A/N: Assassin's Creed, man. What a game. This is weird, and was a shower fic, like almost all my stories.
Do review.
Elegy-Lament-Requiem
Altair does not fear death. Death never posed any type of risk to him. He was above death, and regarded it as a tool.
Altair knew death like he would a lover, yet death was a stranger to him as well. Altair had no family, no relatives. Death never laid his cool hand upon his shoulder.
There were times when Altair became one with death, an angel of death.
Those times are over, and he realises this as he stares at his son's body.
Ezio, like any other shallow young man, fears death like he does the father of his latest conquest.
Death is unthinkable. He will never die, but others around him do. Lost people. People no one cares for. People buried at crossroads, without even a priest so say farewell.
Ezio only becomes truly scared of death when he sees his father and brothers bodies swing. Death hits him like a blow, like a fist. He is disgusted to learn that he has to use death as a tool; that he has to kill. He was born to be an assassin, and he wishes he wasn't.
Ezio slowly learns to live with death. He is finally able to look it in the eye as his mother breathes her last breath in front of him. She is utterly content, thinking of the husband and sons she has longed to see.
Death, to Ezio, was always cruel. Now, he learns that death can be merciful as well.
Desmond treads a narrow balance in between his two ancestors.
Desmond has never been decisive. He sits on the fence, and always looks for a third option.
He will never be a bloody death bringer, as Altair was, nor will he cower in front of death like a child as Ezio did. Desmond will keep his head. He will save people from death, but execute them as well.
Desmond will not fear death. He will walk as its equal, and when his time has come, will die with dignity.
For now, however, he'll run away. He's not ready to die. Not yet.
Review. Please! I even put off bed for this. D: ~Gryfo