This idea popped into my mind pre-TDB, and I decided to write it.

Name: Jude (don't really know her last name)

Age: sixteen or seventeen

Appearance: Very pale skin, incredibly blue eyes, black hair.

Anything Else: Jude has had a speech impediment since she was a child, and this is a vital part of the story.

Disclaimer: Do not own AC, but AC can stand for oh so many things...-evil grin-

"I kn-know you know s-something, old man. If I have to b-beat it out of you, I will." Jude stood there with her blade drawn and ready to strike, in spite of her threat. Not much of her face was showing, save for her chin. The gray hood that covered her face was doing its job.

"A woman assassin? What nonsense is this?" he raised his voice in a childlike attempt to draw attention to himself. No one was around, though. He struggled, and the girl kicked his feet out from under him. He grunted as his rump connected with the hard stone. "Please, please don't kill me. I have—"

"A w-wife? Sons? D-d-daughters? All that m-matters to your kind is m-money. Now, tell me w-where he is!"

"I've heard word…he was moved to a jail in..." The answer was unintelligible. "They know you're after him, Lady Assassin." Jude looked away. No one will hear him scream, she thought. "Now…will you let me go?" she hesitated, her mind whirring. Where?

"Give me the n-name of your inf-f-former." She demanded.

"His name is—" his answer was cut off by a body falling to the floor beside them, and after she looked up, the man was dead.

Waking Up is Hardest to Do

Jude was slammed back into reality by the cold water of the bucket by the door for those who slept in. But the dark of the early morning told her just the opposite. Blinking dramatically, Jude sat up; thanking the men around her that had awaken her. Tarim, the eldest of the novices, gripped her arm and led her outside the barn that served as the novice's sleeping quarters.

Jude was shivering in the morning air, and her wet hair and body didn't make it any better. "Jude. This is getting ridiculous. Go see your mentor. He's here tonight."

"A-Altaïr is h-h-h-here?" she stuttered. Her excitement showed in the pale moonlight. She rubbed her frigid limbs, which did nothing.

"You're incapable of not going a day without night terrors. It's been two weeks. Go see him. Now." Knowing that Tarim's word was law, she stumbled over to the fortress of Masyaf.

In five minutes' time, she was standing at the base of the stairs which led to Altaïr's chambers. Of course he had to pick the tallest tower, she thought bitterly as she began her ascent. Coughing idly, she finally made it to the top. She held her hand up to knock, but the door swung open wide and she dropped her hand, marveling at the figure in front of her.

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was a god to Jude. Nothing could hurt him, unless he allowed it to happen, which was rare. In his chambers, he takes his hood off, first thing, letting loose his close-cut shaggy black hair that falls in front of his almond-shaped eyes. His eyes were a tawny brown, the same color as his eagle's eyes. I could stare at his eyes for the rest of my life, Jude's first thought was. His lips were seductively smooth, and it took all of her self control not to run up and kiss them. They were permanently set into a frown, and those small moments when she catches him asleep or smiling sent her into a good mood for the rest of the day. Those lips were in a smirk now.

"Jude." Her breath caught in her throat when he said her name. "Haven't I taught you better?" he tutted. She looked down in shame. "And you look like you've been on a swim. Get in here before you catch fever." He pulled her in by her sleeve, careful not to touch her. His dimly-lit chambers allowed little comfort for Jude, but all she needed was to be in the presence of her mentor and she'd be in a state of euphoria. The chill wasn't even bothering her. Altaïr suddenly looked up from his mentor. "Come in, Tarim." Tarim? Jude thought as surely enough, Tarim walked in, his tall stature making him almost as tall as Altaïr himself.

"Sir, may I speak with you?" Tarim cast a glance in Jude's direction.

"Outside." Altaïr gestured to the balcony leading out. They walked out, and Jude sat and tried to make herself warmer, though she couldn't help but look over at the two men.

All she could hear and see were urgent mumbled words, followed by a question from Altaïr. Jude saw Altaïr tense and grip the sides of the balcony, his back to her. He looked up quite suddenly, and told Tarim to leave. Quickly scampering away without a second look at Jude, the door shut and audible footsteps lead away from the room, and suddenly she felt all alone.

"Jude." She barely heard her name, and wondered if it was a trick of the wind. She did nothing, feigning stupidity.

But Altaïr had said her name. He walked over to Jude, and placed his hands over hers on the armrests. He knelt down in front of her. Her face suddenly became very hot, her breathing pained.

"What am I going to do with you?" he said to himself. This isn't right, to let a girl as beautiful as her go through suffering like this, he thought. He fell back against the floor, crossing his legs. "Tell me the dream."

Jude started to talk, and, save her stutter, was only interrupted by a few detailed questions from her mentor. When she was finished, she said, "And I usually w-w-w-wake up s-s-screaming. The other b-boys tell me I…s-s-s-say things in my s-sleep."

"Yes, yes, what kind of things?" Altaïr asked. Jude was flooded in heat. Embarrassment, thought Altaïr.

"Mo-mostly what I s-s-s-say in the d-dr-dream." Her teeth chattered and she bit her tongue. She was grateful for the distraction. She hated lying to Altaïr. She had said things like "Wh-wh-where is Altaïr?" in her original language, English. The boys teased her about the strange occurrences in training, mocking her high girl's voice.

"And after you've awaken, do you often see the man in the day?"

"What d-d-do you m-m-mean?" he obviously didn't care about her stutter. Not ever before has he mocked her of it, and for that she was grateful.

"Does he appear to be there, but is not?"

"N-no!" did he think her insane? "O-only in my d-d-dreams." She shook her head. After this statement, Altaïr sat in silence, contemplating. Jude didn't dare move.

The lone candle on the table next to Jude went out after a few hours, bathing her smooth skin in moonlight. Altaïr stared in awe for a second, before going to light another candle. He shook the thought of her writhing in her bed, whimpering for him, out of his head. Tarim had told Altaïr the truth, and as long as Jude didn't know that, it didn't matter.

"Since I am back," Altaïr began, making his apprentice jump. "We will train in the afternoon. I would like for you to sleep in here for a while."

"What?" Jude started. Sleep…in here? She looked around fleetingly. Altaïr was already four times as strong as her, and twice as fast. If he had something in mind, he would get it. "S-surely you don't mean…?"

"Not at all. Unless that's what you were implying." A coy smile drifted over his face, and Jude quickly shook her head. "Well, you should go to get your things. I shall prepare a room for you up here." There were three other rooms at the top of the tower: a library, to the east, a room that held chamber pots to the north, and in the west, there was a slightly smaller sick room in which Altaïr would be treated for injuries and diseases.

"Thank you, Master." she whispered slowly, as to not stutter.

"Speak louder girl. What say you?" Jude was taken aback. Surely he had heard her.

"Th-th-thank you, m-ma-master." Jude looked down at her lap.

"The night is cold. Please sleep. I will wake you for the morning bell." Jude was still frozen in place. Where should she go? She rose, slowly. Altaïr, noticing her hesitation, took her by the arm and led her to the bed. "Sleep."

"But…Master…wh-where will you—?" she was cut off by him pushing her to the sheets, which were so…warm…

"T-tell me where he is!" her blood pounded in her veins.

"Lady Assassin, I know nothing!"

"I w-will beat it out of you if I have to!" she screamed.

"I have heard…he is in…"

"Jude." The word was barely a whisper, but she jolted out of sleep, breathing hard. "Shh. Tell me what you saw." Altaïr's words rang in her head, buzzing about, making them unintelligible.

"I d-don't know. It's always th-the s-s-same. I don't know wh-what or who I'm l-looking for, or where I have to f-find it but I do." Her face was set into a pout. Her stutter was even worse now.

"We'll find out." Jude suddenly liked 'we'. "Now. Get dressed. We're going down to the river this morning." She nodded, and swung herself off the bed. Some fresh clothes were in a chair next to the bed, where Altaïr was sitting. He stepped out onto the balcony. Jude began to undress and noticed a mirror in the corner.

Her pale skin was like chilled milk, and it almost sparkled in the morning light, save for a few white scars or patches of dirt. Her feet were small, and she often bounced on her toes when there was nothing left to do. Her legs were slim but strong, and with them came great speed and agility. Her stomach was flat, and toned, something unnatural for a girl her age. She never wants to be a mother, and loves her independence. Her breasts were round and supple, but were always tied off with bandages in order to work better. Her arms were long and strong, and her hands were small yet deadly. What a girl, to know so much, thought Altaïr as he watched her reflection in his own hand mirror.

Jude slipped on her novice's robes, and tied them off with the customary red sash. Her weapons were in the barn; Altaïr had chosen not to get them. She looked around for them, but she realized if Altaïr had not gotten them, they were not going to use them today. Altaïr turned around and walked over, and Jude's face suddenly became very hot by the way he looked down at her slim form. She finally gathered up the courage to look up at him. Even her eyes seemed to stutter.

It took all of Altaïr's control not to kiss those perfect lips, and gaze into those immaculate wet, bright blue eyes for the rest of his life. He knew these feelings were wrong, and to be for a girl as young and beautiful as her, but he couldn't help himself sometimes; he had to guide her hand with his own calloused one. He had to hear her cute stutter while she answered needless questions from him. He had to wipe away those tears that fell agonizingly from her eyes during the night. Those eyes had captured him from the day he saw her, and he knew she was special. Immensely special. And he loved her, but could not admit it aloud, not even to himself.

I know the point of view keeps jumping around, but it was just a little bit of rambling while I'm on writer's block for Teardrop Bureau.

Review?