An Empire Fallen

Chapter Ten: Breathe

Hands tightly clutching the steering wheel of the BMW, Luca tries his best to steele himself, tries to ease the tremor of his hands, and slow the speeding of his heart. He was so anxious it hurt. It felt as if every inch of every fibre of his body was entrapped in a sick race to stop his heart dead. Eight years. It had been eight, long, turbulent, wretched years since he had seen his home, since his hands had brushed the soft shag of his mothers favourite rug, since he had felt the glossy, ivory keys of his piano, his first piano, beneath his fingertips. Eight years since he had felt the repugnant tang of his mothers blood burn his nostrils, since the sticky salt of his own tears burned his eyes. He was bricking it. He wasn't even sure what that meant but he had heard Conor and Rhianna say it often in times of immense distress and it felt a fitting label for how he was feeling at the moment.

He was afraid too, afraid to face his sibling again, his Ciano. He was still so angry. He could feel it, the festering, searing rage in his veins that still screamed at him to do something, anything. How could he be expected to face Ciano when everything in him demanded he hurt them, kill them, ruin them. Anything! Luca wanted, no, deserved, some kind of fucking reparations for all he had endured. After all, Ciano was as much to blame for this mess as Líadain, if not more so.

As the prefect, imposing red brick of the Valvason Manor came into view just over the hillside, the car stuttered in perfect synchrony with Luca's breath. He could not do this.

Breathe.

One step at a time, just like mama taught.

Achingly slow, Luca parked the BMW at the bottom of the hill. With palms slicked with sweat he throws open the door. He stands. He stares. Valvason Manor stares right back. She leers at him with scornful distaste as his shoes crunch against the gravel path. She scoffs at him when he stops halfway up the hill to wring his hands fretfully. And, last of all, she smiles a bitter, acrid grin when he finally reaches her doors. Quietly triumphant that she had reclaimed what she had lost all those years ago.

Breathe.

Nothing had changed. The gardenias still sat in the window boxes in perfect, pretty little bunches. The anachronistic steel porch swing still whined at him when the wind blew just right, and the flap of the letter box still hung ever so slightly askew. All this time and things had remained exactly as they were. Of course they had aged, the colours had faded, the materials had cracked and crumbled with time but, everything had remained, exactly as it were, for eight long years.

Luca had never expected, of all people, his bambinaia would be the one to answer the door. When she sees him she smiles, it's this bright yet wistful thing that has her cheeks wrinkling where dimples once were. Her warm, plump hands grasp his cheeks and she simply says, "Ragazzo mio, come sei cresciuto... tua madre sarebbe orgogliosa dell'uomo che sei diventato."

Luca cries. He weeps, for his mother and for himself. For all that he has and all that he's lost. For everything that's changed and everything that's stayed the same.

He continues to blubber and sob as his bambinaia takes his arm in her own and guides him into the manor, he cries even harder when the enter his Fath- Ciano's office and their family, the same family dog from eight years ago, runs to him and yaps joyfully at his feet. She remembered him...

Breathe.

"I'm surprised he still recognises you fratello." At the sound of Ciano's voice all of the sadness and fear and regret running amok in Luca's chest stills, hardening into something far less complex.

"Where is Olivia McAllister fratellino?"

"Ah, not to worry grande fratello, your piccola ballerina is perfectly fine. Now, come sit so we can talk like siblings."

So Luca sits, and Luca glares because it's all he can do. He knows Ciano has the high ground, knows there's nothing he can do or say lest he put Olivia in further danger. So he glares, and lets his anger fester just a moment longer. "Enough of your games Ciano. Return the pen-drive, and my friend and let us end this."

Ciano cocks their head quizzically, giving Luca a once over and then they laugh, "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about fratello." and, for once, Luca believes them.

"Then, if not for the pen drive, why have you brought me here?"

At that, Ciano's perpetual smirk falters. It's only for a moment, if even that, but Luca sees it. "It's as I said last night, I want you to come home fratello, you belong here with those like you."

And like a damn, Luca bursts. Every bitter word unsaid, every blistering, bubbling boiling feeling of rage spills out of him in gallons. For the first time Luca allows himself to be angry. Plain, simple, and screaming. "We are nothing alike, Ciano Valvason! I did not kill my mother! I did not allow my brother to run away and live a lie for eight years while I sat warm and fat upon a throne that was not my own! I am not a monster!"

Ciano scoffs, "Maybe. Of course you have not killed your own mother fratello but you have killed someone else's. Do not kid yourself, you are no better than me grand fratello. You have Padre's anger just as I do and you kill just as I do." They sigh, "Alas, although I do not know anything about this silly little pen-drive you speak of, there are things I do know, things I'll share for a price."

"Nothing you have to tell me is worth any price you could offer."

"Hm, perhaps not but I really think you'll really want to know just what your cappo is lying to you about."

This gives Luca pause, "Fine fratellino, name your price."

"Come home."

"Come home?" Luca guffaws, "Perché sulla terra di Dio- why would I come home to you Ciano? The one who ruined my life."

Ciano titters menacingly, "Oh fratello, you Don is lying to you. Líadain Dubhan knows full well that note wasn't from the Ricci boy. In fact, better yet, she knows exactly who it's from. I know exactly who it's from. A name."

Luca laughs again, incredulous, "A name fratello? One name is hardly worth my life." He turns to leave.

"It is when the name has the power to give you exactly what you want."

Luca stills, "And how could you possibly know what I want?"

"You're a Valvason, you want the same as any other Valvason, even if your cowardice prevents you from seeing it."

"I just want Olivia returned to me safe."

"Bah! Don't be silly fratello," Ciano smirks, leaning across their ancient mahogany desk and resting their chin atop their calloused fist, "What you really want is to see Dynasty fall..."

Luca turns, staring at their little sibling with wide eyes. Is that what he wants? Truly? Would that be the thing to settle the burning in his gut, to finally quench his thirst for action? Dynasty was his home, had been for eight years, it was all he knew and all he wanted, and all he loved. Or it had been... Where once, thoughts of his Dynasty conjured feelings of gentle, fluttering pride, now the thought just made him ache. Dynasty was his home yes, but all the same it was a place of indescribable evil, a graveyard full of wanting ghosts awaiting their killers' penance. And Lía... No. Dynasty need stand no more. It was high time Luca was kind. Eight years. Eight years Luca sat in quiet obedience, another perfect, white, lamb in the flock but not anymore. Today Luca would choose good, even if for just a second, one moment before he was thrown right back into the deep end, this time as an obedient black sheep of Valvason, for this one singular instant he would choose to rid the world of just a little bit of evil. Then, all that would come after, that would be his penance.

It burned.

"Deal. Whatever you want of me, fratellino, it's yours."

"Well, it's as I've said thrice now. Swear on our mother, when this is all said and done you'll return to Valvason as my second, as my brother."

"Fine. The name."

"Cillian McDermott." The man who would serve as Dynasty's undoing. Ciano was quick to usher Luca out of the manor, placating any protest with the promise that Olivia McAllister was already safe and sound in the BMW down the hill.

"Good luck," Ciano calls as Luca reaches the gate, "Trying to hide from the inevitable I mean."