No Time to Lose

[madimpossibledreamer]

never mind that this is probably the most straightforward way they could have gone about this assassins are rulers of the convoluted plan
they were plotting—there was going to be this whole arc where ezio and claudia had to be the ones to let francesco go free (while in disguise) because desmond had to be the one killing alberti since he’s still got all the skills. but no. giovanni had to step in.

Main Points:
Assassin's Creed AU (kinda time-travel)
Chapter Summary: Ezio tells Giovanni what he can.
Word Count: 1011
Rating: Teen
Federico, Desmond, Leonardo, and Claudia are the topic of conversation this time, but do not appear.

 

         Giovanni had hoped this would not be the truth of things, but very little had gone the way he’d hoped lately. Why should this be any different?
         From the way his son crumples and looks utterly miserable, he’s found the truth of things. The truth comes rushing out of him in a stream of words, and while his second son is usually talkative, the uncharacteristic haste says exactly how hard it has been, keeping this secret. “I saw him, the Gonfaloniere, and though he was your friend, he was red, red like Vieri de Pazzi, and I—” Ezio swallows, eyes full of tears, and Giovanni draws his son to him, hoping to comfort. He’s not as good at it as his wife, but he’s utterly failed as a father if he can impart no reassurance whatsoever to his children when they are in pain.
         “Has your Gift ever failed you?” It might be an unorthodox source of proof, true, and certainly not one he could show Il Magnifico, but it’s good to know the limits.
         The decisiveness is impressive—and a little odd. Surely he hadn’t encountered it that often. “Never, Father.”
         “Red means ‘enemy’, then?” They hadn’t had an occasion for discovering this previously. Giovanni had made sure of that, that none who were enemies had occasion to stay in Firenze for long, alive or dead.
         “One who means me harm, specifically,” Ezio confirms, voice shaking as he buries his head in his father’s shoulder, tears, from the feel of it, falling. “On occasion, Cristina’s father is red—though only light, and briefly.” He coughs, sounding embarrassed. “Others, as well.” Other fathers, he means, though far less common, and probably the entirety of the Pazzi and others envious of the success of the Auditore. “Alberti is a deep red, and I sought him out more than once, though did not let him see me, and it has not wavered.”
         Yes, Ezio’s Gift would be a great boon to any Assassin, as the Auditore Assassin suspected, but from the grief he already has at the thought of a supposed friend who would harm them...probably best to keep him out of it.
         “But I—saw something else, when I was checking with my Gift in the marketplace,” his son continues, voice a little stronger. “A man in blue.” And blue were allies—that Giovanni had known, from previous questioning, and was an important reason why he suspected his lovely wife took Ezio with her to meet the painter she favored. To know of allegiances is very useful, particularly when dealing with such a mind.
         “Did you speak to this ally?” La Volpe, perhaps?
         “I pointed him out, and Claudia pulled the man off the street,” he admits, and if the situation was not so serious Giovanni might laugh. Claudia has the confidence to cow even the most fearsome of men. She takes rather after her mother in that regard. “He looks like famiglia, Father, and he too has the Gift, and he confirmed my fears.”
         Giovanni’s thoughts are racing. Because that isn’t his brother, who hates the thought of secrecy rather than a straightforward approach (making him a rather odd Assassin), and the man has been able to hide his presence for days, weeks perhaps. And the last known to have the Gift of the Assassins was Renato Auditore, and they had previously been fairly certain the whole family was accounted for. His misspent youth, quite possibly, coming to catch him for the first time—and really, he should have been ready practically his whole life for bastards, since Ezio takes after him so much in that regard. This is not the time for such thoughts, however—he can wait to panic about the possibility until later. Much, much later. “I have failed you, figlio mio,” he states heavily, and at Ezio’s surprised look and protest, he holds up a hand. “No, do not argue. It is true. I have not told you often enough that you may come to me with anything, it seems.”
         “I...didn’t know if you would believe me,” his son admits, voice low, and looks a little startled as Giovanni merely smiles at him.
         “As you do not know what I have seen, or of my other occupation, I suppose such an assumption is an honest one.” He sighs. Prepare for the worst, indeed. “Well. You are not alone, and I will answer any questions you may have, but as I’m sure Maria told you, the situation is a delicate one. If the Gonfaloniere is indeed betrayed us, then I’m not certain I have the time I wished. You should likely carry the boot knife on you at all times.” Federico had been so pleased about the present, and Ezio taken with the elegance of the weapon that he had been unable to retain anger at his oldest for his little pranks. “We should go to meet your ally, unless you believe he’d prefer to come here, and then I should talk to Lorenzo.” What, exactly, he is planning to say, he does not yet know, but even with the skepticism de Medici will hardly be unaware of the Pazzi’s strange confidence, when they don’t even bother putting up a token protest of innocence. Some of it, no doubt, will depend on what this ally has to offer. He should probably bring Federico, too, as to not repeat the same story too many times.
         Ezio follows without protest, still far too quiet and serious, but ducks his head as Federico first teases and then, when asked to accompany them both, turns searching, no doubt noticing his brother’s reddened eyes.
         “It’s what we feared,” he whispers to Maria as he passes her, gathers her close and breathes as he gathers his strength for what is to come.
         She sighs, whispers back, “I’ll have a talk with Claudia,” and smiles at him when he pulls away. He needn’t do everything himself, it seems. An unlooked-for ray of light, in this otherwise troubling time, but then, she is Maria Auditore.