The sun was rising, spreading its fingers of light across the land banishing darkness for another day and bringing to a close another sleepless night, another battle with his conscience. Altair shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his bones sang out in a loud cracking voice of their discomfort at spending another night in this unforgiving position. He was 72 now and his body had been neglected these past years. Always active and healthy, but after their flight to Alamut, he had afforded no consideration to his physical well being.
As always the apple was set on the table before him, still in the pouch he used to carry it. The only physical contact he had with it was moving it to and from its hiding place to signal either the beginning or the end of another bout in their ongoing conflict.
In the beginning he had tried to use the apple to undo what had been done. To find a way to bring them back, it was desperation and he knew it but he had no choice. His world was gone, the people who meant everything to him taken from him for no other reason than to satisfy a bitter man's misplaced need for revenge.
Finally realising his efforts were futile he had cast the apple aside, all hopes - however slim - now crushed. But his resentment of the artefact was his only shield against the pain and guilt he felt lurking within, eagerly waiting to utterly consume him and so its banishment hadn't lasted long.
For years misery and regret had been his only companion, any source of love had long since departed. First Sef's wife Ayra had left, taking her daughters with her. In all honestly their absence had as little impact on his life as their presence had, he barely noticed or cared that they were gone.
Darim tried steadfastly to stay by his father's side, suffering his moods and his temper. He knew what his father was feeling; his own losses were just as great. His patience however was not endless and one day his father found what Darim would swear he had been looking for all along... his breaking point.
Evening was drawing in and his father had not yet emerged from his room. Darim had taken him a small meal around mid-day but he hadn't so much as glanced up at him when he placed it on his table. Knocking was pointless, his father almost never responded and so he pushed the door open and entered uninvited.
The room was small and never got any direct sunlight causing it to be cast in constant gloomy shadow. The Spartan decor adding to the melancholy atmosphere: a small bed, his desk and chair and a chest which sat amongst the piles of books on the floor.
As always Darim found him sitting at his desk, he was writing at a manic pace on a large parchment. If he heard his son approach he gave no indication, never halting the pace of the quill. As expected the meal was untouched but he was slightly relieved to see he had taken the drink.
"Father, I'm going out for the evening, is there anything you need before I leave?"
"No thank you Darim."
"Shall I at least bring you a fresh plate of food?"
"No thank you Darim." He replied without the slightest pause in his writing.
Darim sighed, it was a tired sound and strangely enough it was this which caused his father to look up from his paper.
"Does something trouble you?"
"Father you rarely eat. You leave the house only when absolutely essential; you have shut yourself away in here. With all due respect these things among others trouble me."
Altair looked down at his work and for a time Darim thought he wasn't going to reply. Then he placed both hands flat on the table top and tapped a finger lightly against the surface, after a moment's consideration he spoke. "Your concern is appreciated but unwarranted. I eat when I am hungry, with age ones appetite lessens. As for going out only when I must... Is that not perfectly normal?"
"You can't rationalise this away Father, your behaviour has already driven Ayra away. The assassins of Alamut have the utmost respect for you, yet you decline their invitations to meet, leaving me to attend in your place."
"Darim we have been over this many times. How I choose to spend my days is no concern of yours." Lowering his head back to his work - a sign the conversation was over - Altair again took up his quill.
Instead of leaving, his normally compliant son stayed where he was.
"Don't dismiss me as you would a servant Father. I only wish to help; to give you what you need, admittedly with little success but you haven't made my task an easy one."
Altair lifted his eyes to meet his sons and Darim couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. He felt like a boy again, about to be scolded for some wrong doing.
"Your task... you have a task?"
Immediately regretting his choice of words Darim tried to soothe his father, "My duty Father. I chose my words poorly, forgive me. "
"What would you have me do? I am most content and productive here with my work."
"Work! I can think of many things to call what you do here, wasting away staring at that damned apple but work is not one of them."
Too many frustrating years spent watching his father become increasingly isolated and unhappy had passed. Any and all attempts to offer comfort or companionship rebuffed. He had seen his father -the man he held in the highest regard- sink deeper and deeper into depression, his inability to help making him feel like he was failing as a son. It seemed Darim, for once, wasn't prepared to let his father brush him off.
"I share your pain Father. They were not your losses alone and you shouldn't have to bear them alone. Together we can recover, perhaps in time we could return to Masyaf and reclaim what was taken."
"We can never reclaim what was taken!" his fist thudded against the desk, his temper flaring he got to his feet. "You have your own pain Darim you do not share mine."
Walking round the table, bringing them face to face, it surprised him to note his father looked a little younger than he did moments ago. And when he spoke his voice, although quiet, was laced with anger. "It was my mother and my brother. Malik was like a second father to me. Masyaf was my home, the brotherhood my life. You once told me something Malik said to you many years ago, "We are one, as we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat" Do these words now mean nothing to you?"
Altair's fist shot out with staggering speed and connected with his son's right cheek. The blow was solid and well aimed but Darim never flinched... outwardly. Never in his life had his father struck him in anger until now, and him a man full grown, the humiliation was worse than the physical pain.
Surprised by his reaction; he took a step back from his son "You use the words of a dead man to gain the upper hand in a debate. Did you think to weaken my resolve by invoking a memory?"
Darim stepped forward not allowing his father to create any distance between them, if he struck him again so be it, he needed to be heard. "I sought to awaken the man who understood what those words meant. The man you are inside. Do you think you gain anything by suffering? I know you feel you owe a penance for what happened to them but you don't, you bear no blame. Do you think any of them would wish this lonely existence on you?"
The shame he felt at striking his son had dulled his anger but the bitterness in his words was years old and not so easily assuaged. "My wife is dead, because I lost control of myself and the situation. My son died believing the order to end his life came from me. FROM ME!" his anger flaring, he paused in an effort to regain composure. "There are times when I can almost forgive myself for what happened to your mother, what Swami said to me would have shaken better men than me. What I can never do, what shall forever remain out of my control is to tell my son that his killer lied."
"Do you find it so difficult to believe that Sef knew this? You were his father! If he had time to process what Swami said, if he even heard his words, he would have known them to be false." Darim held his hands out; palms open, practically pleading with his father to accept his words, his assistance.
"Do not doubt me when I tell you that I have agonised over those very questions for countless hours. There is no answer; I shall never find the answer. Sef is gone, taking it with him to the grave. "Altair once again resumed his place at his desk, eyes downcast.
At that moment Darim knew he would never be able to help his father escape from the abyss in which he now existed.
For months now almost the only conversation his father participated in with any relish was that the Western world should be warned of the Mongol threat. Darim had never considered it his duty to do this but for days after their confrontation he thought of it more often. Finally it was the notion that his own legacy, the idea that his lost family deserved a more fitting epitaph than this pitiful existence he was now enduring that made him decide to leave his father and the Holy Land to journey to Europe.
When he told his father of his plans he immediately approved, this caused Darim more than a little pain, he had hoped his father would ask him to remain by his side but there was no such entreaty, the old man actually suggested he leave earlier than he intended.
Weeks later their parting although not cold was devoid of sentiment. Altair escorted his son to his horse patted his back and bade him a safe journey. Darim, once in motion never looked back, his eyes were glassy with tears he wouldn't shed and he didn't want would could possibly be his last sight of his father to be blurred by them. Had he looked back he would have seen his father proudly watch his son venture off on another mission.
Years later he sat alone, once leader of an order he was proud to serve but now an old man, whose spirit although not dead was suffering under the strain of his memories. Rising from his chair he sighed and made his way over to his bed. He would sleep a while. Lying on top of the blanket he folded his hands across his chest and waited for sleep to claim him.
The scene that greeted him when his eyes opened again couldn't have been more different than the one he had just closed them to...
He was sitting at a table, no he was sitting at their table, in the largest of the rooms he and Maria inhabited at Masyaf. Darim and Sef were both sitting at the table, sitting wasn't the right word... Sef was trying to wrestle back a toy Darim had snatched from him. The door opened and Maria walked in, her cheeks pink due to having just washed off the dust from the days training exertions.
"Stop carrying on at the table! How disappointing it is that our sons display all the manners and grace of a starving hog!" Her words had an immediate effect; both boys sat upright in their chairs and calmly waited for someone to tell them they could begin eating.
Maria took her seat next to Altair, on his left hand side and gestured for them to begin. The adults shared some small talk about the day's events and the boys hungrily scoffed at their meal.
"How was your day, Darim?"
Darim looked up at his father, cheeks stuffed full of food. It took a considerable amount of chewing in order to swallow his food and empty his mouth to reply.
"Rauf thinks I am almost ready to begin my next level of training. He feels training with the older boys will be beneficial to me."
Altair's tongue ran over his bottom lip and his eyebrow arched as he considered his eldest sons news. Of course Rauf had reported to him on Darim's progress as he did all the novices but Altair hadn't realised he planned to move him on quite so fast.
"This will be a big step for you Darim, some of the boys in the class above you are almost 15, 4 years of growth and strength is a lot to concede to an opponent. Are you certain you are comfortable with this step?"
Was this a test...? Darim was often unsure if his father was testing him or not. He wanted to give the right answer but he also wanted to move up to the next class, he decided the honest reply was the best way to approach this. "I think so... Rauf says I cannot expect to gain many victories at first but that there are often more lessons in defeat, so either way I will learn and progress."
"That is true; the road to manhood is long and littered with disappointments, to learn how to deal with those at a young age is a valuable thing."
Maria scoffed, "Long road to manhood my arse, it's nothing more than a haircut and a change of clothes!"
Her comment made the boys laugh openly; they knew of her past and both were proud of her daring feats. Altair allowed himself a small smile but quickly transformed his expression giving Maria a stern look, one which he hoped she would know was only for the benefit of the boys. The absence of any heavy objects being aimed at his head told him his wife understood and he continued addressing his sons.
"Do you feel you would benefit from some additional training with me?"
Darim's genuine look of surprise didn't offend Altair, he was aware his duties had left little time for his family recently. "I would be most grateful for any such help Father, but surely your schedule won't allow for it."
Altair remembered a conversation he had with Al Mualim years before. One in which he told his mentor his own father had been an assassin first. In Umar's eyes fatherhood had come second to serving the order and while Altair understood his devotion to his brothers he had promised himself he would not make his own children feel the same way. Yet he now found himself in the situation were his son doubted he could commit to even a few training exercises.
"Rauf is a fine teacher but I am your father. It is my responsibility to ensure you are both fully prepared for life. To that end, I will make time to train with you both, 2 or 3 times a week. I may be mentor now but in my time I performed my duties as an assassin competently... there are many things I can teach you."
The boys looked at each other and smiled, they knew their father had been far more than competent, they were often told he was the best the order had ever seen. That he would now spend time training them could only be good news, to Darim at least...
Sef, was only 9 and still many years away from training with the older novices, the idea of the "best the order has ever seen" pushing him around the ring wasn't one that thrilled him greatly.
"Do I have to?"
His father shrugged off any insult lurking in the question, "Not if you don't feel ready to, but bear in mind I am here to help whenever you do."
"I'll try for a while; it might not be so bad."
His mother reached across the table and patted his hand. "Don't count on it my little man! Your father has very high standards; he will prove a most demanding instructor."
"It's true I expect certain standards but I am also fair. The boys are years apart in both age and development and they will be treated as such."
Sef felt a little better now, he enjoyed training but not as much as Darim did. He also enjoyed playing with the children from the village, in particular a brother and sister, Naji and Ayra.
"What about you Sef, how was your day?" his father inquired.
"After lessons I went to the village but I had to wait ages for Naji and Ayra to finish their chores, by the time they did it was almost time to come home."
"Oh Ayra, I want to go see Ayra!" Darim sang the words in a high pitched mocking voice and his brother was not amused.
"Shut up Darim! At least I have friends outside of the fortress."
Darim elbowed his brother's ribs under the table but nothing got past Maria, "Darim would you like to move beside me? Be warned you may find the game less fun when the person you hit can hit harder than you!"
"No Mother, sorry Mother."
"Don't apologise to me, it was Sef you hit."
"Sorry Sef." he really wasn't sorry but he could retract that apology later when they were alone.
Maria smiled at her son, "You really do spend a lot of time with them. Do you have much in common?"
He shrugged, "We are the same age and we all like running."
"You'll never be a master assassin with that attitude! It takes a lifetime of training to be great like our father, doesn't it father? If you don't want to give your whole time you should tell father now." Darim's expression was smug and slightly malicious; Sef's comment about having no friends outside the order had obviously hit the mark.
Altair tried not to lose patience with Darim, he was an excellent student but he could be a little short sighted at times.
"There are those who devote themselves entirely to the order, and we must admire them for that. Then there are those who have chosen to have a family as well as serve the order such as myself... we are no less loyal or committed. Sef, like you has a choice; your future is your own. It is my hope you will serve the assassin's but should you wish to leave and pursue other interests your mother and I would support you fully."
Sef looked horrified, as he turned his eyes to his brother his expression became furious, "Darim, look what you've done! Just shut up! I do want to be an assassin; I just want to play with my friends as well that's all." His mouth puckered into an angry circle and Altair was taken by how much he looked like his mother.
"Sef there is no need to explain your choices; I understand your need to have other interests in fact I encourage it. The more of life you are exposed to the more you will understand the people and the ideals we are protecting."
Sef gave his father a grateful look but the remainder of the meal passed with little conversation.
Later that evening Altair was in his study reading, Maria was pretending to browse the shelves complaining about the lack of "English reading material", Sef approached his father's desk and waited to be acknowledged before speaking.
"Sef, what can we do for you? I thought you were already sleeping."
"I can't sleep Father, what Darim said at dinner... it isn't true. I wanted you to know that."
Altair put down his quill, marveling at how such a young mind could not only grasp but be troubled by the suggestion of disloyalty. "I am aware your brother manipulated the truth to cast doubts on your commitment so you needn't dwell on it. You quarrel with him almost daily, they pass and you move on to the next one."
Maria had joined them at the table her hand was resting on Sef's shoulder. "I agree with what your father said earlier, I encourage and welcome your friendships and your sense of fun. There is no harm in taking pleasure from life Sef, in can be altogether far too serious, that is especially true within these walls"
Unconvinced he looked from one parent to the other, "Did you mean what you said about supporting us no matter what we choose to do?"
At this Altair moved to the front of his desk, sitting on the edge so as not to tower over the boy, "We are your parents before anything else. I admit when I deal with you relating to matters of the order I don't behave as a father but at those times I am your mentor. At every other time I am your father and glad to be so."
Taking his hand Maria added, "Sef we love you as a son, not as a thing we can mould and shape to satisfy our own ambitions for you. Your father fights to protect free will, yours is not excluded from that. Whether or not you stay in the order, you will never disappoint us, or lose our love, it's unconditional."
"What does unconditional mean?"
Maria chuckled, "It means no matter what."
Sef nodded his understanding and said, "I do want to be an assassin, I want to help people and protect them as you do. I'm proud of you father."
Altair's hand patted his shoulder, "I'm proud of you and who you are."
Maria escorted Sef back to his bedchamber, Darim was already fast asleep so she whispered a quiet good night, kissed both boys on the head and turned to leave. Her exit was barred by her husband standing in the doorway to their room. He took her hand and pulled her close to him, she rested her back against his chest so they could both watch over their sons. He wrapped his arm around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder and her hand in his, they stood for a moment both lost in their own thoughts.
Finally he tugged her hand and whispered, "It's time for us to go to bed, but it may be a while before I let you sleep."
Smiling she turned into his body and kissed his stubbly cheek, "I'll hold you to that assassin."
She was about to close the door behind her when Sef's young voice, sluggish with sleep said, "I love you too, forever, no matter what."
He felt her body begin to move, to go back to his bedside and he held her in place, "Let him sleep, Maria. We've said all he needed to hear."
She pouted but accepted his logic, besides which she had something else in mind ...
The old man opened his eyes, once more the dim, unwelcoming room he had chosen to live in came into view.
"It was a dream." Sighing and trying to ignore the stabbing but familiar pain in his chest he swung his legs to the side of the bed. "No not a dream... a recollection."
Sitting at his desk in Masyaf a much older man now, he could look back upon that moment, his awakening, as the moment which propelled him forward. The moment which had allowed him to use the apple for the purpose he always intended for it... information and learning. The moment which had allowed him to think of the future, to dare to dream of achieving the goals he had always wanted to accomplish.
He never forgot the past, it never stopped haunting him but he now had the strength to face the future and for Altair that was more than enough.
A/N this has been knocking around my pc half finished for a while now, decided to give it an airing. I can't find a name for Sef's wife, had to make it up, sorry if there is a real one somewhere.