A fic in response to a kinkmeme request, asking for Altair and Maria dealing with her pregnancy. This is the second het fic I've written since... ever. Normally I stick to slash, and I don't particularly care for Maria Thorpe, but this request stood out to me. Enjoy!
When Maria first told Altaïr she was pregnant, his response was to blink and stare at her dumbly.
"Did I do that?" he asked, with all the innocence of an idiot Assassin Grandmaster who had no idea how the female body worked.
Maria had to clutch onto the desk to keep herself upright as she roared with laughter. Malik presented him with a stone with his words inscribed on it the very next day.
When Maria threw herself out of bed early one morning to find an appropriate place to vomit, Altaïr flailed around in the background, clueless, before shouting for help because he knew something was wrong and he had no idea how to fix it.
Malik calmly entered the room shortly after, having brewed a tea to settle Maria's stomach.
"But what was the matter with her?" Altaïr pressed urgently. Malik stared at him and Maria snorted.
"This child is definitely yours," she said dryly. "Annoying as a buzzing fly, and at the worst times too."
"You mean, this is my fault?" Altaïr asked, slightly horrified.
"Dear God," Malik muttered. "I hope the child inherits your brains, Maria."
Altaïr was even more horrified when he himself began to feel ill. There was absolutely no logical reason for him to fall sick at the most inconvenient of times, other than that Maria did too.
"I am touched that you are so in-tune with me that you even feel my nausea," Maria said sweetly, stroking his sweaty brow as he lay on their bed. "But seriously, you men are all the same about being sick. Harden up."
With that, she flicked him on the nose and left him to groan by himself.
Her belly swelled slowly as the months passed, the only symptom of pregnancy that Altaïr actually recognised. She began to waddle, rather than walk, and was easily tired as she moved from place to place. Malik ordered some cushions to be brought into the Grandmaster's study, and she was content to pass her days sitting amongst them, reading, as Altaïr worked at his desk nearby.
He stole a glance at her. Her skin seemed to glow in the sunlight streaming through the window, and her black hair shined like polished jet. A small, tender smile lingered on her face as she absent-mindedly patted her swollen stomach, shifting now and then to get more comfortable.
She was beautiful.
"Altaïr, you're staring."
She was smirking at him, Altaïr realised. She had placed her book aside, and her hand now simply rested upon her stomach. Altaïr left his desk to kneel beside her, and placed his hand next to hers.
"How long now?" he asked quietly, allowing a rare smile to grace his lips.
"A few months," Maria answered. Altaïr felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect. "I have a feeling it's a boy."
Altaïr gaped at her. "Do you really think so? How do you know?"
"It's just a feeling I have." Maria shrugged, and Altaïr wasn't about to argue with this 'feeling', as illogical as it seemed; this entire ordeal seemed to be founded upon anything but logic. "I don't think he can take your name, Altaïr." she added, sounding slightly amused. Altaïr actually laughed.
"No, I agree. That would be awkward."
"Yes." Maria pursed her lips suddenly, her gaze moving from her stomach to Altaïr, and shit! Altaïr braced himself for one of her sudden mood swings.
"I'm a little frightened," she whispered. Altaïr relaxed; nothing would be broken this time!
Wait, what did she just say?
"I mean, I'm happy, but…" She hesitated. "What if the child is unhealthy? What if I'm not a good mother? I can't stop thinking about these things, Altaïr." Her bottom lip trembled, as if she was holding back tears. Altaïr stared at her, shocked, and presently placed a kiss upon her cheek.
"These aren't skills we're born with," he said. "Just as you learned to plan and fight, so too will you learn to be a mother, and I a father. Bring it on, I say!" He grinned at her wickedly, the way he always did when he was assigned a particularly difficult mission. Maria giggled. "Besides, you are healthy, I am healthy, so there is no logical reason that the child shouldn't be!"
There was no logical reason for Altaïr to feel sick in the mornings, or for Maria to have unholy and often violent cravings for seafood either, but he kept that to himself.
"Thank you." She smiled and leaned up to kiss him, and he suddenly felt a blunt jab on his palm where it lay upon her stomach. He reeled back and onto his feet, shocked.
"What the hell?" he demanded. "Your stomach just attacked me!"
Maria laughed so hard that she had tears in her eyes. "The baby kicked, Altaïr," she said after she had finally calmed down.
Altaïr stared at her. "Kicked?" he echoed weakly.
"Yes."
"Like, with its legs?"
"Yes, Altaïr." Maria rolled her eyes with fond exasperation. "God help me. You are the dumbest smart person I know."
Altaïr barely registered the comment. "Kicked, as if it were in a fight?" he pressed.
Maria paused. "I suppose you could think of it like that-"
"Holy Hell, it's a baby!" Altaïr let out an uncharacteristic whoop, startling several scholars on the lower floor. "My baby! He's an Assassin already!"
"Or she," Maria reminded him, barely holding back her laughter.
"Or she! Or- Hell, I don't care!" Altaïr seized her hand and kissed it. "Wait here! I have to tell Malik!" Without waiting for a reply he took off, tearing through the fortress to find his best friend.
When he told Malik that his child had kicked him, Malik remarked dryly that he could hardly blame the thing.
Though she was heavy with child, Maria refused to miss out on the pivotal activities of the fortress. Altaïr argued heatedly with her, demanding that she stay in bed, but it was an argument he ultimately lost. An Assassin was to be initiated, and would be the first to be bestowed with Altaïr's improved Hidden Blade, no less. Altaïr couldn't deny her access to this celebration.
He stood on the platform, Malik at his right hand and Maria at his left, and he had just given the new Assassin their Hidden Blade when Maria clutched his arm in a vice grip.
"Altaïr, my stomach…" she groaned, staring at him with wide eyes. "I don't feel too well."
Slowly, she slid to the floor, Altaïr asked in a panic what was happening, and the ceremony erupted into chaos.
Malik knelt beside Maria and rubbed her back soothingly, the very picture of composure against the confusion. "Altaïr, you're about to become a father," he said simply. "Pick her up and move her to the infirmary."
Altaïr floundered. "Are you sure we should move her in this state?" he asked urgently.
"You're right." Malik raised an eyebrow at him. "Far better for your child to be delivered upon the stones."
Altaïr moved her with inhuman speed and strength.
He looked on in horror. She was sweating terribly, the ends of her short hair plastered to her forehead. She breathed deeply as Malik instructed her, his hand patting her shoulder now, and fuck, her grip on Altaïr's hand was crushing him.
"You! You did this to me!" she accused, as Altaïr fought to remain calm. "I'll murder you! I'll have your fucking balls!"
"Malik, is it supposed to hurt this much?" Altaïr asked, swallowing thickly. The look Malik gave him told him that it was a stupid question, but thankfully his friend didn't mock him for it.
"Yes, Altaïr. Childbirth hurts in general. It won't be pretty." Malik rubbed Maria's arm. "The end result will be more than worth it."
"Just get it out of me!" Maria screamed, before pointing at the waiting doctor. "You! Get this fucking thing out of me before I rip your teeth out!"
Altaïr stared down at her in absolute shock, wondering how the Hell there could still be humans inhabiting the Earth when it apparently hurt so much to give birth. "Maria, calm down!" he said urgently.
"Calm down? Calm down? There's a monster in my belly and you put it there!" She gripped his hand harder, and he was sure it was broken by now. "Malik! Don't you leave me alone with this nut! He doesn't know the difference between a baby and a melon!"
Altaïr was rather insulted by that - of course he knew the difference: babies looked like little people - but Malik simply smiled indulgingly.
"I'll stay," he promised, before meeting Altaïr's eye. "For you both."
Altaïr's heart swelled.
Malik was right: childbirth was not pretty. Altaïr, who had seen and done countless violent things, was nauseated by the sight, and horrified by Maria's pain. It seemed to take an eternity, and he could only stand by Maria's bed and hold her hand as she cursed him to Hell and back, and by the time the baby was out and its cord was cut, he felt thoroughly useless.
Then the baby began to cry as it was wrapped in a soft towel, and the doctor handed it to Altaïr.
"Congratulations, Brother." Malik said softly, smiling. "A healthy boy."
"Holy shit." Altaïr stared down at his son, and slowly moved to sit beside Maria on the bed. He hugged him delicately, and the baby began to calm. "Look at him. He's so tiny."
"Wow." Maria lifted a hand and stroked the boy's forehead, smiling in her exhaustion. "Did we really do this? Oh, look!" She looked up at Altaïr. "He has your eyes!"
Altaïr laughed. "His eyes are hardly open!" he said. "Would you like to hold him?"
"I would, but I think I'm too weak." Maria rested her head against Altaïr's shoulder. "After I've rested. We can think of a name then, too."
"Good idea." Altaïr already had a name in mind, but he was happy to discuss it with her later. Besides, for all he knew, she wanted their child to have an English name.
Malik rounded the bed and looked over Altaïr's shoulder. "Luckily, I think he's inherited Maria's looks," he teased. Altaïr could only grin.
"I would tell you to go fuck yourself, but my son is within earshot."
"He's so gorgeous." Maria sighed happily and let her eyes slip closed. "I want another one."
Altaïr started. "You can't be serious," he said, staring down at her. Did she seriously not remember the pain and the sickness and the cravings and Altaïr's utter cluelessness about the whole thing? Was another child really a good idea?
His son made a small, garbled sound, and Altaïr promptly forgot any anxieties he had about having more children.
Malik laughed and gripped Altaïr's shoulder. "You're stuck now, my friend," he said, his eyes sparkling. "I'll leave you two alone." He squeezed Altaïr's shoulder and headed for the door of the infirmary. He paused. "Maria?"
Maria looked over at him.
"Next time, can you make sure I'm not within the vicinity before you decide to deliver?" he asked, grinning cheekily. "The birth itself was nothing disturbing, but your mouth is absolutely terrifying."
Maria laughed, Altaïr joined in, and he shifted down on the bed and moved her arms so that they could hold their son together.