This was inspired by a show with horses and dancers I saw last year. Google 'Apassionata', you're gonna love it!
"I need..." I sang as I checked my pristine white shirt in the mirror. "...some new stil-le-tos..." It draped elegantly over one of my shoulders and disappeared beneath my underbreast corset, as it hugged my waist tightly, silver spikes and rough leather giving a badass touch to the chique style I chose tonight. "...can't walk..." I turned around and studied my leather-clad behind. "...down the street in those..." Patting it affectionately, I checked my breasts for two things: one, if I had enough money, my keys and an eyeliner hidden in them, and two, "...you are..." if they were still the perfect round they were supposed to be, even acting as my purse. "...who you wear, it's true..." I put on my highest, thinnest heels, "...a girl's just as hot, as the shoes she chooses, yeahh..." and left my room, stepping down the stairs.
"Where are you going?" my little brother called from the TV.
"None of your business, don't wait up." I snapped at him and flipped my hair away from my bare shoulder.
"Dad said tha—"
"What dad doesn't know, doesn't upset him." I watched the game's pause screen beep at us. "And anyway, they're giving out awards today, I want to know if my teacher's actually any good." I scoffed at the memory of the woman. She treated the horses better than the humans she taught to ride. "And I might just get into the advanced fencing classes, if I show up in time for the selection..." I started babbling. My brother had long since stopped paying attention to me and continued playing. I purposefully stepped in front of the television as I went for the door, but he, being the little devil's spawn he is, pulled the controller, making me trip on the outstretched wire.
I spared a glare at him in the millisecond it took me to trip, and frowned at the half-surprised, half-scared look on his face as he watched me fall. I blacked out as soon as my head hit the floor.
I had a weird dream. There were men with white tunics and red crosses invading what seemed like a small medieval village. They stopped in front of a majestic fortress, and talked to an old man with a white beard. He gestured around for a moment, and pointed to three white-hooded men, who jumped off the wooden platforms they were standing on. I gasped, but the scene was cut off by a thick white nothing enveloping me and forcing me back to unconsciousness. Before I let it, I vaguely remembered the game my brother had been playing, and its similarity to my dream.
"Do you think she's one of them?"
"A woman?"
"She might be a prisoner."
"She doesn't look like a prisoner."
"A wife?"
"There's no ring on her finger."
"A courtesan?"
"For the love of Shiva, shut up..." I raised a hand to my forehead and rubbed it. "And who the hell are you?" I opened my eyes and stared at the dark insides of three hoods.
"We best take her to the master." One of them sighed. I felt two hands on my arms grip and pull, making me wince.
"I can walk myself." I huffed and yanked my arm from them. When I raised my foot for the first step, I immediately toppled backwards and watched the world spin.
"Apparently not." A deep voice chuckled next to my ear. I shivered and turned around. Focusing on the blurry face, I recognized a handsome man.
"U-um..." I felt my cheeks flush. Damn, was he handsome. I immediately put a little of my weight on him, resting my palms on his chest. He, like all predictable men, automatically held my waist. I felt his fingers twitch through my corset and saw his eyes briefly flicker to my bare shoulder.
"My name is Aytaç." He raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Sherry..." I looked into his eyes and batted my eyelashes, just like I did at the club. I forced back a smirk when I felt his hart speed up a little at my breathless, blushing, helpless self. "Could you..." I gulped theatrically and looked around, gripping at his robe. "Could you tell me where I am?"
"You're in Masyaf. We were just taking you to our master, Al Mualim." I stopped acting damsel in distress and openly stared at him. I looked at the other two men beside us and saw the symbol on their belts.
"Assassin's Creed?" I threw up all pretence and actually would have collapsed, had he not been holding me.
"You know of us?" another man stepped up to my side and growled.
"My brother doesn't shut up about you." I nodded, gulping large quantities of oxygen.
"Your brother?" he asked I shifted my eyes to his. They were a dark golden, staring at me intently. A scar led from the corner of his lip to his chin. I recognized him in an instant.
'Oh, phuck.' Was my only coherent thought.
"He wishes he were an assassin too." I looked back at him, used to winning staredowns, since I was pretty useless in verbal fights.
"I see." He narrowed those pools of liquid gold. Now I wish I had collapsed on him, he was much more my type of man. "Where are you from?" he shook me from my perverted thoughts.
"Manhattan." I answered automatically.
"I never heard of that village. Where is it?"
"Um...I don't...know?" I looked up at Aytaç, who had asked me.
"Aytaç, why are you hugging this beautiful woman instead of helping your brothers?" an old man—the one from my weird dream, possibly Al Mualim—came over to us. I cringed at such an ugly old man calling me beautiful. Aytaç gently put me on my own feet, and I pouted cutely at him. I couldn't really help my flirting. "Try to secure De Sable's horse, he seems agitated." Only then did I register the neighing and angry stomping.
I looked over to the source of the sound, and saw the most beautiful Shire Horse nervously stomping at so many assassins around it, occasionally rearing onto its hind legs. The tallest assassin in the group barely reached the horse's shoulder. It was pitch black, the sweat making its coat shine in the sun. I unconsciously cooed at its nervous state. Then I saw one of the men threaten it with a sword.
"Are you insane?" I screeched at the group of men. They turned to me in confusion. "Get them away!" I turned angrily to the old man. He looked at me in amusement. "Don't you useless assassins know how to calm a horse?"
"And I suppose you do?" goldy eyes snorted at me. I stood akimbo and glared at him.
"Watch, and behold, jerk." I stomped away (if still a little shaky from before) and stopped in front of the horse. I was way closer than the men were, but I was still wary of the HUGE animal in front of me.
"Wait, no, you'll hut yourse—"
"Shh" I put a hand on Aytaç's chest and stepped away from him. The horse was still stomping nervously. "Ey..." I cooed to it. "Eeeyyy..." I held both my hands up and away from my body. The animal stopped stomping, but still snorted nervously. "You're beautiful, did you know that?" I stepped cautiously forward and looked the horse in the eye. They were light brown, and full of panic. "I'm not going to hurt you..." I tentatively reached a hand out and held it a few inches from its flank. After staring at me for what seemed like hours, the horse leaned over until it touched its side to my palm. The animal was warm and sweaty, and still trembled. I stroked it while I showered it with compliments and coos. Slowly reaching under its belly, I unstrapped the ancient looking saddle and pushed it, so it would slide off the horse. "There..." I smiled at it. "Much better, hm?" I thought it was calm enough, so I reached a hand up, and stretched, until I touched its nose. I smiled slightly as the horse lowered its head to my level, and let me caress its long nose, and under its eyes. I hugged the large head to my chest and ran my hand through its mane, whispering soft words into its ear.
Suddenly, the horse neighed quietly, as if in response to my talking, and nodded its head. It leaned forward and knelt with its front legs. I paused. It looked at me expectantly. I was afraid of hurting it with my heels, so I reached down and took them off, feeling the dry earth beneath my feet. Taking my shoes in my hand, I grasped its mane firmly and hoisted myself on its shoulders. In one strong jerk, it stood up again, jumping lightly on the spot, as if eager for me to lead it away.
"Wonderful, child. Lead it to the stables inside." The old man gestured to the fortress behind him, but I narrowed my eyes.
"If you want the horse, you'll have to answer some questions." I gripped the reigns tighter.
"Show more respect, wench!" goldy eyes stepped harshly closer, a knife I hadn't seen him pull out in his hand. In a nervous impulse, I squeezed the horse's flanks with my legs and harshly pulled, making it stand up on its hind legs, neighing loudly.
"Altair!" the old man held the other's elbow. "What is your question, child?" he turned to me.
"What year is it?" I started.
"1191" he looked at me in slight confusion.
"What are you going to do with me?" I heard goldy eyes (I had to stop calling him that) snort, and I made the horse step nervously around by squeezing him lightly with my knees.
"I would like to ask you a few questions myself."
"I'm all ears."
"Come down child" The old man extended a hand. I made the horse step harshly forward, then retreat, startling the white-bearded man.
"I can hear you just fine from here."
Altair was sent scouting for survivors and stray enemies with Aytaç and Abbas. They helped them back to the fortress, or killed off injured templars, until they stumbled on that strange woman.
Literally. Altair was never going to let Abbas forget the day he tripped on a body.
She had very strange clothes, first of all wearing pants. Even if it were normal for women to wear trousers, not even a courtesan would wear them so tightly. The leather, though scratched and dusty on some places, shone as if it were oiled, and left no room for imagination. Her large white shirt, also dusty from her lying on the floor, had a wide collar, showing a lot of skin on her shoulder and the edge of some sort of strange binding she wore tightly over her breasts. Which he somehow succeeded in disguising a choke with a cough at the size of them. She also wore some kind of leather armour around her waist. Her shoes must have been some kind of weapon, as their heels were thin and long. How she walked on those was a mystery to all men present.
They discussed over her, until she started waking up. She was rude at first, but Altair saw Aytaç roam his eyes over her. He barely paid attention to their conversation, preferring to amuse himself by watching the novices get scared off by De Sable's horse, until he heard the woman mention the creed. When he questioned her, something sparked in her eyes, but it wasn't fear, he noticed. More like caution.
Clever girl.
She shrieked something at the novices, then at Al Mualim, then at me. I frowned at her rudeness again. Did she not know how to behave like a proper woman?
"Watch and behold, jerk." Obviously not. She stormed off to the horse. I watched as Aytaç tried to pull her back, but she kept on slowly inching closer to the horse. My eyes were drawn to her shiny behind, its big, round shape swinging back and forth as she walked slowly towards the horse. I admit that I was surprised that she calmed the beast in less than ten minutes, and even mounted it.
My mind lingered on that word a bit too long for my comfort. Both mental and physical.
As the conversation went on, she used the horse masterfully, controlling it with mere touches and movements of her own body, making it move to her will. She was obviously skilled with the animals, at moments making the animal calm as still water, fearful as a hunted rabbit, or angry as a beast, shifting from one behaviour to another in split seconds. She threatened us with it, and talked back to my master, a proud look in her eyes above her raised chin.
I hated her.
Al Mualim somehow managed to get her to lead the horse into the fortress. They talked as she made the horse kneel, letting her slide off. She took the reins and led the horse to the pasture they had on the side of the courtyard.
"Who are you, girl?" Al Mualim asked after she removed the reins and came back.
"I'm Sherry." She sat on one of the benches and put her shoes back on. Al Mualim's curious eyes studied them, and wondered how she could walk in such a balanced and graceful way as he led her inside the library. When he looked back to his men, Aytaç's gaze was fixed on her...lower back.
Al Mualim coughed and sent him a reapproving look. Aytaç had the decency to lower his head, and Abbas coughed, disguising a laugh. Altair looked as serious as ever. Al Mualim did not want to demote his head assassin, but it was needed. He sent them away, preparing for his speech, but before, he turned to the newcomer.
"I would like you to wait here, I have some things to attend to. We shall talk later." And with that, he left.
Sherry huffed at the old man's retreating back. She tried following after him, but two assassins popped out of nowhere and blocked her way. Cursing, she went to stand near the window, gazing over to the horses grazing. The one she had brought in towered over the others, but now that all was calm, they were peacefully eating the grass.
Her attention was diverted to the old man preaching something to a growing crowd of assassins. Oh, she knew what happened now, but she still looked.
Stab, grunt, faint, and an unconscious Altair later, the old man came back to the library.
So, tell me if this was any good, if I should continue it.
Reviews are love!