Farnese. (Francesco Pazzi x Reader)

Chapter Ten

Palazzo de Farnese, Florence.

***

Francesco had taken the day off to help Y/N settle into the new home. It was fully furnished, and the household staff were offered to the Farnese for employment -- which Y/N accepted. She didn't like the majority of the furnishing, and hired Sandro to help her with the refurbishment. 

"Francesco, you really can go," Y/N said with a tired smile, sitting at her new desk in the home's study. She was surrounded by papers Francesco had given her -- contracts for her new employees, and home's deed, laws and guidelines for Florentine homes. He sat across from her, helping her make sense of the paperwork. 

He shook his head, "There is no where I would rather be -- plus, someone will have to help you go through everything, now that your brother is already en route to Rome." 

"You have been too kind throughout this whole ordeal," Y/N smiled, sinking back into her chair, exhausted from her lack of sleep mixed with unrelenting work, "Be honest, is it just because you want me to bank with you?"

Francesco laughed, "Yes, I do this service for all my clients -- furniture moving and painting are often included in the Pazzi Banking rituals," He leaned in a bit, "You don't have to bank with me, Madonna -- I don't care about all of that right now. I just want to know that you're settled in a new home, that is safe and comfortable."

"Thank you," She said, earnestly, "I think Sandro will be here any minute. Have you met him?"

"Briefly, at the jousting tournament -- where you so shamelessly embarrassed me."

Y/N was about to respond with a quip of her own when a soft knocking at the door gained her attention. It was one of her new maids, named Sophia.

"Sorry for the interruption, Madonna. You have a visitor, Sandro Botticelli."

"Yes, you may let him in, Sophia. Thank you for letting me know."

The girl seemed a little confused by the gratuity, but disappeared quickly. Sandro walked in with a boastful smile.

"This is pretty impressive, Y/N -- though it could use some updating," He turned to see Francesco, and shot Y/N a suggestive smile, "Apologies, Messer Pazzi, I didn't see you there."

"Please, call me Francesco. I am just here to lend a helping hand."

"Yes, Sandro -- sit, sit," Y/N motioned to an open chair beside Francesco, also surrounding her desk, "You and I must talk about updating this place -- I feel it is important to my public image to do away with the unnecessary ornate designs of the interior, and return to something more simplistic. I want the public to see me as what I am, and embrace me for it. Without the support of the Medicis, I want to make sure I'm not burned as a witch or a heretic."

"Just a woman who wears pants and kills her opposition?" Sandro asked, half-joking.

"The daughter of soldiers," Y/N corrected with an amused smile, "I wasn't raised in luxury, like the Medici or the Pazzi," She motioned to Francesco, "I was raised alongside God and war, but I have an appreciation for those things I have earned."

"So, we take away those hideous wall murals and instead put in Greek busts? Things that invoke and feeling of Artemis and Athena?" 

"Precisely. And you know my taste in fabrics. Can I trust you to handle the renovations at a reasonable speed?"

"Of course. I would be more than happy if the Farnese wanted to become my primary patrons."

"Consider it done," Y/N smiled, standing to shake hands with her friend. Sandro opted to hug her instead, holding her up as she momentarily collapsed into him -- her body with heavy with tiredness. Sandro sat her back in her chair. 

"Well, I have my work cut out for me, so excuse me while I begin with your bedroom." Sandro left following his announcement, leaving Francesco and Y/N. 

"You two are awfully close," Francesco observed, his voice teetering on jealousy. 

Y/N smiled at him, "We are, inseparable even. Sandro is like a brother to me, nothing else -- but he understands my intellectual side better than anyone else."

Francesco nodded, seemingly more at ease with this, resuming his work reading her land papers as she got up and walked around to read various book titles.

"What did the previous owner do for work?"

"He was rich by birth, he didn't do anything for work. He had an affinity for philosophy, though. He was a fan of the Greeks, not the Romans. I gave him a bust of Aristotle for his birthday, once," Francesco recalled, signing papers for her. 

"And he was a member of the Priori?"

"Yes, as is my uncle."

"How does one become a member?"

Francesco put the paper down and looked at her. "Unfortunately, the first qualification is that you must be a man."

"Utterly idiotic rule," Y/N said, rolling her eyes, "I am willing to wager my life that I am entirely more capable than half the men in the Priori."

"I would happen to agree, but women aren't even allowed in the building."

Y/N sighed, then turned to him, "Well, that is just no fun."

***

In less than five days time, Sandro had managed to strip the entire home of its unnecessarily gaunt wallpaper and textiles, replacing them with light white walls and a palette of calmer neutrals -- matching them with fine and carefully chosen pieces of artwork and tapestry. Her hope seemed to have been transformed from a dark and overly-festooned fortress to an Athenian temple, or some other Grecian acropolis of peace. 

Even her new study, which had once been painted a deep plum, was now a light grey color. It reminded Y/N of the inside of battle tents in Siena, and cleared her mind in a comforting way. 

Of course, her house almost smelled of paint and wood, but she loved it regardless. 

"You've outdone yourself, Sandro," Y/N said, clinking chalices with him as they reclined in her new sitting room, which had an amazing view of her new courtyard. 

Her friend laughed as he drank, sitting beside her, "It is finally a home worthy of being lived in."

Y/N nodded, enjoying her first few moments of peace after the past week of chaos. 

Then, Sandro interrupted her serenity by asking, "Are you and Francesco sleeping together?'

"Heavens, no!"

"Apologies, but he looks at you like you're a goddess. It is only natural that one would assume--"

"We haven't done anything I wouldn't tell my father about," Y/N insisted, slapping Sandro's arm, "He is just a very kind man."

Sandro poured himself a second glass, "You like him."

"I do, and I am not afraid to say it," Y/N affirmed, "He is handsome, and he likes me, and he approves of my wild ways, and he is handsome." 

Sandro rolled his eyes -- "Whatever makes you happy, Darling. Although, it is a problematic family you'd be marrying into."

"I've heard that Francesco's uncle is..."

"A conservative, manipulative, sexist pig?"

"Something like that," Y/N nodded, "But Francesco is -- he is something I didn't even know I wanted, that I need!" 

"You should invite him to dinner, or even better -- riding practice." 

"Not a bad idea."