So yeah this is my first Assassin's Creed fanfiction (: I got the idea from a beautiful picture that doubleleaf drew called 'hello' on deviantART, go look at it, it's wonderful (:
But anyway, I'm really sorry for not uploading anything in forever, I just haven't had any time at all. But anyway, enjoy! And this is a oneshot, soooo. Yah.
It was quick, a painless death. At least, that's what I hoped. The guards turned, screaming things like "kill the assassin!" and "infidel, die!" at me. I leapt with ease over some barrels and grabbed hold of a balcony and clambered up it, onto the roof. Just as I thought the guards had lost sight of me, and I could jump into a rooftop shelter, they were hot my tail and I had to continue my escape. It wasn't going to be easy; the city bells were ringing and every guard was on the lookout for me. I saw pigeons gathering on the edge of the rooftop and I knew what I had to do. As I reached the ledge I threw myself from the building, landing safely on my back in the haystack. It was now that the guards had lost sight of me, but they knew I'd be in the hay, so I continued running, tackling people as I passed them at full speed. I saw a bench, occupied by a young girl and an old man. I slowed to a jog and gently sat on the bench, letting the crowd shield me as the guards drew closer.
I glanced at the other people occupying the bench. As one of them was only a child I did my best to hide the short dagger that I had used to kill my target. She was too young to see something like that. I couldn't poison her mind like that, or give myself away, as she might scream and run. I heard the guards around the corner and kept my head down, glancing at the girl in pure curiosity, as I saw she was playing with a small wooden horse. It had been a long time since I had witnessed something so carefree and innocent. She must have noticed me looking, because she looked back up at me and smiled from ear to ear. I couldn't help but smile back.
"Why do you have a hood up? It's too hot for that!" she asked, luckily her voice was drowned out by the crowd, so the guards, who had now turned the corner, were unable to hear her.
"It's a long story," I replied shortly. At first I'd assumed that the old man was her grandfather or something, but he hadn't even flinched when I sat between him and the girl, "where are your parents?" I asked. She turned her gaze towards the small wooden horse, an almost wistful look in her eyes.
"My father's busy with work. I have to keep out of his way, else he gets angry." She answered, looking back up at me, shrugging slightly.
"What about your mother?"
"I would stay with mother, but it feels like I'm wasting the sunshine staying indoors. I'm not far from home, I know my way back. I'm a big girl now," she grinned again. I sighed and smiled again. I'd never known my parents; I'd grown up with the Brotherhood, living entirely by the creed, which is why Al Mualim named me the 'Son of None'. But I couldn't imagine how it must feel, growing up knowing that your parents favoured work, or anything else over you. The poor girl; I felt anger towards her father.
I looked back down into my lap and gripped tighter against the knife in my hand, "what makes your father so important that he has to neglect you?" I asked. She shrugged gently and kicked the dirt at her feet.
"I don't know: I've never had the chance to ask," she responded without hesitation. I prayed with all my heart, that he wasn't on the list of my next assassinations. I couldn't ask his name; that would be rude, even if she was young. I noticed her looking at my chest armour and shifted my arm so she could get a better look, without seeing the dagger in my hand, "may I?" she requested, and I nodded. As she was gazing at the intricate detail of the armour, the guards began to give up their search.
"I don't have time for this. I won't forget this, infidel!" I heard one of them shout, as they turned and walked back to their original post. I let out a sigh of relief and rubbed my forehead with my free hand. The girl saw this and glanced back at the retreating guards.
"Is that why you were running? Did you do something bad?" she asked, sitting back, looking up at me with her large chocolate brown eyes. I pulled down my hood and ran my hands through my hair. I looked at her, smiling and shaking my head.
"No, no, they just mistook me for someone," I said. I felt a strong pang of guilt run through my body. I reassured myself that I was lying to protect her as well as myself. A white lie, if you want. She nodded once and scratched her head.
"Is that why you had your hood up then?"
"Kind of," I nodded back at her and smiled. She shrugged and looked back at her horse, my gaze following hers, "that's a beautiful horse. I have a real one," I said, gesturing to the toy horse in her hands. She looked up at me in astonishment, her eyes bright and her expression so animated I almost chuckled.
"You have a horse? What does it look like? Does it have a name?" she asked, all in one breath, her voice so quick that some of the worse slurred together. At that point I had to laugh slightly.
"She's a beautiful black stallion, although I've never gotten round to naming her. I've never thought about it," I paused, glancing at her toy horse, "what's your name?"
"Gavriella,"
"Then my horse shall be named Gavriella," I bowed my head once and looked up at the sky. The sun was setting and the sky was turning a beautiful red. Gavriella did the same and sighed, "It's getting late. Will you be returning home?" I asked.
She nodded slowly, "I'll be helping my mother prepare dinner soon. I should return home." She sighed and stood, holding her hand out to me. I looked down at her tiny hand, untarnished by dirt and age, unlike my own. I shook her hand, pressing my dagger up against my leg, so she wouldn't see it, "It was nice meeting you uh…"
"Altaїr," I told her, "it was a pleasure meeting you too, Gavriella." And it was. It had been so long since I had a conversation with someone so innocent, who didn't understand death or politics, and lived in their own world. I missed that state of mind, where my actions affected me and only me, and I didn't have to worry about the state of the world. I prayed that I didn't see her again, for it might be that it is her father I am assassinating. I just prayed that it wouldn't happen. I couldn't do that to her. Her hand dropped from mine and she began to walk away, waving to me as she turned the corner. I waved back, and pulled the hood over my head, and slid the knife back into its pocket on my back, my smile disappearing completely. I turned to begin climbing the wall, when the old man looked up to me.
"Sweet thing isn't she?" he croaked, smiling to himself as he turned his gaze from mine, "too bad we aren't all like that. Everything would be easier if we were."
I sighed and nodded, before I jumped, catching the window ledge and climbing with ease up the wall until I reached the roof. I began to free run across the rooftops, not far from Malik's Bureau, watching the sun set over the Holy Land.
"Thief! I'll have your hands for that!" a guard screamed, followed by a girl's cries. I sat up instantly from the cushions laid out in Malik's Bureau, recognizing the voice.
"Please, I've done nothing wrong!"
It was her, it was Gavriella, although I hadn't seen her in weeks, I recognized it as clear as day. I began to climb out of the garden, when Malik called after me, "Wait, you, you need to tell me what you know about Jubair al Hakim before you go anywhere else today." I turned and glared at him.
"I will, I just need to save that citizen, can you not hear her? She is but a mere child." I leered, turning to leave again.
"Altaїr, you cannot save every citizen. They are being harassed by the guards because they did something wrong, we cannot stop that." Malik explained, spelling it out as if the assassin before him was an idiot.
"But, Malik, I- "
"Altaїr, stop it." Malik snapped, cutting him off.
As the assassin explained all he knew to Malik, he tried to ignore the cries not far from the Bureau. It almost killed him that he had to stand here, knowing what was happening and he couldn't do a thing about it. Once he had finished explaining everything he knew, he ran full speed from the courtyard and over the rooftops, where he had heard the cries. But they had stopped, completely. Not even the guards were speaking. I jumped down into the street and what I saw broke my heart.
There, on the ground, was Gavriella's – now painted black – wooden horse.