April 5, 2018

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"There were two thieves.
One more reckless than the other, always jumping in without a second thought.
The other more of the mastermind behind each and every heist they pulled."

"They did it all. Climbing walls, jumping from one roof to another, sneaking through the windows and leaving a trail of chaos in their wake. So chaotic that the Militia placed a huge bounty on their heads."

"But no one could truly catch them in the end."

"As the two thieves grew older, the mastermind did not want this life. The life of a criminal who had to steal to survive and to be hated by all. No, he wanted to be one of high honor and have a family of his own. He was sick and tired of having to live in the shadows, locked away from the rest of the world."

"His partner, the reckless one, knew this but did not want to end the feeling of freedom, running through the streets as adrenaline pumped through his veins. Knowing no one could control him."

"They had no choice but to split up, one staying while the other leaving."

"Only one thing kept them from entirely leaving the other. They were family. And family is family.

"They were brothers who entrusted their very own lives to each other."

"And that-"

"Will never change, yeah yeah," a six-year-old boy with untamed dark-chocolate hair and hazel eyes, yawned in a bored manner, interrupting the story of the older man.

A boy about the same age as him, only with black, neatly-combed hair and matching eyes, glared at him, "Hush, Ezio!"

"Oh come on, Altair," the boy named Ezio sighed, rolling his eyes, "We've heard this story over a billion times now!"

"We all know that you love hearing this story as much as little bro over here," an older boy in his teen years, teased. He had the same matching hair as Altair's, only his eyes were darker and brown.

"I am not that little!" Altair protested.

Ezio scowled at him, "Callate, Hassan!"

"Watch your language, Ezio," a man that could've looked like Ezio when he'd be older, gave him a stern look. He was the same man who'd been telling the story. Ezio was not fazed though. He thought it looked odd to find that look in a man who'd taught him to embrace the freedom of doing anything he wishes.

"I'm sorry, papa," Ezio said, grinning at him innocently, "I didn't know that I should've stuck to Common instead of Spanish."

Another man, one with neat-black hair and a goatee, turned to look at Ezio's father, expecting him to scold his son for his behavior. There was a stiffness in the way he sat. Straight and stoic, hazel eyes cold and hard but a hint of hunger for battle lingering at its corners.

Ezio's father only broke into a grin, chuckling as he reached over to ruffle his son's hair, "You definitely are mi hijo."

"The one and only!"

"He definitely is your son, Faris," the strict man spoke, stiff and curt, "You two are too much alike."

"And what is wrong about that, mi hermano?" Ezio's father, Faris, asked.

"Everything," the man replied in a flat tone.

"Uncle Marcelo, ya gotta learn to live a little," Ezio said, grinning at him.

Marcelo gave him a cold stare, "I've lived and seen too many. I'd rather not."

"Father. Relax," Hassan said in this reassuring tone, giving him a warm smile, "We're on a vacation. You should be laying back and enjoying before jumping back into serious-war mode."

"Yeah," Altar piped up, nodding in agreement, "You're always so stressed out, you barely have time for yourself."

Marcelo glanced at his two sons and for once, his expression softened, losing its stern, "Perhaps you two are right.."

"You mean three," Ezio corrected.

"Nah it's just two," Altair said.

"What?! I summarized both your paragraphs!"

"We said relax, not jump on buildings since that's basically your definition of living."

"I'm still right!"

"No, it's just two."

"Three!"

"Two!"

"Tres!"

"Athnan!"

"Five!"

"Forty-five!"

"Five-hundred!"

"Ninety-two!"

"Khalas! Stop!" Marcelo demanded, "You two are giving me a headache!"

Faris only chuckled at the two. It reminded him so much of what was before. When life was still young and free. He glanced over at his annoyed brother, wondering if he still remembered the good days.

"Dinner's ready, boys!" A feminine voice spoke from the kitchen.

"Coming, mother!" Hassan called back before entering, only to be bypassed by the two racing cousins.

"Apples!"

"Pfft, is there anything else you eat?"

Hassan rolled his eyes at the two before walking into the kitchen more slowly, leaving the two brothers in the living room. At first there was silence. They only met once a month and it usually was just Marcelo's family traveling to Eura.

Faris gave him a warm smile, "I've seen you look younger. Anything in your mind, brother?"

"They've picked up a trail," Marcelo blurted out, "The militia's getting closer to knowing who you are. If you don't stop this now, brother, they'll find you."

Faris was quiet. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a harsh light of the life he'd been living since he was born.

"They won't find me," Faris insisted quietly but coldly.

"The militia are closing in," Marcelo snapped, "They're sending out more spies with each attack you make-"

"I said, they won't find me."

"Why must you keep stealing, brother?" Marcelo's voice was rising.

"Why have you left?" Faris shot back, his voice letting out the emotion he'd always tried to hide. Anger. Even then, he still held a grudge on his brother who'd left him for his desires.

Marcelo said nothing and Faris kept waiting.

Then Marcelo went on, "Because this is not the right path, Faris. Why live in the shadows when you could be doing more greater things?"

"Why let people who think they're better than you, push you around and control you?" Faris shot back.

Marcelo gave him a hard stare, "Respect doesn't come to you. You earn it."

"And that's what I'll do," Faris said, standing up, "They won't find me, brother. I swear it."

Marcelo stood up as well, "Faris-"

"Papa! Tio!" Young Ezio stood at the doorway, looking slightly frustrated, "Chit chatting can wait. Food cannot."

"Why are their so many apples here?" Altair's voice sounded from the kitchen.

"Don't touch those!" Ezio scolded before heading back inside, the conversation drifting away into the kitchen.

There was silence between the brothers as both their gazes lingered at the kitchen's doorway where they disappeared into. Marcelo broke the silence, "They're too much like us."

Faris nodded before turning to his brother, firmly repeating, "They won't find me. They never have and never will."

"Mi vida por tu vida," Marcelo murmured. A long look passed between the brothers. No words were needed to be shared, they understood the other completely.

Faris gave him a smile, almost sad, "And that will never change."

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Oh looky here. I'm finally writing their oh-so-awfully-sad backstory.
Sadness begins in the next few chapters muwhahhaahaha!
Also the meaning for the Spanish words, "Mi vida por tu vida" means 'my life for your life.'

Next: Tale of Two Eagles: Chapter One - So It Started