(Don't cue the music until it says so)

Sophie took small steps towards the piano that shone in the gentle moonlight. The windows were all open in the ballroom, light glowing the beautiful flooring and ornate pillars, gold and silver caressing the walls and pillars.

But it was woefully untouched.

Not even Maria had been in here recently, holding one of her grand events.

But it wasn't the quiet room that caught her attention.

It was her piano.

Hers.

Her grandfather loved to play it when they visited Renisanca from the Grecian countryside with Maria and Allesandro. But after their parents were executed, her father couldn't look at it; it hurt him too much. But after he saw his own daughter radiate towards it, her father did everything he could to make sure she could enjoy it.

She loved it when she was little, she loved plinking at the keys and combining them, making short ballads or tunes. Her father got her pages upon pages of written music, technique books. He knew little about the instrument himself, but he and Sophie learned together. Sophie never forgot a musical piece, the ones she made, or the ones she read.

Sophie glanced at the red velvet chair collecting dust near one of the pillars, well worn and comfortable. Her father would sit in that chair for hours, listening to her play, or just enjoying the rays of sun or moonlight coming through the floor to ceiling exquisite windows right at the edge of the stage.

Sophie tucked a blood-soaked strand of hair behind her ear and lifted herself onto the elevated stage, her muscled arms rising her in one smooth motion.

She ran her hands over the off-colored white keys, over the top and edges of the piano, just trying to remember the feeling of it. The blackened base topped with golden swirling decals and feet. Under the lid was a painting done by the crafter of the instrument, explicitly done for her grandfather.

She stared at the bench; the dust settled on the soft cushion.

Sophie glanced around, noting she was alone as ever.

She turned away from the piano, starting to jump off the small stage, but something stopped her.

She didn't know what it was, but her gaze kept flickering back to the piano. And she almost felt like an absent-minded impulse to sit on the bench. Sophie felt the shadow of her younger self sitting on the same bench nine years past, the last time she touched the instrument.

The whisper of the last time Sophie played these keys echoed in her memory.

She was wearing a new dress Maria made; her father was sitting in his chair in the corner of his room, listening to her practice and reading. She was having trouble performing a crescendo in her written music, having trouble focusing in general. She was hung up about what Daralice told her earlier in the day, how she taunted young Sophie about her mother. And how she broke down on this very bench, her father cradling her as she wept. She wanted what the other kids had; they had the fancy full family with both parents and happy siblings-

But her father reminded her of her own family, that their families are dull. That theirs was genuinely full of love, no matter which parent was there or not.

Sophie's dirty finger pressed on a key, the sound echoing through the empty ballroom.

It rung familiarly through her head, a memory of a lifetime ago.

Her other hand pressed on two different keys, complimenting the note that still echoed through the room. Her hands stilled, hesitant to continue.

There was a reason she stopped playing in the first place.

She tried to powerwash her father out of her life, trying to move on. She clammed up whenever he was mentioned, couldn't accept it when people compare her to him, even stopped her love of dance and music because every key she pressed, he was there. They both shared a passion for music, for dancing and culture.

Sophie's hands dropped from the keys, after only playing three notes. Maybe that was the only amount she had the will to play.

She glanced at the velvet chair with a small hope that Allesandro would be sitting in it, a book in his calloused hands and a cup of ginger tea sitting on the golden wood of the chair's arm.

But no matter how many times she glanced at that chair, he wasn't there, and would never sit in it again.

If he were here today, he would scold her for being so apprehensive about entering a simple room.

He would tell her she was being irrational not to want to play an instrument that brought her so much joy.

But that is exactly it, isn't it?

It brought her joy. What will it bring her now? She was sorrowful enough as it is, wallowing in her unaddressed trauma and terror. She didn't have the time to address it, to sit down and come to terms with it. Maybe she did have the time, and she just refused to.

The minute she started the song, what story will come out of it?

Will it be a song of high notes and riffs? One that may make her feel content like she was when she was a child?

Maybe it will be slow, simple, like the feeling of leisurely relaxation when she sits in the bay window in her room, one of her legs dangling out of the window sill and the other propping up her favorite book as she lazily dragged her fingers through her hair.

Or it may just be what she needs to hear; it won't be what she wished she felt.

The pads of her fingers hovered above the keys hesitantly.

(Cue music)

Absentmindedly, like it was her body's natural impulse to play, she started.

It was slow at first, but not relaxed.

The first note was deep, the ragged vibration reverberating through the empty hall. The crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling rattled, just slightly.

And then she continued to play out a small melody, middle-range notes complimenting the low plucked ones her other hand made. Though the melody was simple, it was filled with throbbing pain, coming from a dark place in Sophie's mind that she had long hidden away. Hidden away from others or herself, she did not know.

Her right hand went for the higher notes, the melody accelerating, just slightly, like how the wind blows stronger in fields compared to the forest. Her hands moved across the keys, faster and faster, feeling each hammer pressing on the strings inside the piano, each creak of the foot pedal as she pressed on it.

No tears ran down her face, no matter how deeply the sound moved her. The sound of the piano comforted her, silenced her emotions, but also freed them. No need for sobbing or yelling; she didn't need to throw something to express how angry she felt. The music did that for her.

She was angry, she realized.

She was mad at the Council for treating her and her family like they did.

She was furious at the Gods for the Fall of Inalia.

She was angry at Vespera for breaking Ruy and ruining the once happy young girl she used to be.

She was furious at Elrond for running that blade through her father's heart.

The music forced the memory to resurface, how she was desperately clinging onto Leto, screaming at Elrond. Screaming how she would kill him if he dared hurt his father. She remembered as Leto desperately guided the galloping horse through the crumbling buildings and burning gardens.

She remembered the look in her father's eyes, not one of terror or anger at Elrond, but a mixing swirl of regret and sorrow. Sorrow for not being able to see her grow older, to watch her fall in love, to watch her take over the guild, to proudly see her grow to the master Assassin she is today. The regret that he wasn't able to protect her for longer, love her longer, teach her for longer, hold her longer-

Sophie didn't know when her mouth opened and she started to sing, and she didn't stop either. Her voice was always quietly shared to Lilac, singing her lullabies to drift asleep to, but days when she stood in empty corridors or above wells, she would let go loose—singing about what she wished, with no one around.

The words she sang weren't comprehensible to anyone but her, echoing off her damaged and dry lips as they filled the room. They were powerful, no muttering lullabies, words that complimented and ran alongside the growing piano notes.

She moved wholly with the growing notes, dipping her head as the music itself dropped, raising her chin to the sky as the music climaxed, the sound reverberating in her ears while it opened and closed wounds of her soul.

Sophie's hands slowed, her hands still entirely only the keys, her keys, as they swayed to the ending. But it wasn't a real ending, not for her. Sophie's eyes finally opened as she diligently watched her keys pluck away at ivory and creme keys alike.

Sophie's foot lifted off the petal beneath her, her hands swiftly finishing the song with a flourish, letting out a breath. Sophie only now noticed the tears drenching her blood-stained cheeks, her shaking hands accented with dirt.

She looked around just slightly, making sure that she was still in reality. But the song drifted around the room, halls, and her heart. The delicate to intense keys plucking at the heartstrings even long after the song finished, her voice soothing and ringing through her ears.

Sophie let out a sob, running her hands through her matted hair.

She let out a shuddering gasp, her hands running down her arms as her lips split as she smiled, a dribble of blood running down the center of her bottom lip, reminding her of the blood and tears she spilled today.

She stood up, the bench screeching out underneath her, and stared at the velvet chair.

It was almost like her father was smiling at her from the velvet seat.

She vaulted off the stage, skidding around the corners of the hallways and stairs. She pushed the massive front doors open, the wood creaking as they swung open to reveal her home.

Inalia, glittering in all of its glory.

She could hear as the Inalian civilians cheered, celebrating that their protectors from the shadows were home once again.

But Sophie was going back to another home from when she was another woman.

Back when she was a girl.

Sophie didn't even pick up a cloak as she sprinted out the doors and into the moonlight.

Alexios awoke in his apartment, passed out on his bed, by a furious slamming at his door. He slowly reached for his dagger that he kept on his nightstand, but dropped it when he heard her voice.

"Get your lazy ass up!" Amalia barked through the door. Alexios groaned, thumping out bed and slowly creaking open the door.

"Lia, it is 12 at night. Go home." Alexios yawned.

"Nope, I'm going back to the Lost Cities." Amalia breathed. Alexios froze, his eyes wide

"You can't be serious." Alexios breathed.

Amalia looked around, making sure no one was listening, before leaning forward and whispering to her brother.

"I'm meeting up with Grady and Edaline tonight." She breathed. Alexios stiffened, leaning against his door frame, squinting at her with his left eye, the one that was still operational.

"Amalia, I know you realize this is a stupid idea. Just send them a letter or a transmission." Alexios whispered in return.

"This is something I need to do in person," Amalia whispered in return. Amalia let out a sigh, still covered in dirt and grime.

"Come with me, please," Amalia begged.

"Amalia, I'm not all that keen on seeing the elves again after I got bitch slapped." Alexios sighed. Amalia's brown eyes shone with desperation, and she clutched his hand. Alexios mumbled something he hoped she wouldn't hear under his breath, heading back inside to grab himself and Amalia a cloak.

Edaline pulled her coat closer to her shoulders, her eyes never breaking from the cave entrance. It was a minute past midnight, and the Ruewens were terrified to go in. Not because they would be sharing a close space with an assassin, but the fact that their little girl was in there...

"She is probably waiting for us," Grady whispered, holding Edaline's soft hands in his calloused ones.

"Yeah, she is," Edaline noted, still not moving. Grady turned to look at her fully, smiling warmly and tucking a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear.

"She is still Sophie, no matter what." Grady smiled. Edaline nodded, pecking his cheek and starting towards the cave. They were both acutely aware of Grizel and Sandor watching them above the cliff, making sure no harm will come onto them.

Grady and Edaline walked hand in hand into the cave, nervously glancing around.

She was nowhere to be seen.

There was a lit fire, crackling dully, but no one surrounding it.

Edaline deflated a bit, squinting in the darkness and looking for any signs-

"Amalia, smetti di camminare. Mi stai innervosendo e non sono nemmeno i miei genitori." A masculine voice called out in the darkness. Edaline recognized the voice; it was the same one of her brother.

"Non posso essere nervoso? E se mi odiano? E se fossero disgustati in quello che sono?" A feminine voice countered. Edaline clenched Grady's hand as she recognized the voice.

But they seemed to be coming from nowhere, the cave completely dark.

"Beh, sei morto da tre anni, Lia. Non posso dire di incolparli se sono un po 'titubanti." Her brother countered.

Edaline guessed they were talking in their native language, thinking it was just them in the cave.

"Grazie Alexios! Continuate così, è davvero utile, mi rende completamente meno nervoso."

"Non so davvero cos'altro dire in tutta onestà-" The masculine voice stopped, and at the very back of the cave, a man looked like he could be seen in the shadows.

"Amalia." The man called behind him. It took a moment, but a female emerged from the shadows.

Sophie.

She clearly hadn't cared for herself after the battle; she was still dirty and limping slightly. She still wore her black and steel armor, her weapons decorating her body still crusted with blood.

Her brown eyes were wide as she swallowed, stepping closer to Grady and Edaline.

"Hi," Sophie whispered out, her accented voice echoing in the cave. Both Grady and Edaline were silent; the only sound was the ocean lapping against the sands. Sophie let out a shaky sigh, fiddling with the fabric of her red hood.

"How did you do that?" Edaline asked, blankly. Sophie and her brother glanced at the back of the cave, where they easily hid in the shadows.

"It is what we are trained to do." Her brother responded, Sophie still quiet. Sophie tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind her ear, looking at the ground.

"I... don't know what you have heard or," She swallowed, "What you think of me." She glanced at her brother, who was stone-faced but looked at his sister softly. Clearly there for support, should she need it.

"I'm sorry." She blurted out. Grady and Edaline were taken aback by the sudden apology.

"I'm sorry," Sophie continued, "That I was so selfish not to let you know I was alive. I'm sorry that I never told you anything, that I couldn't tell you anything." Sophie looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I never forgot about you. Not once," Sophie stuttered out. Edaline's grip on Grady's hand loosened.

"Every day I thought about you. I thought about how if things were different, where I would be." She looked at both of them, frail frames of what they once were, "Where you would be." Sophie breathed. Edaline took gentle steps forward.

"And I'm sorry that I disappoint you. I know this is never what you wanted from me. But I am happy where I am," Sophie bit her lip, looking down even as Edaline neared her.

"I love my family so much, and I love you so much. But that doesn't matter, because I didn't tell you-" Sophie whipped her head up, noticing Edaline was standing right in front of her. Sophie was as stiff as a statue as Edaline gently raised her hand, running her fingertips over Sophie's cheekbones and jaw, looking over her daughter. Even bruised and bloody, he was brighter, healthier, then when she was with the elves.

Her eyes had a spectacular golden sheen, even in the dark cave.

Her body was filled out more, more muscled. She didn't look like the thin frame she was with them.

Her skin was warmer and brighter, a sunkissed glow to it wherever she walked.

She carried herself better, more confidently.

Edaline's palm sat on Sophie's cheek, looking at her with tears in her eyes.

"We're so proud of you, Sophie," Edaline whispered. Sophie loosened, a sob breaking out of her. Edaline didn't mind the blood and dirt covering her daughter as they wrapped their arms around each other.

Edaline pulled away, tears running down her face as she turned to Grady. Grady walked forward, not even letting Sophie breath as he hugged her tight, not wanting ever to let go.

Sophie held onto her adoptive father with shaky hands, sniffling into his shoulder.

They all pulled apart, and their eyes drifted to her brother, who was standing at the back of the cave, smiling.

"This," Sophie went over to her brother, gripping his shoulder and looking at them, "Is my brother, Alexios Morretti."

Alexios didn't look much like his sister at first. Instead of her honey-blond hair, his hair was a light brown, almost like a light caramel. His right eye was bandaged entirely like earlier, but his face was cleaner. His shoulder-length hair was jaggedly chopped off on his right, but still intact on the left. On his face was some slight stubble.

But their faces were similar; they shared identical eye shape, cheekbones, smile, hair texture, ad more. You could definitely tell they were related. Except instead of his sister's golden brown eyes, he owned dark blue ones, like swirling oceans inside of his iris. He held out a large hand, his smile warm.