Chapter Text
Desmond expected death to be many things but Florence wasn't one of them.
Juno had lied to him, big fucking surprise. Dying was painful, a scorching heat that engulfed his arm the moment he touched the Eye and then spread to his entire body. It was as if he became the shield that absorbed the solar flare. Maybe he actually was feeling the brunt of the flames, he wouldn't put it past the Isu to have something like that in their technology.
But as suddenly as it started, the pain stopped and then - Florence.
There was no mistaking this piazza. It had haunted Ezio's memories and the grief had bled into Desmond's mind. He half expected to see the gallows in the centre, that tragic day playing out again with him - with Ezio trying to claw through the crowd in a futile attempt to reach his father and brothers in time. In two lifetimes worth of nightmares, he never did.
All his ancestors had struggled, being pushed and pulled around the world as if they were nothing more than pieces in a game played by bastards that were millennia dead - but call Desmond biased, having lived through almost the entirety of the man's life with his own name being echoed throughout it, Ezio was the one who got the shortest end of the Precursor bullshit stick. Forty years of being thrown from one place to another, of losing home after home, family member after family member, only to be left with unanswered questions and unsolvable mysteries, all leading to his defeated resignation before Altair's corpse.
Surprisingly, he wasn't witnessing the Auditore men being hanged on false accusations. The scene is static, frozen in place and bleached with white and greys like an overexposed photograph, but the piazza is full of peace and life. Frozen in the moment are merchant stalls lining the sides, couples dancing to minstrel's tunes in the centre and people going about their daily business - but it wasn't entirely peaceful. Something had caught the people's eye, some having just noticed while others were frozen running towards it. At the centre of it all was an old man slumped on a bench. Desmond immediately knew who it was.
"Ezio?"
The old man broke from the scene like a corpse awakening, perking up at his name and turning to him...or rather a coloured yet transparent version of him turned while his body remained still. Ezio stood up, slow and laboured - a spirit leaving the body.
Then the world dissolves to pure white - that familiar realm where targets give their final words to the one who assassinated them. Desmond had thought it was just a mechanic of the animus - was he still in the animus? Reality had become harder and harder to discern, part of him half expected to wake up and find out this was all a simulation.
But Ezio locked eyes with him, so old and tired yet still bearing a warmth that life hadn't completely smothered. He was older than when Desmond last saw him in Masyaf, hair completely grey and more wrinkles lining his face.
"Are you the Angel of Death, come to collect my soul?" Ezio's lips quirked into a smirk, still having so much roguish charm despite his age.
"Nope, just another dead man." He paused for a moment. Ezio deserved answers and so much more - and they were both on death's door anyway. "I'm Desmond."
Ezio's eyes widened. "You're…" but whatever else he was about to say died in his throat. Then he sighed, looking every inch of the exhausted old man he was. "So it's at death that the god finally reveals himself to his prophet. Did my message serve you well?"
"I'm as much of a god as you are." Desmond said. "But yeah, we stopped the earth from getting barbequed by the sun - though there was a lot of Precursor bullshit wrapped up in it. The device to save the world demanded a sacrifice and, well..."
"And you died?"
"I died. It's a bit more complicated than that but…"
Ezio made a wide gesture to the white void surrounding them. "It doesn't look like there's anywhere else to go. We have all the time in the world. Come, sit with me."
They sit roughly on where the bench Ezio died on would be. Desmond hadn't seen any stab wounds so likely the old assassin had died peacefully - give or take a couple hours, he could have passed away in his sleep.
"I'm not sure where to begin…" How do you even start to explain five hundred years of the future and a seventy-five million year old hidden history in a way that makes sense to a renaissance assassin?
"Who you are would be a good point, no?" Ezio said with a calm and patient smile.
"Right. So my name is Desmond Miles. I'm an Assassin from about five hundred years into your future...and I'm your descendant."
Desmond expected the long silent pause - there was no soft way to drop that bombshell and things were going to get crazier from here. He braced himself for many reactions - shock, disbelief, accusations of lying. A hug was completely unexpected.
"Uhh…"
Ezio was surprisingly strong given his age, nearly squeezing the life (afterlife?) out of Desmond - then again, it was even more absurd to think of il Mentore as anything weak. Even when Ezio did release Desmond, his hands were still firmly clamped on his shoulders and he smiled so wide it could have split his face in half. His eyes watered and glistened with something. Pride, Desmond realised. He had seen it before as the new recruits made it through training, when Claudia was inducted into the Brotherhood - but he had done nothing yet to have earnt Ezio's bright beam. So why…
"My apologies, pardon this old man but-" Desmond didn't think it was possible but Ezio's smile grew even bigger, threatening to consume his entire face. His hands, warm, calloused and one of the leading causes of death in Italy, cupped Desmond's face so tenderly. "But look at you. My descendant. My grandson. So strong. So healthy. So handsome. "
"Grandson might be pushing it. There's dozens of generations between us." Desmond said as a blush creeped into his cheeks but he didn't retreat from Ezio's touch. It was...nice, the warmth blooming inside him. To be loved so strongly, immediately and unconditionally for simply existing. Did William ever look at him the same way? Did his mother?
"But that does not change that we are family. You are my family." And that word felt so loaded coming from Ezio, a man who had systematically seen his family tree shorn down to a few twigs, fearing for the safety of those that remained at every turn. "I dedicated my entire life to the Brotherhood, built her up to be strong and found family within her walls. They will forever be precious to me but I started my own family so late in life. I had hoped to see my children grown, that I could have lived into my nineties like Altair...but to be blessed to see a future generation... to know that my own flesh and blood will survive for centuries to come…"
And dammit, if Ezio started crying, there's no way Desmond could stop himself either.
By the grace of some higher power, Ezio doesn't but the old man ("please, call me Nonno! ") kept his arm slung around Desmond's shoulder, holding him close as if he would disappear to the winds. Maybe he would, this white realm only lasted long enough for the dying to give their last words - who knew how long they had before death whisked them away.
Desmond had promised himself that he would answer any questions Ezio had to the best of his ability and he did...but they weren't the questions he was expecting. Yes, he stumbled through an explanation of the Isu, Abstergo and the Animus as well as the true purpose of the message Minerva spoke through him but Ezio, his nonno, only hummed with the same passive interest as he did when listening to Leonardo's ramblings and then leapt into questions about Desmond himself. His job ("I was a bartender...uh, it was kind of like working at a tavern or an alehouse..." "Ah! Then you would have a well cultured taste, I see!"), his hobbies ("I picked up a bit of guitar here and there…" "Finally! Someone in the family with the gift of music!" "I wouldn't call it a gift, and don't you hate minstrels?" "Bah! Those minstrels are not my grandson - regardless of your skill, I would love to hear you play!"), his lovers ("You are just as handsome as I was at your age - maybe even more so! Men and women must have been swooning at every corner!" "Ezio... nonno , please...you're one of the last people I want to talk about my sex life with…" Ah, but it must have been a prolific one, no?").
When it felt like Ezio had quizzed him on every aspect of his life, Desmond asked quietly, "...are you disappointed in me?"
Ezio stared at him, his eyebrows rising so high that they threatened to disappear into his hairline. "What makes you say that, mio nipote ?"
"I fled from the Brotherhood. I spent almost a decade thinking that Templars and Assassins were the ravings of a mad cult. I got captured by said Templars and-"
Desmond was cut short by Ezio pulling him into another hug, softer than the previous one but no less firm.
"You have done nothing to be ashamed of." Ezio said, the solid tone of il Mentore that left no room for questions. "Do not blame yourself for what the Templars did any more than you would blame yourself for the actions of another man. That is not something you have any control over."
"But what about running away? Spitting on everything you and my other ancestors built up?"
Ezio sighed and released Desmond from the hug but still kept an arm wrapped around him. "It took me so long to understand why my father hid his legacy from us and though I started to understand when I became a mentor, it was only when I became a father myself that I was able to fully comprehend it. The life of an Assassin is not one to be taken lightly. To serve from the shadows to protect a light that you can never return to. To bathe your hands in another's lifeblood so that others may remain clean and unspoilt. To fight a war that will never end and never be recorded, with your deeds lost to the sands of time. That is a heavy choice that must be a choice. Our Creed says 'Everything is permitted' but that does not mean we are above the consequences of our actions. To take up the blade, you must be aware of the gravity of it, of the consequences that will flow from your choice." He snorted then turned to Desmond. "You cannot expect that from a child who was raised to know nothing else, who has never even seen a Templar yet is expected to dedicate every day of their life to fighting them. I will not judge William Miles for how he runs his Brotherhood, for I know that there will be desperate times that will call for such desperate measures, but I will judge him for hardening his heart and depriving you of the love you deserve. Being the Mentor does not supersede your duties as a father…you should have been loved and I do not fault you for leaving when you found none."
Desmond wanted to say something but his voice choked in his throat and threatened to bring tears out with it if it escaped. Instead, he buried his face in Ezio's collar as his nonno rubbed circles into his back and muttered comforting nothings.
"Twenty-five is too young, too too young." Desmond heard him mumble. "You should have been given more time...so much more…"
After a few minutes, or maybe an hour - there was no way to tell time in this bleach white place, Demond finally managed to compose himself, his heart suddenly feeling lighter.
"So I have exhausted all the questions I want to ask." Ezio said brightly. Desmond knew his nonno had so many more but all the important ones had been answered. "Is there anything that you want to pry out of this old man?"
Desmond paused. Yes, there was something but the question was how to broach the topic tactfully.
The first memory Desmond had relived of Ezio Auditore was his birth. It wasn't his actual birth, thank God he had not idea how he would have processed that. Instead, it was of a crying child, twelve almost thirteen, curled up on a bed in a dark room with a dress hurled into the furthest corner like it had caught the plague. It wasn't the dress's fault, it was beautifully made and perfectly tailored to the child and who wouldn't admire the fine craftsmanship. No, the dress came with showerings of "Such a lovely lady", "What a beautiful girl" and other phrases coated in "she" and "her" that hollowed the child out from the inside and left nothing but misery that couldn't be explained. "Aquila" was such a pretty name that should have inspired flight but to the child it weighed as heavy as a millstone.
Then in snuck Federico, full of smiles and mischief, with ears ready to listen and a heart so big that he accepted and loved first even if he didn't understand.
It wasn't the first time the child's older brother had brought out his old clothes to dress his sibling in and it was far from the first time the two eldest Auditore children snuck out for midnight rooftop races but on the rooftop of a church, both huffed from running and climbing, the child let words flow like a guilty confession to a priest. Federico listened, he accepted and then he stood up and said, "It's time to go home, fratello."
Though the name hadn't been picked out, that was undeniably the moment when "Ezio Auditore" was born.
Altair was enough of a dick without even having one and Ratonhnhaké:ton was two spirit but it was always Ezio that Desmond felt the strongest connection to. He admired Ezio for more than just his deeds, the skills that bled into him and the sheer amount of time he spent with him but for his unwavering confidence and certainty in his identity even when the world tried to push the other way.
"While other men blindly believe in physicality and what is assigned at birth…" Desmond started.
Ezio raised an inquisitive brow but said, "Nothing is true."
"While other men are bound by societal roles and expectations…"
"Everything is permitted." Ezio's eyes sparkled. "Ah, so you are a man after my own heart in another way, mio nipote."
"It was inspirational that you were so firm and true given the times you lived in." Desmond said. "Also it's a solid 'fuck you' to all the asshole historians who say being trans was a fad that started in the eighties."
Then a shock ran through his right arm and it began to pulse as golden geometric glyphs appeared along its length, glowing through the sleeve of his hoodie. Isu bullshit had the worst possible timing.
"Ah, so our time here is up." Ezio said.
Desmond bit back a scowl. He had forgotten that they were both technically dead, or dying, but he wished he had just a bit more time to talk with his nonno . "Any regrets before we get sent off to wherever dead people go?"
"An old man like myself has many regrets but I am sated knowing that my life is one well lived." Ezio hugged him closer with one arm while taking his glowing one in the other. " Though it sounds as if you had a fair few regrets of your own."
Desmond sighed. "I wish I could have done more to stop Juno rather than just hoping that someone in the future would finish the job."
"It was cruel for them to force you to make a choice like that."
"It wasn't even a choice at all." Another shock ran up his arm and its glow intensified. "I wish there was a way to have saved your family."
A second shock ran up his arm but Ezio's grip on his hand tightened. "That is not something that you should be having regrets about."
"What happened was fucked up. You didn't deserve that shit." Maybe Desmond could have been more eloquent but based on the glowing arm clock, they were running out of time.
"Make a wish for yourself then." Ezio said softly.
"I wish…" What does he want for his dying wish? They were nothing but words on the wind but was it pathetic that he couldn't think of anything for his own life? "I wish...I wish I could have lived to be old and...open my own bar or some shit like that."
"A business of your own, that's a good thing to wish for."
But Desmond didn't get a chance to reply as the light from his arm flashed, blinding him and-
Desmond barely has time to comprehend falling before he landed on something - no someone. It was definitely a person under him - and that was definitely a knife going through his shoulder. Fuck, that hurt.
His sight was still blurred from the Isu flashbang but instincts honed from Altair, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton had him stabbing his hidden blade into the attacker in front of him.
"Assassino!"
Huh, so the afterlife was Italian as well.