The Assassin Bureau: Imagines and Preferences

The Execution: Ezio Auditore x Reader

You held your head high, summoned every ounce of courage as you looked out over the roaring crowd of peasants and beggars. They shouted for your death, called out for it as if you had been the monster that stalked them in the night. If only they knew the truth. If only they understood that you had in fact once fought for them against their tyrannical leaders, those who truly oppressed them. If only they could have seen the taut strings that had pulled every event leading up into that moment.

But all they saw was your infamy.

You straightened your spine and lifted your eyes from the crowd to the cluttered buildings, the glint of sunlight off of the crimson terracotta rooftops, the darkened shadows of hawks as they circled overhead, sensing the impending death that would spill before them. You took down a breath and droned out the crowd's rising voice. You focused all of your senses and searched every alleyway and corner. Nothing. No one.

You returned your attention to the crier as he shouted out your endless list of crimes.

Murderer. Brigand. Assassin.

Assassin, you reveled. You couldn't deny most of the charges. Although, to be fair, pouring pigs blood down onto a group of nobles had been Ezio's idea. It had also been his idea to break into the guard captain's home to leave behind a stolen goat that ended up eating various important documents.

The executioner stepped before you, his eyes empty behind his mask. He settled the noose around your neck as if he were crowning the next queen, each of his movements were of near practice grace. He tightened the noose ever so slightly, just enough that it would catch as you fell. You didn't bother struggling against the ropes tied awkwardly behind your back. Your wrists were too shredded and raw for that.

You shifted your attention away from him towards the rooftops again. You hoped and pleaded that someone would reach you in time. You'd been locked inside of the prison for nearly over a week so surely someone would arrive for the rescue.

You were pushed around and placed pointedly on the trap, the rope around your neck suddenly searing to the touch. From the corner of your eye you watched the executioner approach the lever, the last of your crimes being called out for all of Italy to hear.

You slipped your eyes closed and readied for the drop. You heard it all: the wooden lever groaned, the platform beneath your feet vanished in a slap, the flitting whistle of an arrow flew overhead. The noose around your neck grew taut then altogether disappeared. You fell until the ground hit the base of your feet, your ankles twisting out from under you and your knees aching just before you toppled over.

The spectators suddenly began to scream and shout as terror washed over them. Someone yelled over the crowd, voice bellowing with rage and demand, "Assassins! Don't let them reach the prisoner."

You couldn't see anything from beneath the platform, only the stampeding feet of the townspeople as they tried to escape the area in a wild and confused mass. You rolled weakly up onto your knees, the ropes that bound your wrists barely permitting you to move. You couldn't escape the area, couldn't climb through the open hatch and make a run for it, not without help.

Boots landed hard onto the wooden beams above, kicking down dust and dirt into your fluttering eyes. They walked confidently along before expertly leaping down the hatch to the ground below. He grinned at the sight you, relief lighting his eyes. "Pardon, bella mia. I did not mean to interrupt your... execution but I am searching for a close friend of mine..." He lifted a teasing and wry brow. "Perhaps you have seen her?"

You chuckled with delight then shook your head, regaining seriousness. "Ezio, shut up and untie me. The guards aren't going to wait around while you flirt."

He gave a mock gasp. "Corvo mio, I was merely lightening the mood." He flicked his wrist, hidden blade jutting out to shear away the coarse ropes. "Executions are all so incredibly... morbid."

You grinned widely and playfully shoved your shoulder against him. "Less talking, more freeing." The ropes jerked away, your wrists free and arms falling limply at your side. You hadn't realized how weak and hollow your arms felt, finding it nearly impossible to lift them.

Ezio must have noticed your hesitation, or the swaying in your form, because his arm hooked around your waist and pulled you up onto your throbbing feet. He awkwardly helped you out from beneath the platform before guiding you safely away from the attention of the guards who were distracted by the onslaught of other Assassins.

He led the way down alleys and you couldn't be certain where he was headed. You couldn't keep track of all the turns or the sharp dodges into doorways that you were forced to take in order to avoid a passing patrol of guards. Your entire body ached from the aftermath of imprisonment and near death. That was all your mind could process.

Ezio finally halted before a door, shoving it open and escorting you inside. Niccolo and Leonardo rose to their feet, rushing forward to see for themselves that you were alive and well. But Ezio waved them away, hardly stopping long enough as he corralled you up the stairs to the second floor.

You sighed with relief when Ezio helped ease you down onto the edge of the bed. You tried to smirk, to lighten your tone a bit, "Remind me to never send a fruit basket to the guard captain. He's a terrible host."

Ezio's hands captured your face and forced you to look at him. His eyes held yours and his brows arched beneath an array of guilt and sorrow.

You shoved him before he could voice his apologies. "And you appear to be no better. Where is my offering of wine? Perhaps a bite of food? You haven't even asked me how my day was. I'm insulted."

Ezio choked back a sob with a deep throated chuckle. He ducked his head away but you saw the glistening of a few tears. "I have missed you more than you could know." He stood up and pulled down the blankets on the bed. "Rest and then I shall grab us both wine and food."

You stiffly tried to shift your weight but it was near impossible to get anything to work correctly. Ezio helped to bring your legs up onto the bed and ease your head onto a few pillows. He rolled the covers over you before carefully easing himself down onto his side, taking up the other half of the bed.

You swept your gaze over to him, taking in the details of his features, the very features that you had missed. "I don't want to sleep." You were afraid to sleep. You weren't ready close your eyes and recall the images of the past week.

"Do you think maybe you could just talk to me then?" Ezio reached out a shaky hand, barely letting it caress over the softness of your cheek. "I don't care about what. I just want to hear the sound of your voice until we fall asleep."

You chuckled. Your hand found the collar of his shirt, rubbing the cloth between your fingers. "Did you see that hideous tunic Machiavelli was wearing? You should seriously consider talking to him about his fashion sense."

Ezio smiled widely, letting it reach the corner of his eyes. "I was too busy looking at Leonardo's hat. I don't think he's taken it off in all the time that I've known him."

You leaned forward, voice dropping down to a secretive whisper, "I propose we steal them."

"I've always loved the way you think." He slipped his eyes closed and pressed his forehead against yours. "I was so worried we wouldn't reach you in time."

"Sleep, Ezio." A mischief coated your words, "In the morning we must find a way to divest Leonardo of that threadbare hat."

He gave a moan of approval, thumb tenderly taking in the curve of your jawbone.