It was December, 1464, and the normal bustling of the Florentine streets had died away as night slowly set in and the weather with it. Despite the cold and blowing snow, the Palazzo Auditore looked warm and inviting. Inside, Maria Auditore was attempting to convince her eldest two children that it was bedtime.

"But mamá," eight-year old Federico whined, "what if papá comes home? I want to see him."

"Me too!" Ezio quipped, having just barely turned five and already mimicking everything his older brother did.

Maria just smiled down at her two sons. "I promise I will send him up to see you. But it's getting late and you sister and brother are already asleep."

Federico huffed and brushed a stray strand of his dark brown hair out of his hazel eyes. "But they're little! I'm grown up; I don't need to sleep as much."

"Yeah, me too!" Ezio echoed again, thrilled at the thought of staying up for a few more hours.

Maria put her hands on her hips. "I've already let you stay up much later than I normally would, and I doubt your father will try to travel in this weather."

"But—"

"No more 'buts' Federico. Off to bed with you, and that goes for you too, Ezio."

"Aww…" Ezio whined, but he and his brother did as they were told and reluctantly trudged upstairs to their rooms.

"Goodnight, my darlings," Maria called after them.

"Goodnight, mamá," came the usual reply.

Maria smiled to herself and then looked out the window, a flicker of concern passing over her features. She hoped that Giovanni had not tried to make it home in this weather. He had been in Venezia for the past two months, working with Antonio and the thieves to track down a Templar that knew too much for his own good.

Maria worried, like she always did, when her Assassin husband undertook his missions. She knew there was a chance that he would never return. The latest letter Giovanni sent had said that he would try to be back home on this date, but after a whole day of waiting he had still not returned. Their children had been especially excited for their papá to return, particularly because he always brought them each a small present from his travels.

A soft cry from down the hall brought Maria from her thoughts and she quickly made her way down to the room where Petruccio slept. She opened the door and lit a candle to see her youngest son sniffling in bed. Petruccio had never been a particularly healthy child, even from birth, and Maria worried that whatever ailment he had would worsen as he got older.

"What is it, my dear?" Maria asked gently as she made her way over, "Are you not feeling well again?"

Petruccio sniffed again and reached for her. "Mamá,"

Maria tenderly gathered him up in her arms and sat on the bed with Petruccio on her lap. She smoothed back his hair and rocked him, humming a little lullaby in hopes that he would go back to sleep. It didn't take long, and Maria's motherly care soon had Petruccio back in the land of dreams. She gently tucked him back in and kissed his forehead before slipping out. Now with all her children in bed, the woman made her way to her own room for the night.

A few minutes later Maria was dressed in her nightgown and brushing out her dark brown hair. Giovanni loved her hair and always took the opportunity to run his fingers through the soft strands when she let it down for the night.

The lamp is burning low upon my tabletop,
the snow is softly falling.

Maria sighed as she put her hairbrush away. She was ready for bed, but like Federico, didn't feel like sleeping. There were just some nights that she longed so much for Giovanni's presence her heart ached.

The air is still in the silence of my room,
I hear your voice softly calling.

If I could only have you near, to breathe a sigh or two,
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love,
on this winter night with you.

With nothing better to do, Maria sat down at her personal writing desk and opened a small drawer where she kept her special things. Giovanni always sent her letters when they were apart, telling her how much he loved and missed her and the children, and that he was alright.

The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead,
My glass is almost empty.
I read again between the lines upon each page,
The words of love you sent me.

Maria smiled softly as she slowly went through the letters one by one, not heeding the passing time. She reached the letters Giovanni had sent before they were married, when his missions had been longer and more dangerous. He often spoke of how lonely he felt and how much he wished he were with her rather than on the cold rooftops.

If I could know within my hear that you were lonely too,
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love, upon this winter night with you.

Maria scanned the now familiar words on the yellowing parchment, written her husband's strong, bold hand.

My dear Maria,

You will be glad to know that my work here is done, and I leave for home within the week. I have thought of you constantly, amore, and I cannot wait to return to you and our children. Already I feel better than I have in weeks and I will not be able to travel fast enough to come home.

All my love,

Giovanni

The woman pressed her lips to the letter, silently uttering a quick prayer for her husband's safe return.

The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim,
the shades of night are lifting.
The morning light steals across my windowpane,
where webs of snow are drifting.

Maria exhaled shakily as she finished, suddenly realizing just how late it was. She must have spent hours reading these letters. With a slight shake of her head, Maria put the papers back in the drawer and stood, knowing she was only going to get a few hours of sleep now.

If I could only have you near,
to breathe a sigh or two.

She was just about to get into bed when she heard the muffled sound of stone scraping against stone from elsewhere in the house. In a flash Maria had snatched up a robe and was throwing around her shoulders as she hurried through the hallway to Giovanni's study, her bare feet padding on the woven rugs. For a moment she considered chastising her husband for traveling in such foul weather, but that though quickly disappeared as she reached the study door.

Giovanni had his back to her as he set down the candle he was holding. His Assassin robes and weapons were already gone and his hair hung in wet strands around the sharp contours of his face. He looked weary, but Maria was relieved to have him home safe.

"Giovanni,"

The man spun around, his surprised expression turning into one of delight when he saw who had spoken.

"Maria! Mi amore, did I wake you?"

Maria smiled as she entered the room, "No, actually."

Giovanni stepped forward and pulled her into his strong arms, holding her close as her arms wound around him in turn. Maria ignored the face that her husband's clothes were cold and slightly damp, letting out a contented sigh as he kissed the top of her head.

"Why are you awake at this hour, cara?" (dear/darling) Giovanni asked softly.

"I couldn't sleep,"

"Perché? Is Petruccio ill again?" (why?)

"No, I was thinking about you."

Giovanni chuckled and gently brushed her hair back, "You need not worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Normally Maria would have said that everyone makes mistakes, but that was an argument she did not wish to start. Instead, she pulled back enough so she could kiss him, to which Giovanni wholeheartedly complied, even as tired and travel-worn as he was.

I would be happy just to hold the hands I love,
and to be once again with you.

After a few moments, they reluctantly broke the kiss. Maria reached up and brushed Giovanni's cheek with her fingers.

"Come to bed. You must be exhausted,"

Giovanni smiled down at her, gratitude reflecting in his dark eyes, "As you wish, my love."

He leaned over to blow out the candle and allowed Maria to take him by the hand, her slender fingers interlacing with his.

And to be once again with you.