Narration / Point of view

Thoughts

Dastan

Altair

Chapter One - The Meeting...

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Amber eyes set determined on a small tavern like sitting, watching intently on the fellow Prince as he showed off to the lively – drunk and incoherent – crowd; Deep chuckle that could be heard from outside, shoulder length, chocolate brown hair swaying as the drunk moved about through the tavern, and a harmed smile, wooing all the women that accompanied him… His target. The hooded man watched – a hawk awaiting its victim - perched from his highest vantage point, the glow of his eyes and sculpted scowl the only visible features. To anyone he might have allowed to see him, he looked majestic: Ghost against the dark shadows of the clouded moon, with a glow that would strike fear to those that admired him once they realized he was Death itself… and the last thing they would ever see. He had been sent out… on this assassination just days ago, it would have been quick too if he hadn't had to travel from Jerusalem to Persia. He shrugged it off as he back away from any view point, examining the drunken prince as he along with the crowd of rambunctious fools proceeded toward the castle.

Now it begun..

Altair followed at a safe distance, moving from roof top to roof top making sure he kept his presence hidden – it would be an apocalyptic day when he'd allow drunken towns people to discover Altair Ibn-La Ahad : Ghost of the creed. The crowd picked off slowly but surely, men returning to their families or vacant homes; women leaving with the drunken fools who became their new fling once rejected by the loved prince. The site made the assassin frown.

'Has flaunting your body to a hormonal drunk become a women's idea of courting?'

The self-argument between which disgusted him more came to a halt upon noticing that all who were once bystanders had vanished, leaving the prince – alongside whom was noted as the elder sibling, Tus – prancing up the castle stairs while singing an unrecognizable tune… which could have been in some Persian tongue or he was too drunk to form words.

'Babbling fool,' was all Altair could say to himself in frustration knowing that for one, the creed wasted his time with a wasteful mission such as this and the fact that he had the journey back to look forward to. With unmatched skill and deathly silence, Altair scaled the castle walls once it had been identified the room belonging to the Prince was just east of the Tower. He crouched off the ledge just above the balcony of his decided target, keeping his breath still when the doors opened and a sign of life rested against the rail, looking over the city.

"Lovely night is it not? Smell of fresh air hopefully the scent of copper and sweet sleep will not accompany it hm?"

With that the doors were closed with a soft yet deep chuckle echoing behind, leaving the Assassin confused. 'Had he discovered my presence?' The thought bugged him, he had to be cautious with approaching the man especially with the knowledge that he may have been discovered. A flick of his wrists, his retractable blades made themselves acknowledge-able; moonlight dancing on their slim bodies, glimmering down to their very ends – sharp enough to slice through the chilled, barely audible night air.

Altair stepped off from his previous watch point, - dropping with the lightest step onto the balcony – peering into the room from a side view. He pitied that he would potential have to destroy the beauty of the room lit by a single candle: walls coated in a deep Sapphire blue, with its' bottoms graced with lavender and white trimmings. The shielded stone floor beneath Ancient Persian inspired carpeting, with a look that would give anyone the expectation of it being the softest of any carpeting fabric upon the face of the Earth; but the bed, it caught Altair's eye the most. Large in its size, covered in Persian silk, matching the trimmings on the walls of lavender and white. It was enclosed with drapes almost like waterfalls of vanilla cream, and the man that rested on the bed almost look as if he was designed within the sheets. Stonic features, his chest almost as if it were a sculpture, chest rising steadily.

'He is asleep.'

With that said, the Ghost assassin slipped between the doors, his blades ready to strike down the sleeping prince; however, upon approaching the figure Altair paused. He hesitated with hands trembling in mid strike as he examined the man before him. The features he noticed from a distance looked as if they had intensified with each step, bringing a soft heat to his cheeks. Reality struck him that he was blushing yet he couldn't continue through his strike, transfixed on the God-Like creation before him.

"It be a shame that such beauty would be the decider of my life."

A voice brought him from his trance, and amber found themselves locked in battle with deep brown irises that showed no Signs of strife or hostility, but gave a calming tranquil expression which was accompanied with a charming grin. He'd hesitated too long in his strike and had been discovered, backing away at a distance when the body rose from its' resting position and seated itself off the edge of the bed chuckling softly. Altair stayed on his toes as the figure advanced until it was a mere few feet from him. The assassin took the distance to his advantage, blades moving swiftly to strike but his hand was stopped, throwing him off guard: he'd had someone other than Malik, - his valued ally - stop his strike. Amber eyes watched as his target retracted his wrist blades as if he knew their function well, chuckling softly at Altair's surprised expression. Surprised transfigured into astonishment when the man took hold his hand, soft lips pressing to the back of it while the eyes looked down upon him.

"Surely such delicate hands were not here to be stained with my blood… My دمی خدای زیبایی(I) may I have your name?"

Dastan's Point of view

I noticed him, watching me from the gathering and how he followed from a high distance towards the castle. I knew he was here for me, and my first instinct was to kill before I was killed, faking my rest to attract him towards me… but…

I looked upon his features and saw he was as captivated by me as I was to him, admiring his amber eyes, rough but feminine features… and the scar.

N.P.O.V.

'Demi.. God...of khoshgel..?' Altair knew little about the Persian language, so he was baffled and confused wondering if the comment was to be taken as an insult or... he shook his head in disbelief refusing to believe that such a comment would be taken in anyway comforting. It would be absolutely foolish to take his target's words for a complement. Lost within his mind, his thoughts were once again interrupted by the self-discussed male when calloused fingers found their way to the assassin's facial features.

Dastan let his fingers pass over the scar that stained the lovely portrait of a man before him, seeing no objection in the fairly short assassin that stood before him, hand in his. The white cloaked man stepped back with realization hit him, watching the Prince with false murderous intent. The glare did nothing to the prince, who sensed nothing but peace from his expectant killer- and plus his killer held a very… cute... blush.

"Come now… surely you know who I am it is only fair I learn of you."

Altair hated to be ignorant but in fact he had no knowledge of what the Prince's name was; he knew of him as a target, not a person. Dropping his guard – only slightly – he looked up to the prince.

"No… I do not know of your own name.. I just know you as my mission."

The response brought a slight pain to the prince, his frown being the result of it. The saddened look changed back to this charming smile, bowing before the Assassin.

"Well then, I am Prince Dastan, youngest son of King Sharaman."

Rising he looked to the Assassin in hopes of a response, but to his disappointment he was greeted with a look of treason. Trying to lighten the mood Dastan chuckled with a goofy posture, rubbing the top of his head stating in a matter-of-factly tone.

"Come on, you tried to kill me without knowing my name, it's only fair I know yours."

Altair looked at the Prince suspiciously, before placating to the request for he could agree with Dastan. He did try – contemplating on following through – to kill him it was only fair. He hesitated as he watched the prince's never wavering smile, that showed know harm to him. The fact that this man showed no threat even with the knowledge that Altair was here to take his life put... fear into the Syrian's heart. His next move would determine the outcome of this mission and the contemplation caused him to turn away, walking to the balcony. Stepping over the bar, he looked back at the god-like man that watched him from silk drapes, resting his body against the entrance of the room and sighed.

"Altair…Altair Ibn-La Ahad…."

With that he leaped off into the night. Dastan kept his smile as he lingered on the name of the beautiful death that graced his presence before he blew out the candle that lit his room.

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"دمی خدای زیبایی" – Demi-god of beauty (he's flirting :3)

Kiyoni - Don't forget to Follow this story and I would like feed back or to know how much you like it ^^. I'm sorry if its been awhile but I'm busy with school but since its almost out I'll be working pretty quick soon!