𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 - 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑, 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑝𝑒

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Palazzo Medici, Florence, August 6th 1458

"Ouch !"

"Isabetta stop hitting Giuliano with that doll !" exclaimed the maid.

"I only hit him once !" she cried, as if that made it excusable.

"Liar, you did it three times !" the blonde accused.

"That's not true, I did it twice !" the little girl protested boldly.

"I thought you only hit him once," the maid pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

Isabetta remained silent, a little ashamed, looking away as she nervously fiddled with the doll behind her back. Giuliano, behind the maid, looked at her with a sneer, then stuck his tongue out at her. Isabetta lifted the doll and moved forward to strike the boy again, but the maid stopped her.

"Stop !" she shouted, grabbing the toy. "Why are you doing this ?"

"He's taunting me !"

"And before that ?"

"Because he stole it from Bianca." Isabetta ran after Giuliano while Bianca went to complain to Lorenzo, and when she managed to get the doll back from him, she started beating him with it.

"In that case, it's time to return this rag doll to its owner, don't you think, Isabetta ?" the maid asked, handing her the toy again. When Isabetta nodded, she finally gave it back, knowing that the little girl wouldn't do anything stupid again, then turned back to Giuliano and gave him a stern look. "And you, stop bothering your sister."

"I was only joking," Giuliano grumbled, making circles on the floor with his foot.

"Why don't you go and play chess with your brother ?" The maid invited him gently.

"It's no fun."

"He says that because Lorenzo beats him every time," Isabetta said with a mischievous smile as Giuliano's blue eyes flashed back at her.

"You lose to him every time too !"

"Maybe, but never to you." She stuck her tongue out at him at the end of her sentence.

"You are still children. You're just learning the rules and Lorenzo is four years older than you, so it's normal that he's better at it at the moment. That won't always be the case."

There was silence. The bickering had finally stopped. The servant gave a satisfied smile. She turned to the brunette who was still clutching Bianca's rag doll.

"Now, Isabetta, apologise to Giuliano."

Isabetta widened her eyes. "Why ?"

"Because it's not proper for a lady to use violence."

This answer didn't seem to sit well with the little girl, who frowned. "Boys do it all the time, without apology." That wasn't fair.

The maid looked at her for a moment without answering, always surprised by the Borgia's quick wit at such a young age. She was right. But now she knew how to talk to the girl. "But we're smarter, aren't we ?"

The little girl's eyes almost sparkled at the thought. Showing that she was smarter than Giuliano. She nodded and turned to the boy. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"Three," said the blonde, who didn't want to give up.

"Two," Isabetta replied immediately, her eyes narrowing. Her radiant expression was gone and she was sulking again. Like Giuliano, Isabetta wanted to have the last word. Giuliano opened his mouth again, probably to say more, but the maid intervened: "Don't start that again."

"What's going on ?"

All three turned to see Lucrezia entering the gardens to join them. "Mother !" cried Giuliano before running up to her and clinging to her skirt.

"Nothing unusual," the maid replied, letting the mistress know that the two children were still quarrelling.

"Isabetta hit me," Giuliano complained, almost whining on purpose.

"Crybaby," Isabetta grumbled.

"Is that true, Isabetta ?" asked Lucrezia, looking at the little girl.

Isabetta was suddenly no longer proud. In fact, she was pitiful. She didn't like disappointing Lucrezia. "He deserved it," she murmured through her teeth.

"Perhaps, but that's no reason." Lucrezia stroked Giuliano's back for a moment before gently pushing him aside and moving towards Isabetta. She knelt in front of the little girl and placed a hand on her arm. "This is no way to solve your problems."

"I'm sorry..."

"You don't have to apologise to me." She turned her head towards Giuliano and Isabetta followed her gaze.

The little girl exhaled for a long moment before walking over to Giuliano and stopping in front of him. "I'm sorry I hit you... Three times," Isabetta finally admitted, making both women smile.

"Giuliano, you also have to apologise to your sister," the maid concluded.

"Very well," the boy resigned himself.

"Go back and play now," said Lucrezia.

"Come on, let's give Bianca her doll back," said Giuliano, before snatching the rag doll out of Isabetta's hands and running into the Palazzo.

"But I was supposed to give it back to her !" cried the little girl before running after him. "Giuliano, wait for me, you're going too fast !" The Medici stopped with a sigh of annoyance, but waited for the brunette to catch up with him. Then he took her hand and they both ran down the stairs as if nothing had happened.

The maid went after them anyway, to make sure they didn't do anything else stupid, and Lucrezia returned to the corridors where she met her husband. "Was that Giuliano and Isabetta I just saw running past ?"

"They're wide awake."

"That's good," Piero said with a smile.

"You are the one who said it. I'll have you know that your goddaughter chased our son away by hitting him with a doll," his wife announced with a giggle.

Piero laughed out loud at the thought. "Didn't he tear up the flowers in the garden yesterday and give them to her ?"

Oh yes, he did. Much to the chagrin of the gardener and the maids, because without knowing how, Giuliano had managed to sow soil behind him and even dirty the sheets on Isabetta's bed. In the end, this provoked another quarrel between the two children. Bianca was jealous that she had not received a flower and Lorenzo laughed at the situation. The four children argued for several minutes until they couldn't even remember why they were doing it.

"They're like that. One day they love each other, the next-" Lucrezia heard a noise in the courtyard. A servant came running towards her. "Madonna, Master. We have a visitor."

Lucrezia frowned before heading for the entrance to the palazzo. When she arrived, she saw several men on their horses. She glanced back at Piero, who was behind her, descending the last few steps of the stairs. These men were no strangers, but their visit was unexpected.

She approached them with a befitting smile, though intrigued. They looked tired and tense, as if they had come in a hurry. "Giovenco, we weren't expecting you, what-"

"The Pope is dead," Giovenco Borgia, Isabetta's uncle, interrupted as he dismounted.

There was a brief silence. Lucrezia was the first to speak. "What ? Calixtus III is dead, but-"

"Congratulations, you are the first to know," the man added with an ironic smile, cutting her off again. He sounded annoyed by the conversation and very unaffected by his brother's death.

"When we left, the church was still keeping the news to themselves, but you know what will happen when the people find out. The crowds will get restless, but that will be nothing compared to what will happen after the funeral and during the conclave."

"Rome will riot and loot," Piero said. His voice was calm and composed, and although he was stunned by the news of the Pope's death, he seemed to be in control of the situation.

Giovenco nodded. The two men looked at each other in silence. An unspoken exchange was taking place. Piero understood what Lucrezia was missing.

"Shouldn't you be at home preparing for this ?" she asked.

"We will be," he replied. Then he met her gaze. "As soon as we get back what we came for."

Lucrezia frowned. She looked at the man before her, then her eyes widened slightly. She turned her head to her husband, who seemed sorry for the situation, then turned her attention back to Giovenco. "No..." was the first word she said in a whisper as she shook her head negatively.

"We've come for Isabetta," Giovenco said.

"Why ? Why bring her back and not leave her here ?"

"Why ? Her father has just died. She needs to be at his funeral."

"She's only five," Lucrezia protested. Children that age rarely attended such events, even when they were their own kin.

"Is that really necessary ?" intervened Piero.

"Necessary ? It's not a question of necessity, but of what must be." The Biorga's insistence made it clear that no compromise was possible. He had come for Isabetta and was going to leave with her, and he was not going to argue about it.

"You just said yourself that Rome will be dangerous." Lucrezia doubted Giovenco's reasons for bringing Isabetta back to Rome. But whatever his real intentions, she didn't care. All she cared about was Isabetta's welfare.

"After the funeral," the Borgia corrected. "She'll be safe with her family." But these words did not reassure Lucrezia.

She turned to her husband, hoping for some support or backing. "Piero, do''t let them. You can't let them. Piero-"

Piero looked at Giovenco again and then at his wife before replying. "It's their right, Lucrezia."

Lucrezia stepped back, realising that her husband was going to leave things as they were. It was hard for her to admit, but Piero was right. It was her right. There was nothing she could do. And it wasn't fair.

She turned back to Giovenco. "You should be ashamed."

"For what ? For sending a child home with her family ? Shame on you for trying to stop it." This man had a terrible nerve. He tried to blame her.

"We are her family too ! We raised her for three years while you were busy with your political and religious intrigues." Lucrezia reminded him, feeling an anger she had rarely felt before.

"Lucrezia," Piero called, but she ignored him.

"You had no interest in her, so you sent her here on the pretext of a better life, just to get rid of her. Hiding your infamy with us because that's what she meant to you."

"'Lucrezia," Piero called her to order once more.

"And now you've come to take her from us." Isabetta was like an object to be carried around. To be lent and then taken back. To be parted with when you'd had enough and used when you needed her.

But the anger gave way to another emotion. Sadness. Or something like that. Something that revealed a great deal of vulnerability. "You are all strangers to her. She has no memory of you."

Lucrezia's words almost sounded like a plea. Part of her had hoped to inspire a little pity and compassion in Giovenco, but she had been foolish to think that would be the case.

The Borgia replied simply: "But soon it will be you she will have no memory of."

"You..."

"Lucrezia ! Stop it. Now." Piero's voice thundered once more, and this time his wife listened, remaining silent as her eyes flashed.

"Where is she ?" Giovenco asked.

Lucrezia remained silent and even looked away. She had no intention of answering. "We've always been friends, don't make me search this place from top to bottom."

"You won't. You are still guests in my house and you will not do as you please here without consequences." Piero would not allow their « friend » to overstep the bounds of his hospitality. The two men glanced at each other before the Medici turned to his wife. "Lucrezia..."

Lucrezia sighed. Her gaze fell on her husband before she looked at her « guest ». "They must be in the drawing room."

Giovenco turned to his men, but before he could speak Lucrezia intervened again. "You're not just going to take her without giving her an explanation ?"

"She's a child, she doesn't need one."

"It's cruel. Her life will be turned upside down and she'll lose her father on the same day..." she insisted.

"There is no time to delay." Giovenco still refused.

"Leave it to us," Lucrezia suggested. She would no longer fight the inevitable, but at least she wanted things done properly. "Please."

"Very well. You have until we have watered and fed our horses as well as ourselves, then we'll leave at once."

Piero led the men elsewhere while Lucrezia hurried up the stairs. She entered the main living area. She paused at the doors. Not surprisingly, she found her children there, as well as Isabetta and Sandro. Seeing them all together was a sight that usually brought a smile to her face, but today it only broke it.

Lucrezia intercepted a maid who was about to enter the room. "I need you to go to Isabetta's room and pack trunks with all her things."

"Why-"

"Do it without question !" Lucrezia had raised her voice, surprising the maid and alerting the children to her presence.

"Are you angry, Mother ?" Lorenzo asked.

She shook her head with a smile as she entered the room. "Not at all." She approached Isabetta. "I need you to come with me for a few minutes. She held his hand with a reassuring smile."

Surprisingly, Isabetta didn't ask any questions; she simply took her hand, rose from her chair and followed her. Lucrezia led the way to her bedroom. As they entered, two servants were busy packing the little girl's things.

Lucrezia took the little girl by the waist and placed her at the end of the bed before sitting down beside her. "What are they doing ?" Isabetta asked in a small voice.

"They're packing your things."

"Why ? Can't I stay here anymore ?" Lucrezia looked up at the question, trying to suppress her emotions as her throat tightened. She ran a hand down her back, rubbing it. "Yes, of course you can. But..." Lucrezia didn't know how to explain things to such a small girl. "Your uncle is here."

"I don't remember him.'

"I know." Lucrezia inhaled before forcing another smile onto her face. "He came looking for you."

"Why ?"

Lucrezia turned to the maid motioning for her to leave and then turned back to Isabetta. "Do you know who the pope is ?"

"He's named Calixtus." Isabetta replied as if she were reciting a lesson.

"Yes. And he is your uncle's brother. Your father."

Isabetta looked at her silently, simply blinking. The child's silence disturbed Lucrezia. It was unusual behaviour for the little girl. After a few moments, Isabetta decided to answer. "I know but we can't talk about it."

Lucrezia felt a new pang in her heart. Isabetta knew next to nothing about her family, but she knew she couldn't talk about her father. "Here you can."

Isabetta nodded. "Your father is dead, Isabetta. That's why they're here. They come for you."

There was silence again. Isabetta looked at the ground and then frowned. "I don't want to go with them." She announced before looking at Lucrezia with sad little eyes.

"I know."

"Is there going to be a new pope ?" The question surprised Lucrezia, who took a while to confirm the matter to the little girl. And then something obvious dawned on the woman.

Isabetta didn't seem sad. Did she understand what had happened ? What it really meant. No, of course not. This question made her realise that Isabetta probably didn't even distinguish between her father and the Pope. Why should she ? She was a child. She must have thought that when there was a new Pope, she would have a new father. Because the Pope was her father and her father was the Pope.

That was true for three years, but in a few days it would no longer be true.

And the fact that it was true for a time would affect her whole life. She was the daughter of a Pope, and that was engraved on your heart and followed you everywhere. And Isabetta was about to find out the hard way. 

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To say that I feel a bit stressed about publishing the prologue to this fanfic would be an understatement. To tell you the truth, I don't even really like what I've written. I didn't know where to start. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway.