Altaïr blinked his eyes open blearily, the tendrils of sleep still tugging at his mind to make him fall back asleep. For a moment he laid there, squinting through the darkness at the wall of the tiny bedroom.
He heard the door open slowly and carefully, and the eleven year old felt a smile draw across his face. His dad was home. He had finally woken up from that terrible nightmare where his father had died, and left him all alone.
Altaïr sat up in his bed, his covers falling in a crumpled heap at his waist, the sleepy, childish grin on his face as he opened his mouth to greet his father. However, the smile faded when he saw that it was not, in fact, his father standing in the doorway, and reality came seeping back to the eleven year old's mind.
His father had been beheaded not a week before, betrayed by Ahmad Sofian, who had given up his name under torture.
It was Ahmad who stood before him now, in the darkened doorway of the bedroom that the two Ibn-La'Ahads had once shared. Altaïr squinted at him in the darkness, before reaching over and turning on the oil lamp that sat on the desk, his face drawn in disappointment.
Ahmad was looked tired; his dark hair was a mess, and his eyes had dark purple smudges under them. However, that did not stop him from grinning wildly at the boy, making him feel perturbed. Something was glinting in Ahmad's hand, and Altaïr found his eyes drawn to it. His golden eyes widened when he realized that it was a knife.
"I'm sorry." Ahmad said before Altaïr could do anything, still grinning like a maniac as he raised the knife.
Ahmad drew the knife across his throat sharply. Altaïr stared at him in horror as the man's arms dropped to his sides, the knife landing on the ground with a clatter. He stood there for a moment, swaying in the doorway, still grinning, the cut on his throat open like a second mouth with blood pouring down from it.
Ahmad fell face forward, landing with a dull thump onto the stones of Altaïr's room. He brought his knees to his chest, trembling, and buried his face into his hands, staring at the gruesome corpse through his fingers. The pool of blood emanated from the body, creeping closer and closer to Altaïr's bed and seeping into the stones.
Altaïr was frozen. He knew he should leave, that he should get help, and tell someone what had happened. Al Mualim was the obvious answer. However, he was too afraid to move. In fact, he was terrified, and his body did not seem to be following his commands as he stared at the corpse, the light from his oil lamp dancing in Ahmad's blood.
Eventually, Altaïr slowly straightened his legs out and carefully put them onto the floor. He tiptoed around the corpse carefully, unsuccessfully avoiding getting warm, wet, sticky blood on his bare feet. When he had successfully reached the other side of the bedroom, he broke out into a run in the hall until he reached Al Mualim's bedroom door.
He pounded on the door furiously until it swung open to reveal the Mentor, who was holding his sword. His one good eye was wild, and it took him a moment to focus on Altaïr. He stood for a moment, taking in the blood on the child's feet and his tear-stained cheeks, with more squeezing out of his luminous golden eyes.
Al Mualim frowned, sheathed his sword, and ushered Altaïr inside. He sat him down on his bed, which was still semi-warm. Altaïr was still shaking, and his hands were fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Al Mualim watched him silently as the child gulped for breath.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"Ah- Ah-" Altaïr stammered, "Ahmad came into my room."
"Ahmad Sofian?" Al Mualim asked sharply. Altaïr nodded. "What happened? Tell me iexactly/i what happened."
"He- he-" Altaïr gulped, still trembling, "He apologizes and he... He took a dagger to his throat." he whispered.
Al Mualim watched him for a moment, but Altaïr fell silent. He closed his eyes, but the image of Ahmad's blood seemed to have burned itself on the back of his eyelids.
"I will be back." Al Mualim said shortly.
Altaïr's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to beg Al Mualim to stay, to not leave him alone, but he remembered that it was not his place, and clicked his jaw shut and nodded. Al Mualim studied him for a moment before leaving the room.
Altaïr brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his boney arms around them. Darkness plagued him from all sides, and the objects in the room created ghoulish shadows that looked like creatures were going to leap out at the child at any minute.
After far too long, Al Mualim returned, and Altaïr nearly began to cry again out of relief.
"I have removed Ahmad's body." he announced, "You are not to breath a word of this to anyone, do you understand me? Committing suicide is a terrible, dishonorable thing to do, so the story will be put out that Ahmad ran away, that he fled underneath the cover of darkness. Do you understand?"
Altaïr nodded slowly. "Didn't he have a son? Abbas? Is he to know?"
"No." the Mentor said sternly, "For if anyone finds out that Ahmad killed himself, then that shame will spread to him as well.
"I will train you both once you are old enough." Al Mualim continued, and Altaïr briefly felt a flash of excitement though his terror.
Altaïr nodded again and looked down at his feet. "Can- can I stay?" I don't want to be alone.
Al Mualim appraised him for a moment, but relented; he sighed in a way that could almost be described as disappointment. He reached onto a shelf and grabbed a thin blanket, which he promptly threw at the child.
"You may sleep on the floor here, for tonight only." Al Mualim said shortly.
The old man settled back into his own bed, and seemed to be asleep once more within minutes. Altaïr clutched the blanket tightly, before settling onto the floor.
Between the cold stone beneath him and the horrible nightmares, Altaïr did not get a wink of sleep that night.
It's been a little while since I've posted something. I have been taking suggestions for short stories on Deviantart, and this was one of the requests. I thought it was good enough to publish here. If anyone has any suggestions for me here, just let me know. I will only be doing one-shots, and I will not be including any OCs; only cannon characters. No yaoi, either. Just be specific enough so that I know what to write, and vague enough so that I can run with it. :)
Safety and peace, friends!