Mainly a drabble/experiment on styles in first person perspective. I am surprised I went through with this. Anyway, obviously from Ezio's perspective as he contemplates his past and future. I love Assassin's Creed, but don't really read its fanfiction, so have no idea if this has been done or not.

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Remember

The rhythmic beating of the horse's feet was becoming gradually tiring, slipping me off into dreamy sentiment. It had a charming beat, as it galloped on the old dirt road in the sunset's crimson light. The horse's white fur shimmered against the bright orange, and its black mane danced from the light wind. The sensation was strange, for I had seen many evenings like this. But now, I felt mildly persuaded in this state of dreamy gazing and quiet musing, where my heart and mind flew faraway like an eagle, to places both now and in the past.

Lowering myself, I relaxed using the support of my arms, watching as the ground beneath me blurred by. Momentarily my eyes caught a glimpse of something colourful, and I snapped out of my thoughts. Jerking up, I pulled back on the reigns, and the horse slowly glided to a stop. The mare shook her head furiously, and snorted, but in her cool black almond sized eyes, gave off no dissatisfaction.

I slipped off, and slightly smiled at my companion. I patted the creature on its side, and took a few steps back to where I saw it.

It was a small little thing, simple and innocent—but its beauty was unmatchable. A little flower, all by itself and away from the meadows, stood stubbornly against the weeds and continual beating of travelers on the path. Its petals were a pure white, the inside uniquely a faint red. The small flower just stood staring back at me, past my hooded face, dancing with the grass and plants as a small wind picked up.

As I attentively grasped it with my ungloved hand, and picked it, my mind instantly wandered. My thoughts were with my mother—I remember years ago, as a boy I would spy on my father when he came home late at night, looking tired and beaten. I did not know why then, but I had never guessed a banking job would be so strenuous But his smile always stood out, and never diminished when he would embrace my mother, and seemingly like magic, reveal some flowers for her. That kindling life in her eyes would always brighten like the star.

Looking down at my feet for the longest moment, I wished could see that again in her. I doubt I ever would.

I turned around back to the horse, tucking the flower securely between one of the belts I had on, and hoisted myself back up. The heat of a fading sun pressed against my white clothes, emitting myself in a vague silhouette. I faced back to the path, looking over the small hills and endless fields, a looming old castle was borne in front of my eyes. Its spectacle was glorious, ancient, and honoring for my lineage. The Auditore Villa in Monteriggioni was, to me, unlike any other prestigious villa. It held secrets amid friendly peasants behind the secure walls. It was that one place left in the world that felt safe for a continually hunted man.

Releasing away from the distant thoughts, I clicked and hit my boots against the horse. She began to trot, and time began to fall back again to a dream state, as I mesmerizingly looked onward. To what was likely thirty minutes, had melded away into just a few seconds. I slowed my horse, walking her into one of the stables. I left and walked outside, I fell amid a large crowd of people, ushering back and forth, preparing for long walks home in the cool evening, or returning to the comfort of the villa. I smiled at a young woman, who hid shyly behind a handkerchief, and then disappeared into the crowds. Careful not to disturb anyone, I slipped around like a ghost, heading toward my home.

The light from the sun flickered against me, and seemed to be growing brighter before it would descend into the night. I looked into the blinding aura, and then, I realized amid the warming light, why I was so sullen.

I began to run, rushing as quickly as I could—through the gate, past the confused crowd, and into an alleyway. Doing it before I could even think, I ran up a wall, securely grasping onto one of the window seals of the building, and began to climb up as rapidly as I could. I grasped hold of another ledge, vaulting myself up the edge of the buildings roof. I glided upward, and ran over the grey rooftops, jumping over and across the buildings. A blurred form of a bird's shadow came from beneath my form; I felt like I was almost flying, I was running so hastily.

I had finally come up to the top wall that surrounded the villa. Panting, and bending down a moment to catch my breath, I wondered why this sudden feeling pained me. In all the years, I had always forgotten. But for some reason, that evening, I remembered.

Time was running out, so I rushed to one of the nearest guard posts, staring fixedly at the flag that flapped against the wind. I never let my eyes sway or become distracted, not until I reached the top. My hands clasped firmly on the wooden framework of the structure, and I hoisted myself up finally to the peak of my desire.

Using one hand to support myself on the guardhouse roof, I held onto the flag's wooden poll, as I leaned forward to stare into the vista of a beautiful world that was being overtaken with a spectacle of colours. The sky's light glazed over the meadows and hills, it's orange and yellow hues flowed like a painter's brush. If God truly existed, I believed for a moment as I gazed at his infinite creativity. Leonardo would have loved to paint this.

The sun, far off into what seemed to be the edge of the world, began to drowsily slip off into sleep at the edge of the world. I removed my hood, and let my hair feel the warmth of the light and the cool wind of the dusk. My short ponytail fluttered around like the flag, and my eyes began to feel the sting of the powerful light that engulfed all around me. Slowly, ever so carefully it was gone, right before my eyes. It was so slow and gradual, I felt like I had missed it.

The clouds began to cover the heavens, and from where the sun left, the moon arose.

The Assassin's work in the night, to serve the light.

The thought stuck in me, and I was uncertain if I really liked that. The cold feeling of loneliness overtook me. Not only because of the cool evening, but of a literal solitude.

My elder brother would always be with me in times like this. We would race to the highest point in all of Florence. We would just stand there, taking a break from the trouble we caused, to welcome peace into our hearts as we would watch the sun set into the distance of the city, to where the moon would slowly rise high in the heavens. As I thought back on it, it was the only peaceful thing I enjoyed. Seeking trouble and adventure, never wanting a moments rest—I was so young and immature then.

I missed Federico so much. I missed… them all.

I do not know how long I stood there gazing off into oblivion, but as an eagle called out and flew by me, I snapped from my disheartening past with some uncertain begrudge. Turning, I faced in the other direction to the mansion that I called home. Lights flickered from the inside, and I stared onward, thinking of the only family I had left.

I walked carefully to the other edge, and looked downward. Taking a deep breath, I brought my arms apart, wide, thinking how it would feel to fly. As I tipped myself over, I assumed this would be the closest I could get. Not like Leonardo's invention, but to really fly—like an eagle.

I felt the wind rush past me, screaming in my ears as my body flipped around as I looked up into the sky, seeing thousands of stars escape through the breaks in the clouds. Closing my eyes, I felt my body crash into the hay. The adrenalin of the jump had always caught me off guard. It was exhilarating—a leap of faith.

Lying in the hay, I continued to look upward, beyond the walls and buildings of the villa, and watched the moon rise over me. I exhaled deeply, relaxing, and mentally I tried to seek the forgiveness of my brothers and father. The weight of guilt heavier than the armor and weapons I carried, and felt like it would never leave until the day I died. Somehow, even if I fought through all the conspiracies to finally exact revenge, would I ever have the peace I once had when I was an ignorant boy?

It was getting late, and it was enough mellowing in sorrows and a past I could never change. I flung myself out, dusting the straws off me. I nearly forgot about the flower. I pulled it from my belt, and looked at it. As if by some miracle, it looked as gorgeous as when I picked it. Smiling, I tucked it back and began to walk through the empty dark streets.

--

"Fratello!"

Claudia crashed into my chest, her small frame squeezing into mine. I had barely entered into the house when I was ambushed by her.

"You would make a wonderful assassin," I joked, "You caught me off guard."

She released herself from me, smiling with her almond coloured eyes.

"No, grazie. I guess I'm happy working with a boring job here."

I couldn't help but smirk at her humorous frankness. I had not but taken another step until I saw her standing at the stairs, her hand calmly clutching the railing. My mother's eyes twinkled, but she stayed wordless, staring at me in a way inexplicable. I walked toward her, slowly, my boots echoing in the elegant white marble room. When I stood a foot before her, I pulled out the flower carefully, and handed it toward her.

She looked at the longest time, uncertain and meekly bewildered. She looked at the white pedals, and then up to me. Staring through my soul in the way she did when I had done something wrong as a young man.

I clutched her frail hand, and carefully placed the flower into her grasp. I bent closer, looking into her ageless eyes.

"Buona sera, la madre."

I felt herself shaking as my hand continued to hold onto her own; she suddenly looked like she was going to cry, but as her eyes shimmered, no tears escaped. Claudia stood stoic from behind, watching with wide-eyes as for a moment a long silence overtook the reunion.

As if she fainted, her body fell into mine, her hands clutched around me as she buried her head into my shoulder.

"Mio figlio…oh Ezio, my son. My son."

Her voice was honey, soft, graceful—something I had craved to hear again ever since I had collected the feathers Petruccio used to want. I embraced her in my firm grasp, my chin resting above her head as she wordlessly hugged me.

It had been today, over a decade ago, that my both my brothers, Petruccio and Federico and my father Giovanni had been unjustly murdered by men I had sought to seek revenge on for so long. Long ago when the world seemed much simpler, less sinister…more loving.

The night continued on, and the cold air wisped around us from the opened door. The cool of night enchanted everything, and yet again I fell into a dream-state that had started when I was riding my horse. As I closed my eyes, and relaxed in my mothers hold, I reminded myself why I had chosen my path. I was an assassin, to bring the lies out from the dark, to light—nothing was true, everything was permitted.

There was always one thing I knew was true, I am Ezio Auditore da Firenze, and like my father before me, I am an assassin.