January 15th, 1247

Mayte asks:

"Dear Altair,

I have two questions!

1: How did you propose to Maria? (When? Where?)

2: What was your wedding like? (Was it yours, or Maria's religious views? Or both?)

Also, I hate Abbas as well…"

Mayte,

My wife Maria and I were married in Limassol, a city in Cyprus. I must admit that the event was completely unplanned and frankly embarrassing.

Although Maria likes to over-romanticize it, I remember the truth of the occasion. And the truth, as it happens, was very basic: Maria was pregnant.

I remember my thoughts of the ex-Templar at the time… I believed her admirably brave, intelligent, and a good partner. Maria could easily pick out the flaws in any plan I hatched, and (unlike my trusted advisor, Malik) could repair them without berating me.

But marriage had been the farthest thing from my mind. Yes, I trusted Maria with my life, and I was sure I wanted a future with her. But an everlasting bond between us? A possible fatherhood? As a young man of twenty-eight, how could I feel ready to take on such things?

The day she told me remains highlighted in my memory. I had been in our Den's workroom, studying a few maps with my friend and ally, Markos. Maria had been anxious when she entered, which immediately planted the seed of doubt in my mind. Maria was never anxious.

"Altair?"

She also never asked for my permission to speak.

Markos and I looked up, and I nodded for her to continue.

"How much longer will we be staying in Limassol?"

Her tone had unnerved me. I'd shrugged as I answered:

"As long as it takes to establish a firm presence here. As soon as I know our Dens are well protected, I will return to Masyaf. You are free to come along, of course."

My answer didn't seem to please her. She looked about and fidgeted with her fingers (again, things she never did) as she remarked:

"Er…how many months do you think that would be?"

Markos nudged me, probably to flip my attention back to the task at hand, but I ignored him.

"Probably four or five. Why?"

"I…" She cleared her throat, "I do not think a woman five months with child should travel."

At first I had been very confused. I had not planned on taking any other women but her, and… then it hit me. The realization was more surprising than a slap to the face.

"You are…?" I couldn't even get the words out. Maria lifted her chin and looked proud.

Behind me, Markos laughed. He hugged us both, proclaiming we were to be married within the month. I argued briefly that if we were to be married, it should be within the walls of Masyaf- somewhere where all of the Brotherhood could take note of my actions. If I were truly Mentor, I would not celebrate my 'greatest happiness' anywhere but home.

But Markos was adamant, and after a while Maria began to call my protests rude and ungrateful. And so, in the spring of 1193, we were married. The wedding was of Cyprus tradition, which neither of us were very educated in. I probably the less so, as many of its facets were of Catholic origin.

The night before the celebration, we were bathed, swathed, and generally cleaned in every way possible. We were given fresh clothes- a set of dark, formal robes for me (with a hood thoughtfully sewn on at Markos' request), and for Maria, a stunning but very modest gown. Before I went to sleep that night, my ally visited me yet again. He informed me that there would be a band waiting to greet me at my door, and that I should not feel alarmed if I should awaken to music.

Honestly, the entire event went too fast. Once I was up and dressed, I was being herded through the streets by a group of overzealous musicians. I was not given too much time to think. As we walked, well wishers threw their blessings at me, and I nodded in respect as best I could.

Soon we arrived at a small chapel, where Markos was eager to greet me at the door. He laughed at my appearance, stating I looked like a dog dragged from its kennel. When I drew close, Markos pressed a ring into my hand and placed a crown of leaves atop my head. I opened my mouth to ask him why, but he whispered instructions into my ears hastily.

We did not go inside the chapel for some time. According to tradition, I was to wait with a bouquet of flowers for my bride to come, accompanied by her father. However when Maria arrived she was alone, save for a few ladies she had befriended and their daughters. Her dress was elegant, yet simple, and she also wore a wreathe. However, hers was intertwined with flowers and rested so beautifully on her dark hair.

Her eyes were painted, and lace had been added to her long sleeves to make them even more slimming. Maria smiled at me as she approached, and I tried to smile back- but in truth I was nervous and fretful. I knew nothing of weddings, marriage, or any sort of religious tradition. This was Maria's second wedding, and third engagement. If my performance wasn't lacking at least, it would be downright terrible.

She took my arm, her flowered head lying on my shoulder.

"Don't look so intimidated, love," She chuckled, "it's just a wedding."

We proceeded down the church's aisle as one. A priest waited for us at the other end, with loaves of bread and a jug with ornate cups. Markos joined me at the altar, and one of Maria's friends stayed with her.

The priest spoke to us in Greek for a long time. I did not exactly pay attention to what he said, so busy was I absorbing the scene. Maria stole my gaze for many a word, but she seemed intent on committing our bond to memory. I instead imprinted her. She was so perfect that day, and I don't think she was that beautiful again in her entire life. I had never been so sure that I had wanted to spend my years with someone until that morning. I was finally ready to start a family with this woman.

We were given bread and wine, and we exchanged our rings three times. As we drank, Markos removed my crown and replaced it with Maria's. We were then asked to join hands, and as we did so I looked into her eyes, and she into mine. The incident was something I'd practically been forced into, yet there was nowhere else on earth I'd rather be. I began to wonder if I deserved this feeling, this love that bubbled within me, or this loyal lady before me who was about to become my companion for life.

As I pondered, the priest slowly took the wreathes from our heads and set them down. He then gently split our hands, announcing to the few guests that only god could separate us now.

And just like that, we were married.

There was a celebration, again headed by Markos, that lasted throughout the rest of the day. After they had successfully forced enough wine down my throat, I agreed to dance with Maria. Many of the students I'd spent the last few months teaching to head Assassin Dens came to congratulate me. As a newlywed couple, we received many gifts. So many gifts, in fact, that I began to suspect Markos was not as confidential with our wedding as he should have been.

Maria and I went to the same bed that night, although not for the first time. Something had been slightly off in her conduct earlier however, and it had led me to guess the truth. As we lay together, I murmured into her hair:

"You are not with child, are you."

She sighed and wrapped her legs around mine. Proof that although I had assumed correctly, she was not cross with me.

"No."

I allowed for a few moments of silence, returning her gesture by tightening my embrace around her middle.

"Then why the lie?"

"Because you are far too big a pansy to have ever asked me yourself."

I could not argue with that, because it happened to be true.

However, as I sit here now, writing at my cold little desk far from Cyprus, I cannot help but feel bitter. It was not god that took Maria from me; it was my own anger. I am the one responsible for her death- not god, not Abbas, nor anyone else. And I miss her so very dearly. I would give anything to hear her laugh again, to her hear scold me, or to feel the weight of her head on my shoulder.

But I do not hate Abbas, not nearly as much as he hates me, anyway. I pity him, for he never experienced true love and commitment the way marriage forced me to. Maria might have lied to get me to marry her, but I am glad she did. I cannot imagine a life without ever having met her. She was such an extraordinary woman.

And she will forever remain so in my heart.

[xxx]

Honor upon you,

Altair ibn La Ahad