February 14th. A date commonly known as Valentine's Day; a day in which love is expressed through lovers, soul mates, husbands and wives. It was a day to truly express the emotion through gifts, words, and shows of affection. To Altaïr, though, he did not seem very interested in such a "meddlesome tradition" as Valentine's Day. He rarely ever spent time with women with the exception of those that lived within the walls of Masyaf, but he rarely saw them to begin with. According to Al Mualim, the intimate love between a man and woman was a way to make an Assassin weaker, and as the student, that was exactly how Altaïr was brought up to believe for many years of his life. Without a father around to teach him the important things in life, he constantly relied on the Grand Master's teachings to tell the difference between right and wrong. As he became older, he became much more stoic and rarely even looked in the direction of another woman so as to not be distracted by love. However, he miscalculated only once; but he knew it would never happen again, for he did not wish to feel the pain that had taken over his heart all over again for a second time in his life. That was then; but things changed as the years afterwards since he had ever seen or heard from her; from Adha. He had to move on, he told himself, and that was exactly what he did. He had moved on...to Cynthia Richard.
He remembered Al Mualim sending him off to find and kill Richard's daughter for reasons unknown to the Assassin, and he remembered seeing her for the first time not at a distance, but up close. Her eyes; as green at the treetops of a forest, stared into his dark hues just as he was about to finish her, and her brown colored hair splayed out against the roof of the building as he straddled her, ready to end her live in an instant. Yet although he knew it would never happen again, he fell for her. Not at first, of course, but over time. He did not lie to himself; she was as beautiful as she was interesting, compassionate and different from the women he had set his eyes on for only a moment; from Adha herself. To better acquaint himself with her, Altaïr went to visit her before she went to sleep. They spoke for what felt like all night before departing; leaving her behind with a soul filled to the brim with happiness. When he returned the next night, she confessed that she trusted him with her life; something that oddly made him feel... happy. It felt rare to actually think of him being happy, but that was what he felt whenever he held her in his arms, pulling her close to him, hear her sigh so contently against him as if she loved being held by him.
Unfortunately, for him, all good things eventually had to come to an end; one he did not anticipate would happen...not again.
Altaïr quietly stood there, staring forward at something, something very important to him. From behind, he almost appeared like a statue. The only sound that he felt he could hear was the sound of his breathing and the wind brushing against the trees outside of the cave. The sun was already high in the sky, he knew; signifying that the hour was noon. Today was Valentine's Day; he realized that this morning when he had awoken to his wife, Maria, smiling warmly at him before kissing his cheek as a sign of affection. With that thought in mind, his heart seemed to sink with every hour that had passed. Although he did not show it, he knew people could sense it. Malik sensed it; Maria sensed it and even his own son Darim; despite being only five years old, questioned if his own father was all right. Of course, so they would not worry so much, he lied and said it was nothing; but they could easily see through it. However, they tried not to push the subject and left him alone; left him to his own thoughts. Thankfully, now that he had time to himself, he decided to head outside of Masyaf; to a location that only the Assassins knew of. Nobody noticed him leave nor did anyone try to look for him: at least that was what he had hoped, anyway.
A sigh escaped his lips as he took a few steps forward, approaching whatever it was that was in front of him. When he stopped walking, he looked down. It still feels unreal; he thought. He never thought he would actually have to see this every day; all to see her; to see Cynthia. He never did expect to see her within the confines of a tomb.
Why, he thought. Why did it have to be this way? Why did the things that happened result in the loss of his Cynthia? His beloved and beautiful Cynthia? Once again, he had lost someone he loved greatly, and once again his heart felt heavy. However in comparison to Adha; his heart felt much heavier with the amount of grief, as he had witnessed her death right before his own eyes. At first, it felt like his world had ended, as if all else no longer mattered; but he had to learn to move on even if leaving her in his memories was the hardest thing he ever had to do. All of the nights he spent with her, talking, laughing, staring into one another's eyes, was all gone. Never again would be able to hold her in his arms, kiss her; look into her eyes with all the love he could give to her. Never again would he hear her voice; the one that was music to his ears and warmed his heart and soul with every word that escaped her lips. Never again would he feel her touch against his skin, warming him as she looked up to him; her eyes filled with so much love; so much compassion it would have made any grown man fall to his knees.
He blinked as he placed both of his hands atop the tomb that held his long dead soul mate. Yes; that was what he would miss most of all about her: those forest green eyes of hers. Whenever he saw them, they were always filled so much love and compassion, especially when those eyes were directed at him and only him. The amount of passion in her eyes truly showed how much she had fallen for him despite the short amount of time that they had known one another. However, time was not on their side when it came to their love. Instead, they enjoyed every minute of their time together and never let it go to waste; no matter what. Every memory that was made between the two had been kept close to his heart and he did not, nor would he ever forget- a single moment he spent with her, with his beloved Cynthia. Still; although every moment that he remembered of her was one of happiness, his heart was still filled with grief, knowing he would never be able to reminisce those special memories with her and remember all of those joyful moments he spent with her. That was what hurt him most of all.
Without a word Altaïr brushed off the collecting dirt and dust that had piled on top of the stone coffin. He had the coffin specially made just for her, to show that, even in death, he would always love her and cherish her memory until the very end of time. It was the least he could do for her as it would live on for forever; just like his love for her. Yes he was married to Maria; and he did love her as much as he loved Cynthia. Still, it was difficult to say the two were one in the same when it came to his emotions. If he had to be honest with himself, he could say he loved Cynthia much more, but that did not mean he was going to stick to the past and be forever remorseful. He loved Maria just as much as he loved Cynthia because the two were quite similar. Of course, Cynthia had grown up learning from Maria during her teenage years as the former Templar once told her husband; since Cynthia's mother was not around to teach her and her father was much too busy with other things to worry about family. After hearing those words from Maria, Altaïr assumed that was one of the reasons why Cynthia's relationship with King Richard had fallen apart as she stood up for herself and demanded to be treated better; something he never acknowledged until she left the Templar Knights and ran away with the Assassins. In a way, that was enough of an incentive to leave everything behind, her past as a Templar, her future of becoming queen, and joining the Assassins instead.
Pursing his lips, he eyed the coffin for a long moment, staring at the intricately carved Assassin that protruded from the lid of Cynthia's stone cold death bed. His mind was reminiscing again, and yet he did nothing to stop it. It had been that way since her death; and it increased on Valentine's Day. Even though he was now married to Maria and always would be till death, memories of his beloved Cynthia continued to replay in his mind. Her smile, her laughter, her hair, her eyes, her strong-willed and compassionate personality; everything about her would just appear to him all at once on Valentine's Day. However, instead of feeling sad over it, he felt...happy in a sense that she was now in a place where problems were but a fairytale. That, and the fact that she had promised that one day, they would meet again someday in another life so they may be together once again. He liked the sound of that, meeting again in another lifetime, to start over in the life of someone else and be...happy again. Maybe, he thought; he would be able to appreciate her more on this fourteenth day of February, on Valentine's Day, when he could truly show her how much she meant to him while she was alive. It sounded very unlikely, to meet one another again in some other life, but he believed it was possible no matter how far-fetched it sounded to someone else. Which life they would meet again, though, was beyond his knowledge. However it did not matter to him, as long as he was able to see his beloved Cynthia again.
A small smile formed on his lips as he closed his eyes, sighing contently.
"Sleep well, my love," he spoke, "for one day, we shall see one another again. And on this day, this fourteenth day of February, I will truly show you how much you mean to me; in this life and in the next one." As he said those words, he turned away slightly and pulled something out of his robe. He eyed the object intently as he turned back toward the coffin before slowly placing it on the edge. The object was a single red rose with a piece of a neatly cut red ribbon wrapped around the stem of it, representing the Assassins whom she had once loyally served under until her death. Tied to it was a pure white feather of a dove, one that represented peace and hope. It suited her, he thought. It suited her very well.
"Just wait, Cynthia," he muttered as he turned around and began walking out of the tomb. "One day, I will no longer need the memories I have of you any longer; and we can start anew without anyone or anything to tear us apart. One day we will celebrate Valentine's Day...together."-A short pause-"But for now, you may rest as long and as much as you like, and I will be waiting for you with open arms and a bouquet of roses in anticipation for your arrival into this world once again."