Author Note: 3/17/14 Here is the next revision of a chapter and I am quite pleased with how it's turning out. If you have any comments or even questions with the new changes, please feel free to leave a review as I've always reply to what you say in a private message. Thank you so much for your time of rereading this. To the new possible faces here, enjoy! xoxo
Copyright: Ubisoft owns the AC universe and every thing therein. I own the characters that were never mentioned in the franchise and make no profit off this.
Summary: Birds of a feather - almost always - flock together. In this case, Aemilia B'nargin has no choice but to follow the fallen Eagle in order to return back to her time and continue the fight against Abstergo.
Birds of a Feather
Chapter II: Can You Find It In Your Heart?
Apparently, addressing the male Assassin by his full name from a complete stranger did not sit well with him. In an act of anger, for the deep suspicion that this woman was a Templar spy, he seized and slammed her into the wall for good measure as he demanded how she knew his name and who she was working for. To his dismay, the impact was far greater than he had anticipated as she was already weak from the blood loss. Her strange, emerald eyes fluttered and her eyes rolled back as she had lost conscious in his arms, slumping forward against him awkwardly. Had they have been seen like this, at first glance they would look like a brazen couple who couldn't wait to get home. The Assassin's face heated in embarrassment at the thought. He had no time for folly with brainless women. He let her body drop on to the dirty floor, face first, as he decided between leaving her here to slowly die or kill her – putting her out of misery. She was foreign, unlike any woman he'd seen in his travels. Even during the times he visited Acre, a city slowly being dominated by the 'white devils' from across the sea; as he heard his people fuss about while he would travel the roads. The languages he heard her speak, the clothing, even her physical features, they were all alien-like qualities that seized his attention the moment he spotted her from the crowd. One key item gained his attention: the hidden blade she tried attacking him with, although he had clearly told her he would bring no harm. Only his Order received the hidden blades when a member had earned their rank among them. 'Could this woman?.. No, she couldn't. Impossible. She must have killed a brother and taken the blade like a thief. That seemed more likely,' he concluded. Never in their history had a woman been allowed into the ranks of Assassins. Their duties were in the kitchen, maintaining cleanliness in the holds or even trained spies; never an assassin. Crouching down next to her unconscious form that was face down in the dirt, Altair clenched his hand into a fist, his hidden blade 'slinging' out in a deadly hiss. Readying himself to deliver the final blow and deliver mercy, the corner of his eye caught something odd on the woman's neck, nearly hidden from her weird blondish-orange locks.. Sheathing the blade, he pushed aside her hair - nearly surprised at the velvety texture, he toyed with the softness between his fingertips for a moment before returning his attention where it should be. His face visibly paled as his eyes found none other than the Creed's symbol elaborately drawn on the back of her neck.. This woman was carrying a blade and had the symbol marked on her. Altair rubbed the symbol furiously, perhaps it was just ink to trick him. Nothing, the mark was unfazed. This woman had it brandished on her. Someone from the Order had deemed her special to their cause.
'So neither I nor any of my brothers can kill her without a direct order from the Grand Master,' Altair thought to himself. Rage, inquiry and disappointment all bubbled inside him yet he was intrigued at finding out this woman's origins and her purpose in the city. He had no choice but to take her to Malik, the Dai of Jerusalem, to figure out what was to happen. Judging from her wound he saw her receive so foolishly on the rooftop, he would have to get her to him with haste so the one-armed Dai may attend her wounds far better than he would be able to. Hefting her body up and carrying her bridal style, he was relieved to find she wasn't much weight. Average, he'd say, even with the weight of her knapsack added. Navigating through the alleys was quick work as Altair memorized the city and all its districts very well. Upon entering the Assassin Bureau by rudely kicking the door open after he managed to open it with his hand, Altair immediately rushed to the Rafiq in the main room, startling him from his work.
Malik Al-Sayf slammed his quill down, making papers and other quills bounce from the force, "'Novice', what is the meaning of this?! What is that?" He grounded out pointing an accusing finger at the unconscious, bleeding body of the strange woman. Had it not been for the 'Novice' current predicament of having a dying woman bleeding over him, he would have cracked a smirk at his superior's anger. He rather enjoyed the fuss his old friend made.
"A woman," Altair replied sarcastically while he unceremoniously dropped the woman on to the counter all over Malik's work, only adding fuel to the fire of the Dai's rage. He had spent all day on those important scripts that were to be sent to nearby Rafiqs and it was ruined in the matter of seconds because of this idiot. Allah, give Malik patience because if he had strength, he would strangle the haughty assassin with one hand.
"Congratulations, Novice, you've kidnapped an injured woman," Malik stated, his sharp tone exuded in disdain and sarcasm, "and what would the almighty 'Master' Assassin have me do?"
Altair stilled his tongue from running in the wrong direction as his patience was beginning to wear thin, "Fix her or she'll die," he commanded monotonously. Malik took a moment to look her over. He took in the same mental notes as his insufferable brother made before arriving: the odd fabric of clothing, her foreign hair and fair facial features. The Dai was quite shocked at the beauty lying before.. dying before him..
He snapped back to the situation at hand, "And why should I help this woman, 'Novice'? Do you expect me to mend all the broken you drag from the streets?" He felt a strange tug in him to aid her but nonetheless wanted to question his brother on his intentions. It wasn't everyday the man saved someone in this fashion.. in fact, he never had before this incident.
Altair carefully turned her over, "because of this," he said while revealing the symbol on the back of her neck to the Dai.
He nearly blanched in shock, "she is one of us?"
Altair frowned, disliking the fact he did not have the answers, "that's what I intend to find out, if she manages to live." Springing into action immdietaly and forgetting about his ruined work, Malik ran around the Bureau gathering the medical supplies he needed for the task of saving this woman's life. Judsing from the amount of blood she lost, she was in a critical stage teetering between life and death.
"Can you handle this, brother?" Altair asked as he watched in mild fascination as the one-armed Dai completed the task of ripping the woman's shirt with a dagger to expose the wound enough for it to be treated.
"Of course," Malik spat heatedly, swatting him away, "go and find where she came from. I expect some answers since you've peaked my curiosity."
Altair rolled his eyes underneath his hood, "Safety and peace to you, as well."
As the 'Novice' left the Bureau, the Rafiq released a breath he did not know he was even holding. He still felt angry and uneasy when Altair was around. It was another reminder of what happened to his little brother - as if a missing arm wasn't constant enough. Pushing the rising emotion inside, he set his mind to focus. Her life was in his hands - or hand, rather - he must work quickly yet diligently. Though, he couldn't help but to wonder where the woman had attained a very large scar that was underneath her new wound. It seemed to continue further towards her chest as he innocently felt raised through the strange, skin-tight white fabric. She was truly, one mystery after the next. The passing thought of the possibility of her being tortured fluttered across his mind but it was another thing pushed out as her past was none of his business, as much as he was curious to know. Hours crept and a pile of blood soaked linen laid nearby. He worked well into the night, relying on numerous lit candles around her to be able to properlly see as he cleaned, treated and stitched her wound with one hand. Satisfied with his work, Malik stood back to admire it. What should have been a dead woman was now bandaged perfectly and on the delicate road to recovery if she was well rested. His knowledge of incredible salves came in handy, as the ones he created himself saved her from any infections she had, or may get.
"Seems death does not want you yet," Malik mumbled to the woman, although she obviously would not be able to hear him. Now that she was safe, he only had to wait for her to regain conscious before he could ask her questions that prodded his mind. He desired to know her name foremost as he was certain it was exotic to match her looks. His tan cheeks pinked at his thoughts and shook his head of silly things.
'Where is that insufferable man?' Malik thought to distract himself. The bright moon was beginning to settle high in the sky at its prime hour according to the amount of moonlight filtering in the side room that was accessible from the roof entrance; used by assassins for quick entry and exit. The Dai hoped he would return, no matter how unpleasant he was, he did not want to deal with the woman alone. On que, he heard someone drop down from the rooftop in the other room.
The Dai started, still having enough anger to sound hostile, "That better be a very specific 'Novice' I have in mind."
Altair appeared at the doorway in all his grace-like manner, "Safety and peace, Malik."
"None to you!" Malik snapped, placing his only hand on his hip – subconsciously feeling a ghost hand on the other, "you left me here with the woman for hours!"
"I have completed another contract," Altair said raising the crimson stained feather, "and have learned that this woman appeared out of thin air."
Malik furrowed his eye brows together in confusion, "What do you mean?"
Altair strode over to the mysterious woman silently, looking over the handiwork of the the Dai's medical skills, "I mean, no one knows who she is. I even managed to find the guard who shot her and he was so kind as to tell me that 'one minute the roof was empty, then the next a woman was lying on the ground'," the same guard was also dead now but that information wasn't of any value for the Dai to know. The Dai contemplated over the 'Novice's' words in his head, truly a mystery. Even he could not fathom a plausible reason of her being in the city.
"We will have to ask her when she awakens then," Malik suggested simply with an indifferent shrug.
"Here's the more.. interesting part," Altair told the Dai, crossing his arms over his chest for a more dramatic effect, "she doesn't speak nor understand our language."
Malik glanced over the woman incredulously before looking back up to his subordinate, "Are you sure?"
"Positive," Altair said grimly, "The guard was yelling for her to get off the roof, yet she tried conversing with him. Then, a woman was trying to ask her if she needed help, yet she ran away from her. I saw it all transpire so I followed her to see what would happened next. She pulled the arrow out herself in an alley. As I approached, I told her I would not harm her and she tried attacking me." Malik thought to himself, 'Odd, indeed. Seems as if she really doesn't.' He also thought of how enjoyable it would have been if the 'Great Assassin' was damaged by the tiny woman before him. But he digress..
"We must contact Al Mualim and let him know of this," the Rafiq stated finally. Their Master was the wisest man they knew, he may know who this woman was or at least had an idea of what to do about her. Malik could not just abandon her after seeing she may be of importance to the Creed. He could certainly be punished for leaving her to die when he could have assisted her.
Altair nodded in agreement, "and one more thing, brother.." he said before trailing off. Malik motioned him to continue with his hand, eager to hear more.
"She.. she knew my name when she looked at me. She looked straight into my eyes and knew who I was," deep down, it troubled the Assassin very much. All his life, he was careful never to be known outside of the Order. And those who knew his name, were now dead. How a stranger knew his name from a simple glance, troubled his conscious greatly.
The Dai sensed his brother's inner turmoil, "Do not let it fester, brother. In time, all will be made clear." It was all Malik could offer in that moment, he, himself, not having any answers of his own. It was unknown if she was a friend or foe to them and the Creed. Altair, once again, gave a brisk nod of agreement. He had numerous, new questions to ask his Master on top of the ones he already had from his recent contract his superior sent him on.
"What would you have me do in the mean time? I should be returning to Masyaf as I have my own agenda with the head Master," Altair questioned as he slowly edged his way out the room, hoping he could slink out - fighting the inevitable.
Malik smirked deviously, "Surely you don't think you'd be leaving her all in my care, do you 'Novice'?" Altair winced. He was actually hoping he could. He had no time to babysit a woman and his silence was enough of an answer to the Dai.
"I will not be fully taking care of her! The only reason I even helped was because she bears the mark of our brotherhood!" Malik exclaimed pointing at the woman for emphasis before continuing, "so before the thought of running off even enters that thick skull of yours, 'Novice', you are to remain here until we receive word from Al Mualim!"
Altair was scathing inside but he knew he could not let his mouth run rampant like he so desperately wished at the moment, oh no, not with his rank. So instead he gave a half-respected bow and hissed out, "As you wish,Dai," before storming out of the Bureau. He would rather spend the night under the stars than be under the same roof as the hot-headed Rafiq at that moment.
Malik Al-Sayf sighed in annoyance as he ran his hand over his face, "Insufferable man."
Looking back at the woman, he was surprised his yelling had not woken or even caused her to stir. She must have been very exhausted. Luckily for her, the other Assassins had already came through and left so the spare room was open for her use. Now, for the task of putting her in the bed. Malik hoped she would not wake during this time, as it would be awkward to her waking up to a man lowering her into a bed. He wouldn't even be able to defend himself as she couldn't understand. As he hooked his arm under her back and propped her against him - also noting how pleasant she smelled - he chanted in his head over and over, 'please don't wake,' until she was successfully laid on the spare cot. To lay her comfortably, he had to remove her knapsack. He was tempted to search through it, thinking it would shed light on who she was but he respected privacy and simply placed the bag on the floor besides her. Next, he examined her right forearm: there he seen the vambrace of the hidden blade.
"Remarkable," he commented fidgeting with it. Not only the fact a woman was carrying it but she still had her ring finger with the blade. The blades his brotherhood had not only symbolized the sacrifice they were making but made the blade easier to use. He certainly wanted to talk to her to gain knowledge on how this certain blade operated. Perhaps his future brothers no longer had to lose a finger? But just as a safety precaution, Malik removed her vambrace so she would not attack him or anyone else out of fear; or any other reason she may have. Leaving the room quietly with her vambrace in hand, he closed shut the door and made his way to the main room. The bloody linens still laid in a pile as did the mess of the medical supplies. The Dai still had work to complete as he needed to rewrite all the scripts that were ruined earlier today and send them out by dawn. A injured woman to care for and on top of it all, he also had a 'Novice' assassin to keep tabs on as was required of all Rafiqs when a low-ranked assassin was in their cities. He sighed at his misfortune, setting a pot of water to boil over the fireplace he had to start to brew his tea. This was going to be another all-nighter and he had to prepare his mind to handle the stress the detested 'Novice' would no doubt continue to bring.
