Author's Note: Hello, dear readers, and welcome to my first Assassin's Creed story. I will shamelessly admit that AC is one of my favorite video games to play, and (no shocker) Altair is my favorite Assassin so far (haven't played ACIII yet). But, yes, this is the new story that the plot bunnies have nagged me about, so I wrote it out and now, posting it. Hopefully, this will develope into a good story, and I hope you all enjoy it. Please R&R to let me know what you think. :)
Disclaimer: I, sweettea1, do not own Assassin's Creed in any form or blade. I only own my OCs (Sa'ida Basilah, Ghalib Basilah, and Fahdah Ishraq) and the plot. Credit goes to DecepticonShadowfire for helping me with Sa'ida's name.
Now, I give you, Death by a Blade...
Chapter I:
Sa'ida Basilah
"A woman's life can really be a succession of lives, each revolving around some emotionally compelling situation or challenge, and each marked off by some intense experience." -Wallis Simpson
Damascus. A beautiful city, especially during 1190. The sun rose and cast it shining rays upon the simple dwellings' rooftops and the paved streets and the lonesome palm trees. Towers shot up towards the cloudless sky, glory practically radiating off of them, while the church steeple reminded the people where it stood and where they could go to worship their God. Simply beautiful and unaffected by wars or crusades…
Through the streets, people swarmed and scrambled about, each occupying their appointed district: whether it be the poor district, the middle district, or the rich district. The poor district, despite its rough living conditions and the beggar women that were at every corner, it still retained some of the remainder of its former beauty and the people did what they could in their conditions. Meanwhile, the rich district, though less populated, had plenty of finely dressed men and woman strolling its streets. Drunkards walked aimlessly about with their alcoholic beverages still clasped in their palms, throwing slow and lazy punches at anyone who crossed their path (although, they hardly ever were able to hit their target due to their drunkenness, so they simply cursed with slurred words and laughed woozily). Then, finally, their was the middle district, which, as its name describes, lies between the poor and rich district. It was the most populated, and therefore, its streets were crowded with decently dressed, hard working citizens and several merchants who tried to auction their merchandise to the multitudes. But, each district lived in subtle harmony with each other nevertheless.
Now, despite the difference between the amount of wealth of each district and the living conditions and the varying populations, each one had their similarities. Each district housed numerous guards that patrolled the streets, armed bodies clanking in tune to their steps. They kept basic order within the city and within each district, although, most do rather poorly. Most misjudge the people and blamed crimes on the ones who had not committed them; and still, even more hardly ever intervene in a fistfight, merely watching and snickering and betting upon who would win. However, the people kept their mouths shut (whether in the streets or within the comfort of their homes) about what they thought of the guards and their pointless and unfair acts. At least they did their job in protecting the city from foreign invaders. The people would just have to sacrifice, and hope they aren't unlucky enough to be the guards' next 'victim of injustice.'
However, that did not concern one particular woman who goes by the name Fahdah Ishraq. Most would consider her boastful and arrogant, unafraid to show off her curves with her scanty outfits. She danced for the entertainment of others, mostly in the middle district but occasionally being invited to the more extravagant parties within the rich district. Now, combine this fact with her fierce hatred with the guards within the city and her disregard for the people she saw that were lesser than her, and you can see just how arrogant, rude, and disrespectful this woman can be. Nevertheless, she was rather…'popular' with many within Damascus, even though, her friends seemed to share her same attitude and personality.
Well, that is, except for Sa'ida Basilah. Sa'ida was a fellow dancer of Fahdah, as well as a close friend, despite their many differences. Fahdah was always ready and willing to dance in front of multitudes and show as much skin as was allowed on the streets of the middle district, while Sa'ida often shied away and covered her body. It could be scorching outside and Sa'ida would dress in heavy robes that covered every square inch of her skin, leaving only hands, feet, and face to peep out. What a wonder it was upon how Fahdah was able to convince her companion to finally step out of her 'comfort zone' and join her. Sa'ida still hated herself for accepting the foolish, embarrassing, and demoralizing job as to dance for the citizens of this city, mostly comprised of men half-drunk, much to her disgust.
Now the two women were returning from one of the parties in the rich district; three hours of not stop dancing and twirling around the party guests. Sa'ida swore she would not dance again for the rest of the week, tired from both the physical effort and the discomfort. At least now they were back in their district, and heading back to their homes. She could only stand so many people (the majority being drunk, once again) and dancing in her uncomfortable and mortally embarrassing apparel. However, none of the experience seemed to have demoralized Fahdah in any way as the woman smiled charmingly at the people around her, occasionally winking at the men or giving a little sway of her hips to woo them.
Actually, that's what Fahdah was doing right now to a charming young man, rocking her hips from side to side and letting her fingertips brush his shoulder. Naturally, the man paused and quirked an eyebrow, smooth smile gracing his lips as he looked her up and down. He opened his mouth to comment, but Sa'ida grabbed Fahdah's perfectly tanned arm and yanked her away, disrupting her flirting.
"Come now, Sa'ida. I think he took a liking to my dance." Fahdah gave a light, airy laugh as she let Sa'ida drag her along, sparing the young man she had flirted with a wave goodbye. Beneath the hood of her cloak, Sa'ida grimaced and her cheeks flushed a bright red for some reason. Why must Fahdah be so…that. And how could she do it so easily, effortlessly, charmingly?
"I believe it is best that you get a full night's rest than sleep with that man. Wasn't that your objective, Fahdah?" Sa'ida finally replied back. And my, was she satisfied with the reaction she received from Fahdah. Her friend's face went slack with shock at her words, her cheeks, ears, and neck flushing rose-red and her flashy blue eyes widening.
"Sa'ida!" she protested, but said nothing else due to her utter embarrassment. Sa'ida chuckled, releasing her hold on Fahdah's arm once she was happy with the distance she put between them and that man. Home was just across the souk; however, the souk was also the main attraction for merchants. The greedy men shouted out several prices at the people and rejoicing when they caught one's attention. And, not only did the merchants bother Sa'ida (giving her the occasional headache), the thick crowd made her want to shrink back, find a corner, and curl up in a ball. However, the inner drive to reach home kept her from carrying out her unspoken plans.
Fahdah touched Sa'ida's shoulder lightly, making said woman turn to face her friend. Fahdah waved her hand, motioning for Sa'ida to follow, before walking gracefully down an opposite pathway that skirted the edge of the souk. A smile gracing her lips, Sa'ida gratefully followed Fahdah, catching up to her in few strides. The flashy woman may be selfish at times, or rude to those who were lesser than herself, but underneath all of those flaws, Fahdah still carried a good heart deep down. Sa'ida was just one of those lucky people who had the chance to see that rare kindness that exposed itself on occasions, reserved especially for those close to Fahdah.
The two woman made their way around the busy souk in silence, leaving Sa'ida to her own thoughts. A list of tasks that needed to be done once she returned home swam through her mind. With herself being the only able, working hands around the household, she withheld the responsibilities of much of what went on about her home. With her father, Ghalib Basilah, in bed, ill with the same sickness her mother had died from, there was no rest for Sa'ida, physically or mentally. Her father may still retain the head of the household, but he could do nothing with this sickness that has befallen him. Sa'ida hoped and prayed, wishing for a miracle and that her father would recover rather than face the same fate as her mother; but, alas, little change with his health has yet to occur. Yet another reason Sa'ida hated to go to these parties and dance ceaselessly; she left her father alone for long hours throughout the day. 'Dreadful, but necessary' her father always told her.
"You know, Sa'ida, I haven't seen many guards out today," Fahdah spoke casually, letting the words fall freely from her mouth without a care in the world. "Should they not be patrolling the streets, guarding us from danger?"
"Fahdah!" Sa'ida snapped in an attempt to silence her friend.
"Come now, Sa'ida; their names imply their duties! Instead of wondering about, flashing their weapons to woo the women, and blaming the innocents of this city for foolish crimes, they should be protecting this city! It's a wonder how Damascus has not fallen to the Crusades and war by now!"
"Do you wish to be arrested?" Sa'ida demanded in a harsh whisper, giving Fahdah a heated glare from beneath her hood. However, she did not allow the other woman a chance to answer her question before speaking again. "I would imagine not, so keep your tongue silent!" With that, Fahdah obeyed, frowning as the sway to her step vanished as she resorted to a stubborn march. Stunningly blue eyes turned away from Sa'ida and back towards the souk, scanning over the swarming mass of people. Sa'ida let an audible sigh escape her lips, letting the argument slide. It was hard to have a conversation with Fahdah at times, the stubborn woman always having to make a comment the guards that protected Damascus. Sa'ida always scolded Fahdah that her careless words were bring trouble and harm upon her, but Fahdah never listened. She merely brushed away the words like they were nothing and continued to express her thoughts. One day, one day, Fahdah would get into trouble and Sa'ida would be powerless to help.
It wasn't much longer till the Fahdah and Sa'ida reached the other side of the souk. They parted ways with silent goodbyes before heading towards their respective households. Sa'ida arrived at the front of a mere one story, clay home with a flattened, sun-baked rooftop. Crude and worn windows were etched onto the wall on either side of the wooden door. It definitely was not the most luxurious of all the buildings in the middle district, but to Sa'ida, it was home.
"Abba?" Sa'ida called gently as she stepped into the dwelling, shutting the door quietly behind her. The sitting room was simple with only a few furnishings. A small, wooden table occupied the far left wall with four stools with plush pillows on their hard surfaces circling said table, while the sooty fireplace took up the majority of the far right wall. A soft mat covered with colorful pillows was placed in front of the fireplace. Sa'ida normally found herself sitting in front of that fireplace, staring into the dancing embers through the long hours of the night before finally retiring to bed; or, sometimes, she might simply fall asleep in that nest of pillows.
A grunt from the opposite room pulled Sa'ida from her memories. She quickly walked through the clay arch that was carved into the wall straight ahead of her, appearing in the bedroom. The room was dark, only a sliver of light peeping through the closed curtains that covered the only window in the room. Sa'ida sighed, remembering the painful memories of when her father first became ill. He cringed at the slightest ray of light, and he strictly order that no light should enter his household. Sa'ida obeyed, making sure that the curtains of her father's bedroom were closed constantly, but she did not treat the other rooms in the same manner. Her father hardly ever left this room, so why should she curse the other rooms with no light?
"Ah, Sa'ida, azeezee," her father, Ghalib, rumbled from his position on the mattress that sat in the far left corner, far away from the window and the sun's bright rays. Sa'ida fought back the tears that filled her eyes each time she saw her father. The man that she once knew - the strong, brave, kind-hearted, loving father she once knew - seemed to have vanished, leaving a frail and sickened man in its place. The only thing that remained was his deep, soothing voice and the twinkle in his eye that sparkled every time he looked at her. That same twinkle used to brighten for her mother before the caring woman passed away from her illness. "Did you have fun at the party?" Ghalib asked through wheezy breaths, making Sa'ida return her attention to her sick father once again.
"No, abba, it was absolutely dreadful," Sa'ida replied bitterly as she walked over to her father's bedside, a sour look dawning on her features. "I never derive joy from dancing in front of those drunken fools."
"Now, now, azeezee, you shouldn't speak like that," Sa'ida's father soothed as he reached over and grabbed her hand, holding it gently. He paused for a long moment - like he had forgotten his words and was trying to grasp them once again - while he traced small circles on the back of his daughters smooth hand. Even through the all the hard and busy work she put her hands through, they were still soft and smooth and undamaged. Taking another shaky breath, Ghalib cast his daughter a wary look, letting a faint, weak smile cross his lips. "It may be dreadful, but it is necessary."
"I know, abba, I know," Sa'ida mumbled in a defeated way as the sour look slowly vanished from her face. "But I want to do something worth-while, not dance around in circles for the men of this city. It never helps me to overcome my shyness like Fahdah promised; the only thing we gain from it is the money, and that's the only reason I still do it! It's so scornful, humiliating…umm would never approve…"
Ghalib gave another feeble sigh, squeezing his daughter's hand. "I know, Sa'ida. I wish I could rise off this bed and return to my duties so you wouldn't have to do those things; but alas, that is not what God commands. We must be strong. In time, perhaps, we will see what His plans are for us both." Sa'ida's father stopped his speech, coughing harshly, making his frail body shudder violently. Sa'ida tightened her grip on her father's hand, letting her eyes fall to the floor as she waited for her father to recover from his coughing fits. Once the coughing ceased, Ghalib leaned back on his bed, letting his eyes close. "Have faith, Sa'ida. Time will tell. I will not hinder you further from your responsibilities with my chatter. Go on, I will be fine, azeezee."
Sa'ida nodded, whispering a silent 'rest well, abba' and giving him a light kiss on the forehead. She exited the room just as swiftly and quietly as she had entered, making her way to the makeshift kitchen to prepare tonight's meal.
Sa'ida sat in front of the fireplace, watching with glowing hazel eyes as the flames danced along the firewood, cackling madly as it burnt the bark with some imaginary, sadistic glee. Darkness had settled long ago upon the city of Damascus, and her father had slept throughout most of the day, waking only to eat his evening meal. Oh, how she wished that her father would rise from that lumpy mattress and tear down those curtains and face the beaming rays of the sun. But alas, it has been months since he has risen from that bed, since he has left that room; and each day, Sa'ida worried he would breath his last breath and leave her alone in this world.
Hot, salty tears burned her eyes, and she tore her gaze from the flames and she buried her face in her arms. Silent sobs escaped her mouth, but she made sure they were muffled enough so her father would not wake to her crying. She was a young lady, a grown woman, she should not cry; she needed to stay strong and support the only family she had left.
The only family she had left. The words made her heart ache; made more tears flow freely down her cheeks. Dull pain from the shear reality of those words burned down to her very core. She had no brothers or sisters to support and comfort her, to wrap her up in their embrace; her mother has not been in her life for fourteen long years, death claiming her soul so early in life; and now her father, practically lying on death's bed with an unknown amount of days left on this Earth. If he breathed his last breath, she would have no one.
Well, not entirely true. There was Fahdah. Fahdah would comfort her, embrace her, wipe away her tears - be the sister that Sa'ida never had. That thought warmed her heart, and Sa'ida wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her cloak, sniffling quietly. At least she would have one person to turn to if death claimed her father.
Sa'ida laid down on her side, resting her head on one of the plush pillows that covered the mat she sat on. The flames continued to enchant her, emitting warm waves of heat and dancing and cackling madly. Slowly, sleep claimed the young woman as her eyelids slid shut and her breathing evening out, with only one thought fluttering through her mind.
This time, someone was dancing for her entertainment tonight.
So, there ya' go! First Chapter, got to know the OCs of this story (or, at least, most of the facts about them ;D). And don't worry - Altair will be appearing soon, but I don't want to rush into it too fast too soon. But, hope you enjoyed and please, don't be afraid to drop a review! ;) Until next time...