kiss, every fuck, every touch feels like it could be the last one for a while.

But if anything, it only makes them more caught up in each other. And judging by the smatterings of bruises that Leonardo leaves on Ezio’s neck, they both want the world to know it. Many a wry smile is exchanged between the various members of the Assassins.

The Order is still contemplating how to best hide the Apple and chase down Rodrigo Borgia. Many a late night meeting has Ezio slipping into bed in the early hours of the morning, only to find Leonardo still awake and ready for him, in more ways than one.

The puzzle of the Codex pages demands Leonardo’s attentions when they aren’t on Ezio. Mario is convinced that the collective Codex pages need to be analyzed for more hidden messages.

Leonardo agrees rather strongly, if only because it gives him an excuse to continue to be in Ezio’s proximity – as if he even needs one by now.

And so it is decided – they will go to Monteriggioni, together. There is happiness in Leonardo’s heart, knowing they’ll have more time together, but also sadness, at leaving behind the home they have built in Venice, the bed that is theirs, the various surfaces they’ve fucked upon.

A week later, their belongings are in crates, mostly Leonardo’s bulky easels and canvases and other equipment. Unsure of Monteriggioni’s art supply opportunities, Leonardo decides it’s best to take, well, everything he can.

As much as he is Ezio’s boyfriend, he is also an artist and an inventor, and plans to make full use of the Tuscan sun and the inspiring sight of Ezio’s ass first thing in the morning.

There are other plans, as well. Leonardo is sure to keep his goings-on well-hidden.

It is evening by the time the last crate is filled, the last corner swept of dust. Neither Leonardo nor Ezio has a penchant for cleaning.

Ezio is shirtless by then, having declared the moving work too sweaty to remain clothed. Going by the furtive glances he’s shooting Leonardo, he also has other intentions as well. But Leonardo is not about to let Ezio rob him of this moment.

When Ezio sets down a particularly heavy crate, Leonardo takes a second to appreciate the straining tendons in his muscular shoulders, before deciding it is time for other matters entirely.

“Ezio, you’ve forgotten a final box.”

Sighing, the Assassin turns. “Leonardo, I love you, but you have a shit ton of cra - ”

He breaks off mid-sentence.

Leonardo is standing in front of him: in his open palm, a tiny replica of the bigger crates surrounding them, delicate to the touch, and with a miniscule lid mechanism.

And just to make sure Ezio truly gets the message of what’s going on here, Leonardo crouches down. On one knee.   

Chapter Text

Leonardo has seen Ezio wear a myriad of expressions over the years. Surprised. Daring. Blissfully fucked out. Nothing compares to the way he looks now.

“Leo…”

Ezio’s voice is a harsh rasp, and for a moment, Leonardo worries he’s doing the wrong thing.

But fortune favors the bold, and Leonardo has wanted this since the beginning.

“Ezio…I won’t waste time stating the obvious. I know that after Monteriggioni you’re off to…to save the world, to change it for the better. I know you’ll eventually end up facing off with Rodrigo Borgia, and neither of us can say..”

Leonardo’s grip on the box tightens imperceptibly. He swallows, and redirects his sentence.

“We don’t know the future. But I know the past. I’ve loved you from the start, Ezio. I’ve tried not to love you, and I just…I want you. In every sense of the word. Now, and every day, until…well. However long we have.”

Ezio is still frozen where he stands, so Leonardo continues. At least he has Ezio’s full attention.

“I know what we are, and what we aren’t. I won’t ask you to change who you are. I would, however, really like you to do me the honor of becoming my husband.”

There is silence, a terrible, drawn out silence.

And then Ezio is capturing Leonardo’s lips in a deep kiss that knocks the breath out of both of them.

Luckily, the Assassin knows Leonardo well enough to know that he needs the verbal confirmation as well as the physical.

“Yes, Leonardo. A thousand times, yes.”  

Ezio’s eyes are shining, and Leonardo unfurls his hand from where it had curled into a fist to protect the little box. Ezio works the lid mechanism, and in one smooth motion, the box opens.

Nestled inside, on a tiny tuft of wool, is a glinting heap of silver chain links. Ezio raises an eyebrow, and Leonardo hurries to explain.

“I know it isn’t exactly practical to wear a ring in your profession, what with the, uh, copious amounts of villainous men trying to harm and kill you and all your loved ones, so I … I made you this. An engagement ring, yes, but to wear on a chain around your neck. I mean, technically, it’s a choking hazard, but you’ve never really had a problem with that before, so - ”

Ezio shushes him swiftly. “I love it. I will wear it every day, and if there is an afterlife, I will wear it then.”

With that he lifts the loops of silver from the box and places them carefully around his neck. The ring that hangs on the necklace falls halfway down the Assassin’s chest, jangling softly with the motion.

Leonardo rolls his eyes fondly. “Not to be outdone with the vows of devotion, are you?”

“As much as I like listening to you talk, I’m glad I get to do this as well.”

Ezio leans in again, eyes fluttering shut, and is astonished to end up with Leonardo’s finger against his lips, stopping him.

“One more thing. If you ever leave me in bed without saying a word and disappear for two years again, you will live to regret it.”

Ezio’s face falls momentarily, so guilt-ridden that Leonardo has no choice but to kiss the expression off his face. He melts into Leonardo, leaving the artist to wonder how he managed not only to find, but also to hold onto this love.

Some things are truly serendipity.

Chapter Text

Monteriggioni is heaven and hell all in one.

For one thing, it is freedom – from the ever-prying eyes of the Venetians and from Ezio and Leonardo’s own inhibitions. It leaves them to spend lazy mornings in bed and evenings on one of the Villa Auditore’s countless balconies, enjoying the tepid air.

At the same time, the end is looming.

Ezio gives up on trying to hide the bruises that Leonardo paints onto his skin with his bare fingers, knows he needs it as much as his fiancé does. Lets him, encourages him, urges him to grip the looped metal around his neck tighter every night.

The Assassin sees stars even more than usual when Leonardo gets that look in his eyes.

It isn’t enough, not by any stretch, the time that they have left together, not when it feels like the sand trickling down the sides of an hourglass.

Leonardo has to force himself not to work extra slowly on the remaining Codex pages to update Ezio’s gear. Once that is done, he works on the bigger picture – but as he and the Assassins all agree, the Apple of Eden will likely help reveal the mystery of the assembled Codex pages.

A meeting is to convene, with the entire Brotherhood finally present in Monteriggioni after travelling slowly and separately to avoid detection.

The night before the event, Ezio’s fellow Assassins wisely decide to take supper in one of the small restaurants tucked away in Monteriggioni’s alleyways, with Bartolomeo assuring Ezio that they will be drinking, heavily, and thus won’t be returning to the Villa Auitore until the early morning hours.

They take the gift they are offered without complaint. And yet, they don’t fuck. They just lie there, in bed, curled impossibly close, breathing each other in.

One breath. Another. A sigh, aborted. The ghost of a kiss.

They were lucky, so lucky, to have Venice, and the years before, fraught as they might have been; now, their tandem breaths are achingly numbered. There is no need for words, not really. This is the song of two bodies, intertwined.

The morning dawns cold and bright. Ezio and Leonardo shuffle to meet the others, hands clasped together firmly.

The Apple has been kept under lock and key, but now it shines upon the completed wall of Codex pages in its full glory. In glowing lines, a puzzle is revealed.

Leonardo gasps under the influence of the Apple, dropping Ezio’s hand. He rushes to assort the pieces into what becomes a map. Not one the Brotherhood has ever seen, no. Likely not one anyone has ever seen.

And it all points towards Rome. They have been looking for the so-called Vault since they first heard mention of it in the Codex, and it suddenly makes sense why Rodrigo Borgia wanted so badly to become Pope.

“The staff….the Papal Staff. You don’t think…?” Mario is contemplative, morose even. This complicates things. The staff is likely the second piece of Eden that the Codex spoke of. And only one of the two is in Assassin control.

Leonardo’s and Ezio’s eyes meet, and the Assassin looks away first.

Not out of fear. Anguish isn’t the right word either. But Leonardo knows his lover the way he knows his own pencils and paintbrushes - this is the face of a man who has made peace with impending death.

Don’t, Leonardo wants to say. Do not go where I cannot follow.  

Ezio leaves only hours later. He mounts a horse and beckons Bartolomeo and his men, who will cause a ruckus in the city as Ezio hunts for Rodrigo.

The Assassin does not look back. There is no prolonged eye contact, no turning around, bright-eyed. Ezio’s shoulders are firmly facing forward.

Leonardo is grateful for it. He does not want Ezio to see the tears welling in his eyes. All he wants, really, is for Ezio not to be shipped home in a coffin.

Chapter Text

Ezio’s body feels like the taut line of a bow – tensed, unrelenting. Lethal.

The Vatican is by no means unguarded, but the Assassin’s newly upgraded blade slices through every last person who dares get in his way.

Ezio Auditore is a man on a mission. He has left everything behind, including the person he loves most in the world, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t see this mission through until the bitter end. The ominous connotations thereof, however, are better left out of sight and out of mind.  

Adrenaline keeps Ezio moving forward and on his feet as night falls outside the reinforced Vatican walls. It’s been hours of outright combat, mounting the occasional horse to gallop along the ramparts and of course sneaking between numerous hooded priests.

But rumor has it Rodrigo is speaking in front of a hand-picked crowd of faithful ones in the Sistine Chapel.

Luckily there is lots of ongoing construction, so Ezio has no trouble getting an aerial view of the scene, perching high above on a wooden beam. The Spaniard is preaching whatever it is he’s preaching, and for all his foresight, he hasn’t noticed Ezio above him.

Before Ezio strikes, he takes a couple of deep breaths.

Breathing is half the key to being a successful Assassin, as had Mario drilled into his head oh so long ago in the training pit in Monteriggioni. The other half? A well-kept blade. And of course, an object Mario could not have anticipated - the token of Leonardo’s love. The metal of the ring is well-hidden under Ezio’s robes. Really, he could die and be buried in it. No one would ever know if the weren’t looking for it.

Ezio only has one chance at this. If he fails…well.  It’s not an option. Not with the Apple hanging off his belt in a small leather bag, glowing faintly. The Assassin is sure that the artifact has aided him in his infiltration, but he also feels that its power is not yet at full capacity – its counterpart, the Papal Staff, is just below.

Up by the altar, Rodrigo is in its proximity, but not holding it directly.

Ezio takes one last breath, says his prayers, thinks of Leonardo’s face, and launches himself through the air, right onto Rodrigo, who crumples with the impact.

One stab, one slice – that’s really all it takes. A better man would likely just get it over with. But with the things Ezio has had to survive and endure, he can’t help himself, and looks down at Rodrigo, whose neck is bared to the Assassin’s blade.

Bloodlust is almost blinding Ezio’s vision, and it scares him. “I thought…I thought I was beyond this. But I’m not. I’ve waited too long. Lost too much.”

The Assassin half expects Rodrigo to respond with some sort of snarky comment. Nothing makes it past his lips.

Maybe there is no poetic justice, no rush of satisfaction, of rightness – just blood, always more blood to be spilled.

Suddenly, Ezio feels a weariness down to his bones. One last death, he wants to tell himself. He’ll retire and sit model all day for Leonardo, marry him under the orange trees late one summer day, and never touch a blade again.

But Assassins don’t really get to be happy, do they? Their lot is one of duty, not love and fulfillment. Maybe Ezio has been a fool all along, to hope.

Rodrigo is staring up at him, and Ezio feels contempt and hatred pulsing through him. No more.

“Requiescat in pace, you bastard.” He raises his blade…and is flung back. Rodrigo has managed to reach for the Papal Staff, hand curling around the artifact as it pulses with power.

The force of it knocks the breath out of Ezio’s body. Not stopping there, Rodrigo brandishes the Staff in the direction of the assembled worshippers, who momentarily start writhing in pain under the emanating golden light.

Ezio scrambles to his feet, suddenly very aware of the Apple glowing at his hip. Power senses power, after all.

The Spaniard licks his lips. “Kind of you to bring me the Apple. Now give it here!” He motions with the Staff once more, but Ezio is impervious to its mind control as long as he holds the Apple.

And Ezio is, after all, still Italian. So he tells Rodrigo to go fuck himself, with the proper accompanying hand gestures.

“Ahh, always the fighter! Just like your father. Well, rejoice, my child – for you will see him again SOON! Now bring it to me!”

Mockingly, Ezio bows low. “As you wish.”

They hadn’t had much time to test the Apple’s abilities before leaving for the Vatican, but the Codex spoke of its fantastical powers, and maybe Leonardo’s creative vein has been rubbing off on Ezio all along.

With a hiss, the air flickers, and now there are multiple Ezios, indistinguishable from the original, all holding the Apple in a “come hither” motion. Rodrigo snarls, eyes darting back and forth between the mirages.

The various Ezios move as one, slashing and stabbing. The Spaniard, however, is not Grandmaster of the Templars for lack of skill. Sweat drips from Ezio’s brow, as in his mirror images, but the fight is not so easily won.

Ezio may be skilled, but his ultimate flaw is patience, for all of Leonardo’s best teaching efforts – and after he grunts with exertion, Ezio realizes too late that his copies have momentarily flickered out of existence. They return, to no avail – Rodrigo has identified the original.

The Borgia has learned from his earlier mistake – mind control, no, the pure force of the Staff, yes. And so he pushes Ezio first to the ground with its power, only to lift him up into the air. The Apple falls from the pouch at Ezio’s side, rolling towards Rodrigo.

“Oh, Assassins, you never learn, do you? I am the Prophet, and now, nothing is standing in my way…not even you, Ezio Auditore!”

Rodrigo’s grip on the staff tightens and Ezio is choking in mid-air, lungs contracting as they try in vain to fill with air. Then there is a shout, and Ezio slams to the ground, body prone.

Chapter Text

When Ezio comes to, a head is hovering above his own. No, wait. There’s a body attached as well.

How hard did he hit the floor? Judging by the pounding in his skull, he’s lucky he didn’t crack it entirely. Brains oozing out of their designated container is rarely a good sign, this much Ezio has learned throughout his own skull-cracking career.

But when he reaches for the back of his head, his hand only meets crusted blood. A good sign, probably.

Scrambling, he reaches for the empty pouch at his belt in vain; Rodrigo is long gone with the Apple and the Staff both. Down a secret passage, likely. Ezio will have to find it, no doubt, but first things first: who is the person next to him?

Ezio has to blink a bit to regain his visual focus. When he finally does, there is no sound in the world louder than the hammering of his heart

“L- Leonardo?”

“Ezio.” Leonardo’s voice is outwardly calm, but Ezio knows him too well to believe solely in the tone he presents to the world.

There are tear tracks running down Leo’s face, even in the gloom of the room. His lips are bitten, and trembling a little. “You were out a long time. I…I thought I might have been too late.”

The Assassin reaches up, aiming for something between a caress and the overall grounding touch he needs right now…only to recoil. Leonardo stares at him quizzically.

“Your hair?! Your beautiful hair, Leonardo, where is it?!”

“You just almost died – again! - and that’s what you want to focus on?”

As Ezio’s eyes grow more accustomed to the darkness of the chapel from where he is still lying on its floor, he takes in Leonardo’s entire outfit: a priest’s robe, and the slightly stubbly, yet entirely shaved head he has seen throughout his infiltration of the Vatican.

Ezio strokes the artist’s head tentatively, almost tempted to giggle a little at the sensation. “So you left the beret back in Monteriggioni this time, huh?”

Even in his deeply concussed state, Ezio knows what Leonardo needs from him. Comfort.

Humor is one way to do that. The sweet, chaste kiss he presses to Leo’s lips after pulling himself up into a sitting position is another. Leonardo’s eyes are still looking a bit wet, but that could be residual.

“So I guess you aren’t planning on being a stay-at-home wife, huh?”

Leonardo punches Ezio’s arm, albeit gently. “Asshole.”

“Maybe later, babe.” The Assassin tries to wink, but his face ends up contorting in pain instead. Damn Rodrigo and his penchant for the infliction of head injuries.

As if remembering where they are, Ezio surveys the room. A handful of Rodrigo’s faithful dot the floor in various forms of wakefulness.

“Happy as I am to see you, Leonardo…this is not over yet. You need to take cover before anyone recognizes you. It’s too dangerous. I’ll find you, when…when it’s over.”

The thin line of Leonardo’s mouth tells Ezio his fiancé isn’t planning on going anywhere.

“I may not be great in a fight, Ezio, but right now, I’m not sure you are, either. And if this is your…our final stand, then so be it. Do you really think there’s going to be much of a market for art, or even any semblance of a normal world, if the Templars succeed in constructing their new world order?”

“Help me up, then.”

Leonardo cocks his head to the side ever so slightly. “You’re not even going to try to stop me from coming with you?”

Ezio chuckles, but it sounds hollow even to his own ears.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all these years, it’s that there is no force on earth strong enough to stop you from doing whatever you want to do. Now, let’s go find that secret passage, caro mio.”

Chapter Text

If there’s one thing Ezio has learned, it is that all things mysterious and occult-adjacent have a penchant for sneaky architecture. Rodrigo may have vanished in the midst of knocking Ezio out, but hidden passages always leave some type of trace.

But over the years, Ezio has had the time to learn more than just the one thing. Another important thing is that his Assassin uniform is masterfully crafted, and designed for combat – particularly around the vital organs, the fabric is strengthened. Battle wounds are usually best held in place until they can be treated.

Maybe this explains why it takes Ezio so long to notice the increasing pain in his abdomen. The head impact likely affected his perception, and the fabric of the Assassin clothes hide it well, but there is no denying it: he is wounded. Maybe even fatally. It is, at this point, a matter of time, luck, and a little bit of whatever it is you call faith.

Aware of this, he wastes no time locating the passageway Rodrigo doubtlessly fled down. Leonardo’s face when the archway starts moving at the press of two well-hidden elements of the Vatican architecture is one Ezio knows well from their days in Venice. It is the one that means Ezio can forget about any plans they might have had for the rest of the day; Leonardo has discovered something to dissect. At least this time it didn’t use to be a living body.

All the while, Ezio is mentally doing his own math. Rodrigo is armed, trained, angry, and powerful. Ezio himself is wounded, and Leonardo is a strategist more than he is trained in combat. The outcome of this scenario isn’t good, no matter how it is laid out.  

And so Ezio hesitates on the threshold. This, maybe more than any choice he’s made or kill he’s carried out, decides who he is as a man. When Leonardo moves to press ahead after Rodrigo, Ezio holds him back.

“Caro. Leonardo.”

Ezio is still unused to Leonardo’s short head of hair, but the expression on his face is the same one he has always worn when looking at Ezio. The Assassin was a fool, really, not to recognize it for so long. To run from Leonardo, leaving him in bed one cold morning all those years ago, worried they would break apart, fearing what it would mean to fully give this man his heart.

He knows, now. Ezio knows. Leonardo’s eyes are a little more wrinkled than they were back in the day, and it is this that seals Ezio’s decision.

“Before we…go on…I want you to know.”

Leonardo tilts his head the slightest bit.

“To know...that you are what makes my life precious. Beyond everything I do, whatever great good I may or may not be serving, the holiest thing I’ve ever done is to be with you.”

The sound that Leonardo makes is swallowed instantly by the press of Ezio’s lips on his. It isn’t a long kiss; it is a token.

But their knowledge of each other goes both ways – when he draws back, Leonardo is staring at him quizzically.

“Ezio…why does this sound like-”

He doesn’t get any further than that, because with a final loving caress of Leonardo’s jaw with his left hand, Ezio brings his right hand around in a long swing, effectively knocking Leonardo out.