#rinaldo di chimici

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Rinaldo: *strangles Enrico*

Enrico: aw yeah I'm going to get some money from this

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Silvia: [to Rinaldo] Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don't let the fact that you're a terrible person keep you up tonight.

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The circus at the court is so funny. First of all, Rinaldo fumbling and failing to make himself look innocent. Then there's Luciano, who's still not great at speeches but sure does know how to do dramatic reveals. And then Guido decides that he wants in on the fun and announces that he was an assassin. And Enrico is just sobbing through all of this.

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So, here's the secret fourth option: Two chapters of a fanfic.

I got the idea to write a one-shot for each year for the 20 years (on the Talian side) following the series. Here are the first two. I hope to continue this, and I have some ideas for future chapters, but we'll see if I come up with enough inspiration to continue this. So, here you go: 1580, Volana and 1581, Bellezza.

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1580, Volana

Grief hung around everywhere like a thick cloud of smoke. It drowned out all noise, or at least it seemed to do so in the silent room where Princess Isabella sat with her eldest son – her only surviving son. They were both dressed in black; Isabella for the rest of her life, Alfonso to show respect to his late brother. Things left unsaid hung heavy around them.

Alfonso twirled the wine around in the goblet in his hand. He was no longer drinking it, just watching the deep red liquid move slowly around the cup. Isabella’s eyes were fixed on the portrait on the wall behind him. It was a frozen image of a time long gone. In the painting, she herself looked every bit the perfect Duchessa she had been, from every perfectly placed strand of hair to the perfectly chosen jewellery. Next to her stood her husband, proud and strong, and so full of life. In front of them were their children. Looking at the painting, it would have been easy to think that they had all been perfect little angels.

Isabella remembered well how Caterina had to be bribed to stay still long enough for the painter to capture her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. The little girl would much rather have played with her doll, which she had gotten as a present for her birthday. Isabella did not know what had happened to that doll. Perhaps it was still somewhere in the nursery, among all the other toys that waited for new princes and princesses to play with them. Or maybe Caterina had taken it with her to Giglia, in hopes of passing it down to her own daughter one day.

Isabella glanced down at Alfonso, who stared at his goblet like it held the secret to all of the world’s mysteries. The younger Alfonso in the portrait looked almost as serious as he was now. Poor Alfonso had taken his duty as the future Duke seriously from a young age – perhaps a little too seriously. He had been the perfect son and perfect prince, and now he was the perfect Duke. And, if his and Bianca’s happiness was anything to go by, the perfect husband. Isabella knew nothing in life was truly perfect, and wondered when the cracks would begin to show.

The Alfonso in the painting had only a hint of a smile on his lips. The painter had been forced to tell the young prince to relax after he had first stood in place rigidly like a soldier. At least that had been an easier task than keeping Caterina still.

In the middle of the portrait was Rinaldo. He too looked serious, like his brother, but there was softness in his eyes. He looked so innocent. Rinaldo had been so polite as a young boy, and Isabella had been certain even back then that he would be able to achieve great things despite not having a title to inherit. He had been such a good boy. Isabella wondered when she had lost him.

Although it felt wrong to think ill of the dead, Isabella was not blind to Rinaldo’s faults. She knew what he was capable of, and although she would not say it out loud, she could guess what he had done before his death. It was easier to mourn that little boy in the painting than the man he had become. For years, Rinaldo had been growing distant from his family and home. His sights had been set higher.

Isabella was well aware that Rinaldo’s ambition came from her, so she couldn’t help but wonder if she could have done something differently. Could she have guided Rinaldo towards a better future if she had paid more attention to him? Isabella had been so wrapped up in her grief after losing her dear Fabrizio that she hadn’t noticed her younger son slipping away to become Niccolò’s newest pawn.

The family that had once been only existed in the portrait these days. Rinaldo was dead and buried, as was Fabrizio. Caterina was away in Giglia. She was the Grand Duchessa, but Isabella hoped that did not come at the cost of her happiness. Isabella had seen her son-in-law at Rinaldo’s funeral, and in both good and bad, he was beginning to act more and more like his late father.

Isabella’s thoughts returned from the past to the present when Bianca walked into the room. Alfonso finally raised his eyes from his goblet and turned to look at his wife – something he did whenever she appeared. Bianca walked over to them and gently took Alfonso’s goblet from him, setting it down on the table.

“It is getting late. Perhaps we should all go to bed,” the young Duchessa suggested, holding her husband’s hand.

Isabella stood. Her body ached from sitting still for so long. It was just another cruel reminder of how long it had been since the scene in the portrait had been reality – if it ever had been.

“You are quite right. There’s no use wallowing in our sorrows all night,” Isabella sighed.

Alfonso made no attempts to move. “Goodnight, mother,” he muttered quietly.

Isabella shared a worried look with Bianca. She was about to tell her son to go to bed, but decided against it. Bianca could handle this.

At first, Isabella had been disappointed that her son had not been given a more important bride. But since the wedding, Bianca had proven herself to be a good wife and daughter-in-law. Although she was young, she was willing to learn, and often sought out Isabella’s advice and opinion. That alone was enough to earn Isabella’s respect. But the most important thing was that Bianca made Alfonso happy. Looking at the two, one might think that their marriage was a love match. The truth was that the two had barely known each other at first, but Isabella had seen their love be built on a foundation of respect and kindness, and she knew it would last.

Before Isabella left the room, she saw her son rest his head against Bianca’s arm. The young Duchessa gently stroked her husband’s hair and whispered comforting words to him.

Isabella hoped they could fill this cold and empty castle with love and happiness, and that she could have the privilege of staying alive long enough to witness it.

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1581, Bellezza

Arianna was exhausted. Her day had been full of official appearances, and right now she desired nothing more than sleep. There was still dinner to get through, but at least she could spend that with just her family without having to worry about entertaining senators or ambassadors. Besides, she had barely eaten anything the whole day and she was starving.

She was grateful for this quiet moment where she could just stand still with no thoughts as Barbara dressed her in her third dress of the day. At least this one was much simpler than the others. Arianna felt like a doll, but she wasn’t complaining. It felt good not having to do anything. She was free to let all thoughts leave her mind and stare blankly at her own reflection in the mirror.

Arianna’s mind slammed back into her body as Barbara tugged on the fastenings of the dress a little too much.

“Not so tight, Barbara,” Arianna gasped. Her eyes met Barbara’s through the mirror, and she saw worry all over her maid’s face.

Arianna glanced to the side, where another maid was hanging up the ridiculously elaborate dress she had been wearing a moment ago. “You may go,” Arianna said.

Barbara’s fingers lingered on the fastenings of Arianna’s dress as the two waited for the other maid to leave.

“What is it?” Arianna asked as the door closed.

Barbara hesitated and looked away from the mirror. “Your Grace…”

“No,” Arianna said and spun around to face Barbara. “I’ve told you, don’t call me that when it’s just the two of us. We’re friends. Now, tell me what’s wrong.” She didn’t mean to sound so demanding, but the words had already left her mouth. “Please,” she added.

Barbara sighed deeply. It was obvious she wanted to say something important, but was unable to get the words out, and she even avoided looking Arianna in the eyes.

“Are you all right? Are you and Marco-“

“Oh, this has nothing to do with me!” Barbara rushed to say.

“Then what is it? Tell me,” Arianna said and took Barbara’s hands into her own.

Barbara still avoided her eyes. “The dress. It doesn’t fit,” she finally said.

Arianna was confused. Was Barbara worried about the dress? It was just a simple dress for a private dinner – who cared if it fit or not? As the Duchessa, Arianna had plenty to choose from.

“Oh,” Arianna said simply.

But Barbara wasn’t done. She drew in a deep breath and continued. “You also haven’t bled. And you have been very tired lately. And the other day at dinner, when the fish was brought out, you were disgusted by it.”

Arianna’s head began spinning. She really needed something to eat. Barbara finally raised her eyes to look at Arianna.

“What are you saying?” Arianna asked. She really did not want to think right now.

“I had those same symptoms in the beginning,” Barbara explained and nodded down. Arianna followed her eyes to the curve of her belly, which had recently grown too large to hide anymore.

Arianna’s throat felt dry. “Are you saying I’m…”

“I think so,” Barbara admitted, a blush creeping up to her cheeks.

Arianna spun around and looked at herself in the mirror. She tried desperately to look for anything that might have looked… different. “But Luciano and I have been married for less than a year!”

“It doesn’t take a year to make a child,” Barbara said. The frown on her face was finally replaced by a small smile.

A child.

Arianna placed her hand on her abdomen. She wasn’t sure what to think. Of course, she wasn’t stupid and knew this was going to happen sooner or later. But she hadn’t been expecting it to happen so soon. Her and Luciano had talked about children, but those conversations had always referred to the future, some hypothetical day far away in the horizon. It seemed that the future was no longer in the future. It was here and now.

Arianna knew she should have felt happiness, or maybe even fear, or something, but all she could think about was how hungry she was.

Barbara stood still, clearly wondering if she had stepped out of line by bringing this up. Arianna shook her head to push her thoughts away and sighed.

“I can’t think about this right now. I have a dinner to get to,” Arianna said.

Barbara snapped right into action. “I’ll take out another dress,” she stated simply and rushed to look for something that would fit Arianna better.

Arianna stayed by the mirror, trying to get her thoughts in order. First, she would go to dinner. Then she would go to bed and have some much-needed rest. Tomorrow, she would allow herself to think about the possibility that she could be pregnant.

Barbara returned with a simple deep blue dress and began helping Arianna into it.

“Thank you, Barbara,” Arianna said, making sure that her friend knew she wasn’t referring to just the dress.

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I hope you enjoyed the secret fourth option. Comments are much appreciated, especially since this is such a small fandom that not many people are going to read this anyway.

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And then he, Rinaldo, had a personal score to settle with Silvia the "late" Duchessa. And that red-headed fellow, who was bound to be there now that he had married Princess Lucia - with indecent haste in the Pope's view; he was another that should face a reckoning. He owed Rinaldo money!

- City of Swords, chapter 24

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It had been hard enough for [Rinaldo] to see Guido Parola, the assassin he had employed to kill the Duchessa of Bellezza, elevated to the position of Prince Consort of a di Chimici city. The red-headed ruffian still owed him half the fee for the bungled assassination apart from anything else.

City of Swords, chapter 20

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Rinaldo is just a chihuahua that thinks it's a large dog

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One last thought about City of Masks: I wonder if Rinaldo was originally supposed to be older? According to the family tree he is only about 24 in the first book, but I always got the impression that he felt older than that. So either he really is that much of a pretentious asshole or he was meant to be older originally.

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I found this to be interesting:

"And if [Rinaldo] were Pope it would put him in a position higher even than his older brother Alfonso." - City of Flowers chapter 6

Rinaldo has always been drifting around and grasping at any opportunities he gets, and it all comes from the fact that he is the second son with no titles to inherit. But this is the first time he shows straight up jealousy towards his brother.

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I can't believe there was a moment where Rinaldo seriously thought he could ever become the head of the family

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This idea came from my friend who just finished City of Flowers for the first time

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The two cousins had experimented with holding the book and hitting each other but with no result except one black eye (the Cardinal) and one split lip (Filippo). They gave up their experiments by mutual agreement, glaring at each other.

City of Secrets, chapter 22

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I love all the uncomfortable conversations Rinaldo has in this book. Serves him right.

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I love that Falco straight up says that he doesn't like Rinaldo

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Apparently Rinaldo has been visiting Bellezza (not even living there) for "months"