Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any material related to Ubisoft in any way or form.

A/N: I was going through the VisionaryAssassins fan guild Tarot card on deviantart and came across the Two of Cups card designed by AbdhitanMireen. While the image is not the one I visualized for this story, and my fic may not exactly relate to the meaning of the actual card in Tarot readings, I do like the implications of the title of the card itself. Yes, I am inspired by those talented artists, and the notion of a Tarot card series. However, I am deviating from their designs and images, writing from my own inspiration.

I'm not sure if this will turn into a Tarot series. However, if reviewers would like it to be a series, send a request for a card, and I'll see what I can do.

Two of Cups: when face-up, this is a card which couples desire to see, indicating partnerships and unions in which two people come together to create a mutual bond.

Ezio knows no one will question why there are always two glasses set out on the table in the corner of his room, a bottle of Mario's finest vino placed on a tray surrounded by a cornucopia of fine cheeses and bunches of grapes.

He smiles as he gazes upon the scene, for once uncaring of the world around him, forgetting about the blades laid neatly across the trunk in his room, the blood that has permanently stained the cuffs of his once-pristine white Florentine nobleman tunic. He only has eyes for the beautiful-and deadly-rule of Forli.

When Caterina enters the room, the hem of her simple, elegant dress sweeping the carpeted floor, Ezio feels a stirring in his loins, a familiar desire for the fierce warrior-woman, a longing that has burned in his veins since the first time he met her. Ezio sees her eyes linger on him, drinking in the sight of him dressed in a loose-fitting white tunic, the Assassin's sash tied around his waist, brown breeches and comfortable boots. The assassino bows and sweeps his hand toward the table, and Caterina chuckles, sitting down and smoothing her dress over her lap as Ezio sits across from her, pulling the cork from the bottle with a practiced motion.

They sit and talk and drink for hours, sometimes laughing jubilantly, other times whispering somberly, reliving memories and fights and words exchanged with friends and enemies alike not too long ago. By the time the watchmen of Monteriggioni call out the midnight hour, Ezio and Caterina are silent, content to stare at the fire across the room, all the cheeses and grapes and vino consumed. The assassin looks up from his silent reverie, and the woman-warrior can't help but shudder at his smoldering gaze.

Minutes go by, and they find themselves in Ezio's room, mouths clashing, clothes trailed on the cool floor as they fall to the bed, and as they make love into the early hours of the morn, they reflect wry that they are almost in love.

Almost.