Counterplots

[madimpossibledreamer]

I was going to have Desmond roll his eyes at her, but apparently the earliest recorded time (which was Shakespeare, so a little later) that was considered flirting, and I didn’t want that misconstrued if they’d even recognize it. The more you know.

Main Points:
Assassin's Creed AU (kinda time-travel)
Chapter Summary: Claudia, Ezio, and Desmond are going to stop the Borgia and the Pazzi.
Word Count: 1633
Rating: Teen

         Their lives might be changed now, but even Ezio’s steps falter slightly when she tells him about the cugino from his dreams. “Go. I’ll follow.” She returns to the spot, practicing her own ability to walk about unnoticed (and finding it difficult, wearing the clothes she does and being known throughout Firenze), while her brother is no doubt doing the same.
         Messere Arden is where she left him, although he hides behind a pillar, out of sight.
         “I have returned,” Claudia calls out quietly, just to ensure he knows it’s them, and their relative crosses his arms as he comes out.
         “Thanks, Claudia, I kind of noticed,” he states dryly, and she smiles sweetly at him and curtseys.
         “Ah, so you are possessed of more common sense than my brothers. I am impressed, Messere.” She ducks as Ezio tries to push her, so that his hand merely grazes her.
         “So, you’ve dreamed about me, Ezio?” he asks, and it seems he prays for an answer, although she cannot hope to guess what kind of answer.
         “Sì, though I know not what I dreamed. Great spires of glass, reaching tall to the heavens, shining in the sun, taller than any building I have seen. Equipment, machines, probably for building these towers, though they look as if made for or by giants. And you, climbing such things. I am not afraid of heights, messere, but even I would think twice to challenge such structures, and yet you did so with no fear. A machine, as one designed by Leonardo in his wildest fantasies, like a couch you slept upon, though your dreams were hardly happy ones, and others—several others, all watching. And you held the Apple aloft…” At every revelation, Arden’s eyes grow wider, and he raises an arm hastily before her brother can finish the final sentence.
         “Stop, that’s enough. I believe you,” he insists. “I...suppose I can say you’ve heard my name before, but it’s safer to use the name I gave you. We’re not the only ones with visions like this, Ezio. It might not matter, but...I don’t want to get caught with my pants down.”
         An appropriate saying, if not one they’ve heard before. It’d be amusing to use it later, and certainly she’s fairly sure it has happened to Ezio, on more than one occasion, but the implications outweigh the hilarity of the phrase. Her brother’s eyes narrow, and he runs a thumb over the wound on his lips. “Do the Pazzi or their allies have this capability, Messere?” he asks, not pressing further, and Arden pauses, thinking.
         “I, uh. I don’t think so. They might be able to use the tools, but I’m not sure it’d occur to them, I guess?” He grins at them, and the familial resemblance grows even stronger. “They’re not really good at stealth or subtlety, so actually gathering information? Trying to get more than just the bare minimum of information about the situation? They think it’s kind of beneath them.”
         The pride in Ezio’s eyes, in the way he puffs out his chest, is amusing, and judging by the look in their cugino’s eyes, he seems to agree. All too soon, though, he cuts it short for the more thoughtful expression. “We have decided Alberti must die, and soon, but Claudia suggested we frame the Pazzi in some way, since I have neither the strength nor skill as I am to bring an end to each of their lives. Do you disagree, Arden?”
         Their relative looks thoughtful, not alarmed, by the casual discussion of slaughter. A family of Assassins, indeed. “Yeah. I don’t know that I could take out all of the Pazzi on my own, even if I am in better shape than you, Ezio. Let alone their guards, if they spot me. Though you do know, if you’re planning on making Giovanni worried about something targeting his loyalty or family, he’s going to turn over every rock in Firenze until he finds Alberti’s murderer. Never mind the de Medicis, who probably crowned themselves kings of paranoia. It has to be perfect.”
         Ezio sighs. “Sì, I’m aware. I would have acted already, otherwise.”
         “...I have an idea,” Arden states slowly, running his thumb over—is that a similar wound? Though healed ages and ages ago. The similarity is uncanny, but Ezio would recognize his future self, surely. “It’s not a particularly good one, but…”
         “Out with it. Claudia will tell you, none of my ideas are good ones,” Ezio suggests with a smile, and their cugino nods and moves on as if that is not worth remark.
         “If we wanna show him for what he is, let’s show him taking bribery. I think we could even arrange that all bribery funds come from the Pazzi’s own coffers.”
         That...actually sounds like a good plan? Claudia is confused.
         “Second, I’m pretty good about faking handwriting. If we can get a document written by a Pazzi, I might be able to get something vague and threatening, like ‘The debt is paid’. Of course, that has the disadvantage of making him look better than he is, like just some bribable, maybe even well-meaning guy who was threatened into this, rather than a two-timing weasel, but hey, if it keeps the Auditore alive, I’ll go with it.”
         She exchanges a glance with Ezio. He also seems confused.
         “Third, we release Francesco de Pazzi. Or have him released, whatever we think we can get away with.” He holds up a hand as Claudia and Ezio start protesting. “That’s the part I’m not sure about, but think about it. That’s exactly—exactly—the kind of proof your dad can’t argue with. It’s a risk, but I’d rather fight Francesco than Giovanni, and we’re not planning on leaving him alive long, either.”
         “It would point more clearly toward the Pazzi that way,” Ezio sighs. He still looks like he’d rather anything else, but feels he has no choice.
         On the face of it, that leaves very little for Claudia to do. On the face of it.
         “I have heard,” she begins, sounding upset, and both turn to her in alarm, “...that my dearest Duccio’s attentions have begun to stray. I have a plan, though. I will make him jealous, and he will come running back to where he belongs.” She sighs heavily when her relatives continue to stare at her, confused. “It is a story all the more believable for being mostly true. It is the sort of tale my friends will be only too happy to help ensure becomes reality, enough that they might lie to Mother or Father, as long as the questions are brief, as to my whereabouts, and if I am seen with you, Arden, a strange man in Firenze, well.” She smiles, self-satisfied and sure. “I have a ready-made excuse.”
         They continue to stare. “Federico is still watching Ezio carefully. Either he volunteered, or Father asked him to do so, concerned about the way he has been acting. Either way, he is not able to move as freely as either of us, and my own ability to move around unhindered may be important.”
         Ezio sighs. “I can slip away, particularly when Federico’s running other errands, but Claudia’s right. I should probably choose my timing carefully.”
         “So it’s mostly on me to prepare for the assassination, huh?” Arden’s smile is rueful. “Story of my life.”
         “We’ll do what we can,” Ezio protests. “I’d bring you to the palazzo, but it might bring suspicion on your head after the murder, and Zio Mario, I suspect, would not be willing to acknowledge you as his own, not without good reason. I don’t wish to disregard your concerns, Arden, but to leave a familiare out here...it pains me, cugino. We will have to find some means of allowing you our hospitality, even if it must wait until after we deal with the Pazzi.”
         “I’m not even a cousin. I’m very distantly—” cugino Arden begins, and Ezio throws up his hands, no more willing to listen to this argument than she.
         “Bah! Famiglia is famiglia, no matter how distant. I’m sure, given time, Father would agree, but no matter how we might wish it otherwise, time is something we are short on.” He pauses his pacing to glance at their relative, who appears utterly bewildered that any thought would be put into his comfort or safety. What a sad life he must have lived. They must change it, just like the fate of the rest of the famiglia. “Do you know the routes beneath Firenze?”
         “Uh, yeah. You could say that.” He sounds completely lost, and barely musters a smile at Ezio’s robust, genuine grin, the way he clasps his hands.
         “Ah, eccellente. Pillows, blankets at least. A chamber pot. Food. I can manage that much, at least. You need not scrabble in the dust as if none care about your fate.” Claudia manages not to laugh, just barely—and it’s good, seeing her subdued brother brought to life once more, ready for ridiculous schemes. It might even help deflect some of the suspicions of Mother and Father.
         “You are not alone,” Claudia promises. “If I can be of use, I will. Who knows, perhaps I will be the one to slay the Gonfaloniere with poisoned wine, since we cannot use the tools of the Assassin.” No matter how much she really, really wants to see his blood decorate his floors. Any who would hurt Petruccio, never mind the rest of her family, deserve nothing less—but they might have to settle for a less violent death.
         Cugino Arden smiles at them. “Thanks, you two. Let’s save the Auditore.” They nod, and Ezio claps them both on the shoulder, drawing them in close. Arden looks startled, confused...but not ungrateful.