Title: Hail to Victory
Author: imaginary_witness
Pairings:Abbas X Altair
Ratings: M 16+ (for suggestive adult themes and violence)
Warnings: Violence, Alcoholic references
Genre: Romance, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Vignettes
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story: living (or passed) human beings or fictional characters. These events never happened, according to history or as the original author intended them. This is a work of fiction and is not intended to offend. For entertainment purposes only. Thanks.
I do, however, have ownership of the character of Harlim.
Author Notes: Abbas and Altair are a bit of an odd pairing. This idea came out of a conversation I had with a friend in an attempt to see Abbas as a more rounded character. It seemed like Abbas is such a heavily dominant person, so we were discussing a good spin around of defiance.
*Edited July 2017*
Chapter One:
"Abbas, how 'bout a little contest then?"
I turned to find the voice and saw a small crowd of highly ranked assassin's crowded around the barrel of ale, they had five mugs with them.
"Sure." I dragged out the word as I made my way over to them. "Why not?"
"Ah-hah!" They cheered, a few leaning back to laugh. It was obvious that this was not the first barrel cracked.
"To victory!" They cheered, passing out empty mugs and clinking them together.
I glanced around the room, taking in the sweaty environment. It was steamy here, the heat of human bodies packed closely together in the Masyaf training chambers caused the temperatures to soar. I felt slightly light-headed and small beads of perspiration already slowly made their way down my neck. I reached behind to brush them away and stretch my back - the party was supposed to be just a small celebratory gathering which quickly escalated out of control. In the absence of the sun the moon gave little light and the room was casted in great shadows. Across the ways I could make out the shapes of instruments, drums and strings, and soft sounds of tuning and adjustments.
"Abbas, you with us?" a voice called my name again. It had been a while since I last drank and despite knowing I could hold a few chugs, I didn't feel up to it. Last I remembered about myself, granted a situation like this would have me everywhere at once; drinking and flirting, dancing and partying. But tonight I felt something different in the atmosphere - perhaps it was because the older assassins I trained and ranked with were absent. Or perhaps it was because being with the younger crowd made me feel old. Whatever, it had me slightly down - a thought I did not take to lightly.
"Fill it to the brim." I called, excessive to gain attention from passerby's.
"That's out man!" A few thumped my back, others already began their drinks.
"Last one standing wins!" The boy - Harlim - announced. He began slurping his drink as fast as possible and the others who had waited followed suit. I raised the mug to my lips and tasted the cool touch of metal as I gazed around the room. Ironically, chilly sweat glazed my upper lip and I shrugged, tipping my head back and downing the jug.
There was three of us left 'standing' only three mugs in. Harlim and his challenging friend were gazing at me - though their eyes were beginning to shine. The others had not passed out but decided it was safer to stop when they stated they were feeling the buzzing in their heads.
I smirked and dipped my mug in the barrel a fourth time. Retrieving it, I placed it to my lips and took a fresh hit. "Ahh."
"That's the stuff - best at the bottom." Harlim winked.
"I'm out." His friend announced defeated. To further his statement, he slipped from his perch and landed hard on his bottom.
Laughter echoed around as he raised his eyes. Harlim offered him a hand.
"I'm feeling a little put-out too." He muttered.
"Giving up?" I taunted. "But its not even the best of the bottom."
The group jeered and I felt slightly shamed for pressuring the kid. To further my tease, I reached deep into the barrel and they jeered as we all heard the mug scrape the wooden bottom. "Ahh, that's the best." I winked in mockery.
"You win, you great ape." Harlim taunted back.
"Don't mind if I do." A slender hand steered the mug away from me and I followed it off through the crowd like a foolish animal.
"He's leashed." I heard jeers behind me.
Ignoring them, I focused on not tripping over my own feet and safely making it through the crowd. Perhaps if I moved sooner I would have dropped out of the game as well.
"Best of the bottom indeed."
Before me, seated cross-legged on a low table in the corner of the room, sat a simply dressed assassin in lowly robes. From the length and belt I could tell this was a high rank, a master at least, and I felt the heat rise in my neck. He was narrow, thin and lean, and his fingernails - although short - were spared of blood or dirt. His hood was different from our common ones as well, having extra material to cover more of his face. He looked angelic innocently sipping my drink.
"Uh-huh." I managed to whispered. I felt that I had not the words to say or understand what was happening.
"Come sit. Unless you wish to take back what is yours and leave me so." The way he said it made me think of someone from my past but I pushed the thought from my mind. It seemed cruel to follow him throughout the party to take my drink from him when he and me were the lone two that ranking that didn't fit among what we could deem as children.
"I would not have you spend the night alone." I shyly smiled, making my way to lean against the table.
He held out the drink, to which I took it and sipped, before handing it back. "It is indeed the best."
He giggled and I chuckled, seeing tiny glints of white reflect the moonlight as he smiled. I leaned a bit closer and shuffled over, eager to have him close to me. I normally courted less obviously in pubic - even though my reputation for being quite a sleaze had gotten around.
"So...what's the whole party for?" His accent caused a stone in my memory to turn although I was either too drunk or too enamored to care.
"Ah, the novices won a few good victories and word has been that the Templars are at a heavy loss."
"Allowed for encouragement, eh?" He smirked.
"Yeah, kids you know." I whispered back, a lump forming in my throat.
"I feel so out of place."
"Truth be told, I as well. Almost like a-"
"Fatherly figure? Yeah."
"We're just getting old, I figure."
"Old?" He stood on the table and grabbed my shoulders to call me up. I noticed I had a good few inches on him this close and he placed his hands on my waist, easing his fingers to brush my hip bones and send pleasure coursing throughout my body. "We are not old - we are young still."
He shook his hips to the beating music, music that I didn't realize was playing at all. Upon the table, the vibrations could not only be heard but felt and I watched in growing excitement as he danced upon my body, high upon the table for the crowd to see.
"Oh, um I see." My voice cracked from not expecting this behavior and the younger side of me began to come forward. I rubbed my hands up his thighs, pausing to squeeze a handful of his backside while running another hand down his back, fingertips caressing his spin. He moaned a single sweet sound that went straight to my groin and I barred my teeth in frustration.
He spun in my arms and turned so my attention was caught in his movements. He placed his hands in mine and wrapped my arms around his body, sliding himself in erotic movements across my body and giggling as I flushed red. I ran my hands down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his robes and pausing when they came to rest on the crimson belt he tightly bound about his middle. He turned to smirk, moving quickly so I caught not his face. His soft lips grazed the shell of my ear as he whispered, "That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer ;"
I stared down and noticed how close we were standing. He wrapped his arms around me and, in the safety of our dark corner, rubbed his body up against mine, giggling. Without thinking, I growled and pulled him close, grabbing both his thighs and pressing him in-between me and the wall behind him.
He only laughed and wrapped his legs around my waist. "You think you've won me yet?" He giggled some more and had the audacity to pull me closer by my shoulders. He licked the shell of my ear this time, nipping the lobe with his teeth. "Plea-ase. I'm not that drunk." He moaned.
I licked my lips in response and placed one hand upon the wall beside him. Hoisting him upon my waist in with the other hand, I rubbed against him through our clothing - hoping this would get him out of them. He moaned, throwing his head back and I felt the lust burn in my eyes. He would be mine tonight.
The table scraped against the floor as he rubbed back against me and we stumbled to keep our balance. Though it was awkward I did not allow him to fall and instead we decided to leave the room for a more private setting.
"Where do you wish to go?" I asked, holding his hand in one of my own and noticing how tiny he was compared to me.
"Wherever we are alone."
"Hmm...I do not want to go somewhere lowly. We are above the stables and haystacks."
"Haystacks? My, you have been around."
"Hey!" I jokingly pulled his hand, causing him to fall back into my chest. To my surprise he moaned and ran a hand along my shoulder to my spleen.
"If only..." the rest of his sentence was lost as he nuzzled his face into my chest.
"What was that babe?" I questioned.
"Never mind."
"How about..."
I dragged him off to the library, pausing to take the stairs up towards the private gardens. He blushed as we rushed over the cool grass and splashed through the fountain. There was a gazelle to the side but I ignored that and led him to the small door behind it. Twisting the knob, I put my shoulder against the door and gave it a good heave upwards as I flicked my wrist. The door opened and I pulled him inside, keeping him from walking into the dust motes and cobwebs that littered the floor and air.
"Where are we?" He questioned in awe and I grinned that I impressed him.
"We are in one of the abandoned towers. My father..." I swallowed, my throat feeling slightly dry as I brought the subject to myself. "My father used to bring me here when I was a boy. He'd take me to the top and show me the view of the Cliffside, the waters. It's an amazing view."
He turned to face me in the dark and although I could not make out his eyes or features, I could tell he was seeing mine, analyzing what he found.
"C'mon." I unsurely spoke, taking his hand with more confidence than I imagined I would have and leading him up the spiral stairs. I brushed aside more dust and dirt and pulled open the door at the top of the stairwell, drawing it aside to lead him into the circular room.
"You say it was abandoned?" He questioned behind me.
We stared together about the room, I with my arm around his shoulders. It was made of light gray stone, although it was darkened by the lack of light. The crescent moon outside provided little of that element, although the fireplace did have some embers in it. There was a large white sheet spread out across the middle of the floor and boxes and small tables were pushed against the wall. What had always captivated my attention in this room was the large picture window that was closed in. There was some sort of glass that bended with the building to keep the opening tightly shut and the glass often was glazed with a reflection of either sky or water that caused the outside to be unable to look in.
"It's so open here." He whispered in awe, stepping into the middle of the room.
"Indeed. And no one can see us."
"They can walk in." He unsurely whispered.
"Not anymore." I spoke casually, pushing a table with some heavy boxes on it in front of the door.
He giggled and I crossed the room to stand with him and seize his face in my hands. Placing my palms against his soft skin delighted me more than it should and he closed his eyes to keep me from his features. This close I could see he had glamorous eyelashes that would make any maiden green. His skin was smooth and I caressed his cheek with my thumb. His lips parted slightly in a small gasp and I felt his breath against my lips. "Oh Abbas." He whispered and I vaguely realized he was from my past, the memory of his voice mingling with the present, before he pressed his lips so tenderly against mine.
In blissful chaos we shed our robes and our eyes drank in each other's bodies. His skin, so pale against mine, glistened in the moonlight and his slow, enticing movements made me feel as though we were participating in some private, holy dance. He unbound his hair, kept back by a band at the base of his neck, and kissed my lips sending my skin on fire while whispering sweet nothings as I taught him of pleasure. For one so innocent, his actions proved adulterous and it took little from him to make me long for more. He danced and moaned so under me and once I was spent he wasted no time in kissing and rubbing me until I could satisfy him once more. Breathless and exhausted, I pressed my lips to his once more, feeling the buzz of ale and the aftershock of our bodies. He kissed me in return, licking my bottom lip and sucking gently on my tongue when I parted them. He moaned in pleasure and I wrapped my arms around him, afraid he would disappear in the morning's light. I tasted of ale and sweat but he found no discomfort in that and nuzzled into my side happily. I longed to brush the hair out of his face and look upon whom had made my life feel complete when he sighed and I felt his eyelashes brush closed against my chest. I dropped my hand to his shoulder and sighed myself. He had exhausted me as no other had done.