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meridian_roseTitle: Through All Hardship We Endeavour
Fandom: Da Vinci's Demons
Characters/Pairings: Girolamo Riario/Lucrezia Donati
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 16k
Prompt: For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smallfandombang round five
Summary: Pre-canon, fork in the road AU. "I will assume the risk," Riario said boldly….. and, with sudden inspiration that he would later wonder at, "Give me Lucrezia to be my wife."
When Alessandro threatens Francesco's daughters in order to take his place, Riario's desire to protect his cousins leads him to make a desperate bargain. He will wed Lucrezia and raise Amelia as if she were his own child.
Lucrezia's initial hatred of Riario begins to wane as he tries to prove his affection for her, and her companionship and compassion affect him in a positive way. The path to love and redemption however does not run smooth.
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply. Off-screen miscarriage, canonically abusive parent.
Beta: many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zeph317toho. All remaining errors or inconsistencies are my own.
Artwork: Lovely banners (and the separator icon) provided by knowmefirst who kindly stepped in as a last minute pinch hit artist :) At LJ and to follow at AO3
(If you're coming to the fic from the artwork please be aware this is not a Leo/Lucrezia fic; 99% pre-canon, 99% Riario/Lucrezia, 1% potential Riario/Leo/Lucrezia hinted at.)
Also posted to AO3
This is Part One of Two. Go to Part Two of Two at DW / @ LJ
Riario had known his father's plan to steal the papal throne; Alessandro would threaten Francesco's daughters to ensure his brother would surrender. With his twin secretly imprisoned below the Vatican, Alessandro could take his place and none would be the wiser.
He took pride in being trusted to assist his father on this mission. He knew some violence may be necessary. He had not been prepared though, for the order to kill the two girls.
Dispose of them? They were so young, rightfully terrified. They were useful as pawns to be used against Francesco if nothing else. Trying to sound off–hand he said, "Would it not be more advantageous to keep them alive? Sparing them would make him easier to manipulate."
His father dismissed this suggestion. "Not worth the risk."
Riario tried desperately to think of a solution that would keep Lucrezia and Amelia alive. He'd spent his life feeling abandoned and alone, raised in a monastery with no idea who his father was, or why his mother had left him. When his father Alessandro had claimed him, Riario felt his prayers had been answered. He had a parent, a name, a purpose. Now he was face to face with an uncle he had no love for, but also his two cousins. They were innocents. His family.
He had no wish to see them die.
"I will assume the risk," Riario said boldly. It took little to bring his father's wrath to bear upon one, and it was a dangerous thing to say. Yet he had to say it. The look of fear on the beautiful Lucrezia's face, the quiet innocence of Amelia, demanded he do everything in his power to protect them.
His father considered it for a brief moment. It would surely suit him, Riario thought, to keep the sisters alive as leverage, with the added satisfaction that if they displeased him in any way, it would be Riario who would be punished.
"I will ensure they behave," Riario said, and, with sudden inspiration that he would later wonder at, "Give me Lucrezia to be my wife."
His father stared at him while his uncle roared a protest that was cut off by a soldier's fist. Lucrezia gave a stifled sob, clutching at her sister.
"You choose this creature?" His father crossed his arms. "You have shown so little interest in women that I was beginning to wonder if your desires lay elsewhere."
Such sinful behaviour would have earned him further beatings and beratings and who knew what else. Riario said nothing and his father shrugged.
"If you want her, then she is yours, and her errors are your errors."
Riario bowed low, relief spreading through his veins, though that warmth turned cold when his father said, "The other, though, you can have no more use for than I do."
Lucrezia screamed, hugging Amelia tighter, their father wailing his distress.
"Let her live," Lucrezia begged. "Kill me instead."
"Father," Riario said, stepping forward, trying to put himself closer to the girls as if his presence alone might shield them. "I will take on the child as if she were my own sister. I beg you to spare her."
There was a twitch in his father's eye. Riario swallowed, fearing he'd gone too far, had exposed himself as sentimental and too soft–hearted to be the ruthless diplomat and assassin his father required.
"It would be our wedding gift," Riario said, grasping at straws. "A gift for which Lucrezia will always be in your debt. And mine." He shot her a glance and she fell to her knees, dragging Amelia down with her.
Lucrezia raised damp eyes to the man who held all their fates in his hand. "Please," she said. "I will be eternally grateful."
For one terrible moment Riario feared all their pleas were for naught but then, tired of the drama, his father waved a hand. "On your head be it, Girolamo."
The Pope, now a prisoner, was led away, and Riario's father, having taken the mantle of Sixtus, Holy Father, left in triumph.
"You will return home," Riario told Lucrezia, crouching at her side. "Tomorrow evening you will dine with me and I will formally make the offer of marriage, which you will accept."
She gave him a venomous look through her tear–filled eyes. "So be it. But I will never love you," she swore, her fingers digging into Amelia's arm until the girl gave a whimper and she released her completely.
"I have saved both your life, and that of your sister," Riario said, struggling to keep his anger and disappointment under control. Ungrateful wretch! That he understood what it was to lack control over one's life and to harbour the desire to strike out at an oppressor was the only reason he was able to keep his temper.
He got to his feet and stared down at her. "I do not ask for nor expect love, cousin, but I do demand your respect and gratitude."
She glowered at him but he could see that, underneath her anger, Lucrezia was still afraid. She was trembling and her lip quivered, yet she remained defiant. It gave him hope that she would prove useful, if she possessed such strength.
He would not threaten her further today. She needed time to adjust to her new situation. So he sketched a bow. "Until tomorrow."
*
Lucrezia was comely, wearing her finest jewels to dinner, hair elegantly piled atop her head with just one long curl reaching down to brush her bared shoulder. The scarlet gown enhanced her assets, her narrow waist and ample bosom; she was all woman, no naive child. Riario let his gaze linger a touch longer than was polite, taking a wicked pleasure in seeing her cheeks flush red at his attention.
He sat back in his seat, his goblet held carelessly in one hand, the wine almost reaching the inclined rim. "You truly are lovely, Lucrezia."
She moistened her lips, gazing down at the table. "Thank you, my Lord."
Riario scoffed. "There is no need for such false deference."
She clutched at a napkin. "I don't know what you want from me."
"As I told you, your respect. If I have not earned that yet, perhaps I can in time do so." Riario took a sip of the wine. Lucrezia regarded him from beneath her eyelashes, head still bowed, but now showing interest.
"You still intend to marry me?"
"I do." Riario could not back down without showing weakness to his father, something he could not risk. The only way to avoid marrying Lucrezia was to find a more suitable bride, which he had neither the time nor inclination to do. In any case, while that would free him from the obligation, it would leave Lucrezia utterly vulnerable once more, and render Amelia unnecessary.
He watched the emotions flutter across her face: suspicion, fear, confusion. "Am I so dreadful a marriage prospect?" he asked, laying on the bitterness in his tone to cover up any neediness she might otherwise detect. Marriage between cousins of noble blood was not that unusual, and marriage to him would keep her here in Rome, near her father. If she behaved, Riario would attempt to get visitation rights for her to see him. There were far worse matches she could make.
"I do not even know you," Lucrezia replied haltingly, clearly searching for words that would not anger him.
It was not a good argument. Many a marriage was arranged sight unseen. Having the opportunity to meet an intended was never a guarantee, let alone having the right of refusal if he turned out to be ugly in body or soul.
"We shall have time to get to know each other."
She nodded, took a gulp of wine. "You will make me your wife in every way?"
Riario's eyes narrowed. Once wed, she would be his, to do with as he wished. In the eyes of the law and the Lord it would not be rape to take her to his bed whenever he wished it. But something in him rebelled against the very idea of such violence.
Raised with little access to women, committed to holy ideals, he had what could be considered odd and rather contradictory notions about females. He wanted very desperately to be loved by a woman, to experience the tenderness he had never known from a mother, but at the same time, he thought himself unworthy of it. Furthermore, he thought he ought to be above such longing, that to be a sword in the hand of God precluded such base desires.
It was true that he offered polite deference to women, but he did not see them as angelic beings as some men did, nor as wretched descendants of Eve who existed purely for men to punish or use for pleasure. He would strike a woman in self–defence, but he had not yet done so out of malice. He had never, and would never, force himself upon a woman. What sort of man was so in thrall to his sexual appetite that he would do so? What kind of man needed to take a woman by coercion rather than seduction? Riario had little patience with hedonists or bullies who thought only of their immediate personal passions and nothing of God or of the future.
"If you choose to submit," he said at last.
Lucrezia swallowed and misunderstood. "I shall of course submit to my husband," she said with such sadness in her tone that it moved him. This was not just any woman, but one he'd already committed himself to defend. A woman he did, despite himself, harbour affection for.
"You will agree to wed me, then?" A marriage in name only would benefit them both, and if it were a loveless one, and a chaste one, then so be it. Riario had, when he'd thought of it at all, that his father might in time choose a bride that suited his political ends rather Riario's interests, a woman for Riario to fuck until she bore him an heir. Affection would not enter into it. At least this way Riario was protecting his cousins rather than being handed out like a stud beast to some woman he’d never met.
Her blue eyes met his gaze with resignation. "I don't have any choice, do I?"
"None you would find agreeable."
She nodded and began to eat with the reluctant enthusiasm of a condemned man at his last meal. Riario watched her, eating little himself, planning how best to protect her, how best to use her position as his wife to his advantage, and thinking on how he could keep Amelia safe for all their sakes.
*
The wedding was arranged with all the haste that could be accomplished and as much pomp as Riario’s father desired. The ceremony mattered little to Riario. Despite his professions of piety, he felt that in the moment he had laid eyes on the pleading Lucrezia he had been bonded to her. He’d made an oath then to be her champion, and the words he spoke today were a mere reflection of the solemn vow he’d given.
Lucrezia showed no outward sign of hesitation or disdain as she made promises under duress to cherish him and obey him. He didn’t know if she intended to keep them but all that was important at this moment was that, to God, and to the Holy Father, and in the eyes of the law, Lucrezia was now his wife. His, under his protection, belonging to Riario and, therefore, not for Sixtus to do with as he pleased.
Amelia watched them, pale but with her chin held up bravely, fingers tearing at the delicate petals of the bouquet she carried. Whenever she saw Riario’s gaze fall on her, she would stare at the floor. It was disheartening, if understandable, and Riario could only hope that in time both she and Lucrezia could come to see him as a guardian and not an object of fear.
He kissed Lucrezia but as chastely as was possible. He would not dishonour her by stealing pleasure from unwilling lips that did not yield beneath his own.
The feast following the wedding was lavish. Riario downed a glass of the strong wine provided in honour of the wedding. It would not be seemly to be drunk but nor would it be in keeping with the celebrations for him to be utterly sober. He held out one hand to Lucrezia, taking her cool slim fingers in his grasp.
"Dance with me, my wife."
"Yes, my Lord."
He winced inwardly. She was his family and under no circumstances would he have wanted her to be distant with him, least of all now. He said nothing, merely pulled her closer into a soft hug before they took up their positions at arm’s length.
His mind was barely on his steps as he and Lucrezia and a number of the guests moved around the floor. He’d thought her beautiful the first time he’d seen her, all deep blue eyes, high cheekbones, soft lips. Now she was wearing a wedding dress, her hair elegantly piled up atop her head with a veil pinned to it, and he thought he had never seen any woman more beautiful.
Sixtus watched with what Riario chose to believe was pleasure at his son's marriage, because it wouldn't do to dwell on the fact that publicly he was merely blessing his nephew's union, while privately he probably believed that Riario and Lucrezia would live in justified misery together because of Riario's rash request to possess the girl.
"May you both receive what happiness you deserve," he'd said. "And may God bless your union."
As even the most rowdy of guests began to flag, Riario and Lucrezia were allowed to leave – a yawning Amelia had been escorted to her room by a maid several hours before.
They made their way through the corridors of the Vatican, Riario clasping Lucrezia's hand. She didn’t speak a word for the entire journey. At the door to his bedchamber, Riario turned to Lucrezia.
"May I?" He gestured and she shrugged. He gathered her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold. With great care he placed her upon the bed. She had her own rooms, full of her gowns and possessions, her own bed. But she would spend tonight in his bed, supposedly consummating the marriage.
She looked like an angel lying amongst the pillows, her doe eyes bright, her pale skin slightly flushed from the wine and the dancing. Riario ran appraising eyes over her lithe form, her cleavage straining against the white lace corset, her tiny waist, her delicate feet shod in white heeled sandals. When he met her gaze again he saw – not fear, no, which was what he was dreading – but resignation.
He’d promised himself not to take her against her will. He couldn’t remember now, lost in the delightful whirl of the day, the wine, the smell of Lucrezia’s perfume, if he’d ever said it aloud.
Riario stepped back, tucking his neatly combed ponytail behind his shoulder. "It is seemly that we spend the night in this room," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. He’d had practice at hiding his feelings and what was one more hurt, one more disappointment. He had not done anything yet to earn her trust – only save her life, his mind protested, but he waved the thought aside. "Tomorrow you may sleep in your own chambers next door."
Amelia had the room next to that. Riario knew Lucrezia would want her sister close and it suited him to keep them both near him, partly to keep an eye on them and partly for their safety. He didn’t entirely trust his father where Lucrezia was concerned and Riario was determined to do everything in his power to make sure he could keep his own promises, to keep her and Amelia safe.
Lucrezia shifted amongst the pillows, lifting herself up on one elbow. "Girolamo?"
He moved to the sideboard and poured a glass of wine. "Sleep," he said. "I will sit on the couch." He motioned to the loveseat near to the balcony.
"Where will you sleep?"
He shrugged. "I am not tired," he lied. "I will sit for a while. Drink. Pray."
"Pray?" There was suspicion, maybe derision in her tone. "On your wedding night?"
Riario nodded, glancing at her. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable. "I should give thanks that I have been able to take my cousins under my protection. That I have been blessed with a wife such as you."
Her lips thinned. "Are you mocking me? Or do you lie to God?"
"Never!" Neither, he meant. "Lucrezia. I could not stand by and let my father murder you and Amelia. This was the only way I could think of to spare you. Is it so terrible to be my wife?"
When she swallowed and remained silent he gave a harsh laugh.
"I swore to keep you safe," he said. "You and Amelia. That includes being safe from me. I shall never lay a finger upon you. This I swear, to you, before God." He took a swig of his drink.
There was a hesitant knock at the door.
"Yes?" Riario bellowed and Lucrezia sank back into the pillows, afraid despite his reassurance.
"Does the lady Lucrezia wish us to assist her?"
Riario scoffed at the idea of admitting a bevy of maids to take off Lucrezia's gown and fuss over her hair to make her more presentable to her husband. As if she could be any more appealing to him.
"I shall provide the only assistance my wife requires this night."
There was a brief silence before footsteps headed away down the corridor. Lucrezia gazed at him for a long. Then she pulled off her sandals and removed the veil from her hair. She slid under the bedcovers fully dressed.
Riario stood on the balcony for a while, staring down at the city, finishing his wine. When he grew cold he went inside, closing the balcony doors as quietly as possible. Lucrezia was sleeping, or doing an admirable job of faking it. He sat on the loveseat, stretching out into as comfortable a position as he could manage, and, eventually, slept.
*
Lucrezia brushed Amelia’s hair with long, gentle strokes. She preferred to do this for her sister than to let maidservants take her place in all things.
Not that long ago they’d been her father’s secret; not peasants, but not nobles the way she and Amelia were now.
She’d been so proud of her father becoming pope, but now he was in jail and his evil twin had taken his place. Now she was wedded to Girolamo Riario, the bastard son of her uncle. Now she was a countess, for in recognition of the marriage Sixtus had bestowed the title of count upon Girolamo. Now she had duties, and responsibilities, and a husband she did not love, and all she could do was cling to the hope that one day her father would be free and, in the meantime, to keep Amelia close.
"Is Count Riario my cousin or my brother-in-law?" Amelia asked.
Lucrezia paused, a frown creasing her brow.
"Both," she said at last. Cousin and husband, too; not that unusual amongst noble families but still. She’d gained an uncle and a cousin the day they took her father from her and she would have traded both their lives for his freedom in an instant. But she believed Riario when he said it was only his actions that had saved her and Amelia’s lives. Alessandro had callously ordered them executed and Riario’s words had only at the last won him over.
She hated that she owed Riario anything. She hated most of all that she owed him Amelia’s life, for that was a debt she could never repay.
He hadn’t taken her by force as would have been his right and that was some comfort to her – though there were rumours about Riario’s proclivities that made her wonder if his desires lay elsewhere. He was too chaste, they said, therefore he must be having sex secretly, and, therefore, it must be with men. Lucrezia doubted it, but she didn’t know him that well; she had, however, seen his gaze linger on her face and, of course, on her breasts. He desired her, yet he did not act on his desires out of respect for her wishes.
Polite dinners a few times a week, occasionally strained ones where Alessandro was present, and Mass once or twice a week in his company were the only times she spent with Riario. After the wedding night they’d slept in their separate rooms and never had he so much as requested entry to her bedchamber.
She tugged on the brush, eliciting a yelp from Amelia. "Sorry," Lucrezia murmured, returning her attention to the task at hand. Riario was a necessary evil for the time being; it did not mean he had to occupy her thoughts, let alone her bed.
"I prefer to call him Uncle," Amelia decided.
"You must ask his permission."
Amelia scoffed a little. "He likes it when I call him Uncle Girolamo."
That gave Lucrezia pause. Riario doted upon Amelia, bringing her gifts and gazing at her as if she were his own child, which provoked a mixture of emotions in Lucrezia; she didn’t want him in their lives, yet if he was, at least he seemed to care for them. On the other hand it made her a little wary, even jealous if she dared admit it, to see Amelia's affection shared with Riario, a man Lucrezia didn't entirely trust.
He brought Lucrezia gifts too, small tokens of flowers and scents. Today it had been something more extravagant, a fine onyx and diamond pendant.
He thought he would win her over but Lucrezia would not be easily swayed by common decency nor by jewellery.
*
Lucrezia prayed they would return safely from this outing. Riario had insisted she and Amelia accompany him out to a spot he knew of with green fields and flowers. They could take food, he said, it would be a pleasant afternoon.
She couldn’t help but wonder if, like the hunter in the old stories, he was taking them out to kill them, far from any witnesses. Perhaps he’d grown tired of them already, maybe she wasn’t the wife he had expected, or maybe Alessandro had again demanded their destruction and Riario had given in.
"It isn’t much further," Riario told her. She and Amelia were riding a little way behind him and three guards surrounded the family as they headed out into the countryside.
She nodded, pressed her lips together tightly. She would not show fear for herself but she would again beg for Amelia’s life. He had promised to protect them. She would remind him of that if it was the last thing she did.
Riario gestured, barked orders. They’d reached the place he was looking for apparently, a lush green valley through which a river lazily wound its way, set amongst grassy hills and a woodland slope. The guards unloaded the supplies before withdrawing to a discreet distance, while Riario helped Amelia down from her horse. Lucrezia dismounted before he could offer her the same service.
"Isn’t it a wonderful place?"
She nodded. If Riario noticed her unease he showed no sign of it. He laid out a blanket and began to unpack the food. Lucrezia breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed he truly did want to spend time with them after all. She moved to help and he gave her a genuine smile.
"Can I go and paddle in the river?" Amelia asked, pointing out the water nearby.
"Be careful," Lucrezia cautioned.
"She’ll be watched," Riario said.
It was as chilling as it was comforting to know they were under constant supervision. That they, as Riario’s family, needed protection was likely, but that they were always observed gave Lucrezia a feeling of being caged. It was a gilded cage, unlike her father’s cell, but nonetheless, she was trapped.
"I thought we might all enjoy some time away from the city," Riario said, when Amelia had skipped away, one guard trailing after her.
She supposed he too found both Alessandro and his duties irksome at times. "Thank you."
"We haven’t had much time to spend together," he went on, handing her a goblet of wine.
"No." They both knew it was her choice to avoid him whenever possible.
"Do you hate me so much?" he asked, staring into his own goblet.
"No!" She had not expected that.
He raised his gaze, studying her intently. His hair stirred in the breeze. It was tied back from his face with a fine onyx hair slide that matched the necklace he’d given her. Lucrezia had chosen to wear it today, partly to complement the blue and black gown she’d picked out, partly hoping to remind him that he thought her worthy of being gifted something so valuable.
"I will understand, if you do." He took a sip of wine. "You hate my father. You think I am like him. Perhaps I am."
Lucrezia shook her head. What had happened to him, that he could so easily expect hatred? Riario reminded her of a dog, kicked repeatedly as a puppy so that he cowered ever after as an adult but remained loyal to his master, even as he bared his teeth at anyone else who dared approach.
"You are not Alessandro."
"I forced you to marry me."
"You were trying to save us." She did at least accept that. She thought about it frequently, had nightmares about how things might have turned out if Riario hadn’t begged for her life, for Amelia to be spared. "I will always be grateful."
"I’m glad." He didn’t sound glad. He took another drink. "I love you. You and Amelia. I will die before I let anyone hurt you."
"Let us hope it does not come to that."
He gave a wry smile. Amelia returned, boots in one hand, her feet and skirts damp. She threw herself down onto the blanket, narrowly missing the plate of cheese.
"Careful," Lucrezia chided but Riario laughed and asked if she’d had fun.
"Yes, but it was so cold, Uncle," she giggled. "Do you think there are fish?"
"I don’t know. I did not think to bring a net," he said. "Maybe next time."
"Oh, yes! I would like that." She picked up a juicy plum and bit into it with enthusiasm.
They ate and drank their fill as if they were a perfectly normal family, and afterwards Lucrezia watched in surprise as Riario played games with Amelia, chasing and being chased in turn.
She’d never seen Riario so happy, so carefree. He looked younger when he laughed aloud at the game, and she could barely believe that this man was Count Girolamo, feared right hand of the (false) Pope.
Amelia seemed to like Riario as much as he did her, and, free of the confines of the Vatican, she too had regained her youthful vitality. She could truly be a child, free and playful. Riario had been wise to bring them out here.
Exhausted, Amelia found a shady spot and began to pick wildflowers. She showed Riario how she could weave them into a crown and, to Lucrezia’s utter amazement, he let Amelia place it on his head. Amelia giggled and began to make herself a necklace while Riario returned to lie on the blanket. Lucrezia had packed away the empty plates and now she stretched out to lie alongside him, both of them watching the cirrus clouds scudding across the azure sky.
"I wish we didn’t have to go back," she said.
"I fear we must. But not just yet." Riario closed his eyes.
"This was delightful. Thank you." She meant it this time. She rolled over, leaning up on one elbow. He looked so peaceful, hair spread out beneath his shoulders. She hadn’t really studied him before, his strong profile, those sculptured cheekbones. He really was handsome, something she’d never allowed herself to acknowledge before.
Riario blinked his huge brown eyes lazily. "We must be back before dark. Don’t let me sleep too long."
"I won’t." She reached out and smoothed back a stray lock of hair from his forehead, still wondering at the wilting daisies and buttercups nestled against the dark mane.
He gave her an odd look and again she wondered what hurt he’d suffered to treat any sign of affection as a potential threat. Then he closed his eyes once more. He was making himself completely vulnerable. Yes, his guards were nearby, but it would be the work of seconds for her to pull a bread knife from the basket and plunge it into his heart. She’d pay for it with her life, of course, as would Amelia, but even the thought of such an act repelled her. The day they met she’d have killed him without hesitation but not now.
He trusted her. He didn’t trust anyone, yet he found it in his heart to trust her. The knowledge bloomed, warm and unexpected, deep in her breast. She placed her palm over his heart, feeling it beat beneath her hand. He didn’t respond to her touch, fast asleep. She had wronged him to suspect him of harbouring thoughts of murder. He had done nothing but try to protect her, to give her what little freedom he could, asking nothing but basic common decency in return. He was trying to make her happy, to give her and Amelia some joy in their lives. It was endearing. It deserved some recognition.
Lucrezia shuffled closer to him. She bent over until her forehead touched his. She could not yet bring herself to kiss his lips, but before she pulled away fully, she brushed her lips against his cheek. Then she lay her head down on his shoulder and let herself doze in the sunshine, feeling content in a way she’d not felt for months.
*
In the weeks since their wedding Riario had treated Lucrezia with care, letting her take the lead in their relationship.. He demanded her presence at dinners with Alessandro, and on certain occasions at which a wife should be seen with her husband, but he otherwise interacted with her with polite deference, neither asking nor expecting anything more from her.
He persisted, however, in his attempts to convince Lucrezia of his affection. Even if she could not return it, he had fallen in love with her. He showered Amelia with gifts and she, at least, warmed to him. He hoped the child’s innocent adoration might sway Lucrezia to stop treating him as if he were the enemy.
He purchased a necklace for Lucrezia and when she wore it, he thought it an acknowledgement of her respect for him. Or maybe she wore it so he would not be angry with her. Riario had a temper, true, but he did not want Lucrezia to fear him.
He’d planned the outing on a whim, needing the fresh air and respite from his father's scheming and demands as much as Lucrezia needed a taste of freedom. If they could at least pretend to be a family – they were all cousins anyway, and no amount of aversion towards him could change that – it would give him something to hold on to. Something beyond duty and servitude.
Just because Lucrezia did not love him as he loved her, it didn’t mean he cared any less. He understood now what it was to fight out of love, out of a desire to protect one’s family.
The afternoon in the country had been pleasant, and he’d been surprised and so touched it nearly brought tears to his eyes when he'd woken to find Lucrezia resting her head on his shoulder.
He'd had to hide a smirk at seeing his entourage, trained killers to a man, sporting flower necklaces. What their leader might do to them if they upset his beloved Amelia by refusing to humour her was clearly not worth thinking about. Perhaps some were as charmed by her as Riario himself was. She was a delight and he found himself smiling whenever he laid eyes on her.
Lucrezia was making herself popular too, always polite and never cruel or demanding with any of the staff. If they feared Riario, they loved her, and why shouldn't they?
Since their excursion, whatever he'd done or said in his favour that day, Lucrezia had begun to warm to him. She would take her evening meals with him more often than not. When Amelia had retired for the night, she no longer fled to her own room but stayed to talk with her husband. She had been well educated, and was insightful, and as her confidence grew she would debate with him rather than merely listen and echo his thoughts.
Sometimes he would stare at her, barely hearing her words as she spoke eloquently, lost in her sapphire eyes. He replayed their single kiss at the wedding over and over, that chaste meeting of lips to seal their union, and tried to imagine it had been so much more.
"Good night," she would say, bowing her head as she finally left him at the end of the evening.
"Good night," he would reply, thinking but never daring to add aloud, "my darling."
He could not help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever he saw Lucrezia kiss Amelia goodnight, or hug her sister tightly. The tenderness Lucrezia showed Amelia made him love her more. Was it so terrible to wish she could show him just a fraction of that affection?
What would it take for her to fall in love with him? Was she even capable of loving him the way he adored her? Did he dare believe he was worthy of her devotion?
*
Their new routine suited Lucrezia. She found Riario eager for her company, and that could be useful to her, but she was also increasingly fond of the time they spent together.
He was clever, she realised, if somewhat naive and still smitten with his recently found father. He was ambitious and willing to get his hands dirty if it was necessary. He was also, as she’d surmised earlier, desperate for affection. Beneath the aloof demeanour he presented to the world, he was hungry for a touch that was not a sign of domination nor an act of violence.
"What happened?" she asked, when he took his seat at the dinner table late one night, the candles half burned and Amelia already sent to bed. The bruise was an ugly purple on his pale cheek but the look of shame on his face at the question was worse.
"Did your father do that?"
"The Holy Father demands obedience," Riario said, picking at his food.
She knew from his answer that Riario had stood up to him and received a blow in return. How he might have been punished for asking Alessandro to spare his cousins, and yet he had not hesitated to do so. Lucrezia reached across the table and grasped his wrist.
"You deserve better."
"Better than to serve His Holiness?"
"Better than to be beaten like a dog."
Riario stared down at his plate. "This life is more fulfilling than the one I had expected," he said, and Lucrezia didn’t quite know what he meant by that. He gestured to the bruise. "This is a small price to pay."
She got to her feet and came to stand at his side. She bent down and kissed his unmarred cheek, stroked his hair. He made a noise that was almost a sob, and it nearly broke her own heart that such simple gestures of affection could mean so much to him. She wrapped one arm around his shoulder and cradled his head against her body, caressing him the way she comforted Amelia.
*
After that, he was more open with her. They’d withdraw after dinner to his bedchamber and talk in private, huddled by the fire. He would hold her hands, and tell her his darkest thoughts about Alessandro, knowing what power he was giving her.
Lucrezia listened and soothed and plotted. If Riario could be brought to her side, her father could be rescued and restored to his rightful place. Then they could truly be a family. She just needed to be patient.
If the servants thought the spouses were doing anything more amorous than exchanging chaste kisses to hands, faces, and hair, they were wrong. But there was an intimacy to these nights, whether they were discussing strategy, talking about Amelia, or reading from one of Riario’s many books. Riario seemed to have accepted he would gain no more physical affection than this, and she had accepted that this, at least, she could give.
It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
*
Rome had enemies, within and without her walls, a fact Lucrezia was well aware of. But when Riario left with his retinue that morning, she hadn’t expected him to walk into an ambush.
Gossip travelled fast within the Vatican and she heard of the skirmish almost as soon as the last body fell. All the attackers were dead, some said; the ringleader had escaped, said another. None of the Vatican army was harmed, or many were badly injured, or there were several dead.
Lucrezia put her hand to her heart, feeling a pounding at her temples. If Riario died, what did that mean for her and Amelia? She had no illusions that Alessandro had grown any fonder of them; even if his direct threats had ceased, it was only Riario's genuine affection that kept them safe.
The shout went up. The guards were returning, bloodied but unbeaten. Lucrezia flew down the myriad staircases between her room and the entrance, feet pounding the narrow stairs at an inadvisable pace. She was breathless by the time she reached the hallway, hair in disarray, not a little dizzy.
Two men entered, their entrance hampered by the black–clad body they carried. The head lolled limply to one side, the face obscured by long dark hair, the torso soaked in blood.
Lucrezia let out a cry. God, no. No, no, Riario could not abandon her. He could not be dead. The thought struck her like a physical blow. Never again would he take her hand and press a kiss to her palm, never again would she brush back a lock of his hair while staring into those warm brown eyes. She swayed on the spot. It was too much to bear.
"Move aside!"
That curt command brought her to her senses. Lucrezia watched in disbelief as Riario charged past the rest of the guards who were shuffling behind the men carrying the corpse. There was blood on his sleeve and he looked as dishevelled as she felt, but he was alive. Furious yes, guilt–ridden possibly, but alive.
His rush to report to the Pope was halted when he saw her. He abruptly turned and came to her, clutching at her arms.
"Lucrezia. You should not be here. You should not have to see this."
"I feared you were dead." Her voice faltered and he squeezed her arms a little.
"I am not so easy to kill," he said with the warmth she only ever heard in his voice when he was addressing her or Amelia. He brushed his lips against her forehead. "You look pale. Go and lie down a while. I will return to you once I have made my report."
He would want her comfort after that, she knew, for the Pope would be unlikely to offer praise even if it was deserved, and hand out retribution when it was not. She nodded and he released her, heading off down the corridor.
Lucrezia leant against the wall for a moment and closed her eyes. She had not expected to ever feel such relief at laying eyes on Riario. She had never thought she could feel for him what she could no longer deny. When she’d seen him walk into the room, she hadn’t just felt glad that her protector was alive. She felt joy that Riario was alive. She cared about him. To her surprise, and a small amount of shame, she wished he had kissed her lips instead of her forehead.
Later, Riario came to her. He’d changed his clothes, washed his face and tidied his hair. He seemed calmer and, now that her own panic was over, she’d had time to reassess her feelings. It would not do to be hasty, to let herself love him too much. He was still the son of her uncle who was her enemy. He was often in danger and always dangerous. He had married her to save her, more out of familial duty than out of hopes of any romantic affection. His occasional lustful looks were all he permitted himself and even those had waned of late, as if his desire for her had soured.
"The Holy Father was furious," Riario said, taking up an apple from the fruit bowl, toying with it rather than eating it. He explained what had happened, how well he and his men had done under the circumstances, which included two traitors in their midst. "He did not punish me, though I fear he will find a way to do so eventually. He said I have not yet proven myself to him."
There was pain in his voice, disappointment, and, as always, longing for affection from his cruel parent. Lucrezia leaned forward from her place at the table. "You will," she said. "Though I think to anyone not so demanding you have proven your worth many times over."
He tossed the apple, caught it again. "You were concerned for me."
"Of course I was."
He nodded. "I am sorry if you were frightened. I have often thought on what I can do to protect you in the event of my death and I am at a loss. I can bequeath you what goods and money I have, but if my father takes it into his head to harm you…"
He shook his head. For a moment they both entertained dark thoughts about what Alessandro was capable of. Riario took a bite of the apple, scowled at the bitterness, and tossed it aside.
"Perhaps it would be best," he said, choosing his words carefully, "should tragedy befall me, for you to take what you can carry and ride with Amelia far from Rome. Head to Naples, or to Florence. Marry well and live happily."
She stood and moved to stand in front of him. "I pray there is no need for such action," she said, and she meant it. She reached up and pressed her hand to his cheek.
"I was worried what would happen to us," she said, wanting to be honest. "But I was also fearful for you. I do not want to see you dead."
She might have said "I love you" given the look on his face. He turned his head to press a kiss to her palm.
"Girolamo," she said softly, and he took it for an admonition and stepped away. She threw herself at him, wrapped her arms around him, held him close. She kissed his cheek, clutched at his dark clothing. "I care for you more than I ever thought possible," she said.
"I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you," he said shakily, holding her against him as delicately as if she were glass.
She lifted her chin. "Kiss me," she said. She watched him consider if this was a trap, what ulterior motives she had. Then he kissed her, his lips on hers, soft and warm. He tasted of apple and smelled like the lavender soap he’d scrubbed his hands with, and Lucrezia’s blood sang in her veins.
When he drew back, breathless, it was to seek approval though his hunger for more was clear in his eyes.
"My love," she said, and leaned in to claim his mouth again. For a few minutes there was nothing in the world except this closeness. Then she stepped away, squeezing at his arm to reassure him that she did not regret the moment, only that it was all that she could give right now.
He lowered his gaze. "I have duties to attend to," he said.
"If you can, come to dinner with me," she said. "I would like that very much."
He nodded and left the room. Lucrezia touched her lips, reliving the brief intimacy. She was in love with Girolamo Riario and there was nothing she could do about it.
*
A few weeks later, Lucrezia became concerned. Riario had been distant all week, barely noticing her presence when he did come to dinner with her. She was surprised when he took a day away from his duties, and stunned when he did not spend it with her.
What might he be up to? She doubted he was wooing another woman, but he could be out making dangerous alliances or spying on Rome's enemies, putting himself in unnecessary danger. As the day wore on, she began to fret. Shortly after sunset it began to rain, and Lucrezia paced the room, fingers drumming against her thigh.
At last she forced herself to take up a book and try to focus on the words. Riario was a warrior. He could take care of himself. He would come back safely. He had to.
It was fully dark when Riario finally staggered into the room, wide–eyed, and soaked through. Lucrezia, reading by the fireside, looked up at his approach and, seeing the state he was in, put aside the book.
"Girolamo," she said, getting to her feet. "What is it? Where have you been? Are you all right?"
He gazed down at his palms. "I have been begging for forgiveness for the blood on my hands."
Not from Sixtus he hadn't. "What do you mean?"
"Do you think the dead hear us, when we stand at their graves?"
Lucrezia opened her palms, a gesture of uncertainty at this non sequitur. "Girolamo, what's wrong?"
He was shivering despite the warmth from the fire. "I have killed."
"Yes, many times, and will again. You are the sword of God," she said, trying to sound reassuring. She’d never known him to be squeamish about death before.
He shook his head. His hair was curled and wet from the rain, his face paler than usual. "You don’t understand."
She beckoned him towards the fire. "Then explain it to me." She wanted to fetch him a drink and a towel but she didn’t dare look away yet, nor move and risk spooking him. He walked over to her unsteadily.
"If I tell you then you will look at me with hatred," he said, his voice shaking. "As I deserve."
"No," she said. "No, you can tell me anything." She swallowed, steeling herself.
"What I have done is unforgivable."
"God forgives all."
Riario shivered. "But you may not." He gave a long sigh. "On this day, last year, my father asked me to prove myself worthy of serving him, of being his right hand." The bitterness in his tone was almost welcome, something more familiar.
Of course his father was behind this. Lucrezia kept silent though, waiting for Riario to continue.
"He sent me to kill her."
"Who?" Lucrezia sat back down, hoping he would take the seat opposite. He did not. He stared into the flames for a long moment.
"I could not have known," he said, voice barely a whisper.
She reached out and took his hand. It was cold against her warmth. "Known what?"
He swallowed hard. "She was just some whore," he said. "An inconvenience that needed to be removed. He told me where to find her. I followed her down an alley. I confronted her, pressed her against the wall…put my hands around her throat…I killed her. To prove my worth, I murdered that woman."
The silence that followed was broken only by the gentle crackle of flames and Riario’s laboured breathing. Lucrezia said nothing, merely rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand. There was more to come, worse to hear, she knew, given his turmoil.
"It was only when I looked into her eyes as she was dying that I saw it," Riario said at last. "She stared back at me. And I knew. Knew why she had to die. Knew why he had sent me. God! May God forgive me." He pulled from her grasp, burying his face in his hands.
"Girolamo," she soothed.
"My mother." He choked the words out and Lucrezia felt her blood run cold. He met her gaze. "I saw it in her eyes. She knew who I was. And I knew then, who she was, why I was the one sent to kill her. And yet I only squeezed harder."
There was nothing she could say to that.
"I couldn’t bear it. I was confused. My father – my mother – the Pope – a Jewish whore! It was over before I knew it." He dissolved into tears. He threw himself on the floor in front of her and laid his head in her lap.
"My love," she said desperately. She rubbed at his back, trying to soothe him. "My love. Sssh."
He wept for several moments, keening his grief and guilt. At last he raised tear-stained cheeks. "I am a monster." He clearly expected her to agree.
Lucrezia shook her head. "No, Girolamo, no. This is not your fault. It is his! Alessandro ordered your mother's death. He didn't tell you of her identity because he knew you would not agree to kill her. Don't you see that? Her blood is on his hands, not yours." Lucrezia pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"I never imagined such a woman to be the one who gave me life," Riario said, blinking away the last of his tears. "I was a fool to dream she was a noblewoman forced to surrender her bastard by a cuckolded husband. Of course she was a prostitute. I am the lowest of the low. I saw that in her."
Lucrezia let out a gentle sigh. He’d been caught up in the moment of the kill, maybe could not have stopped if he’d wanted to, and the realisation that this Jewess who sold her body was truly his mother must have added fuel to the fire he’d stoked in preparation for the assassination. He’d been killing what she represented to him. Riario’s devotion to Christ challenged, his fantasy of a loving countess for a mother shattered, the realisation that he’d been sent to murder kin and was capable of it, it had pushed him over the edge instead of pulling him back from the precipice.
"You are low no longer," Lucrezia said sternly. She needed him to listen and take her words to heart. "You are Count Girolamo Riario, the Holy Father’s trusted servant, a loving husband and doting father figure to Amelia. You cannot change the circumstances of your birth. You cannot undo your terrible deed. But you can hold on to your family, to me and Amelia. You can hold on to your faith and make amends for this transgression. And you can move forward into the future with your head held high, commanding the respect you deserve."
He gazed deep into her eyes and she regarded him calmly. He would not see deceit.
Riario took her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers over and over. "What would I do without you?" he murmured. "Who would I be without you at my side?"
She used her free hand to stroke his hair. "Take off your clothes," she said. "You’re dripping wet. I will fetch you a drink and I will stay with you as long as you need."
"Always," he said, getting to his feet and unbuttoning his jacket. "I will need you always."
For him to say it, to expose this vulnerability, tugged at her heart. If she was any judge, Riario had seen to his mother's burial but had never had the chance to truly grieve, had never confessed this crime to any but Sixtus himself. That Alessandro could order the woman's own son to kill her turned Lucrezia's stomach. She already thought him evil; now she wondered why God did not strike down the false Pope who committed such acts while posing as His representative on Earth.
There was nothing she could do to turn back the clock and prevent the murder, could not even comfort Riario as he'd needed at the time. She could however be here for him now, do her best to convince him that his guilt proved he was not a monster. She could show him that she cared and try to make him believe that he deserved her affection still.
She lay alongside him all that night. He stared at the canopy above the bed, reliving his crime, speaking haltingly of it and then changing the subject abruptly. Once he dozed off but, as Lucrezia let her heavy eyelids close, a nightmare shook him awake and she returned to her role as comforting wife.
"You were right. I would not have killed her had I known," he said, sitting up, nightshirt dishevelled, hair loose and tangled about his shoulders. "That is, if I had been told to kill my mother, I would never have sought her out to murder her." He needed to see that Lucrezia believed him and she nodded fervently. Still, he went on, "I would not have laid a finger on her, and then I would not have been swept up in that terrible moment."
"Of course not." She took his face in her hands. "If your cowardly father had told you the truth, you would have found a way to save her. As you saved Amelia and me." She wondered if she’d gone too far, calling Alessandro a coward, but Riario didn’t protest. He merely looked sceptical and she went on, "You could have given her money, a disguise, spirited her out of Rome, never to return."
He nodded, grasping at the redemption she offered. "If you had been with me back then, you would have helped me plan."
"Yes! Oh, my love. Neither of us would have let this happen." He needed to accept that, to know that she would take his side. But he also had to accept what he had done, what he was capable of, and to learn to temper his fervour for his father’s orders. So she went on, "But it did. And if you wish to make amends then take this lesson to heart. Your father cannot be trusted to tell you everything you need to know. You must find out for yourself, and make your own decisions."
He considered this, chewing at his lower lip. Lucrezia kissed his cheek and lay back down.
"And you? Will you always tell me the truth, the whole truth?" he asked.
She barely hesitated. "Yes." For that moment at least it felt true, and she would do her best to keep her promise.
"I love you," he said softly as he settled back down beside her. "If you betray me…"
He would be destroyed? He would kill her? Kill himself? He didn’t finish the thought and Lucrezia was somewhat glad of it.
"I love you too," she said, still surprised by the depth of her feelings for him, but he was already asleep, looking vulnerable and innocent and quite incapable of choking anyone to death.
*
It was during a strained dinner with Sixtus that Riario’s patience finally snapped.
He’d listened while his father made his usual complaints about Riario's perceived wrongdoings and failures, his alleged incompetence.
"Yes, Holy Father," Riario muttered when a response was expected of him, just as he would thoughtlessly reply "amen" during a service but his attention was elsewhere. He knew Lucrezia was angry with him for taking the abuse so meekly, could see the barely veiled contempt on her face.
"Count Nardo," Sixtus said, waving a fork at Riario. "He continues to plot against us."
"Yes, Holy Father."
"And yet you have found no proof, no leverage to use against him, no wrongdoing by which he can be brought to justice!"
Riario gritted his teeth. "No, Holy Father."
Sixtus scoffed. Lucrezia looked like she wanted to vomit. Riario didn’t blame her. He hated himself for his weakness.
"And what do you intend to do about this, hmm?" Sixtus stabbed his fork into the fowl he was eating and took up his wine instead.
"My men are watching him," Riario began.
"Watching? Is that the best you can come up with? Having your men watch him? Are you afraid to get your hands dirty?" Sixtus taunted.
It was a low blow and Riario swallowed bile and sought to control the hot, angry tears that threatened to unman him at the dinner table. Sixtus wasn’t finished yet.
"Perhaps you are not my son," he said with a sneer. "Tell me, Lucrezia, does he possess a cock or have I myself a weak-willed woman masquerading as a man? I mean, look at that hair."
"How dare you," Lucrezia hissed, and Riario was beside himself with shame now but he could not let his wife endanger herself by speaking up. He must defend himself.
Riario got to his feet. "Would you like to see my cock, father?" he demanded. "Oh, forgive me, Holy Father." The words sounded like an insult.
Sixtus raised an eyebrow. "I hardly think that would be appropriate at the dinner table," he said, undisturbed.
"I shall deal with Nardo in due course," Riario swore, voice tight with the promise of violence. He forced a wry smile, appeared relaxed as he said, "Unless you would rather give the task to another one of your precious cardinals. Remind me what happened to Cardinal Pini when he spoke out against Nardo?"
They never had found all the body parts.
"So you think you have it in you to succeed?"
"It shall be done," Riario vowed. "And when it is, you shall allow Lucrezia to visit her father."
He drained his goblet of wine and held out one hand to Lucrezia. "Good evening," he said curtly to his father.
He squeezed tightly at Lucrezia’s hand as they left the room. He almost dragged her along in his fury to put distance between them and Sixtus, afraid he would hear a summons to return, or, worse, an order for the guards to arrest Riario.
When they got to his chambers he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, breathing heavily until his heart no longer raced. Lucrezia paced the room.
To his surprise, when he met her gaze, she was grinning.
"Oh, Girolamo," she said. "I have never been prouder of you." She moved to cup his face in her hands and kissed him, long and hard.
"It was foolish," he said, when she withdrew.
"No. He doesn’t want you to be weak. Obedient, yes, but not to cower, not even before him. After everything you have done on his behalf he still belittles you, but tonight you showed him it is not tolerable!"
Riario sighed. "I could not have him hurt you. You must not anger him."
"He despises me already," she pointed out. She reached out and caressed a long lock of hair. "Do not listen to the balding fool. He is merely jealous of your charms."
He laughed at that. "Then I shall not cut off my hair?"
"No! Grow it longer, if you can. Braid it with ribbons before you next sit down with him! Show him you will not be cowed." She kissed him again.
"This is as long as it ever gets," he said, and ribbons were quite out of the question, but Lucrezia shrugged and wound her fingers into his tresses and sought his mouth again.
When her free hand trailed down his chest and rested upon his groin, he moaned. "Lucrezia, please."
"Ssh," she whispered.
"I cannot…please." He could not bear her touch much longer!
"Do you not want me?"
He blinked and focused on her eyes. She looked serious, not at all as if she were teasing him. "Of course. I have long wanted you."
"Then take me." She stepped away and unlaced the front of her dress, slipping the sleeves from her shoulders. The silk fell to her waist, leaving her bare breasted, facing him unashamed.
"You mean it?" His voice was rough with desire.
"Make love to me," she said. "I am your wife, am I not?" She pulled the diamond tipped hair pin from her locks, so her own chestnut tresses fell about her shoulders. She backed up to the bed and sat, tugging at one boot.
"Let me," Riario said. He knelt at her side, cupping her thigh just above her knee as he smoothly pulled off the boot. He repeated the performance with the second.
"My turn," she told him, bending down and unlacing his shirt. He helped her slip it over his head, and she tossed it aside. "Let me look," she said, running her fingertips over his pectoral muscles. His heart was racing again but not from fear.
"Lucrezia." It was a desperate plea.
"I know, Girolamo." She moved to continue undressing herself. Riario divested himself of his own boots, followed by his trousers. He glanced at Lucrezia. She was naked now, save for the onyx pendant and her wedding ring. She'd rolled onto her side, her elbow digging into one pillow as she cupped her chin in her hand. She was watching him intently.
He unfastened his linen undergarments, dropping them to the floor. Lucrezia studied him and smiled, not in mockery, but with delight. She beckoned with her free hand.
Riario climbed onto the bed next to her. He kissed her again. He wanted to savour the moment, to explore her body, but he was already hard and eager.
Lucrezia rolled onto her back. "Take me," she urged.
He must not hurt her, he told himself, must be gentle, must try to be gentle. They were both novices at this and it was somewhat awkward at first, but she was encouraging and bold enough to guide him, and he was determined to enjoy the moment and not rush them. It was not the wild passion of which he’d heard, but it was beautiful, and when they were both spent he thought Lucrezia had never looked lovelier with her eyes wide and her sweat–slicked skin aglow in the soft candlelight.
"Girolamo," she said softly, pulling him to lie upon her breasts. She caressed his hair with one hand, the other stroking down his spine to rest at his buttocks. "My love."
It was all he could do not to weep in rapture.
*
"I have thought of a way to get what you want from Nardo," Lucrezia said the next morning as they breakfasted together.
"And what does my clever wife have up her sleeve?"
Lucrezia lowered her gaze. "You might not like it."
"Let me hear it anyway," Riario said, for he’d come to trust her judgement.
She outlined the scheme. Riario felt his cheek twitch in annoyance. He did not like it. But he had to admit that it was a shrewd scheme.
Go to Part Two of Two
Fandom: Da Vinci's Demons
Characters/Pairings: Girolamo Riario/Lucrezia Donati
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 16k
Prompt: For the
smallfandombang round fiveSummary: Pre-canon, fork in the road AU. "I will assume the risk," Riario said boldly….. and, with sudden inspiration that he would later wonder at, "Give me Lucrezia to be my wife."
When Alessandro threatens Francesco's daughters in order to take his place, Riario's desire to protect his cousins leads him to make a desperate bargain. He will wed Lucrezia and raise Amelia as if she were his own child.
Lucrezia's initial hatred of Riario begins to wane as he tries to prove his affection for her, and her companionship and compassion affect him in a positive way. The path to love and redemption however does not run smooth.
Content Notes: No standard warnings apply. Off-screen miscarriage, canonically abusive parent.
Beta: many thanks to
zeph317toho. All remaining errors or inconsistencies are my own.Artwork: Lovely banners (and the separator icon) provided by knowmefirst who kindly stepped in as a last minute pinch hit artist :) At LJ and to follow at AO3
(If you're coming to the fic from the artwork please be aware this is not a Leo/Lucrezia fic; 99% pre-canon, 99% Riario/Lucrezia, 1% potential Riario/Leo/Lucrezia hinted at.)
Also posted to AO3
This is Part One of Two. Go to Part Two of Two at DW / @ LJ
Riario had known his father's plan to steal the papal throne; Alessandro would threaten Francesco's daughters to ensure his brother would surrender. With his twin secretly imprisoned below the Vatican, Alessandro could take his place and none would be the wiser.
He took pride in being trusted to assist his father on this mission. He knew some violence may be necessary. He had not been prepared though, for the order to kill the two girls.
Dispose of them? They were so young, rightfully terrified. They were useful as pawns to be used against Francesco if nothing else. Trying to sound off–hand he said, "Would it not be more advantageous to keep them alive? Sparing them would make him easier to manipulate."
His father dismissed this suggestion. "Not worth the risk."
Riario tried desperately to think of a solution that would keep Lucrezia and Amelia alive. He'd spent his life feeling abandoned and alone, raised in a monastery with no idea who his father was, or why his mother had left him. When his father Alessandro had claimed him, Riario felt his prayers had been answered. He had a parent, a name, a purpose. Now he was face to face with an uncle he had no love for, but also his two cousins. They were innocents. His family.
He had no wish to see them die.
"I will assume the risk," Riario said boldly. It took little to bring his father's wrath to bear upon one, and it was a dangerous thing to say. Yet he had to say it. The look of fear on the beautiful Lucrezia's face, the quiet innocence of Amelia, demanded he do everything in his power to protect them.
His father considered it for a brief moment. It would surely suit him, Riario thought, to keep the sisters alive as leverage, with the added satisfaction that if they displeased him in any way, it would be Riario who would be punished.
"I will ensure they behave," Riario said, and, with sudden inspiration that he would later wonder at, "Give me Lucrezia to be my wife."
His father stared at him while his uncle roared a protest that was cut off by a soldier's fist. Lucrezia gave a stifled sob, clutching at her sister.
"You choose this creature?" His father crossed his arms. "You have shown so little interest in women that I was beginning to wonder if your desires lay elsewhere."
Such sinful behaviour would have earned him further beatings and beratings and who knew what else. Riario said nothing and his father shrugged.
"If you want her, then she is yours, and her errors are your errors."
Riario bowed low, relief spreading through his veins, though that warmth turned cold when his father said, "The other, though, you can have no more use for than I do."
Lucrezia screamed, hugging Amelia tighter, their father wailing his distress.
"Let her live," Lucrezia begged. "Kill me instead."
"Father," Riario said, stepping forward, trying to put himself closer to the girls as if his presence alone might shield them. "I will take on the child as if she were my own sister. I beg you to spare her."
There was a twitch in his father's eye. Riario swallowed, fearing he'd gone too far, had exposed himself as sentimental and too soft–hearted to be the ruthless diplomat and assassin his father required.
"It would be our wedding gift," Riario said, grasping at straws. "A gift for which Lucrezia will always be in your debt. And mine." He shot her a glance and she fell to her knees, dragging Amelia down with her.
Lucrezia raised damp eyes to the man who held all their fates in his hand. "Please," she said. "I will be eternally grateful."
For one terrible moment Riario feared all their pleas were for naught but then, tired of the drama, his father waved a hand. "On your head be it, Girolamo."
The Pope, now a prisoner, was led away, and Riario's father, having taken the mantle of Sixtus, Holy Father, left in triumph.
"You will return home," Riario told Lucrezia, crouching at her side. "Tomorrow evening you will dine with me and I will formally make the offer of marriage, which you will accept."
She gave him a venomous look through her tear–filled eyes. "So be it. But I will never love you," she swore, her fingers digging into Amelia's arm until the girl gave a whimper and she released her completely.
"I have saved both your life, and that of your sister," Riario said, struggling to keep his anger and disappointment under control. Ungrateful wretch! That he understood what it was to lack control over one's life and to harbour the desire to strike out at an oppressor was the only reason he was able to keep his temper.
He got to his feet and stared down at her. "I do not ask for nor expect love, cousin, but I do demand your respect and gratitude."
She glowered at him but he could see that, underneath her anger, Lucrezia was still afraid. She was trembling and her lip quivered, yet she remained defiant. It gave him hope that she would prove useful, if she possessed such strength.
He would not threaten her further today. She needed time to adjust to her new situation. So he sketched a bow. "Until tomorrow."
Lucrezia was comely, wearing her finest jewels to dinner, hair elegantly piled atop her head with just one long curl reaching down to brush her bared shoulder. The scarlet gown enhanced her assets, her narrow waist and ample bosom; she was all woman, no naive child. Riario let his gaze linger a touch longer than was polite, taking a wicked pleasure in seeing her cheeks flush red at his attention.
He sat back in his seat, his goblet held carelessly in one hand, the wine almost reaching the inclined rim. "You truly are lovely, Lucrezia."
She moistened her lips, gazing down at the table. "Thank you, my Lord."
Riario scoffed. "There is no need for such false deference."
She clutched at a napkin. "I don't know what you want from me."
"As I told you, your respect. If I have not earned that yet, perhaps I can in time do so." Riario took a sip of the wine. Lucrezia regarded him from beneath her eyelashes, head still bowed, but now showing interest.
"You still intend to marry me?"
"I do." Riario could not back down without showing weakness to his father, something he could not risk. The only way to avoid marrying Lucrezia was to find a more suitable bride, which he had neither the time nor inclination to do. In any case, while that would free him from the obligation, it would leave Lucrezia utterly vulnerable once more, and render Amelia unnecessary.
He watched the emotions flutter across her face: suspicion, fear, confusion. "Am I so dreadful a marriage prospect?" he asked, laying on the bitterness in his tone to cover up any neediness she might otherwise detect. Marriage between cousins of noble blood was not that unusual, and marriage to him would keep her here in Rome, near her father. If she behaved, Riario would attempt to get visitation rights for her to see him. There were far worse matches she could make.
"I do not even know you," Lucrezia replied haltingly, clearly searching for words that would not anger him.
It was not a good argument. Many a marriage was arranged sight unseen. Having the opportunity to meet an intended was never a guarantee, let alone having the right of refusal if he turned out to be ugly in body or soul.
"We shall have time to get to know each other."
She nodded, took a gulp of wine. "You will make me your wife in every way?"
Riario's eyes narrowed. Once wed, she would be his, to do with as he wished. In the eyes of the law and the Lord it would not be rape to take her to his bed whenever he wished it. But something in him rebelled against the very idea of such violence.
Raised with little access to women, committed to holy ideals, he had what could be considered odd and rather contradictory notions about females. He wanted very desperately to be loved by a woman, to experience the tenderness he had never known from a mother, but at the same time, he thought himself unworthy of it. Furthermore, he thought he ought to be above such longing, that to be a sword in the hand of God precluded such base desires.
It was true that he offered polite deference to women, but he did not see them as angelic beings as some men did, nor as wretched descendants of Eve who existed purely for men to punish or use for pleasure. He would strike a woman in self–defence, but he had not yet done so out of malice. He had never, and would never, force himself upon a woman. What sort of man was so in thrall to his sexual appetite that he would do so? What kind of man needed to take a woman by coercion rather than seduction? Riario had little patience with hedonists or bullies who thought only of their immediate personal passions and nothing of God or of the future.
"If you choose to submit," he said at last.
Lucrezia swallowed and misunderstood. "I shall of course submit to my husband," she said with such sadness in her tone that it moved him. This was not just any woman, but one he'd already committed himself to defend. A woman he did, despite himself, harbour affection for.
"You will agree to wed me, then?" A marriage in name only would benefit them both, and if it were a loveless one, and a chaste one, then so be it. Riario had, when he'd thought of it at all, that his father might in time choose a bride that suited his political ends rather Riario's interests, a woman for Riario to fuck until she bore him an heir. Affection would not enter into it. At least this way Riario was protecting his cousins rather than being handed out like a stud beast to some woman he’d never met.
Her blue eyes met his gaze with resignation. "I don't have any choice, do I?"
"None you would find agreeable."
She nodded and began to eat with the reluctant enthusiasm of a condemned man at his last meal. Riario watched her, eating little himself, planning how best to protect her, how best to use her position as his wife to his advantage, and thinking on how he could keep Amelia safe for all their sakes.
The wedding was arranged with all the haste that could be accomplished and as much pomp as Riario’s father desired. The ceremony mattered little to Riario. Despite his professions of piety, he felt that in the moment he had laid eyes on the pleading Lucrezia he had been bonded to her. He’d made an oath then to be her champion, and the words he spoke today were a mere reflection of the solemn vow he’d given.
Lucrezia showed no outward sign of hesitation or disdain as she made promises under duress to cherish him and obey him. He didn’t know if she intended to keep them but all that was important at this moment was that, to God, and to the Holy Father, and in the eyes of the law, Lucrezia was now his wife. His, under his protection, belonging to Riario and, therefore, not for Sixtus to do with as he pleased.
Amelia watched them, pale but with her chin held up bravely, fingers tearing at the delicate petals of the bouquet she carried. Whenever she saw Riario’s gaze fall on her, she would stare at the floor. It was disheartening, if understandable, and Riario could only hope that in time both she and Lucrezia could come to see him as a guardian and not an object of fear.
He kissed Lucrezia but as chastely as was possible. He would not dishonour her by stealing pleasure from unwilling lips that did not yield beneath his own.
The feast following the wedding was lavish. Riario downed a glass of the strong wine provided in honour of the wedding. It would not be seemly to be drunk but nor would it be in keeping with the celebrations for him to be utterly sober. He held out one hand to Lucrezia, taking her cool slim fingers in his grasp.
"Dance with me, my wife."
"Yes, my Lord."
He winced inwardly. She was his family and under no circumstances would he have wanted her to be distant with him, least of all now. He said nothing, merely pulled her closer into a soft hug before they took up their positions at arm’s length.
His mind was barely on his steps as he and Lucrezia and a number of the guests moved around the floor. He’d thought her beautiful the first time he’d seen her, all deep blue eyes, high cheekbones, soft lips. Now she was wearing a wedding dress, her hair elegantly piled up atop her head with a veil pinned to it, and he thought he had never seen any woman more beautiful.
Sixtus watched with what Riario chose to believe was pleasure at his son's marriage, because it wouldn't do to dwell on the fact that publicly he was merely blessing his nephew's union, while privately he probably believed that Riario and Lucrezia would live in justified misery together because of Riario's rash request to possess the girl.
"May you both receive what happiness you deserve," he'd said. "And may God bless your union."
As even the most rowdy of guests began to flag, Riario and Lucrezia were allowed to leave – a yawning Amelia had been escorted to her room by a maid several hours before.
They made their way through the corridors of the Vatican, Riario clasping Lucrezia's hand. She didn’t speak a word for the entire journey. At the door to his bedchamber, Riario turned to Lucrezia.
"May I?" He gestured and she shrugged. He gathered her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold. With great care he placed her upon the bed. She had her own rooms, full of her gowns and possessions, her own bed. But she would spend tonight in his bed, supposedly consummating the marriage.
She looked like an angel lying amongst the pillows, her doe eyes bright, her pale skin slightly flushed from the wine and the dancing. Riario ran appraising eyes over her lithe form, her cleavage straining against the white lace corset, her tiny waist, her delicate feet shod in white heeled sandals. When he met her gaze again he saw – not fear, no, which was what he was dreading – but resignation.
He’d promised himself not to take her against her will. He couldn’t remember now, lost in the delightful whirl of the day, the wine, the smell of Lucrezia’s perfume, if he’d ever said it aloud.
Riario stepped back, tucking his neatly combed ponytail behind his shoulder. "It is seemly that we spend the night in this room," he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. He’d had practice at hiding his feelings and what was one more hurt, one more disappointment. He had not done anything yet to earn her trust – only save her life, his mind protested, but he waved the thought aside. "Tomorrow you may sleep in your own chambers next door."
Amelia had the room next to that. Riario knew Lucrezia would want her sister close and it suited him to keep them both near him, partly to keep an eye on them and partly for their safety. He didn’t entirely trust his father where Lucrezia was concerned and Riario was determined to do everything in his power to make sure he could keep his own promises, to keep her and Amelia safe.
Lucrezia shifted amongst the pillows, lifting herself up on one elbow. "Girolamo?"
He moved to the sideboard and poured a glass of wine. "Sleep," he said. "I will sit on the couch." He motioned to the loveseat near to the balcony.
"Where will you sleep?"
He shrugged. "I am not tired," he lied. "I will sit for a while. Drink. Pray."
"Pray?" There was suspicion, maybe derision in her tone. "On your wedding night?"
Riario nodded, glancing at her. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable. "I should give thanks that I have been able to take my cousins under my protection. That I have been blessed with a wife such as you."
Her lips thinned. "Are you mocking me? Or do you lie to God?"
"Never!" Neither, he meant. "Lucrezia. I could not stand by and let my father murder you and Amelia. This was the only way I could think of to spare you. Is it so terrible to be my wife?"
When she swallowed and remained silent he gave a harsh laugh.
"I swore to keep you safe," he said. "You and Amelia. That includes being safe from me. I shall never lay a finger upon you. This I swear, to you, before God." He took a swig of his drink.
There was a hesitant knock at the door.
"Yes?" Riario bellowed and Lucrezia sank back into the pillows, afraid despite his reassurance.
"Does the lady Lucrezia wish us to assist her?"
Riario scoffed at the idea of admitting a bevy of maids to take off Lucrezia's gown and fuss over her hair to make her more presentable to her husband. As if she could be any more appealing to him.
"I shall provide the only assistance my wife requires this night."
There was a brief silence before footsteps headed away down the corridor. Lucrezia gazed at him for a long. Then she pulled off her sandals and removed the veil from her hair. She slid under the bedcovers fully dressed.
Riario stood on the balcony for a while, staring down at the city, finishing his wine. When he grew cold he went inside, closing the balcony doors as quietly as possible. Lucrezia was sleeping, or doing an admirable job of faking it. He sat on the loveseat, stretching out into as comfortable a position as he could manage, and, eventually, slept.
Lucrezia brushed Amelia’s hair with long, gentle strokes. She preferred to do this for her sister than to let maidservants take her place in all things.
Not that long ago they’d been her father’s secret; not peasants, but not nobles the way she and Amelia were now.
She’d been so proud of her father becoming pope, but now he was in jail and his evil twin had taken his place. Now she was wedded to Girolamo Riario, the bastard son of her uncle. Now she was a countess, for in recognition of the marriage Sixtus had bestowed the title of count upon Girolamo. Now she had duties, and responsibilities, and a husband she did not love, and all she could do was cling to the hope that one day her father would be free and, in the meantime, to keep Amelia close.
"Is Count Riario my cousin or my brother-in-law?" Amelia asked.
Lucrezia paused, a frown creasing her brow.
"Both," she said at last. Cousin and husband, too; not that unusual amongst noble families but still. She’d gained an uncle and a cousin the day they took her father from her and she would have traded both their lives for his freedom in an instant. But she believed Riario when he said it was only his actions that had saved her and Amelia’s lives. Alessandro had callously ordered them executed and Riario’s words had only at the last won him over.
She hated that she owed Riario anything. She hated most of all that she owed him Amelia’s life, for that was a debt she could never repay.
He hadn’t taken her by force as would have been his right and that was some comfort to her – though there were rumours about Riario’s proclivities that made her wonder if his desires lay elsewhere. He was too chaste, they said, therefore he must be having sex secretly, and, therefore, it must be with men. Lucrezia doubted it, but she didn’t know him that well; she had, however, seen his gaze linger on her face and, of course, on her breasts. He desired her, yet he did not act on his desires out of respect for her wishes.
Polite dinners a few times a week, occasionally strained ones where Alessandro was present, and Mass once or twice a week in his company were the only times she spent with Riario. After the wedding night they’d slept in their separate rooms and never had he so much as requested entry to her bedchamber.
She tugged on the brush, eliciting a yelp from Amelia. "Sorry," Lucrezia murmured, returning her attention to the task at hand. Riario was a necessary evil for the time being; it did not mean he had to occupy her thoughts, let alone her bed.
"I prefer to call him Uncle," Amelia decided.
"You must ask his permission."
Amelia scoffed a little. "He likes it when I call him Uncle Girolamo."
That gave Lucrezia pause. Riario doted upon Amelia, bringing her gifts and gazing at her as if she were his own child, which provoked a mixture of emotions in Lucrezia; she didn’t want him in their lives, yet if he was, at least he seemed to care for them. On the other hand it made her a little wary, even jealous if she dared admit it, to see Amelia's affection shared with Riario, a man Lucrezia didn't entirely trust.
He brought Lucrezia gifts too, small tokens of flowers and scents. Today it had been something more extravagant, a fine onyx and diamond pendant.
He thought he would win her over but Lucrezia would not be easily swayed by common decency nor by jewellery.
Lucrezia prayed they would return safely from this outing. Riario had insisted she and Amelia accompany him out to a spot he knew of with green fields and flowers. They could take food, he said, it would be a pleasant afternoon.
She couldn’t help but wonder if, like the hunter in the old stories, he was taking them out to kill them, far from any witnesses. Perhaps he’d grown tired of them already, maybe she wasn’t the wife he had expected, or maybe Alessandro had again demanded their destruction and Riario had given in.
"It isn’t much further," Riario told her. She and Amelia were riding a little way behind him and three guards surrounded the family as they headed out into the countryside.
She nodded, pressed her lips together tightly. She would not show fear for herself but she would again beg for Amelia’s life. He had promised to protect them. She would remind him of that if it was the last thing she did.
Riario gestured, barked orders. They’d reached the place he was looking for apparently, a lush green valley through which a river lazily wound its way, set amongst grassy hills and a woodland slope. The guards unloaded the supplies before withdrawing to a discreet distance, while Riario helped Amelia down from her horse. Lucrezia dismounted before he could offer her the same service.
"Isn’t it a wonderful place?"
She nodded. If Riario noticed her unease he showed no sign of it. He laid out a blanket and began to unpack the food. Lucrezia breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed he truly did want to spend time with them after all. She moved to help and he gave her a genuine smile.
"Can I go and paddle in the river?" Amelia asked, pointing out the water nearby.
"Be careful," Lucrezia cautioned.
"She’ll be watched," Riario said.
It was as chilling as it was comforting to know they were under constant supervision. That they, as Riario’s family, needed protection was likely, but that they were always observed gave Lucrezia a feeling of being caged. It was a gilded cage, unlike her father’s cell, but nonetheless, she was trapped.
"I thought we might all enjoy some time away from the city," Riario said, when Amelia had skipped away, one guard trailing after her.
She supposed he too found both Alessandro and his duties irksome at times. "Thank you."
"We haven’t had much time to spend together," he went on, handing her a goblet of wine.
"No." They both knew it was her choice to avoid him whenever possible.
"Do you hate me so much?" he asked, staring into his own goblet.
"No!" She had not expected that.
He raised his gaze, studying her intently. His hair stirred in the breeze. It was tied back from his face with a fine onyx hair slide that matched the necklace he’d given her. Lucrezia had chosen to wear it today, partly to complement the blue and black gown she’d picked out, partly hoping to remind him that he thought her worthy of being gifted something so valuable.
"I will understand, if you do." He took a sip of wine. "You hate my father. You think I am like him. Perhaps I am."
Lucrezia shook her head. What had happened to him, that he could so easily expect hatred? Riario reminded her of a dog, kicked repeatedly as a puppy so that he cowered ever after as an adult but remained loyal to his master, even as he bared his teeth at anyone else who dared approach.
"You are not Alessandro."
"I forced you to marry me."
"You were trying to save us." She did at least accept that. She thought about it frequently, had nightmares about how things might have turned out if Riario hadn’t begged for her life, for Amelia to be spared. "I will always be grateful."
"I’m glad." He didn’t sound glad. He took another drink. "I love you. You and Amelia. I will die before I let anyone hurt you."
"Let us hope it does not come to that."
He gave a wry smile. Amelia returned, boots in one hand, her feet and skirts damp. She threw herself down onto the blanket, narrowly missing the plate of cheese.
"Careful," Lucrezia chided but Riario laughed and asked if she’d had fun.
"Yes, but it was so cold, Uncle," she giggled. "Do you think there are fish?"
"I don’t know. I did not think to bring a net," he said. "Maybe next time."
"Oh, yes! I would like that." She picked up a juicy plum and bit into it with enthusiasm.
They ate and drank their fill as if they were a perfectly normal family, and afterwards Lucrezia watched in surprise as Riario played games with Amelia, chasing and being chased in turn.
She’d never seen Riario so happy, so carefree. He looked younger when he laughed aloud at the game, and she could barely believe that this man was Count Girolamo, feared right hand of the (false) Pope.
Amelia seemed to like Riario as much as he did her, and, free of the confines of the Vatican, she too had regained her youthful vitality. She could truly be a child, free and playful. Riario had been wise to bring them out here.
Exhausted, Amelia found a shady spot and began to pick wildflowers. She showed Riario how she could weave them into a crown and, to Lucrezia’s utter amazement, he let Amelia place it on his head. Amelia giggled and began to make herself a necklace while Riario returned to lie on the blanket. Lucrezia had packed away the empty plates and now she stretched out to lie alongside him, both of them watching the cirrus clouds scudding across the azure sky.
"I wish we didn’t have to go back," she said.
"I fear we must. But not just yet." Riario closed his eyes.
"This was delightful. Thank you." She meant it this time. She rolled over, leaning up on one elbow. He looked so peaceful, hair spread out beneath his shoulders. She hadn’t really studied him before, his strong profile, those sculptured cheekbones. He really was handsome, something she’d never allowed herself to acknowledge before.
Riario blinked his huge brown eyes lazily. "We must be back before dark. Don’t let me sleep too long."
"I won’t." She reached out and smoothed back a stray lock of hair from his forehead, still wondering at the wilting daisies and buttercups nestled against the dark mane.
He gave her an odd look and again she wondered what hurt he’d suffered to treat any sign of affection as a potential threat. Then he closed his eyes once more. He was making himself completely vulnerable. Yes, his guards were nearby, but it would be the work of seconds for her to pull a bread knife from the basket and plunge it into his heart. She’d pay for it with her life, of course, as would Amelia, but even the thought of such an act repelled her. The day they met she’d have killed him without hesitation but not now.
He trusted her. He didn’t trust anyone, yet he found it in his heart to trust her. The knowledge bloomed, warm and unexpected, deep in her breast. She placed her palm over his heart, feeling it beat beneath her hand. He didn’t respond to her touch, fast asleep. She had wronged him to suspect him of harbouring thoughts of murder. He had done nothing but try to protect her, to give her what little freedom he could, asking nothing but basic common decency in return. He was trying to make her happy, to give her and Amelia some joy in their lives. It was endearing. It deserved some recognition.
Lucrezia shuffled closer to him. She bent over until her forehead touched his. She could not yet bring herself to kiss his lips, but before she pulled away fully, she brushed her lips against his cheek. Then she lay her head down on his shoulder and let herself doze in the sunshine, feeling content in a way she’d not felt for months.
In the weeks since their wedding Riario had treated Lucrezia with care, letting her take the lead in their relationship.. He demanded her presence at dinners with Alessandro, and on certain occasions at which a wife should be seen with her husband, but he otherwise interacted with her with polite deference, neither asking nor expecting anything more from her.
He persisted, however, in his attempts to convince Lucrezia of his affection. Even if she could not return it, he had fallen in love with her. He showered Amelia with gifts and she, at least, warmed to him. He hoped the child’s innocent adoration might sway Lucrezia to stop treating him as if he were the enemy.
He purchased a necklace for Lucrezia and when she wore it, he thought it an acknowledgement of her respect for him. Or maybe she wore it so he would not be angry with her. Riario had a temper, true, but he did not want Lucrezia to fear him.
He’d planned the outing on a whim, needing the fresh air and respite from his father's scheming and demands as much as Lucrezia needed a taste of freedom. If they could at least pretend to be a family – they were all cousins anyway, and no amount of aversion towards him could change that – it would give him something to hold on to. Something beyond duty and servitude.
Just because Lucrezia did not love him as he loved her, it didn’t mean he cared any less. He understood now what it was to fight out of love, out of a desire to protect one’s family.
The afternoon in the country had been pleasant, and he’d been surprised and so touched it nearly brought tears to his eyes when he'd woken to find Lucrezia resting her head on his shoulder.
He'd had to hide a smirk at seeing his entourage, trained killers to a man, sporting flower necklaces. What their leader might do to them if they upset his beloved Amelia by refusing to humour her was clearly not worth thinking about. Perhaps some were as charmed by her as Riario himself was. She was a delight and he found himself smiling whenever he laid eyes on her.
Lucrezia was making herself popular too, always polite and never cruel or demanding with any of the staff. If they feared Riario, they loved her, and why shouldn't they?
Since their excursion, whatever he'd done or said in his favour that day, Lucrezia had begun to warm to him. She would take her evening meals with him more often than not. When Amelia had retired for the night, she no longer fled to her own room but stayed to talk with her husband. She had been well educated, and was insightful, and as her confidence grew she would debate with him rather than merely listen and echo his thoughts.
Sometimes he would stare at her, barely hearing her words as she spoke eloquently, lost in her sapphire eyes. He replayed their single kiss at the wedding over and over, that chaste meeting of lips to seal their union, and tried to imagine it had been so much more.
"Good night," she would say, bowing her head as she finally left him at the end of the evening.
"Good night," he would reply, thinking but never daring to add aloud, "my darling."
He could not help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever he saw Lucrezia kiss Amelia goodnight, or hug her sister tightly. The tenderness Lucrezia showed Amelia made him love her more. Was it so terrible to wish she could show him just a fraction of that affection?
What would it take for her to fall in love with him? Was she even capable of loving him the way he adored her? Did he dare believe he was worthy of her devotion?
Their new routine suited Lucrezia. She found Riario eager for her company, and that could be useful to her, but she was also increasingly fond of the time they spent together.
He was clever, she realised, if somewhat naive and still smitten with his recently found father. He was ambitious and willing to get his hands dirty if it was necessary. He was also, as she’d surmised earlier, desperate for affection. Beneath the aloof demeanour he presented to the world, he was hungry for a touch that was not a sign of domination nor an act of violence.
"What happened?" she asked, when he took his seat at the dinner table late one night, the candles half burned and Amelia already sent to bed. The bruise was an ugly purple on his pale cheek but the look of shame on his face at the question was worse.
"Did your father do that?"
"The Holy Father demands obedience," Riario said, picking at his food.
She knew from his answer that Riario had stood up to him and received a blow in return. How he might have been punished for asking Alessandro to spare his cousins, and yet he had not hesitated to do so. Lucrezia reached across the table and grasped his wrist.
"You deserve better."
"Better than to serve His Holiness?"
"Better than to be beaten like a dog."
Riario stared down at his plate. "This life is more fulfilling than the one I had expected," he said, and Lucrezia didn’t quite know what he meant by that. He gestured to the bruise. "This is a small price to pay."
She got to her feet and came to stand at his side. She bent down and kissed his unmarred cheek, stroked his hair. He made a noise that was almost a sob, and it nearly broke her own heart that such simple gestures of affection could mean so much to him. She wrapped one arm around his shoulder and cradled his head against her body, caressing him the way she comforted Amelia.
After that, he was more open with her. They’d withdraw after dinner to his bedchamber and talk in private, huddled by the fire. He would hold her hands, and tell her his darkest thoughts about Alessandro, knowing what power he was giving her.
Lucrezia listened and soothed and plotted. If Riario could be brought to her side, her father could be rescued and restored to his rightful place. Then they could truly be a family. She just needed to be patient.
If the servants thought the spouses were doing anything more amorous than exchanging chaste kisses to hands, faces, and hair, they were wrong. But there was an intimacy to these nights, whether they were discussing strategy, talking about Amelia, or reading from one of Riario’s many books. Riario seemed to have accepted he would gain no more physical affection than this, and she had accepted that this, at least, she could give.
It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
Rome had enemies, within and without her walls, a fact Lucrezia was well aware of. But when Riario left with his retinue that morning, she hadn’t expected him to walk into an ambush.
Gossip travelled fast within the Vatican and she heard of the skirmish almost as soon as the last body fell. All the attackers were dead, some said; the ringleader had escaped, said another. None of the Vatican army was harmed, or many were badly injured, or there were several dead.
Lucrezia put her hand to her heart, feeling a pounding at her temples. If Riario died, what did that mean for her and Amelia? She had no illusions that Alessandro had grown any fonder of them; even if his direct threats had ceased, it was only Riario's genuine affection that kept them safe.
The shout went up. The guards were returning, bloodied but unbeaten. Lucrezia flew down the myriad staircases between her room and the entrance, feet pounding the narrow stairs at an inadvisable pace. She was breathless by the time she reached the hallway, hair in disarray, not a little dizzy.
Two men entered, their entrance hampered by the black–clad body they carried. The head lolled limply to one side, the face obscured by long dark hair, the torso soaked in blood.
Lucrezia let out a cry. God, no. No, no, Riario could not abandon her. He could not be dead. The thought struck her like a physical blow. Never again would he take her hand and press a kiss to her palm, never again would she brush back a lock of his hair while staring into those warm brown eyes. She swayed on the spot. It was too much to bear.
"Move aside!"
That curt command brought her to her senses. Lucrezia watched in disbelief as Riario charged past the rest of the guards who were shuffling behind the men carrying the corpse. There was blood on his sleeve and he looked as dishevelled as she felt, but he was alive. Furious yes, guilt–ridden possibly, but alive.
His rush to report to the Pope was halted when he saw her. He abruptly turned and came to her, clutching at her arms.
"Lucrezia. You should not be here. You should not have to see this."
"I feared you were dead." Her voice faltered and he squeezed her arms a little.
"I am not so easy to kill," he said with the warmth she only ever heard in his voice when he was addressing her or Amelia. He brushed his lips against her forehead. "You look pale. Go and lie down a while. I will return to you once I have made my report."
He would want her comfort after that, she knew, for the Pope would be unlikely to offer praise even if it was deserved, and hand out retribution when it was not. She nodded and he released her, heading off down the corridor.
Lucrezia leant against the wall for a moment and closed her eyes. She had not expected to ever feel such relief at laying eyes on Riario. She had never thought she could feel for him what she could no longer deny. When she’d seen him walk into the room, she hadn’t just felt glad that her protector was alive. She felt joy that Riario was alive. She cared about him. To her surprise, and a small amount of shame, she wished he had kissed her lips instead of her forehead.
Later, Riario came to her. He’d changed his clothes, washed his face and tidied his hair. He seemed calmer and, now that her own panic was over, she’d had time to reassess her feelings. It would not do to be hasty, to let herself love him too much. He was still the son of her uncle who was her enemy. He was often in danger and always dangerous. He had married her to save her, more out of familial duty than out of hopes of any romantic affection. His occasional lustful looks were all he permitted himself and even those had waned of late, as if his desire for her had soured.
"The Holy Father was furious," Riario said, taking up an apple from the fruit bowl, toying with it rather than eating it. He explained what had happened, how well he and his men had done under the circumstances, which included two traitors in their midst. "He did not punish me, though I fear he will find a way to do so eventually. He said I have not yet proven myself to him."
There was pain in his voice, disappointment, and, as always, longing for affection from his cruel parent. Lucrezia leaned forward from her place at the table. "You will," she said. "Though I think to anyone not so demanding you have proven your worth many times over."
He tossed the apple, caught it again. "You were concerned for me."
"Of course I was."
He nodded. "I am sorry if you were frightened. I have often thought on what I can do to protect you in the event of my death and I am at a loss. I can bequeath you what goods and money I have, but if my father takes it into his head to harm you…"
He shook his head. For a moment they both entertained dark thoughts about what Alessandro was capable of. Riario took a bite of the apple, scowled at the bitterness, and tossed it aside.
"Perhaps it would be best," he said, choosing his words carefully, "should tragedy befall me, for you to take what you can carry and ride with Amelia far from Rome. Head to Naples, or to Florence. Marry well and live happily."
She stood and moved to stand in front of him. "I pray there is no need for such action," she said, and she meant it. She reached up and pressed her hand to his cheek.
"I was worried what would happen to us," she said, wanting to be honest. "But I was also fearful for you. I do not want to see you dead."
She might have said "I love you" given the look on his face. He turned his head to press a kiss to her palm.
"Girolamo," she said softly, and he took it for an admonition and stepped away. She threw herself at him, wrapped her arms around him, held him close. She kissed his cheek, clutched at his dark clothing. "I care for you more than I ever thought possible," she said.
"I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you," he said shakily, holding her against him as delicately as if she were glass.
She lifted her chin. "Kiss me," she said. She watched him consider if this was a trap, what ulterior motives she had. Then he kissed her, his lips on hers, soft and warm. He tasted of apple and smelled like the lavender soap he’d scrubbed his hands with, and Lucrezia’s blood sang in her veins.
When he drew back, breathless, it was to seek approval though his hunger for more was clear in his eyes.
"My love," she said, and leaned in to claim his mouth again. For a few minutes there was nothing in the world except this closeness. Then she stepped away, squeezing at his arm to reassure him that she did not regret the moment, only that it was all that she could give right now.
He lowered his gaze. "I have duties to attend to," he said.
"If you can, come to dinner with me," she said. "I would like that very much."
He nodded and left the room. Lucrezia touched her lips, reliving the brief intimacy. She was in love with Girolamo Riario and there was nothing she could do about it.
A few weeks later, Lucrezia became concerned. Riario had been distant all week, barely noticing her presence when he did come to dinner with her. She was surprised when he took a day away from his duties, and stunned when he did not spend it with her.
What might he be up to? She doubted he was wooing another woman, but he could be out making dangerous alliances or spying on Rome's enemies, putting himself in unnecessary danger. As the day wore on, she began to fret. Shortly after sunset it began to rain, and Lucrezia paced the room, fingers drumming against her thigh.
At last she forced herself to take up a book and try to focus on the words. Riario was a warrior. He could take care of himself. He would come back safely. He had to.
It was fully dark when Riario finally staggered into the room, wide–eyed, and soaked through. Lucrezia, reading by the fireside, looked up at his approach and, seeing the state he was in, put aside the book.
"Girolamo," she said, getting to her feet. "What is it? Where have you been? Are you all right?"
He gazed down at his palms. "I have been begging for forgiveness for the blood on my hands."
Not from Sixtus he hadn't. "What do you mean?"
"Do you think the dead hear us, when we stand at their graves?"
Lucrezia opened her palms, a gesture of uncertainty at this non sequitur. "Girolamo, what's wrong?"
He was shivering despite the warmth from the fire. "I have killed."
"Yes, many times, and will again. You are the sword of God," she said, trying to sound reassuring. She’d never known him to be squeamish about death before.
He shook his head. His hair was curled and wet from the rain, his face paler than usual. "You don’t understand."
She beckoned him towards the fire. "Then explain it to me." She wanted to fetch him a drink and a towel but she didn’t dare look away yet, nor move and risk spooking him. He walked over to her unsteadily.
"If I tell you then you will look at me with hatred," he said, his voice shaking. "As I deserve."
"No," she said. "No, you can tell me anything." She swallowed, steeling herself.
"What I have done is unforgivable."
"God forgives all."
Riario shivered. "But you may not." He gave a long sigh. "On this day, last year, my father asked me to prove myself worthy of serving him, of being his right hand." The bitterness in his tone was almost welcome, something more familiar.
Of course his father was behind this. Lucrezia kept silent though, waiting for Riario to continue.
"He sent me to kill her."
"Who?" Lucrezia sat back down, hoping he would take the seat opposite. He did not. He stared into the flames for a long moment.
"I could not have known," he said, voice barely a whisper.
She reached out and took his hand. It was cold against her warmth. "Known what?"
He swallowed hard. "She was just some whore," he said. "An inconvenience that needed to be removed. He told me where to find her. I followed her down an alley. I confronted her, pressed her against the wall…put my hands around her throat…I killed her. To prove my worth, I murdered that woman."
The silence that followed was broken only by the gentle crackle of flames and Riario’s laboured breathing. Lucrezia said nothing, merely rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand. There was more to come, worse to hear, she knew, given his turmoil.
"It was only when I looked into her eyes as she was dying that I saw it," Riario said at last. "She stared back at me. And I knew. Knew why she had to die. Knew why he had sent me. God! May God forgive me." He pulled from her grasp, burying his face in his hands.
"Girolamo," she soothed.
"My mother." He choked the words out and Lucrezia felt her blood run cold. He met her gaze. "I saw it in her eyes. She knew who I was. And I knew then, who she was, why I was the one sent to kill her. And yet I only squeezed harder."
There was nothing she could say to that.
"I couldn’t bear it. I was confused. My father – my mother – the Pope – a Jewish whore! It was over before I knew it." He dissolved into tears. He threw himself on the floor in front of her and laid his head in her lap.
"My love," she said desperately. She rubbed at his back, trying to soothe him. "My love. Sssh."
He wept for several moments, keening his grief and guilt. At last he raised tear-stained cheeks. "I am a monster." He clearly expected her to agree.
Lucrezia shook her head. "No, Girolamo, no. This is not your fault. It is his! Alessandro ordered your mother's death. He didn't tell you of her identity because he knew you would not agree to kill her. Don't you see that? Her blood is on his hands, not yours." Lucrezia pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"I never imagined such a woman to be the one who gave me life," Riario said, blinking away the last of his tears. "I was a fool to dream she was a noblewoman forced to surrender her bastard by a cuckolded husband. Of course she was a prostitute. I am the lowest of the low. I saw that in her."
Lucrezia let out a gentle sigh. He’d been caught up in the moment of the kill, maybe could not have stopped if he’d wanted to, and the realisation that this Jewess who sold her body was truly his mother must have added fuel to the fire he’d stoked in preparation for the assassination. He’d been killing what she represented to him. Riario’s devotion to Christ challenged, his fantasy of a loving countess for a mother shattered, the realisation that he’d been sent to murder kin and was capable of it, it had pushed him over the edge instead of pulling him back from the precipice.
"You are low no longer," Lucrezia said sternly. She needed him to listen and take her words to heart. "You are Count Girolamo Riario, the Holy Father’s trusted servant, a loving husband and doting father figure to Amelia. You cannot change the circumstances of your birth. You cannot undo your terrible deed. But you can hold on to your family, to me and Amelia. You can hold on to your faith and make amends for this transgression. And you can move forward into the future with your head held high, commanding the respect you deserve."
He gazed deep into her eyes and she regarded him calmly. He would not see deceit.
Riario took her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers over and over. "What would I do without you?" he murmured. "Who would I be without you at my side?"
She used her free hand to stroke his hair. "Take off your clothes," she said. "You’re dripping wet. I will fetch you a drink and I will stay with you as long as you need."
"Always," he said, getting to his feet and unbuttoning his jacket. "I will need you always."
For him to say it, to expose this vulnerability, tugged at her heart. If she was any judge, Riario had seen to his mother's burial but had never had the chance to truly grieve, had never confessed this crime to any but Sixtus himself. That Alessandro could order the woman's own son to kill her turned Lucrezia's stomach. She already thought him evil; now she wondered why God did not strike down the false Pope who committed such acts while posing as His representative on Earth.
There was nothing she could do to turn back the clock and prevent the murder, could not even comfort Riario as he'd needed at the time. She could however be here for him now, do her best to convince him that his guilt proved he was not a monster. She could show him that she cared and try to make him believe that he deserved her affection still.
She lay alongside him all that night. He stared at the canopy above the bed, reliving his crime, speaking haltingly of it and then changing the subject abruptly. Once he dozed off but, as Lucrezia let her heavy eyelids close, a nightmare shook him awake and she returned to her role as comforting wife.
"You were right. I would not have killed her had I known," he said, sitting up, nightshirt dishevelled, hair loose and tangled about his shoulders. "That is, if I had been told to kill my mother, I would never have sought her out to murder her." He needed to see that Lucrezia believed him and she nodded fervently. Still, he went on, "I would not have laid a finger on her, and then I would not have been swept up in that terrible moment."
"Of course not." She took his face in her hands. "If your cowardly father had told you the truth, you would have found a way to save her. As you saved Amelia and me." She wondered if she’d gone too far, calling Alessandro a coward, but Riario didn’t protest. He merely looked sceptical and she went on, "You could have given her money, a disguise, spirited her out of Rome, never to return."
He nodded, grasping at the redemption she offered. "If you had been with me back then, you would have helped me plan."
"Yes! Oh, my love. Neither of us would have let this happen." He needed to accept that, to know that she would take his side. But he also had to accept what he had done, what he was capable of, and to learn to temper his fervour for his father’s orders. So she went on, "But it did. And if you wish to make amends then take this lesson to heart. Your father cannot be trusted to tell you everything you need to know. You must find out for yourself, and make your own decisions."
He considered this, chewing at his lower lip. Lucrezia kissed his cheek and lay back down.
"And you? Will you always tell me the truth, the whole truth?" he asked.
She barely hesitated. "Yes." For that moment at least it felt true, and she would do her best to keep her promise.
"I love you," he said softly as he settled back down beside her. "If you betray me…"
He would be destroyed? He would kill her? Kill himself? He didn’t finish the thought and Lucrezia was somewhat glad of it.
"I love you too," she said, still surprised by the depth of her feelings for him, but he was already asleep, looking vulnerable and innocent and quite incapable of choking anyone to death.
It was during a strained dinner with Sixtus that Riario’s patience finally snapped.
He’d listened while his father made his usual complaints about Riario's perceived wrongdoings and failures, his alleged incompetence.
"Yes, Holy Father," Riario muttered when a response was expected of him, just as he would thoughtlessly reply "amen" during a service but his attention was elsewhere. He knew Lucrezia was angry with him for taking the abuse so meekly, could see the barely veiled contempt on her face.
"Count Nardo," Sixtus said, waving a fork at Riario. "He continues to plot against us."
"Yes, Holy Father."
"And yet you have found no proof, no leverage to use against him, no wrongdoing by which he can be brought to justice!"
Riario gritted his teeth. "No, Holy Father."
Sixtus scoffed. Lucrezia looked like she wanted to vomit. Riario didn’t blame her. He hated himself for his weakness.
"And what do you intend to do about this, hmm?" Sixtus stabbed his fork into the fowl he was eating and took up his wine instead.
"My men are watching him," Riario began.
"Watching? Is that the best you can come up with? Having your men watch him? Are you afraid to get your hands dirty?" Sixtus taunted.
It was a low blow and Riario swallowed bile and sought to control the hot, angry tears that threatened to unman him at the dinner table. Sixtus wasn’t finished yet.
"Perhaps you are not my son," he said with a sneer. "Tell me, Lucrezia, does he possess a cock or have I myself a weak-willed woman masquerading as a man? I mean, look at that hair."
"How dare you," Lucrezia hissed, and Riario was beside himself with shame now but he could not let his wife endanger herself by speaking up. He must defend himself.
Riario got to his feet. "Would you like to see my cock, father?" he demanded. "Oh, forgive me, Holy Father." The words sounded like an insult.
Sixtus raised an eyebrow. "I hardly think that would be appropriate at the dinner table," he said, undisturbed.
"I shall deal with Nardo in due course," Riario swore, voice tight with the promise of violence. He forced a wry smile, appeared relaxed as he said, "Unless you would rather give the task to another one of your precious cardinals. Remind me what happened to Cardinal Pini when he spoke out against Nardo?"
They never had found all the body parts.
"So you think you have it in you to succeed?"
"It shall be done," Riario vowed. "And when it is, you shall allow Lucrezia to visit her father."
He drained his goblet of wine and held out one hand to Lucrezia. "Good evening," he said curtly to his father.
He squeezed tightly at Lucrezia’s hand as they left the room. He almost dragged her along in his fury to put distance between them and Sixtus, afraid he would hear a summons to return, or, worse, an order for the guards to arrest Riario.
When they got to his chambers he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, breathing heavily until his heart no longer raced. Lucrezia paced the room.
To his surprise, when he met her gaze, she was grinning.
"Oh, Girolamo," she said. "I have never been prouder of you." She moved to cup his face in her hands and kissed him, long and hard.
"It was foolish," he said, when she withdrew.
"No. He doesn’t want you to be weak. Obedient, yes, but not to cower, not even before him. After everything you have done on his behalf he still belittles you, but tonight you showed him it is not tolerable!"
Riario sighed. "I could not have him hurt you. You must not anger him."
"He despises me already," she pointed out. She reached out and caressed a long lock of hair. "Do not listen to the balding fool. He is merely jealous of your charms."
He laughed at that. "Then I shall not cut off my hair?"
"No! Grow it longer, if you can. Braid it with ribbons before you next sit down with him! Show him you will not be cowed." She kissed him again.
"This is as long as it ever gets," he said, and ribbons were quite out of the question, but Lucrezia shrugged and wound her fingers into his tresses and sought his mouth again.
When her free hand trailed down his chest and rested upon his groin, he moaned. "Lucrezia, please."
"Ssh," she whispered.
"I cannot…please." He could not bear her touch much longer!
"Do you not want me?"
He blinked and focused on her eyes. She looked serious, not at all as if she were teasing him. "Of course. I have long wanted you."
"Then take me." She stepped away and unlaced the front of her dress, slipping the sleeves from her shoulders. The silk fell to her waist, leaving her bare breasted, facing him unashamed.
"You mean it?" His voice was rough with desire.
"Make love to me," she said. "I am your wife, am I not?" She pulled the diamond tipped hair pin from her locks, so her own chestnut tresses fell about her shoulders. She backed up to the bed and sat, tugging at one boot.
"Let me," Riario said. He knelt at her side, cupping her thigh just above her knee as he smoothly pulled off the boot. He repeated the performance with the second.
"My turn," she told him, bending down and unlacing his shirt. He helped her slip it over his head, and she tossed it aside. "Let me look," she said, running her fingertips over his pectoral muscles. His heart was racing again but not from fear.
"Lucrezia." It was a desperate plea.
"I know, Girolamo." She moved to continue undressing herself. Riario divested himself of his own boots, followed by his trousers. He glanced at Lucrezia. She was naked now, save for the onyx pendant and her wedding ring. She'd rolled onto her side, her elbow digging into one pillow as she cupped her chin in her hand. She was watching him intently.
He unfastened his linen undergarments, dropping them to the floor. Lucrezia studied him and smiled, not in mockery, but with delight. She beckoned with her free hand.
Riario climbed onto the bed next to her. He kissed her again. He wanted to savour the moment, to explore her body, but he was already hard and eager.
Lucrezia rolled onto her back. "Take me," she urged.
He must not hurt her, he told himself, must be gentle, must try to be gentle. They were both novices at this and it was somewhat awkward at first, but she was encouraging and bold enough to guide him, and he was determined to enjoy the moment and not rush them. It was not the wild passion of which he’d heard, but it was beautiful, and when they were both spent he thought Lucrezia had never looked lovelier with her eyes wide and her sweat–slicked skin aglow in the soft candlelight.
"Girolamo," she said softly, pulling him to lie upon her breasts. She caressed his hair with one hand, the other stroking down his spine to rest at his buttocks. "My love."
It was all he could do not to weep in rapture.
"I have thought of a way to get what you want from Nardo," Lucrezia said the next morning as they breakfasted together.
"And what does my clever wife have up her sleeve?"
Lucrezia lowered her gaze. "You might not like it."
"Let me hear it anyway," Riario said, for he’d come to trust her judgement.
She outlined the scheme. Riario felt his cheek twitch in annoyance. He did not like it. But he had to admit that it was a shrewd scheme.
Go to Part Two of Two
Art: Through All Hardship We Endeavour (Knowmefirst)
Date: 2016-04-06 05:40 pm (UTC)