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Note: This was originally a backstory for my idea of an Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood multiplayer persona, who I named the "Seamstress". However, since Assassin's Creed: Revelations was released, the time for her to be created and used has passed, and it is unlikely that she would fit in the American Revolution if her story was re-written. I even planned a rough idea of a Templar Agent mission and multiplayer kill animations for her.

I'd also like to add that this Fanon piece won't be pretty in places, since it contains domestic abuse, so continue at your own risk.

BiographyEdit

Fabrizia Racchiudere was a hard-working, but not well off, seamstress who had a modest and mainly trouble-free approach to life. The only problem that haunted her daily progress was her husband Enrico and his gambling addiction.

While Fabrizia slaved away making dresses and suits for the noble folk, fortunate that they paid her any attention at all, Enrico squandered whatever money the couple had left from what they earned (when food was purchased) on alcohol and games of chance, and almost all of the time, those chances tilted away from his favor.

Each and every night, Enrico would return home and vent his frustrations on his wife, with it first resorting to whinging and complaining about small, unimportant things, before it later grew into full blown arguments, and in time, developing to the stage where he beat her, as if it made him feel like a bigger man to cause pain to a defenseless woman.

And as she cried from the various cuts and bruises he inflicted, while she leant over her sewing wheel, Fabrizia thought that there may be no way out, and absorbed herself into her work to take her mind off of the pain and sadness she felt.

As a result of her toil, Fabrizia grew talented. Earning more and more money gradually, some of which she managed to save away, she figured that she could use it to escape, find a better life, since after all, she felt her talents with the cloth could support her like she had to support herself for all the years.

Word soon reached Cesare Borgia of this talented weaveworker, through the whispers between noble families, and he grew intrigued. "If only she were lethal too," he thought, "She would make a fine addition to my personal entourage of cut-throats." Needlessly though, the Captain General schemed that he should test her, to see if she had the capability to be useful to him, more than just some stitch-fiddler.

With this in mind, Cesare sent one of his messengers to Fabrizia's small stall, which she had decorated in her spare time with fine tapestries of her own creation; after all, she felt that a more attractive shop could bring in more customers, so she would earn her desertion fund more easily.

After having had her under surveillance for a while, Cesare decided put in a colossal order for velvet drapes and other various pieces for the Castello by a week, not that he ever needed them, of course.

Supplying her with a big purse of florins for the materials, Fabrizia immediately went out and bought them at once. At first, she wondered if she could just "lose the money" and then have a long, distant holiday, but she didn't like the idea of slacking off, and besides, Cesare could have had her hunted down at any point and locked in chains.

With the velvet, silk and other fabrics bought and paid for, Fabrizia decided that it would be best if she hid them from Enrico, in case he wanted to somehow stop her progress. After all, she felt that this was her shining moment, to ditch that worthless pig and fly free, like the noble-lady's silk handkerchief she had saw float away while she served her an evening gown she had freshly made.

It was slightly ironic too, after that had happened, since the noble-lady inquired if she could create her some more, as the fabric was too delicate to be washed without fraying and it had gotten soaked in a nearby puddle and smelled.

With a new determination filling her, Fabrizia toiled long and hard, staying up through the night, away from the bedroom so that Enrico could not hear her sewing wheel whirring in the early hours.

She worked and toiled and worked some more, and from a couple of days of labor (with some time wasted trying to find a nice hiding spot for the drapes while Enrico was home), Fabrizia was three quarters of her way done, with a whole 4 days out of the week's deadline to spare.

That wasn't going to stop her though, of that she promised herself, and she had finished the drapes the next day. However, she was careless, and had forgotten to hide them properly with the adrenaline rush from a good job's completion. Leading to a blazing row, Enrico questioned her about the drapes and various amounts of fabric, to which she desperately tried to lie about and told him that the church had asked her to make them for a special event. It wasn't completely untrue, after all, it was technically for the Pope's residence she believed.

However, Fabrizia was not normally a liar, though it would be a talent she would master in her later years, and so Enrico saw right through her, shouting and raving about how mad she made him, and wondered how he could have married a woman who couldn't talk a lick of truth. Feeling slightly wounded at his statement, Fabrizia lashed back with her own reply, telling him that for a man who was hopeless at poker, he should feel god-damn lucky that he had her. With his pride wounded, Enrico span around, and backhanded her with the full force of his fist.

As she crumpled to the floor, sobbing as he booted her in the stomach and legs with undesired longevity, Fabrizia curled into a ball and stayed there still, with the bitter, metallic taste of her blood creeping onto her tongue from where she had cut the inside of her cheek as Enrico had punched her.

A little while later, when it became bearable to get up and move comfortably, Fabrizia heard a soft crackling noise from the other side of the plainly decorated window. With whatever energy she had left, she pulled herself up and peered through the window, using the windowsill to keep her legs steady.

Eyes widening as she saw Enrico outside, Fabrizia witnessed him throwing her work and dedication onto a fire, and she choked on the air in her lungs as she could not believe what was happening. Fresh tears began to stream down her face, and her mind raced as she questioned what would happen to her when Cesare knew, how mad he might be, and she sobbed herself to sleep on her work desk, next to her sewing wheel.

Inevitably, the deadline came around, and Fabrizia was dreadfully on edge. She had even contemplated killing herself to spare her the torture and pain that she had imagined would come from Cesare's command.

But, when Cesare himself came to the store, he looked placid and calm. After calling her over, no, shouting her over, as she had avoided his first attempts at beckoning her, Fabrizia sheepishly made her way to the door and invited them inside, eager not to look into his piercing blue eyes.

After a while in her dainty little house, Cesare inquired about the drapes, and Fabrizia instantly froze still, until she was urged by the man to speak up. Seeing as how she could not deceive her own husband, she spilled out the truth and closed her eyes, squeezing her knuckles white as she waited for some phantom attack.

No such attack came.

Complacently, Cesare simply shrugged his shoulders and told her it didn't matter, and that he would give her the money she needed to go buy the materials once more.

Time and time again however, the same result happened. Enrico had dropped the drapes into the river, then he had thrown them into thick sticky mud, too much to remove in the time limit Fabrizia had. He then gave them away, and set fire to them once more. To him, it was like some sort of funny game that he could play as much as he wanted, as long as Cesare kept supplying the dough for his wife's next attempt.

He figured that soon enough, Cesare would get annoyed and have his wife killed, giving him full reign to do as he wished so that he could spend all he wanted on his booze and dice throws, not limited by her to supply food and other "necessary" items. And to think, once she was gone, he could break into that drawer she guarded so closely and find out what she had withholding from him.

Really though, Cesare didn't care, in fact, it got to the point where every time he showed up, he would just walk in, drop a bag of florins on the table and walk out once more. To him, this was just a test he was undertaking, so he could have as many tries as he needed, since after all, he had sufficient drapiers to make his gaudy curtains for him.

Although, should she come onboard with her level of skill and temperance, Cesare could see that some unlucky sod would soon be out of a job. It was only because he wanted to see if Fabrizia was capable, and so far, his success rate was climbing.

Each new batch that was made and ruined vexed Fabrizia, and she was nearing her wits' end. After all, she was putting her all into each and every thing she made, and it was frustrating to see it ruined by the childish scum she had the audacity to call her beloved husband. It was all happening at times she couldn't control either, since she would always be too tired from working with the velvet and falling asleep when she had no energy as a result, only to wake up on the last day before the deadline to find it missing.

She had finally decided. This will not go on.

Laying in wait for her husband to return and start his sneak-theft, Fabrizia had deliberately not worked the day before, so she could rest for this point in time. Enrico had not even noticed too, granted she kept the sewing wheel whirring.

As she spotted him coming in, she made sure to close her eyes and relax her face, creating the illusion of slumber. She expected it to be a quick, fast kill, to free her of the binds of matrimony that anchored her to this fiend. What she didn't expect while she lay there was for him to begin whispering mocking remarks into her ear, goading what he presumed to be her fast asleep form.

Enraged and springing into action, Fabrizia grabbed the nearest tool, which happened to be her tailor's awl, and stabbed Enrico repeatedly with careless abandon, covering his mouth so as to not alert the neighbours, blood splattering over her face, ruby tears on a red canvas of rage.

And he slumped, his eyes rolling back in his head due to 26 stab wounds to the torso, a merciless killing, but merciful for the woman who was now free.

Fabrizia then received a letter the next day with the Papal seal, absolving her of her anonymous crime, but wanting to confirm the death of her torturous husband.

Standing there with the letter in her hand, Fabrizia recollected back to the event. She felt good. She felt powerful, and an idea popped into her head as she reached for the nearest knife.

The next day, Cesare received a grim but endearing present. A parcel came to him. A parcel wrapped with human skin. And although it was a disgusting concept, he couldn't help but admire the stitchwork. Carefully opening the fleshy present, where most would push it away, inside lay the murderous tailor's awl, blood dried on.

And gazing down on the conventional weapon, a smirk grew on Cesare's face, as his devious plan had come to fruition.

With haste, a return package was sent, containing a ornate new tailor's awl, engraved with beautiful designs whilst retaining its deadly capabilities. Accompanying the awl came a note which stated "Congratulations, you have passed. Come to the castello Fabrizia, you'll find yourself right at home."

And with that, Fabrizia ditched her husband's body in a nearby unmarked grave and packed her bags to leave, her new tailor's awl proudly displayed on the belt that also found its way to her, a perfect fit, for both the awl and her.

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