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Title: The Here and Hereafter
Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood
Pairing: Ezio/ Leonardo
Rating: R
Words: 2100
Summary: “Enough,” Leonardo laughs, though Ezio’s earnestness touches his heart. “I have not stayed here a day, and already you are planning a future?”
“Our future,” Ezio says simply.
A/N: A coda to The Road, though it can be read as a standalone. The only knowledge needed is that Leonardo has moved into the Assassin’s hideout at Isola Tiberina, after his and Ezio’s journey to voice their mutual affections.
The preparatory sketch Leonardo is working on is for his painting The Battle of Anghiari.
~
Leonardo has spent the better half of the day sketching out a drawing in the airy, spacious quarters Ezio set aside for him, content to amble through the labyrinths of his imagination. But when the hinges of his studio door creak, he turns instantly to see who it is—perhaps a vestige of his days from working for the Borgia.
“Ezio!” Leonardo shifts on his seat and smiles as he turns to face Ezio, tugging a cloth over his sketch as he does so. “Welcome back! I did not expect to see you again so soon.”
Ezio had left the hideout at Isola Tiberina early that morning, with only a vague promise to return, and Leonardo expected him to be absent for several nights, if not more. His early arrival makes Leonardo’s pulse quicken now, and a sense of unbridled happiness creeps into his chest, filling it fit to burst.
“I said I would be back,” Ezio says, managing a small, tired smile in response as he moves to stand beside Leonardo. He closes a hand around Leonardo’s shoulder, and Leonardo delights in the press of Ezio’s fingers to his tunic, warm. “We intercepted Cesare at the Colosseo, soliciting Templar loyalists for aid. His men have been dealt with, but Cesare himself escaped.” A heavy sigh follows. “Again.”
Leonardo covers the hand Ezio has rested on his shoulder with his own. “You will find him, Ezio. I know you will.” Squeezes Ezio’s hand, encouraging.
Ezio studies their joined hands for a moment, in silence.
So after all our intimacy, he still finds this uncomfortable, Leonardo thinks, disappointed. He tries to dispel the thought, but despite Ezio’s recent displays of affection and insistence of his desire, the seeds of self-doubt Leonardo had cultivated over nearly two decades were hard to weed out in one night. He moves to withdraw his hand, yelping in surprise when Ezio catches it and grips it firmly.
“Grazie, Leonardo.” Ezio closes his eyes and draws in a slow breath. Lifts Leonardo’s hand to his lips to brush a kiss over knuckles roughened from his hard labor in the Borgia’s employ. The unexpected tenderness of it seems to say, You have no idea how much your encouragement means to me. Your unwavering support.
Yes, Leonardo is still learning to read Ezio’s heart, but he is nothing if not a quick study.
When Ezio opens his eyes again, he casts them about the room, taking in the spartan nature of Leonardo’s ‘studio’. Leonardo has yet to move the majority of his supplies from his other workshop, and at present, there is only a simple easel, several rudimentary models of Leonardo’s design, and the stool he sits upon, all courtesy of the recruits’ hurried efforts.
“I will have your things brought to the hideout,” Ezio says, reassuring. “You will want for nothing here. And if even this studio is not enough…” Ezio smiles now, his thumb tracing the pulse point in Leonardo’s wrist, gentle. “We will build another. In Milano, perhaps. Or Toscana—”
“Enough,” laughs Leonardo, though something about Ezio’s earnestness touches his heart. “I have not stayed here a day, and already you are planning a future?”
“Our future,” Ezio says, his brow furrowing. “Unless you do not want—”
“What about your friends?” Leonardo asks. “The Brotherhood?” He finds he does not mind the warm, soothing circles Ezio traces into his wrist, or the idea of retiring to the country with Ezio at his side. In truth, however, it is Ezio who has ties to Roma, and if he thinks his place is here with his people, his comrades, Leonardo would be hard pressed to convince him to leave, regardless of Ezio’s lofty ambitions for the future.
“Did I not say I built this Brotherhood to last, with or without me? Leonardo, when this business with Cesare is over—”
Leonardo tugs him down for a kiss, a simple brush of lips over Ezio’s, as he circles Ezio’s neck with his arms. “We have time, caro,” he says, relieved when Ezio does not pull away from either embrace or endearment. “There is no need to rush into building workshops and villas in the countryside of your mind.” He smiles against Ezio’s mouth, before touching a kiss to each corner, softer, sweeter. “Focus, first. The rest will come.”
With a sigh, Ezio relaxes into Leonardo’s embrace, the tension of his shoulders easing. “You are right,” he says. “If Cesare is not dealt with, all this wishful thinking will have been for nothing.” He tips a nod toward the canvas propped upon the easel. “What have you been working on while I was away?”
“This? Ah, it is—it is nothing.” A flush of embarrassment rises to Leonardo’s face, as he rushes to tug the cloth over the still-exposed corner of his sketch. He is sure Ezio caught a glimpse of the sketch, if not the entire design: a depiction of riders seated on proud steeds, lashing out furiously in battle. Leonardo has been pondering if a pose of the riders mid-battle is even right. Perhaps it would be better if the riders were poised in victory? Or maybe—
“Nothing?” The steady creak of floorboards interrupts Leonardo’s tangential thought, as Ezio leans forward, fingers curling around Leonardo’s ribs to knot around his waist. Rests his chin on Leonardo’s beret. “I have never known you to be working on nothing, Leonardo. There is always something.”
“Only a trifle,” Leonardo laughs. He breathes in the scent of Ezio, reveling in the smell of leather and metal. The warmth of his arms. The pitch of his voice, low and sultry, that stirs the coal of want in Leonardo’s belly. Ezio fills Leonardo’s senses so completely when they are like this, that it leaves little room for wandering thoughts, artistic or otherwise. “Nothing but an old man’s wishful thinking on what might be.”
A slight scoffing noise. “If you think yourself old, what does that make me?”
Leonardo has seven years on Ezio, but Ezio has shared with him often enough his trials and tribulations with the city’s dottori—his requests for medicine for his injuries often rebuffed with someone your age cannot recover from wounds with medicine—that this has become a private joke between them.
“You, at least, have a collection of novices to call you the Mentore,” Leonardo laughs. “A revered position, even now.”
“Hmm, true.” Leonardo can hear the lazy smile in Ezio’s voice. “Though you forget: the same novices revere you as the Maestro.” He stops. “Speaking of novices, what is all this?” Ezio gestures at the assortment of bottles sitting atop the windowsill, puzzled. “I assume they are the ones behind this odd collection. These were not here before.”
“Ah, your apprentices have been quite welcoming.” Leonardo rises to his feet, stepping briefly out of Ezio’s arms to pick up one of the bottles. “And most…forthcoming with their gifts.” He hands the amber vial to Ezio. Perhaps Ezio will be too preoccupied with the vial to notice how flustered Leonardo is; he had hoped the strange array of gifts would escape Ezio’s notice, but now that he has made mention of them, the situation is what it is.
“Besides the medicinal salves, they seem to be mostly liquids of some sort,” Ezio muses. He holds the vial between thumb and forefinger to the fading sunlight, to examine it more closely. “Perhaps they fear their Maestro is thirsty after spending a night with their Mentore.”
Leonardo decides that Ezio’s grin is not entirely innocent. “Actually,” he replies dryly, “those liquids are all oils of some sort.” Warmth creeps into his cheeks at the implication of the gifts. “Perhaps the walls are not as thick as you imagine, Ezio.”
“Ah. Yes,” Ezio nods, as if suddenly remembering something. “That would explain the…”
“The titters I overheard from your novices about the Mentore and the Maestro?” Leonardo says. He is starting to grow fond of Ezio’s recruits, but the cheek of those little rogues, especially when they believe they are gossiping in private quarters, is astounding. And to think several of them had placed bets, on when he and Ezio would—
“Yes.” Ezio’s amused smile grows wider, and he steps toward Leonardo, reaching out a gloved hand to grip his hip and hitch him closer. “Those.”
“Is…” Leonardo licks his lips, trying to ignore Ezio’s other, ungloved hand slipping beneath his tunic for a slow, deliberate squeeze of his rump. “Is that all you have to say?” he manages, before a pair of chapped lips meets his, tongue licking boldly at his lower lip.
“It would be a waste if we did not put their heartfelt gifts to good use—”
“Ezio,” Leonardo admonishes, “they heard us last night. Heard me!”
“—and thought you might have been in pain. How considerate of them,” Ezio purrs into the soft space behind Leonardo’s ear. Although,” he adds, with a regretful shake of his head, “not one of them thought to supply you with a gag.”
“You are not seriously considering—” Leonardo tries, before Ezio silences him with another kiss, this one hot and hungry and hard, leaving him breath enough only to gasp into Ezio’s mouth, needy, wanting. He staggers backward as Ezio crowds him into the wall, knee pressing shamelessly against Leonardo’s growing arousal, and despite Leonardo’s scrabbling at Ezio’s shoulders, Ezio surges forward, bolder, clutching greedy handfuls of Leonardo’s cloak as he takes Leonardo’s mouth in a way that will leave his lips bruised and swollen. Soon, Leonardo lets his fingers tighten around Ezio’s shoulders, digging into armor, his grip for support and momentum both as he returns the kiss with equal fervor.
Perhaps this desperation can be attributed to the fact that Leonardo has waited so long for this, or that Ezio has kept his promise of returning, and so soon, but then Ezio is palming the bulge in Leonardo’s breeches and the thought is instantly lost as Leonardo whines and bucks his hips up into Ezio’s waiting hand, for more pressure, more anything—
“I would never force anything upon you that you did not want.” Ezio grins now, a wolf’s grin with entirely too much teeth, as they break apart for air. “But if you are afraid of being heard, we can try…other methods.”
“Other methods?” Leonardo asks. He raises a brow, curiosity outweighing his instinctual suspicion, especially in matters where Ezio is concerned.
“Mmhn.”
A shiver of anticipation thrills Leonardo’s spine as Ezio strokes his thumb slowly along the column of Leonardo’s throat. Glides fingers over his chin, to trace the peaks and valleys of Leonardo’s lips, before suddenly pinching his nose shut and driving his tongue into Leonardo’s mouth, which had gaped open in shock and a bid for air. Ezio’s lips form a secure seal over Leonardo’s, allowing for neither gasps of air nor cries of pleasure to escape, and he lets Leonardo rake fingers into his shoulders, desperate, ineffective, as he sucks Leonardo’s tongue down in turn, leaving Leonardo breathless, dizzy, with how good this is.
“Effective, yes?” Ezio grins, as he pulls back to allow them both room to breathe.
“But dangerous,” gasps Leonardo, chest heaving as he draws in shuddering gulps of air. “There must be another way to achieve the same thing.” He feels light-headed, unsteady, lips still tingling where Ezio had kissed him so ardently, and the thought that surprises him most is that he wants more.
“That I will leave to you,” laughs Ezio, turning Leonardo and steering them into Ezio’s adjoining bedroom, toward the bed. “No doubt you will come up with some fanciful design or invent some complicated contraption for it. But first, there is the matter of the gifts, which our novices have taken such pains to grace us with.”
It is only when Ezio produces the vial they had taken from the windowsill, still sporting its childishly scrawled note, that Leonardo understands.
“Ah,” Leonardo says, swallowing thickly. “There is that.”
“Is that all you have to say?” Ezio grins, entirely predatory now. Pushes Leonardo down to the bed, hand over hand, like a wild hunter cornering its prey. “By the time we have finished, you may be saying much more.” He brushes lips against the shell of Leonardo’s ear, his breath hot. “Or moaning it, rather.”
Leonardo draws him in for a kiss as fierce and spirited as Ezio’s own, savoring Ezio’s breathless daze. “That depends,” Leonardo answers, with a mischievous smile of his own, “on how well you apply the method of silence just demonstrated.”
[End]
Translation Notes:
- grazie: thank you
- caro: beloved
- dottori: doctors
End Notes: Dusting off old WIPs (and procrastinating other fics, shhh). Also, I’m a sucker for “retiring in the country” endings, so this is as close as I’ll get to writing it for these two. Maybe. *watches in horror as a fully-formed retirement fic springs forth*
The thought that the novices might have heard their Maestro and Mentore going at it and believed Leonardo was in pain spurred this mini-epilogue, and there are bound to be some Ezio/Leo shippers in the group of novices, right? ;) Just imagine them in their spare time furiously penning Mentore x Maestro RPF and secretly trading doujinshi amongst themselves! Maybe Leonardo finds one by accident, and is impressed at their talent, which rivals that of some of his own apprentices…yet horrified by the subject matter. Have he and Ezio really been that indiscreet?!
…The answer is yes.
Ezio and Leonardo, spurring Renaissance RPF since 1503.
Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood
Pairing: Ezio/ Leonardo
Rating: R
Words: 2100
Summary: “Enough,” Leonardo laughs, though Ezio’s earnestness touches his heart. “I have not stayed here a day, and already you are planning a future?”
“Our future,” Ezio says simply.
A/N: A coda to The Road, though it can be read as a standalone. The only knowledge needed is that Leonardo has moved into the Assassin’s hideout at Isola Tiberina, after his and Ezio’s journey to voice their mutual affections.
The preparatory sketch Leonardo is working on is for his painting The Battle of Anghiari.
Leonardo has spent the better half of the day sketching out a drawing in the airy, spacious quarters Ezio set aside for him, content to amble through the labyrinths of his imagination. But when the hinges of his studio door creak, he turns instantly to see who it is—perhaps a vestige of his days from working for the Borgia.
“Ezio!” Leonardo shifts on his seat and smiles as he turns to face Ezio, tugging a cloth over his sketch as he does so. “Welcome back! I did not expect to see you again so soon.”
Ezio had left the hideout at Isola Tiberina early that morning, with only a vague promise to return, and Leonardo expected him to be absent for several nights, if not more. His early arrival makes Leonardo’s pulse quicken now, and a sense of unbridled happiness creeps into his chest, filling it fit to burst.
“I said I would be back,” Ezio says, managing a small, tired smile in response as he moves to stand beside Leonardo. He closes a hand around Leonardo’s shoulder, and Leonardo delights in the press of Ezio’s fingers to his tunic, warm. “We intercepted Cesare at the Colosseo, soliciting Templar loyalists for aid. His men have been dealt with, but Cesare himself escaped.” A heavy sigh follows. “Again.”
Leonardo covers the hand Ezio has rested on his shoulder with his own. “You will find him, Ezio. I know you will.” Squeezes Ezio’s hand, encouraging.
Ezio studies their joined hands for a moment, in silence.
So after all our intimacy, he still finds this uncomfortable, Leonardo thinks, disappointed. He tries to dispel the thought, but despite Ezio’s recent displays of affection and insistence of his desire, the seeds of self-doubt Leonardo had cultivated over nearly two decades were hard to weed out in one night. He moves to withdraw his hand, yelping in surprise when Ezio catches it and grips it firmly.
“Grazie, Leonardo.” Ezio closes his eyes and draws in a slow breath. Lifts Leonardo’s hand to his lips to brush a kiss over knuckles roughened from his hard labor in the Borgia’s employ. The unexpected tenderness of it seems to say, You have no idea how much your encouragement means to me. Your unwavering support.
Yes, Leonardo is still learning to read Ezio’s heart, but he is nothing if not a quick study.
When Ezio opens his eyes again, he casts them about the room, taking in the spartan nature of Leonardo’s ‘studio’. Leonardo has yet to move the majority of his supplies from his other workshop, and at present, there is only a simple easel, several rudimentary models of Leonardo’s design, and the stool he sits upon, all courtesy of the recruits’ hurried efforts.
“I will have your things brought to the hideout,” Ezio says, reassuring. “You will want for nothing here. And if even this studio is not enough…” Ezio smiles now, his thumb tracing the pulse point in Leonardo’s wrist, gentle. “We will build another. In Milano, perhaps. Or Toscana—”
“Enough,” laughs Leonardo, though something about Ezio’s earnestness touches his heart. “I have not stayed here a day, and already you are planning a future?”
“Our future,” Ezio says, his brow furrowing. “Unless you do not want—”
“What about your friends?” Leonardo asks. “The Brotherhood?” He finds he does not mind the warm, soothing circles Ezio traces into his wrist, or the idea of retiring to the country with Ezio at his side. In truth, however, it is Ezio who has ties to Roma, and if he thinks his place is here with his people, his comrades, Leonardo would be hard pressed to convince him to leave, regardless of Ezio’s lofty ambitions for the future.
“Did I not say I built this Brotherhood to last, with or without me? Leonardo, when this business with Cesare is over—”
Leonardo tugs him down for a kiss, a simple brush of lips over Ezio’s, as he circles Ezio’s neck with his arms. “We have time, caro,” he says, relieved when Ezio does not pull away from either embrace or endearment. “There is no need to rush into building workshops and villas in the countryside of your mind.” He smiles against Ezio’s mouth, before touching a kiss to each corner, softer, sweeter. “Focus, first. The rest will come.”
With a sigh, Ezio relaxes into Leonardo’s embrace, the tension of his shoulders easing. “You are right,” he says. “If Cesare is not dealt with, all this wishful thinking will have been for nothing.” He tips a nod toward the canvas propped upon the easel. “What have you been working on while I was away?”
“This? Ah, it is—it is nothing.” A flush of embarrassment rises to Leonardo’s face, as he rushes to tug the cloth over the still-exposed corner of his sketch. He is sure Ezio caught a glimpse of the sketch, if not the entire design: a depiction of riders seated on proud steeds, lashing out furiously in battle. Leonardo has been pondering if a pose of the riders mid-battle is even right. Perhaps it would be better if the riders were poised in victory? Or maybe—
“Nothing?” The steady creak of floorboards interrupts Leonardo’s tangential thought, as Ezio leans forward, fingers curling around Leonardo’s ribs to knot around his waist. Rests his chin on Leonardo’s beret. “I have never known you to be working on nothing, Leonardo. There is always something.”
“Only a trifle,” Leonardo laughs. He breathes in the scent of Ezio, reveling in the smell of leather and metal. The warmth of his arms. The pitch of his voice, low and sultry, that stirs the coal of want in Leonardo’s belly. Ezio fills Leonardo’s senses so completely when they are like this, that it leaves little room for wandering thoughts, artistic or otherwise. “Nothing but an old man’s wishful thinking on what might be.”
A slight scoffing noise. “If you think yourself old, what does that make me?”
Leonardo has seven years on Ezio, but Ezio has shared with him often enough his trials and tribulations with the city’s dottori—his requests for medicine for his injuries often rebuffed with someone your age cannot recover from wounds with medicine—that this has become a private joke between them.
“You, at least, have a collection of novices to call you the Mentore,” Leonardo laughs. “A revered position, even now.”
“Hmm, true.” Leonardo can hear the lazy smile in Ezio’s voice. “Though you forget: the same novices revere you as the Maestro.” He stops. “Speaking of novices, what is all this?” Ezio gestures at the assortment of bottles sitting atop the windowsill, puzzled. “I assume they are the ones behind this odd collection. These were not here before.”
“Ah, your apprentices have been quite welcoming.” Leonardo rises to his feet, stepping briefly out of Ezio’s arms to pick up one of the bottles. “And most…forthcoming with their gifts.” He hands the amber vial to Ezio. Perhaps Ezio will be too preoccupied with the vial to notice how flustered Leonardo is; he had hoped the strange array of gifts would escape Ezio’s notice, but now that he has made mention of them, the situation is what it is.
“Besides the medicinal salves, they seem to be mostly liquids of some sort,” Ezio muses. He holds the vial between thumb and forefinger to the fading sunlight, to examine it more closely. “Perhaps they fear their Maestro is thirsty after spending a night with their Mentore.”
Leonardo decides that Ezio’s grin is not entirely innocent. “Actually,” he replies dryly, “those liquids are all oils of some sort.” Warmth creeps into his cheeks at the implication of the gifts. “Perhaps the walls are not as thick as you imagine, Ezio.”
“Ah. Yes,” Ezio nods, as if suddenly remembering something. “That would explain the…”
“The titters I overheard from your novices about the Mentore and the Maestro?” Leonardo says. He is starting to grow fond of Ezio’s recruits, but the cheek of those little rogues, especially when they believe they are gossiping in private quarters, is astounding. And to think several of them had placed bets, on when he and Ezio would—
“Yes.” Ezio’s amused smile grows wider, and he steps toward Leonardo, reaching out a gloved hand to grip his hip and hitch him closer. “Those.”
“Is…” Leonardo licks his lips, trying to ignore Ezio’s other, ungloved hand slipping beneath his tunic for a slow, deliberate squeeze of his rump. “Is that all you have to say?” he manages, before a pair of chapped lips meets his, tongue licking boldly at his lower lip.
“It would be a waste if we did not put their heartfelt gifts to good use—”
“Ezio,” Leonardo admonishes, “they heard us last night. Heard me!”
“—and thought you might have been in pain. How considerate of them,” Ezio purrs into the soft space behind Leonardo’s ear. Although,” he adds, with a regretful shake of his head, “not one of them thought to supply you with a gag.”
“You are not seriously considering—” Leonardo tries, before Ezio silences him with another kiss, this one hot and hungry and hard, leaving him breath enough only to gasp into Ezio’s mouth, needy, wanting. He staggers backward as Ezio crowds him into the wall, knee pressing shamelessly against Leonardo’s growing arousal, and despite Leonardo’s scrabbling at Ezio’s shoulders, Ezio surges forward, bolder, clutching greedy handfuls of Leonardo’s cloak as he takes Leonardo’s mouth in a way that will leave his lips bruised and swollen. Soon, Leonardo lets his fingers tighten around Ezio’s shoulders, digging into armor, his grip for support and momentum both as he returns the kiss with equal fervor.
Perhaps this desperation can be attributed to the fact that Leonardo has waited so long for this, or that Ezio has kept his promise of returning, and so soon, but then Ezio is palming the bulge in Leonardo’s breeches and the thought is instantly lost as Leonardo whines and bucks his hips up into Ezio’s waiting hand, for more pressure, more anything—
“I would never force anything upon you that you did not want.” Ezio grins now, a wolf’s grin with entirely too much teeth, as they break apart for air. “But if you are afraid of being heard, we can try…other methods.”
“Other methods?” Leonardo asks. He raises a brow, curiosity outweighing his instinctual suspicion, especially in matters where Ezio is concerned.
“Mmhn.”
A shiver of anticipation thrills Leonardo’s spine as Ezio strokes his thumb slowly along the column of Leonardo’s throat. Glides fingers over his chin, to trace the peaks and valleys of Leonardo’s lips, before suddenly pinching his nose shut and driving his tongue into Leonardo’s mouth, which had gaped open in shock and a bid for air. Ezio’s lips form a secure seal over Leonardo’s, allowing for neither gasps of air nor cries of pleasure to escape, and he lets Leonardo rake fingers into his shoulders, desperate, ineffective, as he sucks Leonardo’s tongue down in turn, leaving Leonardo breathless, dizzy, with how good this is.
“Effective, yes?” Ezio grins, as he pulls back to allow them both room to breathe.
“But dangerous,” gasps Leonardo, chest heaving as he draws in shuddering gulps of air. “There must be another way to achieve the same thing.” He feels light-headed, unsteady, lips still tingling where Ezio had kissed him so ardently, and the thought that surprises him most is that he wants more.
“That I will leave to you,” laughs Ezio, turning Leonardo and steering them into Ezio’s adjoining bedroom, toward the bed. “No doubt you will come up with some fanciful design or invent some complicated contraption for it. But first, there is the matter of the gifts, which our novices have taken such pains to grace us with.”
It is only when Ezio produces the vial they had taken from the windowsill, still sporting its childishly scrawled note, that Leonardo understands.
“Ah,” Leonardo says, swallowing thickly. “There is that.”
“Is that all you have to say?” Ezio grins, entirely predatory now. Pushes Leonardo down to the bed, hand over hand, like a wild hunter cornering its prey. “By the time we have finished, you may be saying much more.” He brushes lips against the shell of Leonardo’s ear, his breath hot. “Or moaning it, rather.”
Leonardo draws him in for a kiss as fierce and spirited as Ezio’s own, savoring Ezio’s breathless daze. “That depends,” Leonardo answers, with a mischievous smile of his own, “on how well you apply the method of silence just demonstrated.”
[End]
Translation Notes:
- grazie: thank you
- caro: beloved
- dottori: doctors
End Notes: Dusting off old WIPs (and procrastinating other fics, shhh). Also, I’m a sucker for “retiring in the country” endings, so this is as close as I’ll get to writing it for these two. Maybe. *watches in horror as a fully-formed retirement fic springs forth*
The thought that the novices might have heard their Maestro and Mentore going at it and believed Leonardo was in pain spurred this mini-epilogue, and there are bound to be some Ezio/Leo shippers in the group of novices, right? ;) Just imagine them in their spare time furiously penning Mentore x Maestro RPF and secretly trading doujinshi amongst themselves! Maybe Leonardo finds one by accident, and is impressed at their talent, which rivals that of some of his own apprentices…yet horrified by the subject matter. Have he and Ezio really been that indiscreet?!
…The answer is yes.
Ezio and Leonardo, spurring Renaissance RPF since 1503.
