The update rate on this will be slow. Don't expect much from this because I have only the vaguest clue where I'm going with it. There won't be any slash so don't expect that. It would be weird considering Ezio and Altair are going to be raising Desmond and I don't ship other things in this really. Anyway enjoy this. :)


Chapter One: Making Friends In High Places

Desmond sat on the roof of his house, staring at the nearly abandoned grounds below him. There were a few people milling about but not many, most were inside training or out on missions. In fact almost all of the other assassin's had already headed back in for the night, Desmond was one of the few exceptions. Just a few hours ago he'd gotten into a fight with his dad. Apparently he hadn't been throwing his knives properly and the well trained assassin had quickly gotten annoyed with his sons inability to hit the target dead center.

The six year old sighed and curled his arms closer around his legs. His dad was always like that, a perfectionist with a quick temper. Nothing Desmond did ever seemed to please him. He sighed again, dropping onto his side. They boy lay there like that for what felt like hours while the sun dropped below the horizon and the moon rose in a grinning Cheshire Cat of a crescent.

It was while he was lying there that he heard the faint whispered scrape of shoes on tiles. It was so quiet that if he hadn't been sitting on the roof he probably wouldn't have heard it. Tensing, he shifted the slightest bit so his hand wrapped around one of the many rocks some of the other kids liked to throw up here. More than likely it was one of the other assassins in the compound sent to come find him. On the other hand he doubted anyone would've noticed he was gone since training was already over for the day and his parents were usually pretty busy around this time.

Either way, if his dad found out he'd left himself unprepared and open for an attack he'd be pretty mad.

The silence stretched out for several long minutes and just when Desmond was considering that the sound he'd heard was a bat or bird of some sort the silence broke. "What is one so young doing out at a time like this?" A smooth, unfamiliar accented voice questioned. Desmond sat up and hurled the rock in the direction of the voice. He heard a startled laugh and turned to see a man garbed in an oddly classy jacket with its hood pulled up.

It cast a shadow across his eyes and the bridge of his nose but an amused smile still shone through. "Little but fierce, I see I've underestimated you. My apologies." With those words he gave a short graceful bow. As he straightened he tossed something to Desmond and the young assassin in training was quick to catch it.

He stared down at the rock in his hand, the one he'd just thrown. "Your aim is quite good." The man praised and Desmond blinked at him surprised.

"You think so?" Desmond asked hesitantly. Despite himself he felt a bubble of happiness in his chest at the strangers words.

"Si." The man replied and Desmond blinked at the word.

"Are you Spanish?" He asked bluntly and the man stated at him for a moment before letting out a quiet laugh.

"No no bambino." He shook his head. "I'm Italian."

Desmond nodded understandingly and then frowned and hesitantly asked, "like the pizza?"

Another slightly louder laugh escaped the man, seeming almost startled out of him. "Yes bambino. Like the pizza." Still chuckling the man took a step closer and kicked a rock from the roof and up into his hand. "You never answered my question though, what are you doing out ap late little one?"

Desmond fidgeted where he sat. This man seemed nice, and something about him was drawing Desmond in for some reason. But still- "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." Desmond said sullenly. The man grinned from under his hood.

"A wise principle to uphold my young friend." The Italian agreed. He seemed to ponder this for a moment before a decision was reached. The stranger swept the hood off his head revealing a handsome man with shoulder length brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail. "I am Ezio Auditore da-" he trailed off and chuckled, "I am Ezio, and you may call me that."

At Desmond's confused expression he elaborated with a flippant, "now I am no stranger si?" Ezio's hand extended in his direction. "May I have your name as well child?"

Desmond startled slightly. "Oh, um, I'm Desmond. Desmond Miles."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Desmond." Ezio said with a warm smile which Desmond couldn't help but shyly return. "And now that we are no longer strangers, may I know why you are out so late?"

Desmond blushed. "O-oh, well," he fidgeted where he sat, "promise you won't laugh?"

Ezio drew an x over his heart with a solemn expression on his face. "On my honor Desmond."

Desmond nodded seriously in return. "Okay, well, I was gonna wait until everyone was inside so I-" he looked down at his lap. "I wanted to go practice my aim."

Ezio looked confused and he sat down on the roof beside Desmond. "Your aim is superb, especially for someone as young as you."

Desmond sighed. "My dad doesn't think so." He muttered despondent.

Ezio stared at him for a moment in silence. "Would you like me to help?"

The six year old looked up at him in awe. "You'd do that?" He whispered.

A grin split the Italian man's lips. "Of course little one," he stood and tugged Desmond to his feet. "Now,"he tossed the rock he was holding to Desmond, "let's see that aim of yours one more time."