Corazon 1: Wolves at the Gate

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The change was abrupt. The dream Ezio was having was promptly forgotten upon waking, but Ezio hadn’t been expecting to be awoken by Celio shaking him awake. The motion initially confused him, but when he saw that it was Celio, Ezio grumbled under his breath, rolled over, and intended to go back to sleep.

“Ezio, no,” Celio said, the urgency in his voice audible even in Ezio’s half-awake state. “Don’t go back to sleep. Get up.”

Ezio frowned, and then moved around and sat up. “Celio, what’s wrong?” he asked. Celio was never this jumpy.

“I don’t know what Jean did,” Celio answered, gently, but firmly, pulling Ezio up and out of bed, and then towards the door. “Someone’s attacking the gates. But he’s distracted, and it’ll probably be long enough to get you out of here.”

Ezio could hear it, once he was up and they were moving, the sounds of unrest filtering through his consciousness. He’d been here a long time, and it was strange to think that he could leave, now. How long had he been here, anyway? Thinking of it, Ezio hardly recalled, but he thought it’d been ten years now, maybe longer.

He’d tried not to think about it. It was easier to deal with when he wasn’t paying far too much attention to the passage of time. He’d chosen that, when he’d put Rosalie’s life before his own. It wasn’t a difficult decision to make then, and if he had to make it again, he would.

Celio had been trying to get Ezio out of here ever since they’d met, somewhere Jean couldn’t reach him, but Ezio had accepted his lot in life. Of course he’d decided Ezio was leaving now, half-dragging him through the hallways, and hadn’t thought to ask what Ezio himself wanted. All the same, some part of Ezio was upset that Celio would make this choice without his input. It was his life, wasn’t it?

No one ever asked what he wanted before. Of course they wouldn’t now.

There was no telling when, or even if, they’d get another chance like this. Ezio knew that. Jean made many enemies, but no one could say he didn’t protect what was his, and quite well. Of course Celio was all but throwing him out, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. So why was he so upset about it?

Ezio didn’t think of it too long. They rounded corners quickly, and between Celio’s speed and the blurring of Ezio’s vision, it took an embarrassingly long time for him to figure out where they were. The banging and shouting towards the front of the manor grew louder as they went. The barrier that normally kept Ezio confined to a certain area of the manor wasn’t there. Jean must’ve forgotten to put it up.

Celio ducked into the kitchens, packing a handful of fruits and vegetables into a sack, and handing it to Ezio before he was pulling him off somewhere again.

“Where are we going?” Ezio asked. Celio could at least answer that much.

“Out the back gates,” he answered, glancing back at him with a smile. “I figured you wouldn’t want to run into whatever’s going on in the front. Jean’s probably there, anyway.”

Ezio almost grumbled something in response, about how dealing with Jean so long meant they didn’t scare him, but he stayed his tongue, and followed Celio. But of course he followed Celio. It never took too much thought, either. Ezio followed him when he was asked to, Ezio would’ve followed him to the ends of the earth if that was what he wanted.

Love had that effect on people. Ezio tried not to think of that too much, either.

As they ran past the corridor that led to the gardens, Ezio remembered the day they met. By chance, Ezio was there at the same time Celio was, hiding from his tutors that’d seen fit to remind him what he was too many times. Ezio always told him otherwise. He was Celio. That was good enough.

Where would he go from here? Ezio’s eyebrows furrowed as they continued down the hallway, ever closer to the back gates. Ezio was resourceful, good at thinking on his feet. He was the kind of person that would fare just fine if left to his own devices, for he was now and had always been more of a lone wolf.  But what would become of Celio, and his sister Lupita, when he was gone?

Jean was never the fool, and he would figure it out eventually, just how Ezio had gotten out. Ezio had lived with Jean’s abuse for a decade now, like hell he wanted to leave Celio to it. Oh, but where was Lupita…?

“Celio, come with me,” Ezio said, his breathing laboured. “You and Lupita, we can go together.”

“No,” Celio answered. “We have to stay here. You’ll have to go alone.”

Some combination of fury, fear, and perhaps hurt, shot through Ezio. His jaw set, and abruptly, he stopped. The suddenly cease of motion nearly tore his wrist from Celio’s grasp, but Celio stopped too, whirling around with confusion and frustration across his face.

“I’m not going, then,” Ezio said, his tone more firm and sure than Ezio felt. He’d become a very good actor over the years.

“What?” Celio asked. “No, you have to go! I don’t know if I can get you out of here any other time, Ezio please, don’t do this!”

“I won’t leave you,” Ezio answered. Steeled grey eyes met Celio’s gaze, almost as if daring him to argue. But beneath the fierce look, the set jaw, the furrowed brow, Ezio was shaking like a leaf in the wind. He never argued with anyone. Even as his heart told him Celio wouldn’t take it badly, he was trembling uncontrollably anyway.

Celio was quiet, watching him. One hand reached up, and Ezio instinctively flinched away from him. Hurt flickered in his grey eyes, but then he smiled, gently running a thumb across Ezio’s jaw.

It’s okay, Ezio could almost hear him say, in his head. I won’t hurt you.

No, he wouldn’t. He never had.

“I’ll come,” Celio said. “But we have to go now.”

Ezio’s gaze narrowed suspiciously, but then he glanced behind them, his body soon turning around. “Lupita,” he explained. “She’s-“

“She’ll be fine,” Celio answered, reaching over and taking Ezio’s hand, pulling him back around and into motion. “But we need to go.”

And as always he did, Ezio followed Celio.

~*~

Celio shoved the door open. The bang of it closing behind them was barely notable around the sounds of banging and shouting. Celio led Ezio out into the cool air, their breaths loosing in puffs of vapour, and then the two vanished into the rows of hedge and flower.

Ezio glanced over his shoulder. The dim light of fires, reddish-orange tints that looked like glowing red eyes, was visible even at this distance. Ezio sucked in a surprised breath, and then scurried after Celio just a bit faster.

“Where are we headed after this?” Ezio asked, breath laboured and legs tired already. He’d lost the stamina he’d built up as a farmer’s only son during his time as a trophy. “Our farm’s gone.” It wouldn’t be wise to go there, anyway. On the other hand, Jean may not look there, thinking Ezio wouldn’t dare return. Which one Ezio wanted to bank his life on, that one Ezio wasn’t sure of.

“Anywhere but here,” Celio answered. “You and Rosalie had a plan, right? Where were you going?”

Oh. Yes, Rose. Ezio supposed, if he was going to return to the closest thing he had left to home, he’d have to find Rose. That thought hadn’t crossed his mind, in all this time. Ezio didn’t answer for a moment, their laboured breaths and the thunder of their shoes on the earth the only sounds.

Jean had wanted Rose, not him. But given his track record for losing his wives under mysterious circumstances, Ezio had decided he wasn’t getting Rose. Never in a thousand years had he thought to take Rose’s place, but that was how it’d happened. Ezio had sent Rose ahead to magic realm, said to run and not look back, and the plan was, he and their parents would’ve followed, but that wasn’t how that’d turned out.

Their parents were dead. The farm was gone. Ezio didn’t even know if Rose had made it to magic realm, the only place he could think of where the Dussaults weren’t allowed to go. (Heck if Ezio knew why. He’d never asked.) And he’d spent so long being a nobleman’s pet, there was no way he was the same Ezio that Rose remembered. He’d rather Rose mourned his loss, than his destruction.

“I… don’t think I can face Rose,” Ezio admitted. Ten years ago, he’d have jumped at the chance to be reunited with his twin. He would’ve wanted to see Rose. He had, more than anything, some part of him still did. There were holes in him where Rose had been. They were twins, part of each other, Ezio always believed that. Ezio needed Rose. Rose needed Ezio.

But things changed. Ezio had changed. Undoubtedly, Rose had changed, too. Even if they could’ve overcome those differences and changes, maybe it was best that Ezio figured this one out on his own, at least, for now. He’d done everything else on his own so far.

“Okay,” Celio answered, interrupting his thoughts. “No Rose. Do you have a backup plan, then?”

Truth be told, Ezio had never thought he’d need one. He shook his head. It was probably arrogance, or something, that made him believe backup plans were unnecessary, but it was too late now. Vaguely, he remembered thinking up alternates ten years ago, but it’d been a while since then. He’d forgotten, by now.

“We’ll make it up as we go, then,” Celio said. “Just as long as you-we, get as far away from Mortain, and Normandy, as possible, everything should be okay. I don’t know if Jean’s going to survive the night, so it may not even matter.”

Ezio frowned, glancing behind them, as they slowed to a stop. He should be glad for that. Death seemed too easy for him. Or maybe it was Ezio’s kindness getting the best of him, even now. Jean was a person too. The only love Jean seemed to know how to show was the broken and twisted kind. Maybe someone before had only known how to show that kind, too. Monsters weren’t born. They were made.

It was neither Ezio’s fault, nor his job to fix him. But if all they ever did was hurt one another, then hurt was all anyone would ever know. Someone had to stop the cycle. Maybe not Ezio. Or at least, not Ezio now.

“I have family,” he said, “in the south of France.” That side of the family had never known him. It was somewhat of a stretch to think they’d recognise him, but it was either that or they had to go to Japan. Ezio didn’t even know what a Japan was, but supposedly his father was from there.

“Will they take you in?” Celio asked.

“I don’t know,” Ezio answered, honestly. “I’ve never met them. I don’t even know if they’re any better than Jean.” His mother’s name should be more than enough to at least get them thinking about it. If worst came to worst, he’d run again, it was that simple.

Ezio glanced around. The air felt like it was cooling. Maybe it was. The gardens were massive, a winding, confusing maze that Ezio had spent far too long trying to memorise the layout of. It seemed like every time he thought he knew them, Jean changed something. It was almost like it was something to keep Ezio occupied. It worked.

Silently, Ezio looked up at Celio. He seemed the most determined Ezio had ever seen him before. Deep-set grey eyes stayed trained on their destination, his strong jaw set firmly. Sometimes, Celio reminded Ezio of one of those ancient Greek statues. Interesting, and not unattractive to look at, but nothing more. Other times, he was the most beautiful human Ezio had ever laid eyes on.

“With any luck,” Celio said, turning around one of the hedges, “Jean won’t make it out of this and he won’t follow.”

Ezio followed, but he frowned. This way shouldn’t lead out. Then, maybe there was some kind of spell on it to make him think that. And even if Jean died, it didn’t mean that would be the last of him Ezio ever saw. He decided not to remind Celio he could see and talk to dead people. It was fairly creepy, even to him.

“As long as you’re there, it’ll work out,” Ezio said. He believed that. When Celio was there, things had a way of working out, even as Ezio believed it impossible that they should. One thing in all of this he’d never regretted, he’d never regretted meeting Celio.

“I’m glad you have so much faith in me,” Celio said. “Come on, we’re almost there.” Celio gestured at the gate, not far from them. They were almost there.

Some part of Ezio couldn’t imagine being free, after all this time. Another part of him suddenly yearned for it, like a strange burning, and he moved faster.

~*~

Even with the gate in sight, the maze didn’t allow for a direct path to it. The two of them still had to manoeuvre through the hedges. To Ezio, Celio knew where he was going, so he put all of his trust in Celio instead. Celio had never led him wrong before, Ezio didn’t believe he’d do it now.

Ezio had never wished he knew even the basics of magic until now. Being able to use it about now would be extremely useful, and though Celio was a Dussault, he didn’t seem to have magic of his own. Ezio came from a line of spellcasters, a weak one, but a line nonetheless.

Celio was right, as it turned out, and Jean was too busy dealing with the invaders to notice they were escaping. Ezio glanced back towards the front of the manor. More orange glows had joined the ones already there, until they’d mixed together into a sea of reddish-orange. It looked ominous in the darkness, the light peeking out from behind the buildings and refracting off the fountain waters.

Dussault manor was very likely to fall. Jean was an arrogant sort, and this was a long time coming, Ezio was sure. Jean didn’t even hide his magic, enchanting the pianos play themselves and the candles float in the hallways. Humans didn’t take to things they did not understand very well, in Ezio’s experience. Magic was no different.

Celio slowed to a stop, as they came closer to the gates. Ezio glanced over at him, watching him. Something about his expression was concerning. Ezio started to ask, but Celio loosed a curse in Spanish, and without much warning, pulled Ezio in front of him and threw him out of the gate.

Ezio loosed a surprised shriek, hit the grass on the other side, and half-slid, half-rolled down the hill.

“What was that for?” Ezio demanded, standing up and brushing the dirt from his sleeves, but as he looked up, he saw the shimmers of pearlescent gold fall between him and Celio. He knew the answer.

“No,” Ezio said, quietly, moving over to the barrier. “No, Celio, break it.” He could. Of course he could, he was a Dussault too, only a Dussault could break these barriers with any sort of ease, he’d done it before, even.

“I can’t,” Celio said. “Not fast enough, you know that. Ezio, go. They’re going to look for a way around it, and you’re on the wrong side of it.”

No. Ezio shook his head. Jean must’ve cast the barrier to protect the grounds, but Celio was on the wrong side, not him. Ezio’s eyebrows drew together, his magic pooling, and he slammed into the barrier, once, twice.

“Ezio, we don’t have time for this,” Celio said, his tone pleading.

“I can’t do this without you,” Ezio answered, slamming into the barrier again. In his head, he knew it was futile and a waste of time. There was no way an untrained spellcaster was going to break this barrier in any short amount of time, no matter how much he wished otherwise. And soon enough, he gave it one last slam, and then slid to the grass, tears falling.

“Ezio, please,” Celio said, his voice quiet, kneeling down on the other side. “Please go.”

Ezio shook his head. “Not without you,” he repeated. “Celio I can’t do this alone.”

“Yes, you can,” Celio said. “Ezio, look at me. You’re so much stronger and smarter than you think, you can do this. I know it.”

Ezio looked up at him, though he was but a blurry smudge of colour behind the barrier. Even as he wanted to fight it, Celio was right. He couldn’t break this, not anytime soon. Neither could Ezio.

He had no other choice. Ezio either ran and lived, or he stayed and died, and if he stayed and died, that was a poor way of repaying Celio for his kindness over the years, wasn’t it?

Celio knew this barrier was being cast. He’d thrown Ezio out of the way on purpose. Ezio wanted to believe otherwise, but some part of him knew Celio had no intention of coming with him. That was why. Why he’d put Ezio before him, and hadn’t made it. He could’ve, if he’d wanted to.

Ezio loosed a sob. “I don’t want to,” he said.

“We just have to be apart for right now, okay?” Celio said. Even as he said it, Ezio could tell he didn’t really believe it. Neither did Ezio.

If the invaders outside the gates got in, they wouldn’t leave anything still breathing in Dussault manor, not with that kind of frenzy. He knew that. Ezio wished he didn’t. He wished things had turned out differently for them, but that was no way to live.

“I’ll find you,” Ezio said, half spluttered around the tears. He stood up. Celio stood up, too, and met Ezio’s hand with his own as it rested against the barrier. “I promise,” Ezio went on. “I’ll find you again. Don’t go anywhere I can’t find you, you idiot.”

Celio smiled. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I won’t,” he said softly. “Go. Before they find you.”

“I hate you for this,” Ezio said with a whine, his forehead tapping against the barrier.

“That’s fine,” Celio answered. “You can hate me all you want, just as long as you live. Go, Ezio.”

He hesitated a moment, two, ten, and then Ezio sniffled, resting both hands against the barrier. Then, he dropped both, kissed the barrier over Celio’s palm, turned, and bolted into the trees.

Ezio had no idea where he was going. Maybe this direction was south, but maybe it wasn’t. If he remembered right, it was more like south-west. Eventually, though, he’d reach maybe Rennes.

No. His journey veered just slightly south, and he passed right around Rennes, and found himself somewhere else entirely. Misfortune followed. But, with no other choice, Ezio made the most of it.

Over the years, Ezio drifted from one township to another, learnt his magic from the earth’s whispers and the call of darkness. He searched, from time to time, for any trace of Celio or his sister Lupita, word of what happened to the Dussault family. Empires rose and fell, rulers came and went, wars began and ended, and through it all, Ezio lived.

He never saw Celio again.

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