#vittoria laughs at him even as a baby
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More about the wenclair kids, this post is dedicated to @krystal-maiden because they wanted to know more about the twins! If anyone wants to ask anything about them, I’d happily share my hyperfixations with anyone (:
Leonidas is a pack animal and prefers company. He follows his moms everywhere and whenever his uncles visit he will hold something they have hostage so they can stay longer. Leonidas was jealous that Wednesday AND Enid had brothers, so he asked for brothers for his birthday. He got two twin sisters instead.
When the twins came home, Leonidas tried to return them because he thought they got the wrong kids.
Vittoria and Naenia are not identical twins, in fact one look at them and nobody could tell they were twins at all. Vittoria is the spitting image of Enid and Leonidas save for her nearly black eyes. And Naenia is the spitting image of Wednesday, except her bright blue eyes which stare into the soul of anyone and everyone.
Naenia and Vittoria were born with their dominant gene being psychic, and because of their twinship they share a connection. If Vittoria cries, Naenia will start crying soon after. If Vittoria is hungry, Naenia will cry, if Naenia wakes up in the middle of the night and sits there quietly, Vittoria will wake up and start crying. If Naenia needs to be changed, Vittoria will start crying. Leonidas noticed this and immediately started trying to experiment to figure out the limits of this. Wednesday always manages to catch him before someone gets beheaded though.
Vittoria was smiling as soon as they left the delivery room. (They had to make sure Leonidas didn’t cut the breaks) Naenia didn’t stop crying unless Wednesday held her and they didn’t like to be separated. Leonidas spent the entire car ride pouting because he wanted brothers.
Naenia has a permanent glare, unless her face is relaxed, like when she’s inspecting Enid’s fangs or near Vittoria. (Naenia will play with Enid and Leo’s fangs as a baby) The first time she smiles is at Leonidas as he’s about to set her on fire, and he decides she is more useful alive (his heart melts and he realizes he’d protect his baby sisters with his life). Vittoria is a very happy baby so long as she’s entertained. She’s very curious and tries to get into everything Leo owns (annoy him to death) and thus starts their life long prank rivalry.
Yoko loves the twins and Leo, she insist they call her aunty or dad (Wednesday firmly disagrees even though she is their god mother). Frequently Yoko just pops into the house with gifts for the twins and Leo. Vittoria loves anything colorful to chew on and expensive (she seems to be able to smell what costs money). Yoko very quickly becomes Vittoria’s favorite and Naenia loves her fangs.
Leonidas always tries to ambush and kill Yoko but she’s much faster and stronger than he is. Yoko just thinks he’s adorable every time he tries to jump on her back with a toy knife. He makes it his goal to defeat her in combat (even though he won’t say it, he respects her a lot). And he likes that she protects Enid, Leo is very protective of his moms.
Naenia loves being around Leonidas, she smiles most as a baby when he watches horror movies with her.
Vittoria loves when there are a lot of people around to watch, she doesn’t like to be bored at all. She often spends time in Leonidas’s old carrier with Enid because she likes to move around. And because Naenia doesn’t like to be far from her, Enid buys a second one for Wednesday to use in public. She is appalled. She wears it anyway. They’re in their snood colors.
Enid: We can match!
Wesnesday: …Leo I think your mom is trying to send me to an early grave.
Leonidas: Grave digging! :D
Wednesday, nodding: Yes we do have to take them on their first grave robbing expedition, they’re getting about that age.
Enid: …they’re five months old.
Wednesday: By that age my father and my uncle had already taken me across the sea to slay my first kraken with them. It’s a bonding experience for family.
#wenclair#eniday#wenid#wenclair parent au#wenclair kids au#enid sinclair#wednesday addams#enid x wednesday#wednesday x enid#wednesday future au#wednesday#enid#enid and wednesday#enid: we are not slaying anything or anyone#leonidas: D:#wednesday: do not worry leo she just doesnt know how fun it is#leo is constantly fighting with Vittoria even though he’s four years older than her#vittoria laughs at him even as a baby#naenia can sit in Leo’s arms for hours just chilling while glaring at everyone#leonidas DOES try to see if they bounce and Wednesday catches them#leonidas does try to fence the twins#yoko: no he already has two moms can i be the god father#wednesday: absolutely not#enid gasping: OFC yes#yoko is technically their god father#yoko appearing on a random tuesday with divina: DAD IS HOME#yoko tanaka
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Reflection
SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 31
Summary: Leo's POV following the events of the attempted kidnapping where he deals with the trauma of losing his son and nearly losing his daughter.
TW: Mention of child death, grief, & trauma
Leonardo softly unwound himself from his slumbering daughter. Her face looked peaceful, a miracle considering all she had been through. She was so young yet her face had matured since coming to Italy, a toll taken by what she had seen. Leaving the bed was the hardest thing he had to do, having to command himself to get up and walk towards the bathroom. I never want her out of my sight again.
Nevertheless, he told his body to move and it did. He softly shut the bathroom door, taking special care to make sure the latch didn’t loudly click and wake Vittoria up. The light turned on, illuminating the room and causing him to squint for a moment as his eyes adjusted. Leonardo numbly stood in front of the mirror and his body did the rest, heaving whatever was in his stomach out into the sink. It wasn’t much, but the sensation still burned his throat. I suppose she gets it from me.
The contents rinsed away as quickly as they came out, and the burning irritated his throat but dissipated soon after he cupped water into his mouth, swished it, and spat it out. His hands were shaky and that in of itself unnerved him. You're better than this. Memories of his father flashed through his head, being forced to eat burnt food until he threw up and then being forced to eat it. Men don't throw up. And he hadn't since he was young, in fact, he almost forgot that he even could until now. He almost sneered at his weakness as his blue eyes met their reflection, seeming as if they belonged to a different person than himself.
Leonardo combed his hair back and examined his face. There were some lines, but that came with aging and he firmly believed he was doing that with grace. He didn’t look that much different if he were being honest with himself, but his face looked unfamiliar to him. Leonardo couldn’t bring himself to recognize the man in the mirror, who at the moment was actually wearing his past clear as day, unhidden by his carefully sculpted and well-practiced mask. There were sometimes he wondered if he were fooling himself along with the people he smiled at. No, you’re better than them.
A shaky breath escaped him. You are not weak. But he supposed a shaky breath was better than tears, not that he felt the need to shed any. The day had turned out fine in the end, his daughter was safe in his bed and she would meet the age of nine. She’s okay. She’s alive. Unable to take the brief flicker of weakness he saw in his reflection’s eyes, he covered his face with his large hands that hadn’t met a lifetime of any labor unless you considered pulling a trigger.
Closing his eyes was perhaps the worst thing he could do because suddenly there was the image of that...day...on the bridge. In horror, he opened them again and took a deep breath. Leonardo’s hands met the cold marble sink, steadying him in place. Mi dispiace Andrea. Mi dispiace di non aver potuto proteggerti come ho protetto lei. My poor boy. My poor baby. Every time he saw Vittoria reach a milestone, laugh, or play he thought your brother should be next to you.
Vittoria was a lonely child. He could see that much and he knew she had felt alone all of her life. She could’ve had her brother. Andrea was in his thoughts, every day. My son. A small part of him that was capable of feeling felt a trace, barely there, but a trace of guilt for being disappointed when he found out he had a son and not a daughter. As he looked back in the mirror, he wondered how much closer Andrea would’ve grown to look like him. It was always a thought because there’s no way I’ll ever know.
For the past seven years, before he met his Vittoria, he had worried for her life. He felt powerless and unable to protect her while he sat in his cell. Most of his contacts were off the grid so he had to reluctantly leave her safety in the hands of God. Before Andrea, he had been religious out of obligation, because that was what was done. If he were being honest with himself, he considered himself the higher power because he could only trust himself to not be weak and to take control of everything and everyone around him. In his mind, praying was begging. Weak people beg. And faith was hope. And hope is for fools. I'm neither.
No, Leonardo Borghese didn't like leaving anything up to anyone, even the Lord. He went to church religiously, but he never could be actually considered religious until his son died. The need to believe he'd see him again, that the mother of their children and his father were burning in hell for all they had done. Their misery in life and painful deaths weren't enough. An eternal punishment was needed. He thought also that maybe in death, his mother was well enough to love him again. So until a time came where he could protect her himself and never play the fool again, he had prayed for his daughter, desperate for God to keep her safe in that bitch’s hands.
He wouldn’t put it past her to spite him one more time and take Vittoria away, snuffing out her innocent life. Even now, the thought of the mother of his child ignited a fury and unmatched hatred in him. Leonardo was hateful, but he didn’t know how much hate he could contain until that day.
Entertaining Vittoria’s love of her mother physically repulsed him, but she wasn’t ready yet to know the exact details of her parent’s relationship. She’ll never be ready. And he'd keep it from her for as long as he could. Focusing on hating Patience was easier than grieving and missing his son because despair was too human of an emotion for him. It’d make him weak but hate kept him on his toes.
I won. I have her. Everything you did had no purpose but pain in the end. The words sounded unsophisticated in his head, raw and cartoonish, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His daughter was with him, sleeping in the next room and for now, he had to put everything that happened in the past aside. Focus on the future.
Leonardo, so deep into his thoughts, hadn’t heard the door creak open but he did hear the small voice call out, “Papa?”
So much for alone time. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes again and put on his smile before he turned around. “Did I wake you?” he asked.
Vittoria looked at him sadly, her lip wobbling in a pout. Here I thought I’d have a few hours before I had to comfort her. “Are you okay?” she whispered, clutching her grey bunny close to her chest.
“I have you and you’re okay, so yes I’m fine,” he said, moving closer to her and kneeling down to her level.
Why does she have to be so short? His knees ached. He sincerely hoped she grew to be several inches taller than her mother because leaning down so much was taking its toll. “You can cry if you want to,” she said, “It’s okay to cry.”
It isn’t. “Vittoria-,” he began.
“I was really scared and I cried. It’s okay to cry when you’re scared,” she said, taking his hand, “I won’t tell anyone.”
As bitter as her mother was, as ruthless as he was, Vittoria still held kindness and gentleness in her heart. He let his fake smile dissolve into a soft gentle one that held a foreign genuineness. “That’s very sweet,” he cooed, “But I’m alright. You don’t have to comfort me.”
“I want to,” she said.
He pulled her hand and took her in close to his chest, wrapping his arms around her and held her tight. Her small arms wrapped around his neck and he gave her a kiss on her head. “You’re safe. It’s over,” he whispered, unable to tell if it was more for her or himself, “We’re going to be fine, Vittoria. We have each other.”
“I love you, Papa,” she said in a watery voice.
“I love you too, Vittoria,” he said clearly, I love you, Andrea, “So much.”
#andrea borghese#marilyn winslow#vittoria borghese#leonardo borghese#chapter 31 really messed him up#he'd be DAMNED before he lost another child#costa got off easily#as much of a monster he is#leonardo is still human#which i think is what makes him terrifying
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Birds and Bees
Requested Bonus Chapter about the first time Leonardo saw Andrea.
***
It was a long birth, and it wasn't easy.
The girl looked as if she were a young teenager, although the insults she hurled seemed to point to a more worldly, older woman. In any case, she was far too underdeveloped to be carrying a baby this big to term. She should have been induced much earlier.
When the baby fell out, after hours of pushing and shifting it to the right position, the mother was barely conscious, her face sickly pale from blood loss. Her hand was held limply in that of Mr. Borghese, and her eyes were rolled into the back of her head. Mr. Borghese had one hand cradling her face, but when the baby fell out, he stood up. "Let me hold her."
It wasn't breathing yet, and they were checking vitals. Shirley was cutting the umbilical cord that still tethered it to its mother. "Wait," said Wendy, her voice still trembling from fear that either mother or child would die.
"No. Give her to me. I should be the first person to hold her. I'm her father."
He was very insistent, almost overbearing, but Wendy ignored him until the baby erupted in a high, healthy wail.
It was then Wendy allowed it to be relinquished to its persistent father. Dressed as he was in a well-tailored dark suit and tie, he still cradled the newly born child close to his expensive clothing, blood and amniotic fluid staining his white undershirt.
The sudden relief on his face was almost childlike, like a son whose mother had come home after a long time away. "Ciao, Vittoria," he whispered, so softly Wendy was she was the only one who heard. "I've been waiting for you a long time."
His eyes shone like stars in the neon lights above. He stared at the mess of blood and placenta on his arms like he was staring at the manifestation of Jesus Christ himself.
"He needs to be cleaned," interjected Wendy. "And his blood needs to be taken."
"He?"
The sudden chill in his voice made a sense of doom fall over her. "Yes, he. Please give him back."
Mr. Borghese's face became placidly blank. He handed over his firstborn son as hurriedly as handing over a bag of trash. Then he disappeared out the door, the double doors swinging shut behind him. And Wendy and the nurses were left to clean and check the baby themselves.
When the boy had all his vitals checked and was swaddled and lying in a crib, Wendy finally let herself leave the room to wash herself. She was shaking hard.
Outside, in the visitor's room, she saw Mr. Borghese with his face in his hands, the blood smearing on his face. His mouth was downturned and trembling.
"Mr. Borghese?" She said weakly as she stopped in front of him. "Your son is safe."
"My son?" He said quietly, not lifting his head.
"Yes. Your son is a healthy nine pounds, three ounces." She did not mean for the forcefulness to enter her tone, but it did, and he seemed to wake up. "And how is she?" He said.
"It was a hard birth. She was split right up to the--" she felt embarrassed saying it, despite how angry she was. "Up to the clit."
He took the information in stride. "When will she be able to conceive again?"
Wendy was almost horrified into silence. A labor that had almost killed the girl, and he was already eager to put the next baby in her. "Not for a long while. At least a month, if not several."
She was not sure he had heard her. He had his eyes fixed solely on the hospital door, but when his flicked back to her, he had his smile back on. "Grazie... Wendy."
It was always Wendy. Never Mrs. Ledbetter. There was always a personal connection he latched onto with his smiling face and gentle voice and kind eyes.
Mr. Borghese entered the hospital room, and Wendy watched him outside the glass windows. He took up the tightly wrapped bundle and sat it on his lap.
His mouth moved carefully, gently, speaking words of comfort in one language or another. His soft blue eyes were the color of the sky as he carefully held one arm of the baby and kissed its hand.
When Wendy came in an hour later, he was still holding his son, and his eyes were enraptured. He was holding his hand to gently cradle the back of his son's head, his fingertips playing with the sparse blond curls. "Looks like his papa, doesn't he? He's got my hair. He'll be tall when he grows up, he's a heavy little thing, just as I was." His smile widened; a pleasant memory must have made itself known. "Where is his mother?"
The girl was knocked out, in a deep sleep from intravenous drugs. "She won't be awake for hours."
The baby flailed its little arms and wailed. "He needs formula," said Wendy. She was unsettled by the man, scared almost, and wanted to get him away from the child. He was too close to the newborn's small body, too close to transmitting germs that would harm its fragile immune system.
"No. He needs his mother's milk," said Mr. Borghese. He lifted the wriggling little bundle to his chest, impervious to its screams. He seemed to revel in it, basking in fatherhood. "Sssh, ssh, ssh. Andrea. Vuoi mamma? Vuoi mamma?"
The baby gaped its little red mouth, and grasped with tiny hands to wrap around his firm finger.
"He needs... just a little bit of formula until his mother wakes up." Wendy was pushing, but she wanted to separate them. It was very unreasonable for him to want to be alone, so close to a newborn that was barely an hour born.
"Poison." Mr. Borghese sounded contemptuous. "I'll play with him until his mother wakes up. We need to spend time together as father and son."
Mr. Borghese tucked the edge of the baby blanket into the corner of his swaddle and cradled him to his chest. "His vitals are good, yes?"
"Yes. He's a very healthy baby." She gave a nervous laugh. "Strong set of lungs..."
"He can cry all he wants. I'm right here to protect you, little one. Andrea." He smiled. "How does Andrea sound? A boy's name for a boy."
"It's..." a boy's name? "A handsome name." And he didn't even bother to ask the mother? Had they decided on it beforehand?
"Andrea it is, then. Il mio bambino, tuo Padre ti ama. Per sempre. Tuo Padre ti ama. Aspettare ancora un po'. Vedrai di nuovo tua madre. Non sarai mai separato. Promesso."
He kissed his son's nose, and his eyes were wet, like rain streaming down a blank window, overflowing but never spilling with what might have been memories.
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🍼- Ahadi 🎨- Azuramis
These two came out to very different lengths, but I had a great time with both of them. Since I actually wrote a lot more than I normally would for a blog post, I’m going to count this for today’s post.
Ahadi:
“Dammit, Icanu,” I muttered under my breath. As places to wait around for hours in went, this was far from the worst, but that didn’t make me any less bored.
I was sitting in the foyer of a mansion in the north of Elidir, regretting taking a lead from Icanu. Still, the house was nice; lots of good quality stonework, tapestries, and decorative rugs. The scent of flowers drifted in from the garden just outside, and a pair of large windows flanked the front door, providing plenty of light.
My patience had just about run out when a man with an obnoxiously large wig and a voice like a disgruntled camel walked in from the garden and declared, “My Lady will see you now.”
I stood, glaring first at the man, then at his wig, and followed him into the garden.
Just to be clear, I know next to nothing about gardens, but I’m reasonably sure most people’s gardens don’t include hedge mazes. Nonetheless, a hedge maze is exactly what the butler led me through to find “his Lady,” Baroness Vittoria Langston Wateracre, a name I am sure I will never forget, just as I will never forget the way the man brayed the vowels as he introduced her to me.
“That will do, Pietro,” she said in an almost musical voice when the butler rose from a grandiose bow.
Baroness Wateracre was attractive, in a consumptive sort of way. Her looks were obviously important to her, and she could afford all the best tailors, hairstylists, and makeup artists to ensure she always looked expensively-beautiful. Her hair, which I’m almost certain was all her own, put Pietro’s wig to shame, towering almost three feet from the top of her head through some means I was never able to ascertain. Her bosom was similarly physics-defying, but I could at least hazard a guess on that being the work of a particularly skilled corsetiere. Everything about her, from her jewel-encrusted shoes to her red and gold dress to the blush on her cheeks was annoyingly flawless.
“You must be the security consultant Icanu spoke so highly of,” she trilled.
“Yes, ma’am, Ahadi Kaufman.” I replied, trying to keep my voice and expression from betraying my annoyance. “May I ask how you know Icanu?”
“Ever since my husband passed away-” she began, but came to a sudden stop. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t be right to discuss our relationship in polite company.”
I blinked very slowly. There was really nothing I could say to that, but I would have to be sure to taunt Icanu about it later. Filing that away in the back of my mind, I decided to get down to business.
“May I ask what exactly you need me to do?” I asked. “Someone with your resources should hardly have to turn to a private contractor for security. Your household guards seemed plenty alert when I came in.”
“The problem,” she said, “is not my guards, it is the fact that they will soon be absent. I will be visiting one of my cousins in Cheliax soon, and Captain Hobson insists that all of my guards should accompany me.”
“So all you really need is someone to look after your home while you’re away?”
“There is one other thing,” she said, “I will be leaving my son here. Hobson tells me the roads aren’t safe, so there is absolutely no way I will take Richard with me.”
As much as Wateracre and her butler annoyed me, I didn’t want to turn down this job, but babysitting wasn’t exactly mercenary work. Then again, it couldn’t be too difficult and I needed the money. Hell, I liked kids, provided they were old enough to tell me things like where fences weren’t in proper repair or when guards tended to pass by. A bit of free advice: street kids are the cheapest way of getting the kind of information you would look really suspicious trying to find out through observation.
“How old is Richard, may I ask?”
“Fourteen months,” Lady Wateracre replied.
Babies were another matter entirely. Fragile lumps of undirected curiosity with no sense of self-preservation and a tendency to produce unpleasant smells.
My heart sank, but my growling stomach startled it back up.
I didn’t have much choice. It was babysitting or starvation.
I thought lovingly of the days when all I had to do to eat for a week was murder an unfaithful husband or a gambler who didn’t pay his debts. It would be at least six more months before the city watch lost interest in all those deaths and I could get back to work.
“How long will you be gone?” I asked, resigning myself to my fate.
“About one month, depending on the condition of the roads” she said. “Your payment will be twenty gold per day.”
At least she had the good sense to pay well for this shit.
“We have a contract,” I said.
It turned out the work of actually caring for the kid wasn’t my responsibility. There were three servants left to take care of the house while Lady Wateracre was away: a cook, a maid, and a nurse. All I really had to do was keep an eye out for intruders.
About one week in I was sitting in the nursery, the door was locked, the kid was asleep for once, and I let myself drift off to sleep as well. Babies cry at loud noises, right? And only the nurse and I had keys, so there would have to be some kind of warning if somebody tried to get in.
I got woken up by the nurse shaking my shoulder in a panic.
“Ahadi! Ahadi, where’s Richard?” she practically screamed in my face.
“He was in his crib,” I mumbled, getting to my feet.
Sure enough, the kid was gone.
“The door was locked when you got here, right?” I asked.
She looked around, throwing her hands up, clearly not in any condition to think coherently. I grabbed her shoulders and looked directly in her eyes.
“The door was locked, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, yes, I had to unlock it to get in here,” she said, taking a deep breath.
I let her go and said, “So he’s still in here somewhere.”
She calmed down and we set about searching the nursery. Sure enough, I found Richard hiding in the cupboard that normally contained his plethora of toys.
“There you are, Dick,” I muttered. “Come on.”
I pulled him out and carried him back to his crib, where the nurse set about whatever it was she had come to do. I went back to my seat and didn’t let myself fall asleep on the job again.
By the third week I was getting more than a little sick of living in that huge, empty house with a bunch of people whose lives apparently consisted entirely of being deferential and taking care of other people’s needs. I had taken to actively patrolling the house rather than sitting in the nursery for hours on end. The hedge maze was the only area of the grounds I actively avoided, since getting lost inside it would mean losing valuable time if something happened to go wrong.
Which is exactly why when something did go wrong, I didn’t lose valuable time.
I was near the kitchen when I heard the crash of breaking glass from upstairs. I set off at a sprint for the foyer, where the only stairs in the house were. I got there in time to hear the nurse screaming from the nursery, and took the stairs two at a time.
There were two black-clad men coming out of the nursery as I rounded the corner into the hallway. One of them was pulling the nurse down the hall by her hair, moving away from me. The other was carrying the baby. Both of them were wearing hoods and masks over the lower halves of their faces, making them impossible to identify at a glance.
I charged at the man carrying Richard, and he turned when he heard my footsteps. He had just enough time to say, “Oh shi-” before I hit him with a sliding tackle. Richard fell from his arms, but I caught the child and set him aside before the man could get back up.
The nurse managed to struggle free from the other intruder and sprinted away, leaving me to deal with both of them. I managed to whip out a dagger and stab the man I’d tackled in one kidney before he could get to his feet, but his partner hit me with a kick that sent me sprawling on my back. He bore down on me with his own knife, and we struggled on the floor for a few moments as I tried to push his blade away. He brought more of his weight to bear and the blade inched closer to my throat, so I brought a knee up between his legs and pushed the knife aside as he gasped in pain. A quick slash with my blade severed his jugular.
I looked around. Richard had disappeared, but I saw another man at the end of the hallway. We looked at each other for a moment, then he took off running. I pursued him down the stairs and out into the garden, where another man with a bow was taking aim at - oh gods - baby Richard, who was toddling towards the hedge maze.
I whipped my dagger at him. It embedded itself in his shoulder, forcing him to release his grip on the bow. The arrow flew off and shattered against a statue. It wouldn’t be until much later that we would realize the arrow was equipped with a blunt head, meant to incapacitate rather than kill.
By the time he turned to face me, I had already drawn another blade and closed the gap. I bore him to the ground and sank the dagger into his stomach, then let loose with a flurry of jabs that left him bleeding and gasping uselessly. I recovered my other dagger from his shoulder and set off into the hedge maze, hoping I could find Richard before any of the intruders did.
I spent about a minute rushing through the maze before I realized how stupid it would be of me to just keep running. I stopped and listened. Sure enough, within about thirty seconds, I heard Richard laughing somewhere off to my left. Rather than trying to navigate the maze properly, I began forcing my way through the thick branches, relying on my leathers to keep me from getting too badly scratched up. That didn’t help my face or hands, but those have always been so scarred I hardly even think about them anymore.
As I pushed through one of the walls a blade sank into my calf. I fell, but managed to pull myself the rest of the way through before my attacker could strike again. A couple seconds later he began pushing through the same portion of the wall, which proved to be a deadly mistake. He didn’t stand a chance of dodging as I threw one of my daggers directly at his face. The handle impacted his forehead, stunning him just long enough for me to rise to my knees and thrust my second dagger into his throat.
I recovered my blades again and began dragging myself through the maze. My left leg was completely unusable, and I didn’t have enough strength left to haul myself up onto a single leg.
A few minutes later I found Richard, sitting in a dead-end, plucking grass and laughing to himself. I grabbed him and held him tight with one arm, leaving the other free in case anyone else showed up.
The cook found me an hour later, half dead from blood loss, with Richard asleep in my arms.
When Lady Wateracre returned I was sitting in the nursery with my injured leg propped up in front of me. Richard was playing with a set of toy soldiers on the other side of the room, though at times it seemed he was more intent on eating them. The baroness entered the room and immediately rushed over to her son, babbling at him in that asinine way people always talk to babies. She didn’t even notice I was there for over a minute. When she did notice me, though, her eyes locked onto my leg and her face paled.
“What happened, Ahadi?” she asked.
“Attempted kidnapping,” I said, groaning as I pushed myself up out of my chair. “Killed them all.”
“Was anybody else hurt? What did they want? How did they-” she gibbered.
“Nobody was hurt,” I interrupted, limping towards the door. “They didn’t say what they wanted, and you know where to send my money.”
A week later Icanu came to visit me at the Rabid Badger. Before he could say a word I blackened one of his eyes for him.
“I take it the job didn’t go well?” he asked, covering his bruised eye socket.
“Babysitting isn’t my fort,” I growled.
Azuramis:
Azuramis fidgeted with the feather on his hat, looked back at Kuhoji, and knocked on the door. It was a nice door. In fact it was a pair of doors, with a large gold knocker that was set far too high for a kobold at ground level to reach. Luckily, Azuramis had been practicing his high jump lately, and was able to leap up, grab hold of the knocker, and slam it against the door.
A minute later one of the doors opened, revealing a bug-eyed man with a shock of white hair and a generous smattering of paint all over his clothes.
“Yes? Yes?” he said, not noticing Azuramis at first. His eyes locked on Kuhoji.
“Ah, Madame Taxmaster,” he exclaimed, “did we have an appointment?”
Kuhoji shook her head and gestured downward, “Not with me, Faraday. You have an appointment with my protege, Azuramis.”
Faraday’s eyes darted downward first to Azuramis’s hat, then to the rest of him.
“A kobold?” he said, taking a moment to recover from his surprise. “Wonderful! I’ve been wanting to try my hand at painting kobolds, but none of them seem to care about portraiture.”
Azuramis was promptly grabbed and dragged inside by Faraday. Kuhoji waved goodbye with a smile and closed the door.
The interior of Faraday’s house must have been beautiful at one point, all polished wood and brass, but most of the surfaces had random spatters of paint and the floor was covered with bits of canvas, old brushes, and empty paint tins.
“Sit, sit!” Faraday demanded, shoving Azuramis into a chair and rushing to pull an easel from one corner of the room.
Azuramis tried to stand, but in a flash Faraday was next to him, pushing him back down onto the chair.
“You must sit! You sit, I paint, it will be wonderful.”
“No sit,” Azuramis replied, rising to his feet. “Sitting boring.”
Faraday recoiled with a look of horror.
“But how will I paint you if you refuse to sit?”
“No sit,” Azuramis repeated, drawing his sword and causing Faraday to recoil even further.
“I pose!” he asserted, bringing one leg up on the chair and holding his blade aloft.
The look on Faraday’s face slowly shifted from horror to wonder, and tears began to form in his eyes.
“Incredible!” Farady cried, “A revolution in portraiture! Let us begin!”
Azuramis did his best to stay still while Faraday painted at a furious pace, but the sword soon began to feel heavy.
Must pose, he thought, must look heroic for portrait.
Azuramis’s leg began to cramp.
Noble rats had it easy, never had to stay still for anything.
The sword slipped from his grasp, landing edgewise and embedding itself in the floor. Faraday jumped at the sudden noise and dropped his palette.
“Do you need a break?” he asked, recovering his palette.
Azuramis gave him a confused look.
“Break?”
“Yes, a break. We don’t have to do this all at once, sir.”
“Yes, break then,” Azuramis said with a sigh of relief. “Continue later?”
“Of course, yes.”
When Kuhoji returned that evening, she found Azuramis and Faraday sitting on the floor, reading the Noblerat comics Azuramis kept hidden in his coat and excitedly exchanging theories about where the story would go next.
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Playdate Bonus Chapter
*Small excerpt of Leo's POV from the Playdate chapter. All of Mazzeo's dialogue is spoken in Italian but given the amount and length (cause he talks a lot), I translated it into English.
Leonardo was a picture-perfect host with a genuine-looking smile on his face. Anyone who saw him would immediately feel welcomed with open arms into his home, ready and delighted to receive his hospitality. If only he felt as generous on the inside. Vittoria was bouncing beside him, a true happy grin brightening her face. It was the happiest he had ever seen her. Unfortunately for him, it came at his expense.
He had put off arranging a playdate with Signore Mazzeo’s granddaughter for as long as he could, but eventually, he had to give in and concede to a date and time. That morning, he had just stared at the top of the fridge at the little note that said: “Playdate with the Mazzeo's” that taunted him with the knowledge that while his daughter got to entertain herself with her new friend, whom he still had reservations about, he had to endure Franco’s long-winded conversations. "Conversation" was a polite word given that Franco did all of the talking, never taking a moment to breathe. Currently, he was giving his unsolicited parenting advice as if he were the finest father in the entire world. One of the things he hated about parenthood was the unsolicited advice people felt entitled to give to him.
“Of course, my parenting experience began before I was ever even a father. I always knew what type of father I wanted to be. Perfect in every sense of the word. There for my kids, never letting our work distract me. My own father…”
Was absent...unaffectionate...yes, yes. You’ve told me already. Leonardo subtly looked over at the grandfather clock, watching the minute hand move so slowly that he could swear it was doing it on purpose. Forty-five more minutes until I have three hours left…
“Then I became a father. Giulia, my firstborn, was an absolute angel. I didn’t want to mess her up so I made time for her, more than I could afford in our line of work. The baby years were such a wonderful time. A true shame you missed out on them, but that’s life. Anyways, I wanted to be a perfect father but that idea faded away. Everything you’ll think you’ll be as a parent fades away when you face the reality and I’ve learned that that’s okay. For instance…”
All I asked was “Would you like something to drink?”...that’s it. What have I done to deserve this? His eyes averted for a moment to see Vittoria and Nicolletta crank the music box again...Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...He was incredibly resentful that Signora Bianchi bought his daughter that godforsaken music box. She played it nonstop and all he wanted to do was throw it away, but of course, Vittoria always put it back where it was supposed to go. The first and only time she put her toys away, it had to be that damn music box.
“Then Sofia was born and regretfully I wasn’t home as much. I wonder now if I had been home more if they would have turned out differently. Sofia was always the wild one. It’s a night and day difference between her sister and daughter. Giulia was always so even-tempered and Nicolletta causes no trouble. Anyways, I think Sofia was resentful. So I indulged her and that was my big mistake. Indulging your child is one of the worst things you can do. I warn you now…”
Do I indulge Vittoria too much? He knew the answer was yes, but she was always grateful. Vittoria understood and respected the word no, so he figured if he said no then she’d listen. Overall, his daughter was a good girl with a kind demeanor. I can hardly believe that bitch raised her.
“Giulia was the biggest disappointment. I haven’t heard from her in twelve years, not since she left Emilio with me. That blasted girl had the nerve to get herself knocked up with a Mick and then leave him with me. I don’t know if she’s dead or not, but I consider her so. I have to move on for the sake of my grandson…”
Leonardo had known Giulia and from day one knew she was nothing more than a whore. He had seen her twice and was merciful enough to spare Franco the knowledge of what had happened to his eldest daughter. Her body was disgusting. The smell was awful and oh...I need to have the upstairs sink unclogged. I’ll have to add that to the reminders list on the fridge. His fridge had gone from spotless stainless steel to an honorary bulletin board covered with tiny handprints, a hand-drawn picture of Vittoria and him, Principessa Snowbell, several notes, and Vittoria’s school agenda. It looked so drastically different, though he supposed that was how his life had turned out recently.
A loud thud against the seat of a chair startled him out of his thoughts and back to the conversation with Sig. Mazzeo. “Of all people, a MICK! Then there was that good-for-nothing girl. Sofia, I bailed her out too much, and look what happened. She married that good-for-nothing Cardarelli scum. I should’ve had him eliminated when I had the goddamn chance,” he said quickly, his volume rising.
Don’t you need to breathe? For Christ’s sake… “Do not let Vittoria marry whoever she wants. You’re her father, you know who’s best for her…”
Leo opened his mouth but Franco cut him off before a sound could even be formed, “Arrange something. It’s what I should’ve done. Sofia that dumb girl! If her husband had stuck to our traditions, then she wouldn’t be where she is now. I wouldn’t bail her out this time. I draw the line with what she did! Vinnie has respiratory problems now from inhaling that devil’s substance,” Franco continued, taking a moment to cross himself.
Vittoria would never do such a thing. “Which brings me to my next point…”
Murder in front of the girls’ would be unadvisable but he’s making it seem like a more appealing idea. Leonardo’s eyes drifted to the clock again. It’s only been six minutes? Cazzate! The clock must be broken. “I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’m making a better effort to raise my grandchildren. The loves of my life. I miss our work but retiring is the best option. I won’t let my wife do it on her own, no sir. Four children at our age are enough. Our job, our families...it ages you,” the man laughed, “I can see now that fatherhood has graced you with a few extra pounds.”
Excuse me? Leonardo opened his mouth but before he could say anything, that damn man spoke over him, “Nothing to be ashamed of, of course. It was after Sofia when I got my belly. Sig. Donisi lost his hair…”
It was only a couple of pounds. Leonardo had hardly seen a difference in his appearance with the exception of needing to move over a notch in his belt, but that was it! And something had to give in his routine because there were only so many hours in a day. He at least tried to exercise three times a week instead of every day like he used to.
People are over-dramatic. Inside he was seething. The meat cleaver is right next to the stove. “Which reminds me of this one time…”
Jesus Christ! The things I do for Vittoria. I can handle her crying, tantrums, the need for piggyback rides, and almost anything and everything but this? He remembered feeling semi-fortunate that her playdate with Emilio hadn’t worked out, because that meant he didn’t have to invite and entertain Sig. Mazzeo over again. Of course, she just had to make friends with Nicolletta.
“I think you are doing an exceptional job with Vittoria. That poor child, seeing the things she’s seen. You keep her sane when most would go mad,” Mazzeo said, his eyes softening sympathetically.
Before Leonardo could even say thank you, the man continued. He’d do anything to protect Vittoria from madness and madhouses. And anyone who thinks she should be there. Alessia wore scarves quite frequently for the past few weeks as her bruises around her neck faded from blue to yellow. It was her own fault. Suggesting I place Vittoria in a madhouse. Technically she suggested Vittoria see a psychiatrist but that was the same thing in his mind, knowing that they’d try and have her committed. Hell will freeze over before I let that happen. His mother had perished, he’d be damned before that happened to his daughter.
It wasn’t her, nor anyone’s place, to tell me what I should do for my daughter. I know what’s best for her. “Of course when I was a boy things were different…” Sig. Mazzeo began, his voice having a trace of nostalgia.
“Papa!” Vittoria cried, coming running in with Nicolletta hot on her heels, “Can we go outside and play jump rope now?”
Oh thank God, I can speak. Praise Jesus. “Of course, principessa,” he smiled, happy to use his voice for the first time in a while.
And for the last time in the next hour.
#once upon a dream#bonus chapter#leonardo borghese#marilyn winslow#i had an italian translation but i don't think anyone wants to go back and forth between google translate 😂
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