Assassin's Creed Chronos_Retribution (Ezio x OC)

14 - Reunion

January 31, 1501

Rome, Italy

Despite the winter slowly overcoming the city, Ezio woke to find his bed warm. It had not been that way for some time, and, briefly, he was perplexed by the fact. Memory quickly quashed any such feelings, and he opened his eyes to find the truth plain and clear: his wife, lying next to him. She was really there, and her eyes were closed, breaths slow and deep. She had finally fallen asleep at some point, though she still looked restless. Bags remained under her eyes and would perhaps for some time until she had recovered more. Though he could not see them besides the one of her cheek, he recalled the scars on her back. More memories flowed, and with them came the feelings, too. They had sown deep inside his soul, and now they had room to sprout and grow and gnarl their vines into his very being. Though she did not blame him—the Borgia were the true culprits—he took it upon himself to lay it on his shoulders anyways. He could not let her down again.

'And now, I have a son I cannot let down as well,' he mused silently, recalling his wife's words from the night before.

A son. She had named him Mario. It was a perfect name, and he knew it was what he would have chosen, too, after all that had happened. He was in his enemy's hands, though, which made things difficult. Possibly, that is. The Borgia wanted the child for themselves. They might not put his life at risk just to waylay them, but he could not hold onto that hope. They had to find some way to get their son back, and take their vengeance.

They needed to speak with Machiavelli and the others. Their allies needed to know Catherine was alive, too—especially Claudia and Maria. They had been hurt deeply by the loss, and perhaps the rift between them might be mended. He had been lax in trying to do so after he'd thought Catherine gone, and it had only grown worse when Giovanni officially joined Bartolomeo's ranks. He had done well, and was a prominent fighter, and it had been his choice, but Claudia still disliked him for it; even blamed him a little. He should have fixed things a long time ago, but he had wallowed in his despair at his own loss and focused on Roma instead.

Ezio smiled rather ruefully as he thought to himself, 'It seems I have a great deal to fix.'

Catherine's breathing changed, and she let out a sigh. He watched her eyes open slowly, moving rapidly. Her expression was that of surprise, concern, and then her gaze found his. Her body, tense but a movement ago, relaxed some, though not fully. He was surprised at the sting he felt, but suppressed it when she smiled—sincerely, he noticed. This one was different than the others; more like before. More like her. He missed those smiles and vowed he would make them return in full.

"I almost forgot what it was like to wake up like this," she hummed, hand running across the bundled sheets.

"I missed waking up next to you," he replied softly, reaching over to entwine their fingers. The feel of her skin against his was indescribable in the way it made his heart flutter. He desired to hold her close, but it didn't seem right in this moment. Not yet. That, and he didn't miss the unmistakable sound of a door opening further down—a sign his daughter was up and about. He chuckled softly, "Diana is awake... you should see her now."

A light he had not seen before appeared in his wife's eyes and she sat up, pulling her hand free. She made to pull off the sheets, but then paused, looking to the gear she'd set down on the chairs and vanity.

She frowned, "I don't have... she shouldn't see what I wore before."

"We'll find you proper gear later... for now you can borrow mine. It... won't fit well, but it will be something. Diana won't mind," he grinned, slipping from the bed to rummage through his dresser. There he pulled out one of his black vests and then found a pair of shorter boots pushed under a desk. They were definitely not her size, but they would do for now. He slipped his own gear on right after, keeping an eye on her as he did so—she only sat on the bed, watching him, which was a relief in a way—and then held out his hand once he was done. He smiled when she took it, sharing the expression with him. "Come, she's waiting. She's always at the bottom of the stairs in the morning. I lift her up as soon as I'm down there, but today... well, I think she's in for a surprise."