We all sat silent at the table, each with things on our mind. I could not help but think back to earlier this day. Clarice was breaking slowly by Lorenzo's disrespect. It was apparent to everyone and I would assume even to Lorenzo himself. It would be like looking in a mirror at his own actions. Lorenzo was a version of himself that was sabotaging his own family. I wondered if Clarice actually spoke to him after Giuliano spoke to her. Maybe she found the courage to stand up for herself and what she wanted in her life. 

The crash of the utensils on the table shook me from my daze that occured from my own lacking attention. Arthur chuckles, most likely at me of course. There was no possible way he would chuckle like a fool at anyone else except for me. Those chuckles were reserved for me and any shame or mistake my way.

"Is your food not to your liking?" I ask, inspecting one of the pieces of my food. It was plain and dry, yet somehow enjoyable, unlike my brother. In front of our father, Arthur composed himself as the delightful son.

"Of course it is. There is just too much on our minds for you to understand, sister." It took much will from me to not laugh in his face that proudly stated that. Arthur planted his hands on the table and turned to our father. "I have been told by a friend that the Pope is growing weary of the Medici's power and the Medici's are failing both Italy and the Pope simultaneously. The other cities are tired of them. It seems we barely have to work to gain his favor. Medici is doing it all for us by screwing up." His boasting was as tiresome as their schemes. "In England we have them on their knees. The King adores us!"

I went back to my food, holding back any comment towards my brother. Our father applauds instantly, his clap ringing through the air. If I was sleeping I was sure his applause for Arthur would invade my dreams. "Well done, my boy!" Somehow my father always marvelled over my brother's accomplishments, no matter how small. "You still have business today, do you not?" 

No sound came to my ears and I picked up my head. My brother turns to his own plate and nods. "Yes, I do. I am to speak to a gentleman in hopes of gaining advantage against Medici." 

He almost never hesitated or was so vague about his plans before. He was the one to boast his plans and victories. Unless he was far from victorious. 

"This gentleman sounds like a problem. Will he?" It was an innocent question, yet the way his eyes narrowed showed he knew there was no innocence.

"Be a problem? Oh, no. Of course not, it's quite simple actually." 

"My son," our father said in a praising voice. "Get to it, Arthur. Every minute we spend here we let down his majesty and let the Florentines win." Arthur swallows the last of his food with a nod and pushes his chair out. 

"Do not wait for me. Father. Anna." With his farewell, Arthur left the room, leaving me alone with our father who happily ate. The air was suffocating, like I had done something to insult him, but I did nothing of the sort. 

"I spoke with Clarice de Medici after mass this morning." 

"Oh did you?" His response was curt, as if he did not want to speak to me. I held back a sigh. 

"Yes. She is unhappy in her marriage to Lorenzo. He keeps another woman to himself and it seems the members of his household are growing tired of his antics, including his brother. He does not wish to be married as Lorenzo did without love. I think he is upset with Lorenzo." 

His fork scrapes against his plate and for a moment I think he is going to do something rash. But he just sits there in thought, staring at the doorway Arthur left through. It was uncharacteristic of my father to contemplate too seriously, like watching a madman lecture masses. 

"You found your hunt for Medici unsuccessful?" 

His question caught me by surprise. He knew how I felt. Did he wish to provoke or test me? 

"Yes, he did not want my advances, father. He already has a wife and shows love for another woman. I could not compete with them. He has shown no interest in me at all." He brings his fingers up to his lips, trying to find the right words I assumed.

"That cloak of yours." Francesco's cloak. I thought that it had past his and Arthur's minds. But I guess it was only a matter of time before they realized I had never went further than a polite yet scandalous peck on the cheek with Lorenzo. "Perhaps you could do something with it. Make a means in that household further. Without that young daughter, Bianca, you seem to have no means of entering." 

I stopped my confusion from being so clear on my face. While my father was a self seeking power hungry man with my brother, he was not the best with the schemes in politics or as something as malicious as someone's personal life.

Instead of saying anything further to cause him to think over the cloak's origins, I nod obediently. "Of course, father. I will get to that." 

In my room, I could escape his wondering countenance and face the cloak that I kept hidden from Florence and my family's prying eyes. The cloak was as dark as the secret I kept from them and it burned me to think of it as something like that. Something as simple and gentlemanly of Francesco to lend me as a cloak was now just a seductive idea to my father. I almost did not want to let it leave my room, but if I had kept it or even did not make an attempt, my father would question it. 

It was not a problem. Giving the cloak back to him was a polite gesture. He had lent it to me as a favor and now I must return it to its rightful owner. It was the right, respectful thing to do. And I was a lady, I knew how to be well mannered in returning something to a man. England taught me more than Italy ever will. 

I prepare myself to go out, after attaching a cloak to my shoulders, I pick up the cloak I draped over a dresser. I hold in a sigh. The undeniable disappointment worried me. I stared at the mirror on my dresser, glancing at my reflection. My cheeks were pale roses I used to see in the gardens, and I was pale as I have ever been. My golden locks were not as lively as they used to be. I was growing older each day, and each day I grew more disappointed in what I turned out to be. 

"Anna?" My father's voice was softer than a few moments before. 

"I will leave now. I should be home for dinner together. Will Arthur be joining us?" I walk out the door to my room, my father on my heels. 

"I do not believe so, he has much to do today. Do not worry about when you return. I am sure the Medici will love to have you over seeing as how close you became with their Bianca." 

I could barely force myself to smile. "I will see, father. Have a good day."

"Good day, Anna." 

The city was busy as ever and yet they all were incomparable to the issues on hand. Maybe to Arthur this was nothing at all. Lying and scheming far from home, but I could barely stand looking at myself.

I remembered the route to the Pazzi's home, praying that Francesco's uncle was not home. The image of his uncle's scowl when someone would show me to Messer Pazzi made me shudder. Maybe I was not so prepared after all. Seeing the large dark door only made me realize that I had no choice. I knocked, waiting for the inevitable. 

A young man opens the door. "Hello, I'm here to see Francesco. De Pazzi," I nervously say, waiting for his response. The man nods, allowing me to come inside. 

Before I could even see his dark locks, his head turns from his seat and he stands, tall as ever. 

"Anna," he says, looking in shock. The young man leaves and I realize it is only the two of us. 

I traced the lining on the black cloak, almost regretting relinquishing it to him. Though it was slightly rough and much too long for me, the cloak was a warm arm wrapped around me. It had smelt of sandalwood, but just as quickly as I enveloped the scent when I first received it, it disappeared the longer it stayed in my care.

"I no longer have need of it," I tell him without any small talk, reaching out for him to take the cloak. If he did not take it now, I feared, I would keep it forever. I could not risk that, risk the idea of being attached to something that didn't belong to me, someone who would never belong to me. 

Francesco stares down the cloak after breaking eye contact with me. I could not tell what was behind his eyes, disappointment maybe? No, it could not be. 

"It served me well, I fear I am usually unmindful of my surroundings and forgot my own cloak that evening. I would forget my own head, were it not attached." 

Francesco's lip curls up, though he fought with all his power. He gives a toothy grin and his hands wrap around the cloak. One of them finds its way to my hand and he freezes. It covered the front of my hand, almost caressing it. I felt his hand share the warmth it owned but only for a second when he pulled back with the cloak in hand. I stared down at my hand for only a moment, still feeling the tingling sensation.

"You have no use for it anymore? The cloak?" Seeing his hands pull the fabric away, I resisted the urge to rip it back from him. The way he questioned me, it was as if he doubted me. He had reason to doubt, of course. 

"I have plenty of cloaks at my disposal." My hands hurried to my own cloak over my shoulders to show him the obvious. His lips stayed at a firm line and he held the cloak closer to him. "I would say that one is my favorite of all the ones I have owned though." 

"Then I will look after it with all my power." 

We sat in silence for a moment, both of us standing and waiting for the other to say something more. Something, just something to keep me there longer. But there was no reason for me to stay, unlike at the Medici's home where Bianca was usually happy for me to stay until the sun set. 

"Was that all you came here for?" He asks. 

I hesitated. As much as I did not want to, I hesitated. I hated the idea of hesitating in front of him, allowing him to hold so much power over me. It was a power that humans struggled for, the power to love and be loved while not injuring your heart. My heart had been damaged, burning in intense heat for an amount only God knew. When I expected to see someone, I expected the burning to extinguish, dull at least into a duller flame if not fully. Yet seeing Francesco made it expand to depths I could not put out. 

I had realized, I wanted to see him. I wanted to talk to him. 

"It is quite busy today." I turned back to the door a servant stood by. "I was looking to possibly get some things for my father and brother. Would you like to join me?" 

Francesco nodded. "Of course." 

He joins my side when we leave the home, our steps slower than anybody in the market area. The bustle of people brought me closer to him, yet I was unsure if it really was the people that pushed me in his direction. 

"You have asked me about my home and childhood, what about you?" 

"Well there is not much to speak of. My parents died when my brother and I were younger. And my uncle took us in. Cared for us as if we were his own." 

"You really care for your uncle, don't you?" 

Francesco pauses, his frown growing. "Yes." 

He seemed disturbed, like he had something on his mind. Something with his uncle? "It must be difficult at times. Trying to choose which side of right and wrong and between family." 

I could see the contemplation in his eyes. Were my words getting to him or was it just my own guilt causing me to think so? 

"It is difficult. I love my family, yet it seems as if victory will not be in our reach if we continue the way we are. We used to be close to the Medici. And after our parents were gone, Jacopo made sure we separated." 

"That must have been hard to lose your parents and then everything you know. I could not fathom the thought. If I were left with my siblings-" 

"You have more than one sibling beside Alessandro?" 

Oh no. I had been so careless in my words as we walked I did not notice. "I thought I told you, yes I do. They live with my mother since they are so young."

 It was still the truth. My mother was home with my three siblings. They were quite young, too young to be thrown into the thorny bush that was Florence. They had no business in it. The twins, Mary and Katheryn, were almost adults but not quite yet. Father always wanted them home, he could never give them up. And our youngest brother, Henry,  only favored mother at the moment. He would not leave her side at all, even if Father had the best sweets he could find.

"Perhaps I forgot. I swore you only had your brother. And you are the oldest?" 

"Yes. I used to be second. But I actually had another sibling. She died in an accident when we were but children." 

"I'm sorry," Francesco says. I nod, trying to shake the thought about my sister from my head. 

My arm brushes against him and his hand moves down to his side. My attention goes to his arm, and then to his hand. Too busy looking at my side, I hadn't noticed the rocky path we were walking on. I stumble, but only for a moment as I feel a warm touch on my side. My hand reaches up from instinct. I clutched Francesco's arm while he basically stood over me. I was sure if Arthur had seen it, he would assume I conjured up some idiotic plot like this to steal him away. Yet only one as stupid as I could do something like this, plotless and idiotic.

"Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine. Thank you." I find my footing, standing up straight but my hand was still wrapped around his arm. I did not know if I had the strength to let go, not because of falling, but because I wanted to keep him in a short distance. Close enough to touch. And so I didn't. I kept my hand curled up around his bicep, waiting for him to throw me off of him, or tell me to get away. 

He did not. We kept the same pace as if I had never staggered. It all happened so fast and with an instant, we were strolling together through the market area. I did not buy a thing though it was never the plan to buy anything. Whenever I glanced up at him from my short height, I saw him look to the side, his cheeks reddening. 

Maybe it was the trick of the light from the sun's glare.

---

Arthur stood in the open space of the Medici's home and attempted not to roll his eyes. His blonde curls came too close to his eyes causing him to push them out of the way. The same place Anna was always at, and yet she got nothing from them. Their home was not even that beautiful. It was too warm, and barely elegant. Once he heard sharp steps coming into the foyer, he stiffened, acting as if he hadn't been judging the home. 

A short woman with curled hair and a naturally sad countenance walks up to him. Arthur looks at her, wondering who she was. She could not have been the sister, so she had to be Lorenzo's new wife. Poor girl, he thought, stuck with an idiot husband. 

"You must be Alessandro Bucelli," Clarice says, using the name Arthur had not gotten used to hearing. 

Clarice recognized him instantly. He looked exactly like his sister with blonde locks, light eyes and charming smile. He nods with that smile.

"Yes, and you must be Lorenzo's bride. It's a pleasure." Arthur takes her hand, bending down to kiss it. 

"Are you hear to speak with my husband?"

Arthur leans back, glancing around the quiet home. "I was to speak with Messer Foscari. He took interest with my work recently. I actually had not gotten the chance to speak with your husband about our deal. It seems those meetings have run long." Arthur lets out a dragged sigh, feigning disappointment. If he was honest with the woman in front of him, he would admit that her husband was an annoying knave and he hoped he would have the luck of never actually working with him unless his sister was wed to one of them. 

"Is there something troubling you, Messer?" 

There. Forget the truth, he thought. Arthur had to force himself not to smirk at the young lady who played into his hands. 

"I could not possibly bother you with my troubles." He pauses. "It is just, Messer Foscari has a daughter. She is beautiful and warm, wonderful. I only got to speak to her once-" Arthur cuts himself off, attempting to get a reading from Clarice. Clarice looked down at her feet, thinking about how her own husband did not feel the same that this man felt for a woman he is not involved with. "I'm sorry, how rude of me. I should not speak of such things with you. Please forgive me." While he did not lie about speaking to the red headed woman around the time of Bianca's wedding, he simply did not care about any of the Italian women, as long as it helped.

"No, it's quite alright. You must truly care for this woman." 

"Yes, very much so." He looks sullen for Clarice, not looking her in the eyes. The woman fidgeted for a second. 

"I will go fetch my husband, he actually has another visitor. You will not have to wait for Messer Foscari longer," Clarice tells Arthur, remembering why she had gone through the home in the first place. 

"Thank you, Madonna." 

Arthur smirk grows wider, into a conniving grin that held everything he needed. 

---

Night ran over Florence, and most had returned home from politics and business. All except for Francesco. After escorting Anna to her home, he knew what he had to do. Lorenzo already told him of his uncle's sins and all they needed was the proof. Seeing the sun shimmering against her cascading curls took his mind off of what he needed to do, but he needed to erase the image from his mind. 

The hood to his cloak up, Francesco snuck inside the building past everything until he made it to his uncle's belongings in the bank. Launching into the paperwork, spreading the papers thin for what he needed. He could not believe he was helping Lorenzo once more. If someone asked him months ago if he would ever consider Lorenzo anything other than his enemy, he knows he would laugh in their face. Yet here he was now, searching through the documents below. Still, he couldn't focus.

He traces the words, but he could not think about what he was reading. The alluring floral scent was driving him mad. Of course it would smell of her, he thought to himself. How stupid he was to use that same cloak she returned to him, he was childish in his delusions. She had Florence at her fingertips and Medici almost in her grasp multiple times. Why would she want him when she could have the whole, power to embrace her. He knew he was a fool to hold any hope when he spoke to her, when they danced, or when she held onto him like he truly mattered.

It was all too much for him. Anna had broken through every obstacle he constructed in his mind and heart. The woman who just spoke to him and measly offered him a nickname to call her by was no large city or any wealth. Nothing that his uncle would want for him. She was not to be acquired. She was a woman to be gentle with, and feel a calmness settle in. 

Francesco blinks, groaning inwardly to himself as he continues searching through Jacopo's books and papers. This woman would be the death of him. She had a way of shaping his dreams and walking into his day, seemingly powerless but she had the strongest power over him. He needed to not let it take over him. He asked himself though, could he really do that?

---

Away from the banks, Messer Foscari stalks into the foyer of Medici's home, filled with unrest. The guards behind him came to a stop making him wonder what was going on. Finally, a colorful dress came into view, and Clarice makes herself known to his sight. 

"Messer Foscari, thank you for coming." She comes up to the older man. "I wish to speak to you about your daughter." 

"Tell your husband the politics of Florence are not my concern. We leave for Venice in the morning." The man was set in stone as he turns away. Yet Clarice would not accept any answer.

"I do not speak for Lorenzo. Or for politics." Her words make Foscari freeze and faces her. "I know a little of unhappiness and I would spare your daughter the same." 

Foscari leans in to listen more, intrigue dancing in his eyes. 

Clarice leans in as well. "There's another business man who would have your daughter's hand. Have you spoken with Alessandro Bucelli?" She asks. His alias brings wonder to the older man's eyes. 

---

"My son! Congratulations!" I heard the thunderous applause from my father all the way from my room. At this time of night, it was strange to hear my father being so loud. I peaked out of the room, tiptoeing down the stairs. I did not have the capacity to handle my brother's boasting and my father's fawning. 

"I will treat her well, Messer Foscari," I hear my brother's voice, not in his usual eruption, but softer, like a bird. I had never heard my brother speak in such a manner, it was quite frightening actually. 

I run my hand down the bannister, landing on the final step when I see an older man with a young girl with red hair leave the other room. I catch their attention easily as my brother and father then come out after.

My father's face lights up. "Adreana! You have come for the wonderful news!" 

"What happened?" 

"I am getting married." Arthur takes the girl by the hand. "This is Novella Foscari." 

"It's nice to meet you," Novella says politely, giving me a smile. It took me a moment of silence, sitting in the suffocating air between the two families here. I could not just look to father and ask him the meaning of this. No. I had to wait.

"And you. We will be family soon." I reach over, wrapping my arms around the girl who didn't know any better. Her delicate hands settled on my back. I could almost feel her smile.

"We will discuss more in the morning." Novella's father gestures for her to follow and with that Novella and her father were gone from the house and my brother was smiling deviously. Had he really no heart? 

"My boy, good work. The Florentine banks needed that family, and we have taken it." I knew Novella's father wanted her to wed, but I could not wrap my head around the idea of this betrothal. 

"There is still one more thing. Medici wants to work with us, yet he makes us fools," Arthur says, clenching his fist. Our father slouches, seemingly tired from all they have been doing. "He lets his brother act shamelessly and won't give us the respect of marrying Anna. The only redeeming quality is that wife of his that played into my hands and gave word to Foscari." Clarice. Had he used her? 

"Why are you marrying Novella Foscari?" I ask. 

Arthur chuckles, scratching the scruff on his chin and glancing at me. "You would not understand but I can humor you. Medici was making deals with us and Foscari. I took Foscari out of the equation and put us as a leading family with plentiful connections that anyone would desire. They will never know our true reasons. This is for our sovereign King. We are just one small step closer to ruining those Florentine families." 

"Why would that Giuliano not marry our Anna though?" Father's question was full of confusion. I could not tell them both that the man they questioned only wanted love. They would think us both fools for believing in a thing like love. They only saw profit. What of Novella though, who seemed so content with marrying Arthur? Did he deceive her? I did not want to think of the heartbreak he would give her, all for England. 

"I think I will go to bed. Goodnight." I begin to walk away but I look back at Arthur. My younger brother, yet so full of spite. I hoped he wouldn't be regretful of his actions. "Congratulations, Arthur. I mean it." 

I made it up to my room, leaving the door open a crack. They were still speaking, not even hushed as I thought they would be. They had no care to hide anything in our home. 

"What are we to do with Anna now? If the Medici do not want her, we are forced to go to other lengths." 

I hear Arthur's sigh, a sound as unbearable as his boasting. "Father, calm yourself. The Medici may insult us, but we must keep our facade for longer. We still do not have a complete hold of the banks and the Pope. Anna may have failed you, but she still has some use." I roll my eyes, my hand clutching the door. My nails scraped against the door, trying to focus on their voices. The thoughts in my head pounded against my skull. I just wanted to rest. "Medici is not the only banking family."

---

The next day left my eyes feeling heavy. I could not sleep after hearing my brother speak like that with no context. He left father and went to sleep, leaving me awake and disturbed. What did he mean by his words? Did that mean they were giving up their schemes against Medici?

The city seemed to be more frazzled than ever. I looked out the window, staring down at the Italians. They were not my countrymen. They did not share my origin. And yet, the more I watched them, the more I felt the wish to belong. 

The hours passed with no care for everyone around. Something felt off this day, but I could not tell what.

"Father!" I hear from downstairs. I rush down grabbing hold of my gown to keep myself from falling. I landed at the bottom step when I see my brother at the door. 

"What is it, Arthur?" I ask. He scoffs, moving through the house. 

"Medici went to war with Volterra!" Arthur hits the wall with his dark gloved hand. "They come back victorious, dammit." 

Father comes into the foyer out of breath. "I thought they would try to avoid a war if possible." 

"Giuliano de Medici went with the army and had to fight. Now we have no choice but to go with our second option, father," Arthur continues. 

"Second option for what?" I ask. With father in the room, Arthur does not scoff but turns to father. 

"Shall we get going then?" My nails dig into the palm of my hand. I must resist speaking out against Arthur. Even if he was a horrible person. 

"Yes, we have lots to discuss." Father puts his hat on, checking himself over. "Anna, fetch your cloak we must be quick, my dear." 

I nod without argument, but I was confused. Obviously, neither my brother or father were going to mention where we were going. 

I stood behind them as we walked through the city, walking the routes I have been taking for quite some time now. It grew on me, attaching to my feet like grass surrounding a tree, growing in its surroundings. 

My father and brother whispered to each other. Their hushed voices were buzzing.  I could not hear what they were saying, obviously Arthur did not want me to have any part in this. We follow along the roads until we come to an area I wished they would not be in. My throat closed up as their feet directed to the Pazzi's house. 

"What are we doing here?" I ask, attempting to hide the fear in my voice, but it wavered anyway. 

"Shut-" Arthur cuts himself off in Father's presence, "mind your business and let us speak."

We arrive at the door, seeing its large mouth of intensity made me want to run back. It was much more intimidating than yesterday when I visited Francesco. 

Arthur knocks on the door and the young man from yesterday opens it. He lets us in without any questions, leading us to the foyer. We are left in the deafening silence, making me still wonder why we were needed here. 

"Ah, gentlemen." I look up suddenly, then looking down at the ground in embarrassment seeing Francesco's brother, Guglielmo. "Shall we speak in here?" He points to the room behind him, a smile on his face. 

"Adreana," my father says loud enough, his attempts at being conspicuous painfully clear. "Stay here, we will be right back." 

Arthur and father walk away, leaving me alone in the grey home. I had no choice but to stand and wait, hoping for their discussion to go quickly. I glanced around, realizing I never got to really look at the house. I had always been too occupied before I could actually look around. It was nothing like the the Medici's home. When I would walk inside of their home I could feel their love, yet this house felt it would suffocate any love around here. 

But Francesco loved his family. I was not sure how much they struggled in their family, but I knew love had to be there. Just as it was in my family. I loved my parents and my siblings with all of my heart. I would do anything. 

The door opens with a swing catching my eye as I see him more disheveled than ever. He trailed through the foyer past the large horse towards the steps, only looking back once. It was all it took. He does a double take, stopping in his tracks. 

"Anna? What are you doing here?" He comes forward, about to reach out.

I open my mouth but I hear the three behind me come into the foyer. 

"We were discussing a union between our families with your brother, here." I try but fail to not whip my head towards my family in confusion. Arthur gives a grin to Francesco, though I knew he would rather tear him apart. Francesco was slightly taller than my father and brother, and now looked more straggly than he ever has. I was sure my brother was judging him. But my brother never fought for anything, he was a snake, a venomous snake that slithered between everyone. Francesco was exhausted, and here we were imposing on him for our own selfish deeds.

Guglielmo walks up next to Francesco, a proud look on his face, like he achieved something. Francesco turns to his brother, his prominent jawline taking my attention. I could not see what was behind his eyes, but I had a sinking feeling in my chest. Was he that disappointed? Were my family the only ones benefitted in their schemes?

I could not dare to look at him but I looked anyway. Perhaps I was unafraid of disappointment or just plain stupid. My father and brother took a choice away from me, yet simultaneously gave me hope. They pushed me unknowingly to where I had been drifting to all along. 

I swallow the lump in my throat as he turned his head to me. It felt like everything was swallowing me whole until he smiled, shying away. 

I could feel my brother's snide smirk and my father's giddiness radiated to everyone in the room. They wanted this, now I realized this was their second option. I had no second option though. This, this just might be something I want.

__

A/N: Hey guys! I finally got to update and it's a long chapter I've been really busy with college and it's edited that well cause I wanted to get a chapter out! Thanks for reading! 

Finally moving towards Anna and Francesco! How are you guys feeling? 

And Arthur is of course a terrible person, but we'll get to that later haha

Vote and comment if you'd like! <3