"Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair."
~Susan Polis Schutz

Focus On Me

Of all the places Maria thought that she would go, an exotic, loud, and outrageous festival was not one of them. As much as she despised bright and crowded spaces, it was possible to somehow appreciate the cultural explosion surrounding her. With one look she could taste the happiness in the air. It was almost contagious, but she would never take it that far. It was her responsibility to remain unseen. Suddenly participating in the festivities was something she couldn't do, no matter how enticing the music was.

Sighing, Maria impatiently tapped her fingers against her arm. Blending in was something she had difficulty comprehending, let alone accomplishing with success. For the longest time she had thrown herself into battle with her eyes and weapons blazing. Since siding with the assassins however, her habits had been forced to change. As the wife to a skilled man she could no longer afford to act recklessly. Despite that new change in thought, she continued to have difficulty accepting it. For the first time in her life, she felt like a child. The world obviously liked to play games with her. Choosing a new life meant choosing a new set of skills. Be it a blade or silence, Maria would have to learn to use it all over again.

"You're making a scene," a voice suddenly whispered in her ear.

"And you aren't?"

Altaïr only managed to chuckle ruefully. "The difference between me and you, my love, is that my actions are far from intentional."

"Well, you intentionally came to find me. That seems pretty deliberate."

Sliding a finger across her cheek, Altaïr released a heavy sigh. "You make it difficult not to. I told you to blend in, but look at what you do. Maria, you look like a novice."

Twisting around, she caught her husband's gaze with her own. "What do you expect me to do? Everyone is dancing for Christ's sake."

For the first time, Altaïr seemed to notice that the crowd was swinging and swaying to an upbeat tune. Maria didn't expect him to acknowledge such a thing as he was incredibly thick-headed. Of all the things in the world, dancing was something he probably didn't comprehend. Despite her opinion, she couldn't really make any assumptions. Altaïr was a unique individual. If he didn't know how to dance he would probably pick it up within a matter of seconds.

"Move with the people, not against them. Be one with the crowd."

"What did I just say?" Maria repeated in a frustrated tone, "All of the people here are dancing. Walking, standing, or even breathing without moving looks utterly ridiculous."

Altaïr shook his head. "That seems like a simple issue to solve."

"Of course it does. What would you propose, oh almighty one?" Maria grumbled as an elbow plummeted into her ribcage. Unconsciously she shifted towards her husband in order to avoid the raging crowd.

Snickering happily, Altaïr weaved a hand around her waist. He pulled her close, pressing Maria's body against his inappropriately. "In order to be one with the crowd, you must join them fully."

Struggling to resist his grasp, Maria sighed deeply. "Are you suggesting we dance? I wasn't aware that you even possessed that gift."

"I'm a man of many talents."

"Considering all of my experiences, I would have to agree," she said hotly, scowling at the sudden expression of satisfaction that snaked across Altaïr's lips. Despite all the time that had passed, he still managed to be a prideful and arrogant fool. Rolling her eyes Maria slapped him in the shoulder. He could use some discipline in his life.

"Again, you're making a scene."

"I wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't come barrelling after me like a lovestruck fool." Maria replied in a frustrated tone. She sent a glare in her husband's direction before peeling his hand away from her hip. Like usual, it returned twice as fast. It was almost impossible for her to run or somehow stray from his side. For some unexplainable reason, his gaze was glued to her petite form. No matter where she was, her presence and location was always known.

"You certainly have a way with words," Altaïr said softly under his breath.

Maria scoffed, "When my husband is a pretentious imbecile I have to be prepared."

Sighing, he shook his head. "Your frustration is unwarranted. This activity was only meant to serve as practice."

"Practice makes perfect. Now let go."

"Unfortunately, I cannot heed your request. From what I recall, we were going to dance."

An angry huff slipped through Maria's lips. She moved again, this time shifting her position so her mouth was conveniently placed against her husband's ear. "I don't recall agreeing to that."

Her statement had the desired effect; within seconds Altaïr's body had relaxed, although his fingers remained tightly bunched against her side. It seemed as though she would remain plastered to his chest for eternity. Not that she minded of course, but in a thick crowd of people it was something she would rather save for more intimate quarters.

"That's interesting," Altaïr began quietly, fiddling with a strand of Maria's dark hair, "you aren't exactly disagreeing either, are you?"

"Are you aware that you're quite bothersome?"

"Not by half."

Barely suppressing a small smile, Maria decided to relent. It was far too troubling attempting to ignore his touch, especially within his homeland. After months of travelling and seemingly avoiding Masyaf castle, Altaïr had returned, bringing her with him. At first, everything had been very rough. The notion of uniting with an Englishwoman was something many people refused to understand. For the longest time Maria couldn't comprehend it herself, but the boundaries of loyalty and affection were far stronger than those of ethnicity. Time taught most that she was no longer a threat. Of course that had involved many days of pent up anger and rage, but she had learned many lessons from those unfortunate moments. Her husband would believe otherwise, but he was as stubborn as an ox. Maria usually allowed Altaïr to act as he pleased, but occasionally she attempted to sway his thoughts. Such was the life of a married woman, she supposed.

"You're foolish, Altaïr. You mean for me to practice and yet spoil any attempts I have at doing so. That's quite selfish, don't you think?"

"So it's selfish of me to spend time with my own kin?" he replied in a light-hearted tone, once again brushing the side of her face.

Still smirking, Maria laughed. "It's so very cruel."

"You lie," he whispered affectionately, leaning in to press his lips against her own.

Fortunately, Maria had an ounce of self control. She leaned away from his touch, snorting as confusion lit up within his eyes. Once she had believed Altaïr to be a man devoid of passion, kindness, and life. Upon marrying him however, she had learned that he had far more to offer. All of the knowledge of the world lay in his voice, words, and clever hands. Perhaps he was foolish and utterly prideful, but she accepted those traits with open arms. They defined her husband. Without them there was no way he could be himself.

"I thought you wanted to dance?"

A low groan exploded throughout the air, "And you thought I was the fool. There is only one thing I want."

Reaching for his other hand Maria couldn't help but snicker ruefully. "Names will get you nowhere."

"I wouldn't be too sure, my lady," he whispered, pulling her close to him once again. Brushing his mouth against her cheek, Maria couldn't help but smile. It was difficult to predict what plan he had up his sleeve, but in the end she didn't care. Like the dutiful wife she was, his little act would be played along with. That made everything incredibly more amusing.

"Altaïr," Maria began, but was quickly cut off. Not by any bystander of course, but her husband himself. With a sly sort of mischief, he had pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. How that had happened, she had no idea. Everything was beginning to occur far too fast.

"May I have this dance?"

"What kind?" she asked carefully, wanting to know exactly what game Altaïr planned to drag her into.

"None of that rigid English nonsense. That just wouldn't be appropriate."

"What would you propose then?"

"I'm more than certain you can follow my lead," Altaïr said in a low tone. He proceeded to pull Maria further into the crowd, his hands remaining in their previous positions.

In the long run, there wasn't a lot she could do. Dancing with her husband was once the least of her priorities, but now it seemed like it was the only option she had left. It wasn't like she could run or refuse to stand along his side. Altaïr was an insistent man; he always seemed to get what he desired in the end. Perhaps that was Maria's doing. For some indescribable reason, she found herself tangled in his thoughts and the subtle look in his gaze. With every breath she took, he dug a little deeper into her heart and soul. That was never supposed to be possible or even conceivable, but as time wore on Maria found it to be so. Ignoring any sensation related to that revelation was a novelty that couldn't be tossed to the wind.

Resigning herself to fate, she looked at her husband with a worried gaze. Being of noble blood, Maria had skill in the English form of dancing, one which required little body contact whatsoever. It was impossible to predict what Altaïr had planned, seeing as he was far from being a simple gentlemen. Stepping into of any sort of physical boundary was something he did with ease. It wasn't exactly distasteful, but it did have its downfalls now and again. That was a rarity of course, but the fact remained; Maria wasn't entirely certain how to move in the way her husband wanted.

Altaïr must have sensed her distaste. In seconds, the predatory grin slapped across his face was replaced with a warm smile. "Focus on me. I can't imagine that's too hard."

His statement was intended to inspire comfort, that Maria knew, but in the end she refused to fall for it. Pretending to smile, she stuck out a foot and hoped Altaïr would fall flat on his face. That was the least he deserved for continuing to act like an arrogant fool. To her absolute satisfaction, he did exactly what she predicted. With her boot placed conveniently beside his own, it wasn't surprising when he stumbled backwards, nearly crashing into an jittery elderly couple. Knowing full well that was the only time Maria would see Altaïr at fault, Maria laughed loudly, eliciting several questioning stares from the crowd.

"Very clever," he said in a breathless tone.

Still laughing, Maria shook her head. "Hardly. I thought it was more funny myself."

Glancing at the surrounding mass of people, Altaïr sighed deeply. "I have the distinct feeling that dancing will go no where with you, novice."

"You're quite correct, although I think you have a good chance of going somewhere this fine evening."

"Oh? And where would that be, my fine lady?"

Sucking back her pride, Maria finally allowed Altaïr to have what he wanted. As long as it was on her terms, she would be more than willing to comply. "Anywhere with me."

And with that statement, she drew him in for a kiss. It wasn't the sort meant for a greeting or petty reunion either. Passion slipped from her lips to his own like a breath of air. She slid her hands into Altaïr's hair, roughly pulling his mouth towards her own. When his hood slipped onto his shoulders, Maria could only revel in a silent victory. That was the first step to making him lose his composure. It was like pulling on a curtain; with a small tug some sunlight would begin to shine through. Suppressing a satisfied smile, she slid her hands from the back of his head to the sash wrapped around his waist. She fiddled with the fabric, eliciting a strangled groan from the back of his throat.

"You're making a scene," she mocked, forcing her lips to part with the man caged with her arms.

"I don't particularly care,"Altaïr replied, although just barely. He was struggling to come up with words. His breath, once steady, was coming out in gasps. Maria was surprised by the effect on her husband. For the longest time she had been and would be for years to come.

Continuing with her word game, Maria repeated Altaïr's words. "You lie."

"That's not a bet you want to take."

"Are you so sure?"

Before she could say anything else, Altaïr's lips crashed onto her own again. He devoured any words she wanted to say within a matter of seconds. With an air of confidence, he snaked his fingertips up her waist and back, grinning like a fool at her reaction. Maria had leaned into his touch, ignoring everything and anything surrounding her body. Nothing really mattered except the breath she stole from the man she claimed to love. The music and dancing was merely a figment of her imagination—a distraction at this point. It would forever remain in the background, just as it was always meant to be.

A/N: Hello, world! Yes, here is another random story for Assassin's Creed! Plot bunnies are bouncing around in my head, so it's really no surprise that this suddenly came into existence. I know it's not particularly unique, but in the end, it just had to be written down. I honestly believe that Altaïr and Maria need more attention! I think they have a very interesting story, one that should be explored.

~IronEclipse