Piero De Medici

She knew that he is angry. She can see it in those blue eyes of his, in every muscle of his body. They were alike in many ways, both with an almost inhumane amount of restraint, but there are moment when they can let go of holding back. With each other, their thoughts are safe, and this is what allowed him to speak as he did with her, to show her his true thoughts and allow her that glimpse of his mind. 

“I worry for our son’s future if she is allowed to continue asking such questions. I do not know if she has attempted to drum up support in Florence, but I have men with their ear on the ground.” She did not trust too many in her employ, but still recognised that she could not do this alone. Her spies were few in number, but well-selected. If there were rumblings of discontent in Tuscany, Lucia would know of it before Giovanna could lift a finger. “I have made it clear what I think of such talk, but I will not presume to speak for you when it comes to your sister.” She had long since grown used to the fact that Piero’s siblings were a part of her life, whether she liked it or not. 

In Lucia’s eyes, Giovanna was a fool. One with an inflated sense of who she was. It wasn’t that Piero expected too much from her, but rather, that she had been coddled into believing she was capable of more than what Lucia thought she could ever hope to achieve. “Giovanna has been spoiled.” She said, bluntly. “Sometimes I wonder if she thinks that it is she that is the grand duchess. She had been told nothing but good things about herself, and so believes her intellect surpasses what it truly does. If this is allowed to continue, she will ruin all we have built.” 

He listened to her, appreciative and proud for her vigilance and independent action that mirrored his own. He too had his network of information always on the look out for any dissidence against him. Piero nodded sharply upon her recount of her conversation with Giovanna and trusted that she had been firm and loyal to him. “There is both benefit and detriment in being part of De Medici,” he began, knowing she understood his mind, “I may give my siblings the benefit of the doubt, unlike I would others, but I will just as quick cast them away if they should earn it. For their own benefit as much as for Medici.” 

Piero pondered the idea, always taking Lucia’s opinions seriously despite the immediacy with which he wished to reject the idea of Giovanna being spoiled. But her words rang true, as evidenced by Giovanna’s presence at the Council though her role lay elsewhere. More than anything, the proof was in her scheming against him. She must have thought him less capable than she, enough to make her take action for her own self-serving satisfaction. 

“I fear you are right Lucia, I have failed to teach her of her shortcomings for until now I had not seen them so clearly. I will indeed remedy that. Immediately,” Piero faced his wife and sighed with vulnerability as he asked, “I ask you my love, if it comes to it, do not let me give her any more benefits of doubt. Any more chances would serve her ill.”

She was sorely inclined to agree with him. It would be difficult to surprise them now, but then she had thought so before her dear friend’s husband had been found relieved of his head. She had thought so before a sister she had never known of had returned to their lives by the side of their enemies. “Depends what the surprise is,” she raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Another round of murders might not cause much of a disturbance, I suppose. Perhaps a flood might raise a few eyebrows.” There was a dry wit to her words, even as her face was grave. 

De Medici. She knew little of their family. They were Italian, and thus nobody she had ever had to pay much attention to, really. She had met his sister, and his brother, the man of God, but had never expected to come face to face with the head of their family. Perhaps this was one of the joys of coming to the attention of so many, so swiftly. She was suddenly tasked with handling those who normally would have looked straight through her. Those like her father. And so, she offered him as steady of a smile as she could muster, and bowed her head in recognition and respect. “Well, I know you now. A pleasure, Your Grace.” 

Such a cynic for such a young Lady, Piero considered, but perhaps there was more to it he observed. The half shrug spoke of a lightness her grave expression and dry humor did not project. Interesting. Then again, he supposed all of the German King’s spawn would be considering their brute upbringing. He would be more surprised if they had turned out to be less complex. 

Perhaps Sehzade Bayezide would receive more than he bargained for in such a marriage. If she had any clear gain however, it was the assurance of getting away from her twisted family. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied cordially though rather rehearsed and lacking in sincerity. Piero yet held no pleasure or pain form the company. There was no gain and therefore no incentive to feel anything about it. “Weddings, Your Grace, are more often than not like your flood, they might raise a few eyebrows. Not much of a disturbance,” he pursed his lips contemplatively as he recalled all the weddings he had attended as well as his own. “The real surprise reveals itself after the fact, often muted and implied over time.” He did not mention this could be dream or nightmare, depending. He knew his own marriage would turn out well, decent, that it had far surpassed his initial believes had been - dare he say? - a gift of God. 

Giovanna looked onto Piero with a soft, humble gaze. It was not that Giovanna had tempted his eye with scandal or malice with her conversations to Giulio… It was out of the love she held for Firenze itself rather than the menace she may nurture for her brother and his wife. She loved her family, that much was obvious. She loved his family, too. She cared for her niece and nephew with a devotion that riddled against her very bones - they were a part of her, as much as her own children one day would be. 

“I do not attempt to fool you, Piero,” Giovanna remarked, hands held against her belly as she refused to miss his eye. Instead, they stare into one another - bright blue and olive-green making their stance as she bares back into him. Piero was older, stronger with an ego to match; but he did not know everything. 

But did he not know how intelligent Giovanna was, in turn? She may be kind and open with her heart, but she was smart and acute… “If I tried to fool you, il mio fratello maggiore, I would not have whispered to your wife - would I?” Giovanna asked, cooing as she went to walk to his side, taking the spare seat as her ankles crossed, her hands placed upon her lap as she continued to stare back - no, Giovanna had done too much work as Francesco’s shadow and the very Tuscan council’s advisor in Piero’s absence. She had done too much to be pushed aside now, as a woman and sister. 

“I only ever spoke of my worry for Firenze, you were not here when I arrived, I was the mascot for our home,” Giovanna answered, sitting up straight, her reaction unwavering at the mention of Orsini. “Benedicat nos Deus et mater Agatuccia de Medici, I regret to hear her name dragged through the dirt. I believe il mio più caro that we are Medici no matter a liar’s tongue. Don’t you, Piero?” 

"No?” He questioned with a tension in his lips, “then were you just attempting to insult me Giovanna? In that you have excelled in successfully.” His irritation with her lack of seriousness in the matter rose quickly. Her very presence at the Tuscan council in his absence had been evidence of her aspirations as more than the role she’d played thus far in the Medici family. Was she capable of continuing that path despite her womanhood and her limited experience? Perhaps, Piero had once thought. She had certainly demonstrated a better affinity for it than Francesco. At present however, Piero would say not. 

“Giovanna,” he almost whispered it, “are you really so oblivious as to the precarious position Orsini has placed you and our brothers? Regardless of your insult to me in implying my worry for Italy is not, at least, akin to yours, you need to stop being so selfish. It shames me to think that you might have grown spoiled...” 

Piero tapped fingers to his desk thrice before he settled his disdain and spoke again. He too hated Orsini’s attack on De Medici for his claim affected them all, dead or alive. Piero had grown with them as his siblings, and so long as they were loyal and useful to the family name Piero did not care to question their birth. However. “If you want to be more than a mascot to our home Giovanna,” his voice was threateningly direct,  “you need to start fucking earning it!” His jaw clenched with the anger of it because her failings were his too. He had allowed her to grow stupid in her charitable role. “Very well Giovanna, let me spell it out for you. The insult of your secret plots behind my back is one thing we can deal with privately. However, if even a small rumor were to spread of you conspiring against me, it would only serve to give Orsini’s claims more possibility of truth.  It would not matter what I think of his words or your birth, because you’d be self-destructing and dragging our brothers down with you while you’re at it. And Giovanna, if I am made to choose between you and De Medici, I will choose De Medici for the sake of Italy as well as yours. Everyone must face the consequences of their actions, and I will not let Italy suffer for mine.” 

The grave had been cold for a while now, yet the impact of her father’s death was still… hot and fresh. It was not just the Italians who turned their eyes on her and Milan, but rather some powerful forces as well ( she could still recall the interesting conversation she had had with the archduke Augustinus ). The attention was shifted to her, being the eldest ( and the very thing was hilariously ironic - since her father had worked so hard to keep everyone’s attention away from her and have them focus on her brother ). That being said, she was not awfully surprised when Piero’s presence was announced to her and she hastily instructed her servants to send him in; after all, his wife had been her closest friend and ally.

The duke’s words left her struggling to keep her expression contained to something meek, rather than to reveal the soft amusement which coursed through her veins. That was, quite possibly, the most sincere and true expression of condolences she had ever heard in her life. “Please, have a seat.” Bona offered, her dark gaze shifting to the servant as she silently instructed for refreshments to be brought out. “Thank you, though if I am honest, we have been in a worse mess when he was alive. If he had lived for much longer, I fear his stubbornness would have brought great disaster to Milan.”

It spoke well of Lady Bona Sforza, the swiftness and silent obedience of the servants. Piero had yet to meet the illegitimate son the now dead man had pushed for receiving his title, but Lady Bona was quickly earning Piero’s approval. He was of the opinion that the most successful leaders were those who could exert their  governance in even the smallest of matters. No stone left unturned, so went the saying. 

Her reaction to his words peaked his interest for its unexpectedness. Complex and unmarred by insult it was. A Lady with good reasoning and control over her emotions. A pleasing smirk passed through Piero’s lips as he took a seat with a nod. 

“I have been of the same thinking for some time,” he revealed, no pretense of approval for the late Duke in his tone. “It is a shame somewhere along his life he lost sight of Milan,” he continued, for the first time revealing a feeling of regret, “a folly every leader not master of themselves runs the danger of adhering to.” 

Piero hardly moved, his body language as steady as his gaze. He looked away momentarily before he allowed himself to sigh with distaste, “it is a shame to Italy that its people would claim act for its benefit, when in reality they only act for their own benefit. Italy needs better allies Lady Bona.” Piero turned his eyes to her, his acceptance of her as such an ally made clear as much as his dislike for the incompetence of others. 

A gentle smile spread across Lucia’s face at the touch of his lips. She did not know when she came to love him. It had been a slow and gradual process that she barely noted herself. It crept up on her, until one day she realised the truth of it. Her feelings only grew when she had carried his children, felt them move inside of her. When her son was born and looked up at her with his father’s eyes. Learning to love Piero was a path she was glad to have walked, and now her devotion to him was utterly unwavering. He was no ordinary husband, and she no ordinary wife, and that was what made them great. 

“There is no need to rush. Peace is no closer than it ever was. We have time.” If there was one thing Lucia excelled in, it was biding her time. She had been blessed with patience - especially when the reward at the end was lucrative. Piero had many plans for the future, and to see them come to fruition meant a greater glory for their family, a powerful legacy for their son. She would aid that in any way possible.

“I think we could do very little, and our enemies would hang themselves regardless should things continue like this,” she confessed. “I do not mind chaos, but not when it is not guided by my own hands. We must take the reins of this situation, Piero, so that we can control it.” She had made moves to do so, carefully selecting friendships to cultivate here, but there was only so much a woman could do. “Giovanna has been asking questions of me, my love. About you,” Her voice was low, conspiratorial, even as they were the only ones in the room. “She claims to worry for the future of Florence, but I do not know what her true intentions may be.”  

Indeed, Lucia was right, as she often was when it came to the practice of calm endurance. Peace would not be; this Piero knew. Even under the guise of peace the warring would continue beneath the surface. After all, years of war could not be so easily undone. The roots ran deep. Peace or War, whatever this gathering in Switzerland chose to call it, Piero was and would be warring in his own way.

“Yes. Let us not make the mistakes others are often wont to do my dear,” his voice was deep and menacing, “self-destruction would be unforgivable.” He turned his eyes to hers and though his face was stern they revealed a trust. If there was one thing Piero had not needed to learn since his youth, it was to act in a manner that sought to please others. His father had shown him early on that money, reputation, and therefore power had no need to please socially so long as he delivered economically. The politics simply followed. Therefore, Piero could be of-putting, unapproachable even. So it was that Lucia completed him. She had abilities which he had not fostered nor cared to practice. Before marriage such sociable roles had fallen on his siblings, particularly Giovanna with her endeavors in charity. But where Lucia saw the important intricacies of such arts, Giovanna did not think them enough. Giovanna had greed for powers typically wielded by men in society. 

“Has she?” Piero sighed unsurprised. “The only clear intention evident to me for her claim to worry for the future of Italy, is to insult me,” the anger was there, the cold pride reverberating from every wall as it oppressed everything else within. “As if I have not spent my whole life doing nothing but worry for it and doing something about it,” he continued through clenched teeth. Piero could kick the heavy wooden desk before him but for the presence of his wife. That someone, his own sister who had known him for so long, would doubt him despite his evident success, “have I expected too much from her Lucia?” he asked. Perhaps he did, he wondered, if he had a folly he recognized, it was expecting others to see the world as he saw it.

His confirmation proved that it was not all in her mind, and Friedi was not certain if that was a good or a bad thing. Was it better to be a madwoman, or a sane one in a world that had gone mad? She had never seen the like, though she could vaguely remember being taught of such when she was younger. She couldn’t for the life of her remember the lesson. 

The mockery in his tone brought a chuckle to her lips, despite her confusion and apprehension at whatever was going on above them. Her first thought was that it had been an omen of more misery to come, or else a warning to all of them who remained in Switzerland, though what it was trying to tell them was beyond her. 

“There is more to be afraid of here than a little darkness,” she pointed out, though her lips pursed. It was true that such a thing would absolutely spark panic, and with the wedding so close, it would be typical for something to spoil her day. “You are right. No bride would wish for such a thing. I hope that my wedding day might pass without major incident, unlike some of the other celebrations that have happened lately.” 

For the moment it appeared the Lady had some brain. A little darkness was indeed the least of their worries, ill fated as it appeared to be. Piero merely hummed a brief note of agreement in response. 

He found the wedding talk tedious but spoke anyway saying, “should there be a major incident, at least you shall not be surprised. Seems culprits enjoy spectacle, though the darkening of the sky is beyond even their means. A happy coincidence perhaps?” Piero could be a perfect gentleman, but his words hid an ungentlemanly bite brought about by the foul mood the events of the eclipse had commenced. 

It was now Piero turned to her in order to pay attention to common courtesy by saying, “I believe I should introduce myself. Though I know who you are Your Grace, I do not possess the vainglorious boast of assuming to be commonly known.” Following proper etiquette in manner he said, “I am Piero De Medici Grand Duke of Tuscany, Italy.”

Giovanna loved her brothers; Piero, Francesco and Giulio. No one could deny the love she had for her family, but it was recent events that left some questioning her intentions. After spending her days within the arms of Matthias, Giovanna felt as if she was walking on air - treading her way through the clouds to meet her older brother who - if she wasn’t careful - would sell her off like a prize. But, wasn’t she already too old for such games? At eight and twenty, with a mind and fully realised ideas of the world, she was too far gone to step blindness into marriage for Firenze. That was what his daughter would be for when the time came, but that was not the fate she wished for her either. 

“Buona Giornata Fratello, “ she called, pressing herself forward to press her usual kisses upon her brother’s cheeks. “Why? Have I done something wrong? Oh padre celeste, perché Piero non sorriderà? “ she teased, her laughter softer against red lips before she released him from her grasp. 

Piero’s love was harsh. He held those who could be said were loved by him to as high a standard as he held himself. As a result, it was not surprising they often disappointed, but he could forgive them though it didn’t often seem like it. Even now as he sat unmoving and unresponsive to Giovanna’s kisses, he had not prevented her from delivering them. He showed her that kindness. He had also showed kindness in giving her the opportunity to explain what he thought so obviously needed explaining. 

“I smile when there’s good reason to, and you walking in here with pretend ignorance does not give me reason to smile sister,” he pursed his lips with distaste. He hated having to spell it out for her. He almost hoped her to really be so dense, for he found it less insulting than the alternative. Piero sighed, “Giovanna, neither you nor Giulio are in a position to consider successfully plotting against me. I admire the ambition, but even fools can be ambitious. Do not be a fool Giovanna.” 

 His voice was stern, but not threatening. His blue eyes stared at her piercingly expectant. She had done so well, so far, in her charity endeavors. She had built herself a good reputation back in Italy. Yet now that Orsini had showed his face as well as his fangs Piero’s siblings could not afford to make mistakes. Not with their birth in question. 

“Especially now Orsini’s claim hangs over us.”

With: @sfcrca

Francesco had come to him full of concern, such was his sensitive disposition. Still, Piero had not rushed over to the Sforza’s like some out to spout condolences out of self-satisfaction nor those out to experience someone else’s grief as if were the latest spectacle. Piero had sent a simple note of few written words followed, after some days, by his calling in person. He had followed proper behavior though on his own honest terms, cold as they might appear to others. 

The late Duke Ludovico had not been a favorite of Piero’s, though it wasn’t saying much given how little Piero favored anybody. However, the Duke of Milan had been someone else in his youth, someone better, and it seemed to Piero his children had been fortunate enough to inherit some of those good qualities. Only time would tell if they would amount to any better than their father, but for the time being they had potential on their side. 

As the eldest, it was Lady Bona Sforza that Piero had come to call on. He was led into her sitting room by a servant, and upon his entering the premises Piero struggled to say kind words about her loss. 

In her marriage, she had once seen a prison, but Piero had become her sanctuary. Life had cast her adrift, but he had been her anchor. The world had hardened her, but with him now, she could be tender, and she took his hand without hesitation. Small actions, but for two who so rarely showed affection, it meant more. “Perhaps,” she said, with a nod. “And she has paid the price for that.” Despite his assurance that they would not lose, Lucia still noted what had happened, still thought it over and sought to learn from it. It was clear that if nothing else, they needed to be prepared for every eventuality. 

“They are rarely out of my sight these days,” she confessed. The children were still young enough that they needed her, and she intended to hold her close for as long as there was breath in her body. Piero knew how important that was to her. She took their intertwined fingers and lifted their hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his. Her gratitude, her affection, her respect all poured into that one small gesture. “If you say they are safe, so they shall be,” she responded, simply. She always thought herself clever and capable, but he bested her on both parts. The lives of their family could be in no better hands. 

And then he smiled at her, and she knew that he had considered all she had spoken of, that he already had ideas of his own. That was enough for Lucia. She had learned much from watching him over the years, allowed that to shape her as she transformed from a young heiress into the perfect Medici wife. “My husband is a clever man,” she said. “You do not need me to tell you any of this.” 

To Piero, marriage had initially been a transaction for profit. It had been introduced to him as an investment and he had taken to the idea in full pursuit of merits. His only preoccupation at the time had been the acquisition of an unreasonable wife. A simpleton he could manage, an unreasonable one would take time he was not appreciative of wasting. Fortune had however, delivered him Lucia. 

It had been no love at first sight nor an immediate partnership and, in fact, she had taken time, but never did Piero think of it as wasted. She was not a woman he had needed time to manage, instead, she had proved to have a mind of her own and a self-management that damn near equaled his. It had taken both of their great efforts, their similarly strong personalities, and like-minded thinking to develop the bond that was their marriage. Few marriages could boast such a partnership and most did not even try. “Indeed,” he replied carelessly and clearly uninterested in the now widow whose marriage had most likely been of the latter. 

Piero nodded with approval. The children were young and could benefit much more from Lucia’s care in more than just protection. She would make sure of that, he was sure. At the press of her lips to the back of his hand, Piero’s clear eyes finally tore away from his papers and settled upon her. Lucia was a beautiful woman, but her features would not have meant anything to Piero if her soul had not provoked in him the trust and confidence he had come to have in her. He took their intertwined fingers and lifted their hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of hers in much the same way she had done. He said nothing, which communicated more than words could have. 

“Perhaps,” he replied to both her compliment and statement, “still, this whole mess will require patience and patience does not naturally come to me. I welcome your ideas and besides, it serves to re-think information lest I, or we, overlook anything that might be useful or a hindrance. Especially now with this blackening of the sky spreading more chaos than there already was.”

In his travels, there had been many different people Mikael had met and each one he learned something from. Even if it was something as simple as observing the different types of people. He noticed the way the other man almost lazily looked him over. “I agree with you completely. Death and the threat of war changes a place and people. Mikael was tired from his journey but thought there was some hostiltiy around the situation. It may have just been the tiredness of the long passage but he thought he sensed that. “Mikael Anchises,” he answered as he extended his hand in a gesture that was more polite than it was friendly. His Greek accent had faded from all the years of travelling around the world and he hoped that the little bit that remained was not detected. “And you are?”

Piero returned the handshake with equal politeness as the name Mikael Anchises was carefully recorded in his mind with equal measure. Anyone present or arriving into the power struggle had, Piero was sure, some role to play or they would not be important enough to be weary of influence. There was, however, something about the man which Piero could not yet unveil. Then again, it was in Piero’s nature to suspect everyone lest he make the error of underestimating anyone. 

“Piero De Medici,” he replied with a light bow before he added, “Grand Duke of Tuscany. Italy.” Piero had deliberately stated it all, not so much out of politeness of introduction, but more in the dry tone that could sometimes insultingly imply the ignorance of the other. Whichever case, Piero expected to either have educated the fellow or that the fellow would reveal in his next utterance that he was not ignorant at all. “I’m afraid I do not recognize the name Anchises, have I failed in appearing well informed?”

Stagio once again entered the room Piero had chosen for conducting his business. The same room where he made his ruthlessness visible and it showed. Piero’s mark had left it unrecognizable from that welcoming room they had once stepped into, and now it looked severe in its opulence. One did not expect to walk into this room to relax, no one except perhaps Piero himself. Stagio spoke to Piero’s back, informing him of the events taking place after the sky went dark. Nervously he continued as Piero faced a window whose laced curtains barely allowed a view of the outside. Silence followed. A long drawn out silence that made Stagio more uneasy than even the ill omen had because while he could not understand such an oddity in nature, he believed he understood Piero enough. “Your si- Lady Giovanna should be arriving soon,” he said breaking the silence. 

Piero turned then, “Stagio, remind the men to be brave and clever. If your ill omen does not get to them first, I will. No mistakes Stagio. Have them pray to that.”

It was but a moment that left Piero alone to his thoughts before Giovanna stepped into the room, finding him exactly as Stagio had left him. The silence was oppressive. 

“I’m disappointed Giovanna,” was all he said.