[It was insane and terrifying how much your life could change in the span of a day.
It was also breathtaking and miraculous. The changes which had taken place in Ezio's were a distinct mixture of both.
Those first few beautiful moments after they had finally signed the contract that would bind them together were joyful and celebratory, more like a marriage certificate than anything that named them as Dominant and Submissive. He had wanted nothing more than to have this with her, and it was such a very different occasion than when he had signed the same piece of paper with Leonardo at his side. Had wanted to have her with him as often as possible, to fall asleep next to her and to wake with her still in his arms. Had wanted it so badly that his heart ached each time she would leave him.
It wasn't that he minded if there were others - there had been many for him as well. But this, what he had with her, was different. There was a promise that he would always return to her eventually, that she was the one he would now return home to. She was his home, in very much the same way Leonardo was. They would stray, there would be others, but they would always return to one another.
Falling asleep next to her had been everything he had ever wanted, so incredibly far from what had once been with Christina, and what had been with Caterina. He had held her within his arms until she fell asleep - until she closed her eyes and went into the self-repair mode that served as such - and had kept her there until the first, pale streams of sunlight had begun to pour through the large windows.
She had woken and he had looked at her and nothing in his life had ever been more incredibly breathtakingly beautiful than she was in that very moment. He had brushed the strands of blond hair from her face that always obscured her eyes from his vision, had kissed her soft lips and whispered things to her in his native tongue. Had made love to her in a way he never had before, slow and passionate and tender.
He hadn't wanted to leave her, but the day had broken and there were things that wouldn't wait. It was intended to be such a short amount of time that it would hardly matter. They would return to one another and retreat back into the sanctuary of his room - of their room and shut out the rest of the world.
But then he had made the mistake of asking questions of 9S that he shouldn't have, that he regretted now with his entire being. Instead of being happy to see her when she returned home, he could hardly even bear to look at her. When she spoke, he could hardly bring himself to answer her.
All of this time he had fooled himself into thinking that she was human, forcing himself to forget that she was an android, that she was programmed to love him. That they viewed humans as gods and that was how she loved him.
Like a god. Like she was programmed to.
It hurt. It made his heart ache in ways that were far too familiar. Like the way it had cracked and torn when he had watched Christina die in his arms, unable to help her or ease her pain. Like the way it had shattered when he realized that all Caterina had ever wanted from him was the aid of the brotherhood he at his disposal, of his uncle's troops, in a selfish attempt to reclaim land.
She would have loved anyone as she did him. Did she love the other's she went to? Or had he simply managed to endear himself by being the first? Had he earned some special place in her programmed human hierarchy?
Her love for him wasn't real - and he could only ever describe what he had felt from her as that, as love, so deep and intense it had shaken his very soul. He had loved her in return, had fallen for her so quickly and so completely that she held all of the pieces of his battered heart inside of her chest where her own was meant to be.
He loved her still, despite how he wished he could make it stop. He would probably love her always.
Having spent literal hours in the company of Leonardo had helped to sooth the wounds that had been left. Speaking to A2 had, shockingly, aided him in seeing that perhaps despite it being a programmed emotion, it was still one that was wholly her's, that it couldn't and wouldn't simply be replicated by any other android of their type. That what she felt for him was different than what she might have felt for another.
Lucrezia had told him that he deserved to be loved, that whoever he had chose deserved his love in return. A love that was born of passion, of want and wanting. That went past reference. Past everything. That 2B had choosen him out of all the men here.
But the thought that her feelings for him weren't real still lingered in the back of his mind, and so he had continued to pull away from her. Had gone into the large main room instead of into the one that was now theirs where he knew she currently sat. Waiting. Waiting and waiting for him to come to her. But he didn't. He wouldn't.
He didn't regret it, giving her this contract. Giving her his heart. He still could not bring himself to think of her as somehow lesser than a human simply because she had been made. But he couldn't stand that her feelings might not be real, that they may be manufactured. It made him feel sick to his stomach, made him feel weak.
It's dark when she comes to him, the sun having long since set. Less than twenty-four hours ago he had been laying with her, heart completely healed and light as a feather. Now it felt shattered and heavy, useless in a way that made him wish he could be rid of it. She speaks and he glances upwards from his place upon the sofa, barely long enough to take in the way those dazzling eyes look so trouble. Eyes that are bare, as they always are when they're together.
Honey brown have darkened into something muddy and dull, his skin unusually pale with dark bags beneath each eye. Lines and wrinkles that have etched themselves into his skin seem deeper and more pronounced with his sadness, making him look even older than his forty-three years.
She speaks and he doesn't want to hear her, doesn't want to have to respond. Perhaps he could simply act as if she doesn't, could feign ignorance of her presence.
Maybe he should let her go and save all of them from this. Keep their contract so that he knows she will be well taken care of, but let her be with another. Let her be with 9S.
He probably should.
He should.
But then he looks at her fully, properly, and something deep inside of him cracks.
Something had changed. But how was he supposed to tell her? He could only imagine how very angry she would be with him, just as A2 had been. He could leave those parts out, but she would find out. He knew she would find out.
Something had changed, and he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to continue looking at her. He loves her so much. With all of his heart. And he doesn't want to be without her.
But he has to know.]
Are the things you feel for me real, 2B? Or are they just another part of your programming?
Please enjoy this novel of pain and suffering I wrote it while sobbing grossly
It was also breathtaking and miraculous. The changes which had taken place in Ezio's were a distinct mixture of both.
Those first few beautiful moments after they had finally signed the contract that would bind them together were joyful and celebratory, more like a marriage certificate than anything that named them as Dominant and Submissive. He had wanted nothing more than to have this with her, and it was such a very different occasion than when he had signed the same piece of paper with Leonardo at his side. Had wanted to have her with him as often as possible, to fall asleep next to her and to wake with her still in his arms. Had wanted it so badly that his heart ached each time she would leave him.
It wasn't that he minded if there were others - there had been many for him as well. But this, what he had with her, was different. There was a promise that he would always return to her eventually, that she was the one he would now return home to. She was his home, in very much the same way Leonardo was. They would stray, there would be others, but they would always return to one another.
Falling asleep next to her had been everything he had ever wanted, so incredibly far from what had once been with Christina, and what had been with Caterina. He had held her within his arms until she fell asleep - until she closed her eyes and went into the self-repair mode that served as such - and had kept her there until the first, pale streams of sunlight had begun to pour through the large windows.
She had woken and he had looked at her and nothing in his life had ever been more incredibly breathtakingly beautiful than she was in that very moment. He had brushed the strands of blond hair from her face that always obscured her eyes from his vision, had kissed her soft lips and whispered things to her in his native tongue. Had made love to her in a way he never had before, slow and passionate and tender.
He hadn't wanted to leave her, but the day had broken and there were things that wouldn't wait. It was intended to be such a short amount of time that it would hardly matter. They would return to one another and retreat back into the sanctuary of his room - of their room and shut out the rest of the world.
But then he had made the mistake of asking questions of 9S that he shouldn't have, that he regretted now with his entire being. Instead of being happy to see her when she returned home, he could hardly even bear to look at her. When she spoke, he could hardly bring himself to answer her.
All of this time he had fooled himself into thinking that she was human, forcing himself to forget that she was an android, that she was programmed to love him. That they viewed humans as gods and that was how she loved him.
Like a god. Like she was programmed to.
It hurt. It made his heart ache in ways that were far too familiar. Like the way it had cracked and torn when he had watched Christina die in his arms, unable to help her or ease her pain. Like the way it had shattered when he realized that all Caterina had ever wanted from him was the aid of the brotherhood he at his disposal, of his uncle's troops, in a selfish attempt to reclaim land.
She would have loved anyone as she did him. Did she love the other's she went to? Or had he simply managed to endear himself by being the first? Had he earned some special place in her programmed human hierarchy?
Her love for him wasn't real - and he could only ever describe what he had felt from her as that, as love, so deep and intense it had shaken his very soul. He had loved her in return, had fallen for her so quickly and so completely that she held all of the pieces of his battered heart inside of her chest where her own was meant to be.
He loved her still, despite how he wished he could make it stop. He would probably love her always.
Having spent literal hours in the company of Leonardo had helped to sooth the wounds that had been left. Speaking to A2 had, shockingly, aided him in seeing that perhaps despite it being a programmed emotion, it was still one that was wholly her's, that it couldn't and wouldn't simply be replicated by any other android of their type. That what she felt for him was different than what she might have felt for another.
Lucrezia had told him that he deserved to be loved, that whoever he had chose deserved his love in return. A love that was born of passion, of want and wanting. That went past reference. Past everything. That 2B had choosen him out of all the men here.
But the thought that her feelings for him weren't real still lingered in the back of his mind, and so he had continued to pull away from her. Had gone into the large main room instead of into the one that was now theirs where he knew she currently sat. Waiting. Waiting and waiting for him to come to her. But he didn't. He wouldn't.
He didn't regret it, giving her this contract. Giving her his heart. He still could not bring himself to think of her as somehow lesser than a human simply because she had been made. But he couldn't stand that her feelings might not be real, that they may be manufactured. It made him feel sick to his stomach, made him feel weak.
It's dark when she comes to him, the sun having long since set. Less than twenty-four hours ago he had been laying with her, heart completely healed and light as a feather. Now it felt shattered and heavy, useless in a way that made him wish he could be rid of it. She speaks and he glances upwards from his place upon the sofa, barely long enough to take in the way those dazzling eyes look so trouble. Eyes that are bare, as they always are when they're together.
Honey brown have darkened into something muddy and dull, his skin unusually pale with dark bags beneath each eye. Lines and wrinkles that have etched themselves into his skin seem deeper and more pronounced with his sadness, making him look even older than his forty-three years.
She speaks and he doesn't want to hear her, doesn't want to have to respond. Perhaps he could simply act as if she doesn't, could feign ignorance of her presence.
Maybe he should let her go and save all of them from this. Keep their contract so that he knows she will be well taken care of, but let her be with another. Let her be with 9S.
He probably should.
He should.
But then he looks at her fully, properly, and something deep inside of him cracks.
Something had changed. But how was he supposed to tell her? He could only imagine how very angry she would be with him, just as A2 had been. He could leave those parts out, but she would find out. He knew she would find out.
Something had changed, and he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to continue looking at her. He loves her so much. With all of his heart. And he doesn't want to be without her.
But he has to know.]
Are the things you feel for me real, 2B? Or are they just another part of your programming?