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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
✩ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.
✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.
✩ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.
✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.
✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion
FILL: Blind Trust 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-03-06 12:44 pm (UTC)(link)------
It's been four long days since Shaun first put the hood over Desmond's eyes and jessed his wrists, shutting the Bleeding Effect down in one fell swoop. The historian expected things to become awkward not long after that, especially given Desmond's tendency to retreat mentally whenever he was put in a position where he himself was not in control. Not that Shaun could blame him of course - Shaun himself wasn't exactly fond of being put in situations like that either, but the difference was that Desmond used bluffs and threats to weasel his way out, whereas Shaun went with the most painless route, which was usually the truth.
A few precious minutes of calm and control could not wash away many weeks worth of biting words and sarcastic wit between the two of them. So really it was no surprise when Desmond did everything in his power to keep from talking or even looking at Shaun over the next few days. He threw the new found calm gifted by the hood into the Animus, dredging up weeks worth of Edward's seafaring memories in mere days; for once, William was blissfully silent during his exits. The Bleeding Effect seemed to fade away as well, although Shaun refused to forget it, opting to keep the hood in his desk during those precious hours Desmond spent in the Animus.
This turned out to be a wise decision when on the fifth day during the first break from the Animus, Desmond took two steps and suddenly gasped, wavering on his feet. His hands scrabbled for his arms, nails digging into flesh. "S-s-s-sh-shaun..."
"Desmond?!" Rebecca is up in a heartbeat, William behind her, both looking frightened and wary. Shaun realizes what's fixing to happen and doesn't even think about the consequences, ripping open his drawer with savage intent and taking the hood out, literally leaping over the desk as Desmond screams in a voice that is not his own, and snaps the hood over his eyes, tying the rawhide strips that make up the knots before the man can regain himself. Then he seizes hold of the jess on his wrists and waits. It doesn't take long for it to start.
Desmond isn't Ezio this time, but Altair, spitting out oaths of vengeance and loathing in words that sound ancient and as hot as the sun. He thrashes, twists and does everything he can to escape Shaun's grasp, but with the jess holding his wrists and Shaun holding the jess its impossible for him to do anything other than fight and swear. It isn't safe to attempt physical touch yet, so Shaun lets Desmond keep his distance, watching out of the corner of his eye as Rebecca's jaw slowly closes, eyes going bright with realization. William, however, is another story.
The look on his face is somewhere between disgust and fury. He watches, tight-lipped as Desmond settles down, twitching and growling threats at the air. When Shaun is sure he won't get bitten, he reaches out and gently pets Desmond's throat with the backs of his fingers, just like he did before, murmuring soft words and soothing the black rage within the mixed man. Altair is much more receptive than Ezio was, cocking his head back and forth and relaxing much sooner. When every muscle in the man's body is lax, Shaun lets go of the jess and stops petting. Sure enough, Desmond shakes his head and reaches up, touching the hood. "Shaun?" His voice is weak and raspy.
"I'm here, Desmond. Everyone's alright; just try to breath, okay?"
Rebecca reappears at Shaun's side with a glass of water, eying the hood with admiration. She pats the historian's shoulder before walking back towards William, taking one look at him and socking him in the shoulder. When he rounds on her, teeth bared and eyes lit with fury, she shakes her head firmly. Desmond sips the water gratefully, nearly drinking the entire glass before stopping. Shaun steps closer to remove the hood, but Desmond steps back. "Not yet," he says quietly, and Shaun leaves it at that.
Desmond keeps the hood on for the rest of the break, only removing it when he has to go back into the Animus. Shaun gives it to Rebecca, showing her how to knot the laces quickly if it should come to that, before leaving it to her and going to take a short breather in his room. Unfortunately, he isn't alone; William seems determined to come along. Shaun knows it won't be an easy conversation, but he intends to have it all the same.
The second the door is closed William rounds on him, paranoia and disgust making him an ugly man. "What sort of sick game are you playing, Hastings?"
Shaun doesn't bother holding back. Around Desmond he's always held back, but no more. He's tired of being told that what he's doing is wrong, that they don't have time for such silly games -- Desmond is falling apart at the seams, and he and Rebecca seem to be the only ones that care. Once upon a time he respected this man, but now he just hates him. "Do me a favor William, and shut the bloody fuck up. You have no idea what I'm doing, and you've no right to judge me. For your information, its not a sick game--"
"Oh really? Then pray tell, what the hell was that? Because when I see a much older man assault my son like he's some sort of... of... wild animal, certainly the first thing I'm going to think is that its a sick game."
Shaun's teeth snap together in irritation. God save the Queen, this man was irritating. "Look you bloody wanker, Desmond is falling apart. The world as we know it is ending. And you are so far out of line, its ridiculous. You claim to be an Assassin, doing things for the good of those around you, taking care of those you love and whatnot, and yet you constantly do nothing but piss and bitch and whine and moan about how things are not getting done fast enough. Desmond is a broken man you ignorant bastard, just like 16 was, and just like every other Subject that came before him was. And you expect him to be able to keep up with your demands and not snap?"
The words are coming thick and fast, rolled in Shaun's thick accent as he loses himself in the tirade that someone should have given to this arrogant bastard years ago. "The reason I put that hood on him is to offer relief. When the hood is on him, I can help him through the Bleeding Effects, I can help him gain a bit of peace. Its not much, especially considering what you're doing to help him, but by God and the Queen herself its the only damned thing I've ever been able to do. You may be content to throw your son away once he's used up, but I'm not. And before you go proclaiming to all and sundry that this is the work of an Assassin, its not. A true Assassin wouldn't force one of his brothers to live through this hell. I imagine that if Altair or even Ezio were still around, they'd have your head for being as cruel as you are. Hell, if it weren't for the fact that the Templars have us outnumbered enough, I'd take your bloody head!"
Shaun is not an angry man. He does have a temper though, one inherited down the line of his mother, who came from a long line of powerful Irish women. They may have migrated to English country, but that doesn't mean his temper isn't still as fearsome as his mother's was, or her mother before her. William is slowly going white, his own temper forgotten as Shaun snaps and snarls like a rabid dog. It feels good to get this out, Shaun thinks, and quickly checks himself as the reminder that Desmond is still in the Animus and may suffer another Bleed at any time surfaces. He needs to stay close until they get through this.
So he takes a deep breath and finishes the job. "Long story short William, I'm cleaning up the mess you and the damnable Templars made. And before you go thinking I'm imprisoning him for some sick fetish or game, think about how quickly he settled down under my touch compared to how he was before. The hood keeps him stable. It keeps him grounded. The jess keeps him from hurting himself, and the touches and words keep him from thinking he's Altair or Ezio. Together, it makes a perfect antidote for the poison inside him - a poison I intend to fully eliminate, regardless of whether you support me or not. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I'm needed back in the Animus room."
And then, without waiting for a reply, he steps around William's frozen frame and disappears back into the living room, settling down at the computer to give instructions to Desmond, who seems to be in the middle of a fight with another ship.
Interesting stuff, that.
----
William doesn't bother Desmond after that. Even when he crashes the Jackdaw into port several times and loses synchronization because he's been shot and is bleeding out, the man doesn't say a word. He also doesn't look at Shaun or Rebecca, busying himself with documents Shaun never saw arrive. He's tempted to steal them and make sure William isn't selling them out to the Templars, but restrains himself. He has enough problems on his plate without worrying about what others are doing.
"Okay Desmond, let's call it a day. Good work out there today." Rebecca pats their boy on the back as he stumbles out of the Animus, and straight into Shaun, who takes shameless pleasure in the way Desmond leans into him now, trusting in his touch instead of flinching away. After a minute his confusion is gone and he's stepping back, Shaun reluctantly letting him go. His hawk has to fly sometimes, he supposes, but that doesn't mean he has to be happy about it.
They head back into the training room to let Desmond run off the last of Edward's energy from the fight (which Shaun recorded because quite frankly it was sheer brilliance on legs), the historian bringing along a small tray of food and the hood, which he hides. Desmond usually has anywhere between two to four Bleeds a day, and while he's only had one so far, its better not to chance it. Desmond finally camps himself out on a beam, laying on his stomach with all four limbs draped over the sides of the wood like some abnormally large cat, staring down at Shaun calmly. Shaun stares right back, finding it easier to do so than before. "Are you planning on coming down here to eat at all?"
"I have a better idea," Desmond retorts, sound lazy and satisfied, "Why don't you come up here?"
Shaun blinks. "Do I look like an Assassin to you? Or a monkey? Don't answer that," he orders when Desmond smirks and opens his mouth. He snickers and settles back down, sighing.
"I'm serious Shaun, you should come up here. It's nice."
"And I'm serious, Desmond. I can't climb. You come down here and eat and then you can climb back up."
"But I'll be too full to climb after," Desmond whines, nevertheless starting to push himself off the beam, coming down box by box.
Shaun decides to make up for his lack of teasing and waves his hand dismissively. "Well maybe if you wouldn't eat quite so much every day, you wouldn't be so large around the waist, now would you?"
"Did you just call me fat?"
"Maybe I did. What are you going to do about it, large one?"
That starts a bicker fight that lasts the entirety of the meal and wrings a few laughs and smiles out of them. Its all light teasing compared to earlier, but it helps ease the tension some. Desmond decides to call it a night after that, and heads off to bed, Shaun doing the same after an hour of reading.
As he settles in, he thinks about the progress made over a few simple days. The hood, the jess, the confrontation... all part of a plan that Shaun hopes can save Desmond in some ways, even if it costs him in others. He thinks back to his first hawk and sighs, pulling his glasses off and setting them on the nightstand. Tomorrow he'll try to think of other things he can do to help around, maybe have Rebecca hood Desmond during his Bleeding instead of himself, in case the time should ever come when he's not around to do it and Desmond loses his mind.
He starts dozing not long after that, but just when he reaches the warmth of sleep something brushes against him, startling him awake. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who it is, especially once Desmond tucks his head under Shaun's chin and tries to get closer without incurring Shaun's wrath. He doesn't say anything, but then again he doesn't have to - Shaun's heard him scream in the middle of the night often enough to piece together what he's looking for. So he simply goes for the most obvious route. "Do you want the hood on, Desmond?"
The other man stills, and its just like the first day all over again. Then, tentatively, he nods. Shaun reaches over him, and opens the drawer, not even bothering to turn on the light as he slips the hood over Desmond's head, tying the knots, keeping them tight enough to prevent it from slipping, but loose enough so he can still move it around if it gets uncomfortable. Shaun tries not to think of the slightly animal-like sound Desmond makes once its on, and instead says, "Wake me up if you start sweating in it, okay?"
They don't talk after that, Shaun not even bothering to complain when Desmond stays in the circle of his arms, head tucked underneath his chin, arms draped over his sides in a light embrace. It feels nice, the historian thinks as he drifts off again, to have a little show of trust like this pop up now and again. Maybe he can get Desmond to do it more often.
Maybe.
Re: FILL: Blind Trust 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-03-06 08:31 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Blind Trust 2/2
(Anonymous) 2013-03-06 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-07 04:35 am (UTC)(link)I vote it does!, and it would've felt like healing!smex. Which can be awesome, but detracts from the story.)William...I agree w/ above anon. There's too much between those two, and the elder Miles isn't really good at the "Dad" thing (I haven't played enough to make a full decision yet, but so far not impressed w/ the guy. Seems like he's trying too hard, and failing b/c it clashes w/ his personality.)
Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-07 05:58 am (UTC)(link)May I presume then that OP and present company would not mind if this writer took a shot at the Leo/Ezio story? Not terribly long of course; anon fails at long stories. >_
Not OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-07 06:10 am (UTC)(link)Present company also begs for a ShaunDes sequel. ANON CAN DREAM, RIGHT?OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-07 07:37 am (UTC)(link)And seconding that sequel...if writeanon gets more plotbunnies for the verse.And don't worry about the Leo/Ezio one being short! While I love long fic, sometimes it's nice to get shorter fic as a breather to all the epics that have popped up here (and to tide us over till next epic fic update! :D)
FILL: The Lost Eaglet 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-07 09:05 am (UTC)(link)------
The execution of the House Auditore sends a ripple down Firenze's power structure. Despite the fact that the mother and daughter still live, the greedy nobles who have sought what Giovanni sat on for so long still reach forward in a desperate bid to claim whatever is left. The mother is broken and the daughter traumatized; neither would put up much of a legal fight over land or possessions. The Pazzi are the ones who end up benefiting the most; Vieri Pazzi and his father claim insult against the former House, and the judges decide that it is only fitting they get what remains to answer for the damage done to the Pazzi. Within three simple days both Maria Auditore and Claudia Auditore are forced from Firenze, banished by the Pazzi's power and dirty coin. They carry nothing more than the clothes on their back and what they can carry in their pockets.
Leonardo had offered to house them, and even Lord Lorenzo had attempted to step in and sway the judges favor. But without Giovanni as his grounding, Lorenzo could only push so far, and was forced to concede in the end. As for Leonardo, he was quickly written over and ignored. The duo were forced to retreat and watch as the last decent House in the city crumbled under the Pazzi's boots. There was no doubt in Leonardo's mind that there were a number of reasons Vieri Pazzi and his father had claimed insult on the former House, but perhaps the most prominent was to spite Lorenzo, who controlled the bank that had outgrown their own. The artist knew it wouldn't be long before all of Florence would be under their control, especially now that Vieri's father was out of jail.
Of course, Lorenzo was no fool either; despite relying mostly on Giovanni, he had numerous other eyes and ears about the city that reported to him at least every day, if not every week. What was surprising to Leonardo though was when the leader called for HIM to come in -- something that had never occurred before. He was made all the more nervous by the fact that Lorenzo sent armed guards to pick him up. Still, he didn't resist, and mutely followed the group all the way to the Lord's chambers, where he was left to stand on his own, the door shutting and locking behind him. Only then was Leonardo able to finally get a decent look at what the past few days had done to the man.
He looked paler than usual, and the dark bags under his eyes said that he had gotten little to no sleep lately. Leonardo could relate, but for a different reason. For all that he man held himself upright and proud, the artist could see how badly he was fraying at the edges. "Milord--"
Yet before Leonardo could even get started, Lorenzo held up a hand. "I am aware, Leonardo, so still any warnings you are about to give to me. I did not bring you here so we could discuss what I already know."
Leonardo sighed shakily, nodding. "Very well then. What can I help you with, Altezza?"
"House Auditore is not dead."
Leonardo froze where he stood, eyes wide. "That... that is...impossibile! I was there, Altezza, I witnessed their deaths with my own eyes!"
Lorenzo nodded thoughtfully, throat bobbing as he swallowed, a great sadness lurking behind his stoic expression. "Yes, I know. But as it turns out, Uberto did not pay attention when he tossed my hawk and his nest into the fire. There is one still remaining that has not been cast out or cut down. And we need to find him very quickly."
"Who?" Leonardo found himself whispering, stepping forward as his heart hammered in his chest. "Who is it? I give you my word I will search everywhere I can--"
Lorenzo nodded, eyes shutting. "Ezio Auditore. He lives still, somewhere out in Florence. I find myself fearing for him - he is Giovanni's last foothold within this city, and his family's last chance for vengeance. If we do not find him and get him up to speed by the time the Pazzi put their plans into motion, this city and I will crumble and burn."
The warning was dire, but not unexpected. Still, the gravity of the situation weighed down as heavily on Leonardo as one of his stone statues. He fought to stay still, fists clenched at his sides. "Do we have any idea where he could be?"
Lorenzo hesitated, and Leonardo knew the answer. "Then we must search. By day and by night, until we find him. And we must pray against all odds that we get to him before the Pazzi do."
FILL: The Lost Eaglet 2/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-07 10:25 am (UTC)(link)Fortunately, he was not the only one; several factions within Florence's walls had held peace with House Auditore, and seen Giovanni's death for what it was. La Volpe, surprisingly enough had been the first to step forward, confronting Leonardo one evening after everyone else had gone home. Leonardo had heard enough of the Fox through Giovanni to be aware of the rumors circling him like so many horses, as well as his temperament; Giovanni had told him Volpe held little love of fools and sitting ducks. Leonardo found himself nearly overwhelmed by the man's sheer presence and natural charm, although both seemed to disappear once the door was shut.
"Is it true then? Giovanni's last child is out in the city somewhere?" The thief demanded, moving from his spot against the wall.
"Si. Altezza, Mario and I are working as hard as we can to find him before the Pazzi do. We know they hold no love of the Auditore - we can only speculate what they would do if they were to discover an Auditore still remained among them."
"They would destroy him," Volpe spat unflinchingly, "they would break his body and then his mind. That is the way of the Pazzi. I would not be surprised to find him with a collar around his neck when we drag him out."
"You make it sound as if he's already been caught!" Leonardo cried, alarmed. Volpe shook his head.
"I'm merely stating the truth of the matter. If we don't find Giovanni's missing son soon, then we must assume he is either captured or dead. Fortunately, both I and my men move fast in tight situations. I have heard that we are not the only ones that have agreed to search. Who else is on the hunt?"
"The courtesans have already agreed, although they are the only ones I'm aware of so far. Altezza may have the names of others."
Volpe scoffed. "I do not need to know their names, only their faces. Even without the lordling's directions, I can assume which side goes to which leader. You'll find help in the darker places now; shield yourself well little artist, and prepare for the blowout when the Pazzi discover their prize has been under their nose the whole time. We will steal Ezio back, and we will not be merciful doing it."
Volpe vanished after that, leaving Leonardo with mixed feelings, most of which consisted of worry and dread. The thought of the Pazzi discovering Ezio before had been disturbing, but now it was positively sickening. Forcing himself to go back to his work, Leonardo prayed to whoever was listening that Ezio would stay in hiding long enough for La Volpe and his followers to find him.
---------
He had not slept since the execution.
Although exhaustion dogged him like a shadow and his very soul ached with the pain of loss, he could not sleep. Every time he tried to close his eyes for just a few precious minutes and lose himself in the blessed darkness, he would recall their faces, the nooses around their necks, the stab of betrayal in his chest at Uberto's words. He had failed his family - his brothers and fathers were lost to him forever, and his mother and sister had been cast from the city, thrown to parts unknown.
Ezio curled up in a ball. He didn't know where he was - only that it was dark and quiet, nobody around for miles. He could hear the town off in the distance - was he near Firenze? He couldn't tell anymore. His mind refused to put the last few days in order, the strain of attempting to walk off such devastating events so soon crippling him like a broken limb. Overhead, the sky darkened and re-lit itself like a beacon fire, the sun passing in a constant cycle that made him dizzy if he stared at it too long.
It came to him that he needed to be somewhere, needed to see someone. But after a few minutes of trying and failing to recall a name or a face, he gave up. If it were truly important, he wouldn't have forgotten.
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-08 07:25 am (UTC)(link)...I had this fear that he had been captured by the Pazzi like Volpe stated
half of me didn't want it, and half did....goddamn kinks.More soon, writeanon?
Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-09 12:22 am (UTC)(link)I've been working on three other fills alongside this one, so this writer will take a break before returning to work! Hopefully you will get a new fill by sometime next week.
Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-09 07:44 am (UTC)(link)Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-09 08:25 am (UTC)(link)So yeah, I swap around a lot. Trying to get the longer ones done first, since I tend to put more effort into the things I write more of.
FILL: The Lost Eaglet 3/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-19 01:06 am (UTC)(link)---------
Despite feeling completely lost and more hurt than he had ever felt before, Ezio eventually came to his senses and realized that the Pazzi would probably be sweeping the city soon, making sure that every last trace of the Auditore was erased. Although the thought filled him with fire and he longed to kill the bastards responsible for his family's destruction, he was no fool; he knew that in order to get even that far, he would need training of some sort. But before any of that, he would need a blade capable of piercing flesh, and his father's blade was broken.
He had not once thought of his father's late nights when he wouldn't return home, or how sometimes when he did his smile would be strained, and he would creep upstairs to his wife without first saying hello to them. When he had been younger, he had always assumed his father had simply been too tired to say hello. It hadn't bothered Ezio, because his mother had explained that sometimes even the strongest men fell weak. But now, dressed in his father's assassin robes with his broken blade wrapped up in a small cloth in his pocket, it all made sense.
Still, Ezio could not bring himself to hate his father, or what he had done. The lies he had woven had been for the protection of his family -- it was only thanks to his father's secrecy and caution that they had lasted as long as they did. Tucking his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, he rubbed his face against the arms of the cloth, inhaling the last of his father's scent. How strange, that even after all this time it still smelled like him, although the scent was fading fast, quickly being taken over by Ezio's own musk. It was a small comfort, one Ezio clung to with the last of his strength.
As he breathed, he thought carefully about his father's friends. Who could he go to to train him? Who would fix his broken blade? And how long did he have before the Pazzi found that Ezio Auditore was still among the living? He needed a safehouse; a place to rest just until he could get his blade fixed, and maybe get a decent night's rest and some food down him (his stomach urged him to do that last part soon). But he had never met but a handful of his father's friends, and most of them were now traitors to him.
So where was he supposed to go when he was surrounded by enemies?
The answer came to him as a flock of colorful birds flew overhead, his memory flashing back to a few days ago, when he had run errands with his mother.
Leonardo da Vinci.
------------
Leonardo sneezed, hastily burying his face in the crook of his arm while his assistants jumped. "Excuse me! Oh dear, I hope I'm not coming down with a cold. I've got enough on my plate as is without worrying about bed rest!"
Salai rolled his eyes from where he sat on the posing stool. "You hardly sleep as is, so I don't know what you're complaining about."
The painter chuckled. "Si, but I still do require rest, Salai. Now, still the wiggling tongue and relax so I can finish this commission up."
The young man sighed dramatically but did as Leonardo asked, relaxing his tense muscles and letting the artist finish drawing the lines of the portrait that would soon hang on some nobleman's wall. Although the commission was for his wife, the woman had come in only once to be sketched roughly. Leonardo had the basic sketch of the woman's body down, but he required a decent pose to make it work. Thus, Salai was forced to stand in as the 'woman' for the day.
A brisk knock at the door had both of them sighing, one in annoyance and the other in content. "Whoever that is has excellent timing. We're done for today Salai, so you are free to run wherever you wish now."
The redhead needed no more encouragement and was gone before Leonardo reached the door. Which was probably a good thing, seeing as who was standing on his threshold.
"Um... sorry to bother you, Leonardo..."
Never before had Leonardo wanted to slap both himself and someone else at the same time. "What are you doing? Inside, quickly! If the Pazzi see you..."
Ezio Auditore, looking smaller and far too pale for his own good, shuffled inside awkwardly, nodding. "I know, I know. Um, but I need a favor. That is, if you can do it..."
Leonardo nodded, pulling Ezio's hood up before tugging him inside, past the curious apprentices and into his personal office, closing and locking the door before rounding on the nervous youth. "Do you have any idea how many people are looking for you, ragazzo? Altezza is searching high and low, and has employed myself and Mario to help find you! Even La Volpe himself is out searching! Where in God's name have you been?"
Ezio seemed taken aback, worrying his lower lip and playing with the lace at the edge of a sleeve. "I...do not know where I was, to tell you truthfully. I've not been well, these past few days." He licked his lips, eyes looking everywhere but Leonardo.
The artist felt himself relax a bit, unable to stay mad at a boy that was falling apart at the seams. Sighing, he stepped forward and wrapped Ezio in a hug, not even bothered when Ezio's weight leaned more heavily against him. He had lost a lot, and would probably lose much more before his life was over. But that was later, and this was now.
Leonardo shifted so that Ezio leaned against his arm. "You need to rest, and recuperate. Come."
"W-wait Leonardo! My father's blade - can you fix it?" He handed over the small cloth and the papers. Leonardo placed both on his desk, unrolling the scroll and looking it over. They were the original plans -- good. Then Giovanni's blade could be fixed, and would be, as soon as Ezio was asleep. He left them on his desk and went back to gently guiding him towards the bedroom, shushing him when he made to argue against sleeping there. "You need it more than I. And don't worry about your father's blade, Ezio. I will see it gets fixed and sharpened before you wake. All you need to do is sleep, and let the rest of us take care of you."
"B-but the guards..." The boy was settled in and already drifting off, body seeking out the comfort offered against his wishes.
Leonardo rolled his eyes. Stubborn child. "They will not touch you so long as I and Lorenzo stand strong. Sleep, Ezio." Dropping the dramatics, Leonardo put a hint of steel into his voice, and watched, satisfied as the boy's consciousness flickered out like a snuffed candle.
Sighing, he took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Ezio was safe from the Pazzi, for now at least. Now to alert Lorenzo and the rest of the search party.
After he fixed Ezio's blade.
FILL: The Lost Eaglet 4/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-19 01:53 am (UTC)(link)It turned out Lorenzo was expecting him, which made things much easier. Leonardo saw the reason why when he entered the office; perched on the window was La Volpe, an apple in his hand. "I take it you found our wayward eaglet?"
"How did you know?"
"La Volpe has eyes and ears all over the city. Do not be surprised, child," La Volpe said with a shrug. Ignoring him for the moment, Leonardo switched his attention to Lorenzo.
"It is as he says, Altezza. But Ezio is hardly fit for a fight against the Pazzi. When I asked him where he had been these past days, he said he could not recall, he only remembered he was not well."
Lorenzo's lips pursed. "Where is he now?"
"Sleeping at my office. I've given my apprentices instructions to refuse any and all guards, and if they must speak with them do not allow them inside the house."
The regal man nodded. "I will change the guard shifts if I can, and order them to leave your home alone. But my will cannot stay them for long, Leonardo. You must get Ezio back on his feet, and soon."
"Forgive me for the assumptions sire, but I considered the possibility that he could stay with me until he gets back on his feet, and then he could possibly go stay with his uncle for a time to be trained. However, I dare not risk contacting him for fear of the letter being intercepted. You said he and Giovanni had an encryption system that Giovanni showed you -- could you use that to pass the idea on?"
The man's lightened gaze showed his acceptance. "Consider it done. I will send the letter tonight."
La Volpe spoke up. "I've nothing else to do tonight - if you want, I can have the letter run through our passageways until it reaches Mario himself. That way no one need know a letter was ever even sent."
"Even better. Amazing how you make yourself known in the most subtle of ways, fox."
La Volpe's smile to Lorenzo was all teeth. "I try, princeling."
Leonardo ignored the bickering of the two in front of him in favor of a sigh. A plan had been made -- now to get Ezio back on his feet and out of town before the Pazzi found his scent.
-------
Unfortunately, Leonardo had not considered that Ezio might have been followed. When he returned, a regiment of guards was in the process of storming his studio, and most if not all of his apprentices were dead. The shock of seeing such madness was quickly thrown aside when he saw one of the guards hauling Ezio off by his hair.
Leonardo had grown up an orphan, and knew how to fight. He did not like showing his violent side however, and so he kept it hidden. However, the sight of his apprentices dead, his home being ransacked and the boy he had promised to protect being dragged off to be hung -- it ignited his blood like nothing else. When he rolled up his sleeves and hung his hat on a nearby branch, picking up a sword from where it was buried in one of his apprentices bodies, he knew exactly what he was doing. He gave a sharp whistle to get their attention, and then went to work.
The guards were poorly trained, their speed pathetic. Despite the fact that Leonardo had not picked up a blade since meeting his master so many years ago, he was still better than the guards, ducking and sidestepping them with ease and sliding his blade home between the cracks in their armor. He was a pacifist, but right now he was also a protector and he needed to keep Ezio close. He didn't worry about the guards in the studio, instead going straight for the one holding his charge.
The blade went into the man's back with a whisper, the man coughing up blood as he dropped Ezio, the boy tucking himself behind Leonardo, eyes wide. Leonardo imagined he looked quite the demon, but couldn't quite bring himself to care. "Ezio, search the bodies, one of them may have your blade. And here," he reached down and tossed him a sword from the guard he had killed. "Defend yourself."
Ezio nodded and rushed back towards the studio, his sword clanging against the guard's. Leonardo followed, never running, merely swiftly walking, blade pointed at the ground half an instant before he shoved it in a man's throat, the blood licking his face.
The fight ended far later than Leonardo would have liked, but fortunately no more guards were roused. Ezio's blade was still on the desk, the men apparently having overlooked it in favor of the criminal in his bed. Leonardo collected his hat and piled the bodies out in the streets, burning them as he and Ezio collected a few minor items of importance. Before the night was over, both of them had vanished, traveling by horse towards Monteriggioni. Lorenzo had promised to hold down the fort until Ezio returned in two weeks time to pick up where his father had left off.
As they rode, Leonardo couldn't help but glance over at Ezio once in a while, unsure of what he saw. Every now and again, Ezio would look to him from the corner of his eye, some strange expression burning in his gaze. At first Leonardo dismissed it, thinking it only gratitude. Yet as the night went on and they rode further out, he began to realize that it wasn't gratitude, but strength. Ezio was no longer afraid, it seemed, but ready to do what was necessary.
If Leonardo had known at the time what and where that strength and fearlessness would bring them, he might have reconsidered his emotions on the subject.
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-19 03:38 am (UTC)(link)I can't wait to see where this fill goes! *happy-dance*
Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-19 05:28 am (UTC)(link)Glad to see you like what I wrote though. :)
Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-19 06:18 am (UTC)(link)As much as I love fanon!Leo, he doesn't really match canon, or my personal headcanon. I encountered fanon!Leo first, so my experiences w/ canon!Leo were rather startling (thought the finger-sacrifice joke was in reeeaaally poor taste. My expression probably matched Ezio's, tbh...) I don't think he was all sweetness and light as fandom seems to cast him as.
Which is why I love top/dom!Leo because it fits.FILL: The Lost Eaglet 5/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-19 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)It was also to answer Ezio's questions, which were becoming increasingly difficult. Most concerned his past, and many more his ability to fight, neither of which the artist was comfortable enough to outright speak of. Leonardo gave the best answers he could, but warned the youth in advance that there are certain subjects he would not tell of. Gratifying enough, Ezio heeded the warning and let things drop whenever Leonardo shook his head.
Somehow, the two went from discussing Leonardo's life to discussing Ezio's, including the recent execution of his father and brothers and the exile of the remaining family members. Leonardo treaded carefully, aware that pushing too hard when Ezio hadn't even had a chance to properly grieve his losses could seriously harm him. But Ezio seemed completely immune to whatever exhaustion had gripped him mere hours ago; he stared into the fire or at Leonardo, answering the questions as if nothing was wrong.
Now that their horses were finally ready to go again, Leonardo doused the tiny fire they'd gotten up and started steering them both towards their destination again.
"Do you regret your life so far?"
Leonardo didn't stop as he considered the question, pulling himself on the brown chestnut mare that bore him so patiently. "In some aspects, yes. In others, no. Recently however? I find I've better things to worry about than regret." And he locked eyes with Ezio, finding himself unable to look anywhere else. "What about you?"
Ezio's head tipped slightly, eyes strangely bright as he watched the artist who was much more than what he seemed. "I admit that my earliest choices were not my best. But I intend to correct that from here on out by defending what is mine with tooth and claw."
Leonardo pushed aside the thoughts that arose from that statement, as well as the curious skittering sensation like so many fingers tickling over his nerves in his stomach. "That's good. With the way things are now, it would be best if you are prepared to fight for what you want. If you let things that are yours stray too far, they could get snatched up by others."
"I won't allow it." Somehow, both of their voices were dropping lower and lower, as if they were discussing something intimate rather than the simple facts of life. Ezio's voice was practically a whisper as they rode out again, the wind covering whatever he said after that. Leonardo couldn't shake the feeling that he knew exactly what words Ezio's lips had spoken before the wind carried them away, forbidden and exciting in their prelude of things to come.
-----
When they arrived in Monteriggioni, Mario was there to greet them. Ezio visibly flinched at the booming sound of the man's voice as he greeted Leonardo, throwing an arm around the blond's shoulder and hugging him before kissing his cheek. Ezio's horse nickered at him softly, clearly trying to comfort the spooked boy. Ironic, Leonardo thought with a smile, that the skittish horse he had picked for Ezio would be the one to comfort him. Well, it took all kinds, he supposed.
"Ezio, this man is your uncle Mario. He is to be your protector in my stead."
If Leonardo was honest with himself, he would say that the moment he uttered those words was the exact moment things between him and Ezio began to crumble, change and shift. Ezio's eyes snapped to him, and a frown appeared. "You're leaving?"
Leonardo tried not to react to how shocked Ezio sounded. Almost as if he was accusing Leonardo of abandonment. The artist frowned.
"I will be around, Ezio, and my door will always be open to you if you need help with anything. But yes, I am leaving. Lorenzo cannot hold Firenze by herself, and although I have little power in the courts, I can hold my own in other aspects. Besides, Firenze is my home; I cannot simply up and leave her."
He should have thought it suspicious that Ezio didn't argue, merely narrowing his eyes, nostrils flaring. His nod was curt, almost dismissive, as he dropped off the horse and walked away, leaving Leonardo to his business with Mario, who had watched the interaction with a strange gleam in his eye and an even stranger smile. As if he were watching something terribly amusing while trying to be smug and mysterious at the same time. "That went better than I expected."
Mario chuckled quietly. "My nephew is quite spirited, it seems. I may not have what I need to keep him from flying off." His words bore an unknown weight as he looked to Leonardo, who shrugged.
"You grew up with Giovanni, no? I'm sure you're used to handling creatures equipped with dangerous claws."
"Yes; used to handling them, not keeping them nested and content. Not as you've done. I must admit, I'm surprised you haven't been clawed to death."
"I can hold my own."
Mario seemed pleased, making a noise that was almost a purr as a smile stretched his lips. "And your grip on him so far?"
"Firm, but gentle. He is still grieving, and far from ready to take on the world." Or the Pazzi for that matter, Leonardo thought. He needed to get back to Firenze and help Lorenzo with damage control. But he also needed to make sure Ezio would be safe here. "I don't know how long it will be until the Pazzi figure out that Ezio is still alive, but I trust you and yours will keep him safe when the time comes."
"I will keep him armed and dangerous for his return to Firenze." Mario's grin was sharklike. "He will make those damned Pazzi suffer for what they have done to his and him."
"Lorenzo thinks he can only hold Firenze for another two weeks at best; do you think you can work with that time schedule?"
"Ha! I've trained mere whelps in such time! He'll be fit for you to fly when I finish with him."
"It will not be I who flies him, but Lorenzo," Leonardo spoke firmly, hopping back up on his horse and turning it about. Mario cocked his head, eye narrowing, gaze soft.
"I wonder."
"I must get back to Firenze now. Good luck, Mario, and thank you for your help!"
The artist rode off feeling strangely empty, protected by the hungry gaze of a fledgling eagle perched atop Monteriggioni, its wings spread in yearning to follow its master back to its home.
FILL: The Lost Eaglet 6/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-20 11:20 am (UTC)(link)Leonardo knew that half of the people in the group were not truly unhappy with Lorenzo's rule, but the people of Firenze had always held a little more of that 'herd mentality' than other cities; it made things difficult when events such as these plagued the days that were once so carefree. On top of that, Uberto was still parading around unhindered, spreading lies about the Auditore family and their noble House, lies that made Leonardo see red, made him wish he wasn't nearly so intent on keeping his cover of innocent painter. But he had sworn to his master that he would keep up the guise as long as he could, and so despite the fact that he longed to slip a blade through the fat man's throat, he held his tongue and kept his peace.
Thankfully, the days went by quickly, aided in part by Leonardo's sudden shove into the spotlight. The bodies of the guards had been discovered as they were burning, and while they had been allowed to burn, the sight of the bodies in front of a famous painter's door had forced the normally quiet soul out into the eyes of the public. Some painted him as a demon, others, a misguided soul. Many more still spoke up in his defense, saying that clearly it was an attempt to ruin his credibility. Lorenzo had a hand in this as well, although he was much more subtle, aware that if anyone thought for even a moment that Leonardo had something to do with the political war going on, he would be targeted. Leonardo could handle a sword fine, but archers and gunmen were things not even he could conquer.
Mario gave short reports to La Volpe to pass along that kept them in the look regarding Ezio. All of them were encrypted to prevent anyone from realizing what was going on; although La Volpe swore on his own life that the men and women he had in his guild were all honest thieves (a strange twist if ever Leonardo heard one), neither Lorenzo nor Leonardo was prepared to take any chances. Whenever the letters came in, Lorenzo would allow them to read it alongside him, and it was here that Leonardo began to realize that something was going on with Ezio, something Mario was trying to get him to understand.
It started out like most things did - small, unnoticeable. And then gradually, it grew.
The first report - "Fledgling settling in. Restless at night. Climbs the roofs and stares out at Firenze. Homesickness is a terrible thing."
The second report - "Resting now, but won't take certain foods. He rarely sleeps deeply. Trust is something that family cannot overcome, it seems. Another hand is required here."
And the most recent report, which had arrived that morning - "He is growing anxious; I have told him about Firenze's current standings, and he is eager to test his new claws. He also speaks of a nest he must return to, one that is occupied by a stronger, wiser creature than he. Tell the falconer to ready his glove."
Lorenzo frowned, lips moving in silent tracing of the words while La Volpe smirked and went back to the window. Leonardo sighed, easily assuming that the falconer Mario spoke of was Lorenzo. "It seems our hunter is coming home at last. Firenze will finally start calming down, hopefully."
"Mm." Lorenzo didn't look away from the paper. "I think his arrival will be most interesting for the public."
La Volpe laughed, a gay sound. "The boy will rend his enemies apart in a matter of moments. Such is his nature when uncontrolled. And he is uncontrolled." The grin he gave Leonardo was suggestive. "Methinks mayhap this eagle requires jesses."
Lorenzo's head snapped up suddenly, his gaze shooting from La Volpe to Leonardo, who had shaken his head and was in the process of retreating to go home. The leader of Firenze looked back to the letter, reading the words with a renewed intensity before his gaze returned to Leonardo's retreating back.
"Oh."
---------
Two days later, Leonardo received an invitation to a party that would be thrown by Uberto that evening; a party reserved only for the best of the best. Although Leonardo had never been in contact with the man, he knew that Uberto was sending a warning along with the invite - the problem was finding the threat before he walked into a trap. Unfortunately, Lorenzo was out of the city and wouldn't be back for several hours, and La Volpe had his own things to take care of, which meant Leonardo would have to trust his own judgment with this one. Although it smelled of danger and treachery, and although he knew that there was a good chance someone there wanted him dead, he knew he needed to go. Instinct told him that if he went, things would turn out alright.
As always, instinct was right. Fifteen minutes into the party at the Santa Croce cloister, Uberto proposed a toast to Leonardo, right before calling him a traitor and informing the public there would be a public execution right then and there. The artist had been shoved down, kicked and had his arms yanked behind his back, a sword kissing his throat before Fate decided to call in the cavalry.
The bloodcurdling scream that rippled through the air seconds later came from Uberto, who now had a sword in his stomach and a knife slicing his jugular open, blood pouring out like red wine. Leonardo watched, fascinated in a horrific sort of way as the body dropped, and the man responsible turned around. The artist couldn't help the quiet gasp that came out of him at the sight; Ezio Auditore had finally returned to Firenze and just like Mario had said, he was well-equipped.
The man that wore the white cloak and held the bloodied sword was not the boy that had looked too small in his father's clothes. This man wore the cloak as if it had been there all his life; his aura was pure dominance and demand, as if he would accept nothing less than what he desired. His posture was openly confrontation with a hint of arrogance, just enough to set the guards off. The one with his sword at Leonardo's throat turned his attention to the assassin, attempting an overhead swing that resulted in a knee to the gut and a sword through his heart. Then came the ones holding his arms, and finally the one that had kicked him.
When all the guards were dead, Ezio spoke. He did not shout, as Leonardo thought he might do, but instead spoke in a normal tone, one that made everyone in attendance sit up straight and pay attention. "Uberto Alberti was a traitor to Firenze and her people. With his death comes the recovery of peace to this city. Those of you who bore witness to his death, spread the word; Firenze's assassin flies again, and he will strike down those who attempt to spread the seeds of chaos along these hallowed grounds."
In the silence that followed, Ezio picked up Leonardo and walked out, the two soon blending in with the crowds and vanishing from sight.
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-23 07:29 am (UTC)(link)Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2013-03-23 01:45 pm (UTC)(link)I can understand he wanted vengeance for his family, but if that was the case, better to remain quiet and let the public freak themselves out than go screaming your plans to all and sundry.