Alright, here it is! Took longer than I thought and I think it;s a bit rushed towards the end... but I like it anyways. Enjoy!

Jerusalem- 1191

The death of a friend was no excuse to let oneself waste away. If she had learned anything in all her days living amongst assassins, it was to take emotion and push it from her mind and focus on making herself better, more agile, more efficient, and thus, she had taken up Malik's neglected sword. She made the space of the Bureau's inner room as her training area instead of the outer courtyard, lest she get underfoot when an informant came in, and so that Malik could keep an eye on her. She moved with grace and speed in her deadly dance with the sword and well practiced control in the small space. She wasn't supposed to be touching weapons; her father would beat her if he knew what she was doing, but she did not care anymore about what her father could do to her. He was in Masyaf , far away from Jerusalem and her.

"Leg straighter," came Malik's voice. She didn't have to look over at him to know that his eyes were fixed on the map before him and not on her.

"Am I so predictable," she hissed.

"You make the same mistakes you did when I trained you at Masyaf. You have become lazy with the sword."

"Well, we all know who to thank for that, don't we."

Malik shot her warning glare. It had been three years since she had ridden out of Masyaf and away from everything she knew and loved; three long years since she was stripped of her rank and title in the Assassin's Guild and her weapons were confiscated. She glanced at her scarred left hand where the hidden blade she once owned had nearly claimed two of her fingers. The wounds had healed nicely, leaving only a pearly scar behind.

"You should not have acted as you did," Malik scolded. "Then perhaps you would be a Master Assassin and favored in Al Mualim's eyes as Altair is… was."

"It took both of us to perform that little act, Malik. Yet it was only I who was punished." She cared not if her tone was unreasonably bitter. Altair Ibn La-Ahad had cost her far too much, and much of it without even being in her life.

"Altair was punished, though in a different way. He was forced to give up something he wanted. He had to watch that which he treasured be given to another man and was forced to acknowledge that every day. He did pay, Sibylla, make no mistake."

Sibylla's blue eyes slid to where, just a little over a month ago, Malik's left arm had also carried a hidden blade. The lack of said arm was still odd to her and looked foreign on him, a man she had known since birth. For a moment, she remembered how he looked before he and Kadar had departed for Solomon's Temple. Aside from Altair and a select few, Malik was the only other assassin to be of the highest rank and carry a hidden blade. And Kadar…

If there was anything that struck her as any more foreign than Altair's missing finger had been or Malik's absent arm was now, it was emptiness left in the wake of Kadar's death. He had always been there through out her life, just as Malik had. It had less to do with the fact that she was engaged to him more to do with the reality of how close they had been. Kadar had only been three years her senior and he had loved her unconditionally. After arriving in Jerusalem, he had been her constant companion and she had learned to love him as more than just the brother figure she saw him and Malik as.

"Are you defending Altair," she asked with a raised eyebrow, lowering his sword, which she had borrowed.

"No, I am not," he growled, looking back down at his map and making a mark with the quill. "I am merely pointing out that you are not a victim."

Sibylla glared at him, and he continued making lines on the parchment and ignoring her. She sheathed his sword and approached the counter, leaning against it and watching him, her forehead touching his. He sighed irritably and glared at her. She smiled at him sweetly and he simply rolled his eyes and fixed them on his map again.

"You are in my light," he growled.

Sibylla did not move and instead nuzzled him in that way that bothered him to no end when he was working, just to push his buttons. She wanted something from him and she expected to get it this time. There was another irritated sigh from him and he put the quill down and gave her his full attention, a stern glare fixed on her.

"Please," she asked sweetly.

"The answer is still no," he replied.

"Oh come on Malik! What harm could it possibly do?"

"Plenty, actually. If Al Mualim found out that I let yo-"

"Because letting me practice with your sword isn't against the rules either."

The way Malik's eyes were looking her up and down made her uneasy. He was gnawing on the inside of his lip, she knew, and thinking of a come back. She did not know what he could possibly argue back to her statement, but she knew he would. Especially when a smirk began to dance on his lips.

"You're a woman now," he said in an arrogant tone.

"I've been one for awhile," she snapped. "What's your point?"

His dark brown eyes slid down to the round curve of her chest and stayed there for a fair bit longer than she was comfortable with. Her arms came up as if to shield herself from his eyes and she realized what his point was. Her chest had developed quite a bit since she left Masyaf.

"A rather well endowed woman," he remarked smugly, his eyes darting back to lock with hers. "I doubt your robes will still fit you."

"That is why there is this lovely thing called 'binding', Malik," she sneered.

"Go then, she-devil. Prove me wrong as I know you are dying to do."

Sibylla stuck her tongue out at him and ran off to her room. She pulled a wooden box from under her cot and opened it, the faded smell of roses floating to her from inside. She carefully dug to the bottom of the box until she pulled out her white assassin's robes. It had been a long time since she even looked at them. Inside were also her dagger and throwing knives, the only weapons Malik had convinced Al Mualim to let her keep. She laid the robes on her cot and then dug for the cloth strips she had used to bind her chest.

It took longer than she would have liked to strip, bind, and dress in the white robes. She had forgotten how complicated it all was, but her hands still remembered what to do. Once she was done, she ran her hands over the soft fabric, smoothing it out, double checking the red sash around her waist. It all fit like a glove, though the binding on her chest was a bit more uncomfortable than it had been three years ago. She tugged on her boots and gloves and fastened her dagger in place before moving towards the main room, pinning her hair up. An oddly familiar voice stopped her in her tracks. She pressed herself to the wall and listened.

"Safety and peace, Malik," said the voice.

"You're presence here deprives me of both," said Malik, clearly agitated. "What do you want?"

"Al Mualim has asked-"

"Asked that you perform some menial task in an effort to redeem yourself," he cut off the other man. "So be out with it."

"Tell what you can about the one they call Talal."

"It is your duty to locate and assassinate the man, Altair. Not mine."

Altair?! Sibylla's mind was racing. Well, it certainly explained Malik's irritation but what the hell was Altair doing here? Surely her father would not forget what happened three years ago and allow him here? But he had, not once but twice already, didn't he? Perhaps her father had forgotten about her after all.

"You do well to assist me," said Altair with a warning in his voice. "His death benefits the entire land."

"Do you deny his death benefits you as well," Malik shot back.

"Such things do not concern you."

"Your actions very much concern me," Malik yelled so suddenly that Sibylla jumped.

"Then do not help me. I'll find him myself!"

Sibylla scoffed. Altair sounded like a spoiled child who wasn't getting his way. Of course, Malik was also acting like one, but at least had a reason to. Altair had cost the man just about everything he loved in life. She thought them both silly. They had to work together, no matter how much they hated each other and it would make life easier if they would just be civil for five minutes. Of course, Altair had been rather civil, hadn't he? It was Malik who snapped at him first. Malik's heavy sigh cut into her thoughts.

"Wait wait," he said. "It won't do having you stumble about the city like a blind man. Better you know where to begin your search."

"I'm listening," replied Altair coldly

"I can think of three places: South of here in the markets that line the border between the Muslim and Jewish Districts; to the North near the mosque of this district; and East, in front of St. Anne's Church, close to the Bab Ariha gate."

"Is that everything?"

"It's enough to get you started," growled Malik. "And more than you deserve."

The two men glared at each other for a long moment before Altair turned and strode out of the room. Sibylla crept back in. Malik was already glaring daggers at her and she shuffled awkwardly. How did he know?

"You should really learn not to eavesdrop," he hissed at her.

"But Master," she said in a tone that dripped with honey and was colored with sarcasm. "Is not eavesdropping one of the first skills we master during training?"

Malik's face turned red and she knew she had gotten on his last nerve. His patience was much thinner than normal due to Altair's little visit and this was a very bad time to be pushing his buttons. She stood her ground as black eyes glared fiercely at her and she even smiled up at him triumphantly.

"Learn your place, you insolent girl," he yelled. "You are NOT an assassin."

Still, Sibylla stood her ground despite his rage and the blow to her ego. She had learned a long time ago not to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing she was hurt. It was a lesson she had learned from Altair and she had learned it the hard way. Of course Malik knew when he had gone too far, because what brother wouldn't recognize the hurt in her eyes, despite her best effort to mask it. He looked away from her and sighed, scribbling something out on a piece of parchment.

"I'm sorry. Go," he waved his hand at the door. "Follow him."

"But it's Altair," she said with a cold tone that brought Malik's eyes to her.

"And I am not your father."

"Malik… he…"

"Go, before I change my mind."

He held out the parchment to her and she couldn't help but stare at him, completely shocked that he was allowing her to follow Altair. She took it from him and glanced at it quickly before Malik spoke.

"Give that to the ass," he said, "if he gives you any trouble."

Sibylla stared at Malik for a few more moments before kissing his cheek and moving into the courtyard, stuffing the parchment into a pouch at her waist. She sprinted and scaled the wall, pulling herself up onto the roof with a huff. She stood and dusted herself off, eyes scanning the rooftops for Altair.

"Your hood," Malik called from within.

She rolled her eyes and pulled the white hood on. She spotted Altair moments later and gave chase. He was fast but once upon a time, she was just as fast. As she tailed him, a knot in her stomach formed, twisting and churning uncomfortably. It had been three years since she had spoken to him. She hated the man, didn't she? She thought about everything that had occurred between them when they were younger and then about his part in the disaster at Solomon's Temple, Kadar's death and the siege on Masyaf. She became so absorbed in her thoughts that she was more than shocked when she slammed headlong into Altair's sturdy frame. She fell back, landing hard on her rear while Altair struggled to regain his balance. He whirled on her, pinning her where she lay, his dagger at her throat. He let her up after a few moments, her own assassin's garb indicating to him that she was not a foe.

"Who are you," he demanded. "What do you want?"

Sibylla simply dug in her pouch for the parchment Malik had given her and handed it to him. He snatched it from her and read over it, giving a rather exasperated sigh and crumpling it into a ball when he was done. He glared at her fiercely and she was suddenly very curious about what Malik had written as Altair began to circle her.

"You look like an able enough lad," he growled. "I don't wish to be hindered so stay out of my way and you can come along. Get in my way, and you will breathe your last. Clear?"

Sibylla simply nodded, not daring to speak as Altair obviously thought her a boy and clearly Malik did not reveal her identity in the note. Altair gave her one last fierce glare before he continued in the direction he had been moving before she had so foolishly collided into him. She shivered a moment, as she always had after he had turned a weapon on her in the past or threatened her, cursing under her breath as she followed him. They were headed towards St Anne's Church, she noted and they were moving in silence.

She took this time to ponder over him as she trailed a respectable distance behind him. Three years had changed him. At twenty-two years of age, when she had first served as his apprentice, he had been much kinder, softer and more patient. Now at twenty-five, he was arrogant, clearly bitter and rougher around the edges. He had hardened over the years and she had to wonder what had transpired in his life to make him this way. Surely this wasn't all because of her?

Altair stopped at the edge of a roof that overlooked the area in front of the church. She came to a stop beside him, carefully keeping her face hidden from his. She had gotten lucky that he did not recognize her when he had pinned her. She waited silently for instruction from him, already having a guess at what he would say.

"Stay here," he mumbled. "Keep a sharp eye and ear."

Altair moved swiftly away from her, his eyes trained on something below. She sighed, crouching and watched him for a moment before fixing her eyes on the busy street below, looking and listening. It sent a shiver down her spine how well she slipped back into the groove of being his apprentice, even if this was meant for only a day.

A large arm wrapped around her from behind and she felt the cold metal blade of a sword against her throat. She mentally kicked herself. How did she not hear the guard come upon her? He forced her to her feet with a grunt. She struggled as much as she dared to though was quickly subdued when the blade was pressed to her throat harder.

"Assassin," yelled the guard. Sibylla watched as Altair turned quickly around. She could see from his stance that he was furious. The guard continued, "Run and your apprentice dies. Cooperate and both your lives may be spared."

Sibylla prayed to God that Altair had a plan, her heart sinking as he seemed to be surrendering. A sudden movement from the man she once called 'master', the hum of metal flying through the air and the sickening sound of a throwing knife burying itself in human flesh followed by the gurgling noises of a dying man and Sibylla was free. She jumped away from the guard who was slumped on the ground, clutching at his throat. She cringed as she felt the familiar sickness come over her that she had always felt after a kill. Altair's footfalls were loud and fast in her ears and she braced herself, knowing exactly what was to come. He grabbed her by the arm, jerking her around to face him. There was wrath in his eyes like none that she had ever seen before. She was honestly afraid of him now.

"You stupid, insolent child," he growled. "What did I tell you?!"

Sibylla held her tongue knowing she could not speak. She cringed in pain, his grip on her arm bruising her. He shook her slightly, demanding her to answer him. She hung her head instead, as if she were ashamed. He seemed to accept that since he released her and moved away, but stopped a few feet from her. Without warning he whirled on her and she heard the familiar sound of his hidden blade sliding from its hiding place as his arm came round. She tried to bite back the scream that rose in her throat, only half succeeding as a whimper erupted from behind her lips. The blade stopped, tip against her throat. His eyes were masked from her but she could easily imagine that the whimper intrigued him.

"You will return to the Bureau immediately," he growled.

"No, I will not," she hissed back before she even realized it.

"What did you just say?" He pushed the blade harder against her throat. Intimidation never worked on her though.

"I said, I will not return to the Bureau."

He backhanded her. It was so fast that she never saw him raise his hand. He hit her hard enough that she stumbled back and fell, her hood falling and blood filling her mouth. With the red liquid dribbling down her chin she turned her eyes on him. Altair paled, turning almost as white as his robes. She heard him curse under his breath as she stood, dusting herself off and wiping the blood off her chin.

"You were saying, Altair," she growled. It hurt to talk and she knew she would have a pretty bruise on her cheek.

"Sibylla," he gasped. "How? I thought…"

"Thought that Malik had me married off to a wealthy merchant after Kadar died?"

He nodded and she laughed, thought it was sarcastic.

"You should know me well enough by now, Altair."

His stupor seemed to wear off for he was moving towards her and he grabbed her again, his face only inches from hers. His golden-brown eyes were filled with an emotion she could not place, but his face was angry.

"We are going back to the bureau," he growled. "Malik has quite a bit of explaining to do."

With that, he began dragging her back. She knew it was useless to try and break his grip on her, and even if she did, he could outrun her. It was best to simply comply and follow his lead. Malik, she knew, would be furious with her and she cringed at the thought. She was not looking forward to the screaming match the two men were going to get into.

Notes:

Yes, Malik had a hidden blade. And yes, Malik did have is ring finger, unlike Altair. As did Al Mualim.

Malik: .com/tenshi_rising/images/malik/malik_

Al Mualim: .com/tenshi_rising/images/al%20mualim/al_mualim_

In fact, Altair did not lose his finger for an initiation. He lost his finger DURING his initiation mission when he was sent to kill King Barbarossa. (which is one of the few things that is messed up in the AC timeline)

The video(skip to 10:06): .com/xbox360/action/assassinscreed/video/6174521/assassins-creed-stage-demo-1

Assassin: .

Yes, there was game dialog in there. All that stuff between Altair and Malik is dialog taken directly from the game.

This chapter is more assassin-ish because I am sitting on the roof as I post it. Watching a meteor shower.

Sibylla's proper name is Sibylla bint Rashid al Mualim. Translated: Prophetess daughter of the Wise Teacher

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Author Comment:

Now officially two days late, I am utterly sorry, my loves. Next week's will probably be later, if I even post it at all. I am actually ahead of schedule as it is so I'm not that worried. This week is going to be difficult so I will either neglect the story or throw myself into it. Bear with me guys!