Author's Notes: Mother of GOD it has been a hectic few weeks. I am so very, eternally, from the pit of my stomach sorry for the delay. I had my Mock examinations for my Leaving Cert and by God they took forever. Anywho, YES I am continuing and NO I don't plan to stop it.
Evee.Lynn. Trust me, it's going to be a while before THAT happens, and when it does... YUSSS!!!
Thanks to EVERYONE who has been reading (sniff) you guys really are so sweet when it comes to this writing stuff!
This chapter is rather... meh compared to the others, it's really just going over thought process and so on, because it is like crack to me, people and their dammed emotions!
Words Best Left Unsaid
Sometimes, I simply don't know where I stand with Altair. It was rather difficult to comprehend what it was exactly he thought of me. Was I… a source of affection, comfort, or simply a chaste whore whom he could easily take advantage of whenever he felt like it? Was I akin to something precious to him, something he sought to protect at the cost of his own life, or merely another mission for him and his duty to the Creed? Why was it so complicated?
Malik shook me awake sometime in early morning. I grumbled, rolling off the scratchy sacks and assorted canvas to my feet, rubbing my eyes, wincing when my back throbbed painfully.
After divesting my "new" sandals in the castle, my feet were sore and scratched from fleeing Damascus, my left heel sharply flaring up in pain after I stomped on Mu'ayyad's foot. It seems every deed comes with a price. Still worn out, I climbed the stairs after a tired looking Malik, greeted by a dawn sun and twittering birds.
"We make to Mundhir's home, and from there plan to Masyaf." Altair said, without looking back at us.
Malik nodded. "Would it not help to go to the bureau first?"
Altair made a face and crossed his arms. "I'm not particularly… fond, of the bureau leader posted there."
The other man simply laughed, but agreed with a hand gesture to venture on.
The air was cool, crisp as I walked off the deck, and we were back in Jerusalem. I breathed a sigh of relief, edging off the rocky boat to the pier, looking across the vast river and it's glistening water. Finally…
Calmer, I followed their quick strides on sore feet, wincing and stifling pained cries when I stood on protruding stones, passing the early traders with a bowed head, as if to hide. The dress, still worn and slightly bloodstained from the incidents in the castle, it clung to my aching back like a second skin, and I tried my best to ignore it, still following, silent.
We reached my house, and they parted to allow me to open the door, Altair leaning in to mutter something in Malik's ear.
My lungs filled with the scent of my house as I walked inside, relief washing over me like cool water, but unfortunately no booming bark of Adham's usual greetings. Where was he…? The two took their time, and I eased myself down onto the cushions in the lounge, so familiar, and sighed contentedly. Clunks followed, and then my door shutting before they both entered the room, and me, positively beaming when I found neither of them wore their shoes. They do learn fast.
Malik shook his head at me, a disbelieving smile spread across his lips, and edged to the side while Altair addressed us.
"We must inform the Grand Master of these recent events." He turned to me. "We will need you to relay everything that happened personally with him. No doubt he can gather something useful from it. Malik," the other man stood straighter when addressed, and Altair continued, "stay here while I get the old man. If anything should happen, get her to the bureau as fast as you can. I do not trust this place anymore."
Malik nodded, and bowed. "Safety and peace, brother."
Altair followed suit, but I stood up. "What old man?"
"Al Din." He replied smoothly, already turning his back to me.
If he was venturing into town, he could bring back my dog. He was the first thing I missed while stepping into my house, and though I did have a certain level of trust in Fadil, I was still worried for my ebony canine.
A hand on his robe, I tugged him back impatiently. "Please, if you can, return Adham to me from Fadil, the butcher."
He sighed, his eyes on the floor, refusing to meet my eyes. "This is no time for your-"
"Altair, please!" I begged. "That dog is all I have left. I only ask this much of you."
After searching for his eyes, finally they met mine, but… it was as though he wasn't looking at me at all. There was that wall again, and it scared me to see it. He was guarding himself, and against me, of all people. It was cold and edgy, my expression instantly dropped under that glare, a brick wall of steel, indifference, impatience and anger, directed towards me.
Crossing his arms, he walked outside. "That dog." He grumbled, gesturing with a hand as if to wave me off. "I will bring him back."
… Ouch… that really hurt.
The door shut quietly, and I just stood there, pondering what to do next, jumping when Malik (was he there this whole time?) made a soft noise as he sat down.
"You needn't worry." He said. "Altair is always like that."
Not with me, I thought idly as I went to sit down myself, never with me. My skin, beaten and worn begged me to rest, and I sat down heavily on the cushions beside the remaining assassin, feet burning and throbbing, but I felt restless. It wasn't long before I stood up again, and paced into my kitchen, the fruit on the table was too ripe. I threw them out the back, wondering vaguely how long I have been away. The basin in the back yard was still full of water, ripping brightly in the morning sun.
Malik followed me outside as I leaned over the stone recess, robes of beautiful white, but he pulled down his hood and ran his fingers through his short hair with a wan sigh.
He really was rather handsome. Darker than Altair, but his face was much easier, rounder, his nose was crooked, possibly broken once, stubble lined his jaw. A thin mouth broke into a little smile for me, dark black eyes crinkling.
Slightly taller than Altair, he towered over me, blocking the early sun from my eyes.
"You are troubled, no?" He paused, then chuckled to himself and leaned down on the edge of the basin next to me. "What am I saying? Of course you are."
My reflection was ghostly. My hair whipped about with the gentle breeze, eyes bloodshot and tired, skin seemed stretched over my cheeks. As if only realising at that moment, my stomach rumbled painfully and I clasped a hand over it, blush flushing my face as I smiled, Malik grinning beside me.
"Would you… like to eat something, assassin?" I asked, making my way back inside.
"Sounds wonderful." He answered.
Barely half an hour later, and after rummaging through the wooden closet hanging the meat, I finally made something acceptable for myself and the famished assassin, and sat at the small table with him on the hard stool.
Malik seemed to be much more relaxed and easy-going than Altair. His gait was smaller, more swaggering in comparison to Altair's proud posture, and his more heart shaped face seemed easier to talk to, more open, friendly. Finished, he patted his flat stomach and sighed.
"Thank you for that. I haven't eaten since yesterday."
Waving off the comment, I simply watched as Malik raised a hand to his eyes, missing a ring finger, and pinched the bridge of his nose. It seems the assassins get little sleep through their missions, something in that was unfair considering the amount of work they do, and I doubted the rewards were much other than praise.
"You look tired." I said.
"As do you," he answered, "but neither of us will feel a bed's embrace for a few days, I fear."
"Would you not rest now?"
"I do not think my brother-in-arms would be too pleased with the fact I am sleeping on a mission." He smiled knowingly, it was rather infectious. "But a blink and you may be killed, or snatched away again."
I rose from my seat, taking the bowls from the table and putting them on the stone counter beside a small bucket of water. "I doubt such a thing would happen now. The guards tend to be noisier than that after all. You over exaggerate."
A chuckle, then, "From what I heard, attempts such as that seem to happen frequently around you." He leaned back on his chair against the wall, his long arms supporting his head. "At first I thought Altair was the one to exaggerate when he first bade me for help with your… ah, rescue. But it would seem that trouble follows you."
Cleaning off the pottery, I set them down, drying them with a rag on the far side of the counter.
He continued. "You certainly gave him a fright, you know. It is very rare to see a master assassin like Altair loose his cool."
I put down the towel with a sigh. "…This is such a mess."
"It is only natural." He said from behind me. "The associations of the men after your husband are too well connected in Jerusalem and Damascus. The Grand Master, I understand, was right to post a master assassin with you. I just pray we can…-"
But he trailed off, and I heard him slowly get up off his stool and approach me. Turning, I faced him, his black eyes shining as he looked down on me, his gait guarded.
"What happened to your back?" He asked, two large hands on my shoulders, turning me to examine the back of my dress. He clicked his tongue, and I hissed as he pulled lightly on the dress I still wore from the castle, but it refused to move from my skin.
"… I was whipped." I replied quietly, pulling away from his hands as they attempted to pull the dress from the wounds.
His eyes widened to a considerable width, and a snarl played over his thin lips. A violent swear passed his mouth. "Why… those, those bast-"
A familiar bark cut him off and a scraping noise beating quickly against my front door. Creaky hinges followed, before Adham bounded inside, his paws hard against the stone tiles, and ran to me, his tail thrashing wildly. Malik quickly got out of the large dog's way and I bent down, his claws digging into my knees and I avoided the open jaws by tucking my head into his neck and hugging him tightly.
"Adham, I missed you so much!" I cried, and the dog whimpered encouragingly in reply, all movement and warm fur, he smelled of Fadil's shop which instantly made me recoil.
"You stink!" I muttered, a hand over my nose and mouth. Adham sat obediently by my heels, tailing wagging furiously. Malik chuckled, but edged away, cautiously eyeing the hound.
"It seems Fadil took good care of him then." A familiar voice came from the hall, and Diya Al Din entered the kitchen, his old grey eyes held a smile for me as I ruffled Adham's furry head. "It is good to see you again, pet."
"And you."
Altair followed, Malik pulling him aside by the arm and bending his head, to mutter something into the other's ear. His expression furrowed as he gestured to me, Al Din approached, his long fingers brushing Adham's ears, to the dog's thorough enjoyment. His head snapped to mine, gazes met, Malik took two phials from his belt and passed them to the remaining assassin.
"Heat up some water." He ordered me, and I rose a brow before following the command. Grabbing a bucket full of water from the basin out back, I returned to the kitchen, Malik was talking with Al Din in the lounge, Adham followed me as I heated the water over the recess in the kitchen.
My dog, so protective, barred Altair's path as he made his way towards me, who simply folded his arms in impatience as Adham made a low rumble in his chest. I nudged the dog out of the way, rubbing his collar, urging him to leave the assassin be. He reluctantly followed my command, still cautious. He must have followed Al Din here, considering how fearful he was of Altair.
The water simmered, and he reached over, taking the bucket from the hearth, passing me some rags he took from the table and inclined his head to follow him. I did without question, knowing full well of his intentions as he took me upstairs, Adham at my heels.
Laying the bucket beside the bed, he took the rags from me, avoiding my gaze, wordlessly putting them on the bed and walking behind me, fingers softly examining my dress.
"Do you mind if I rip this?"
Of course I didn't care. This dress came from hateful hands. Hands that wandered all too freely over me, that pulled my head back, covered my mouth to restrain me, that held me in place when lips were but millimetres away. The material was rich and beautiful, snug and fitted appropriately to my frame, but it could have been made of pure gold and I will still hate it just as much.
"Tare it to shreds and burn it for all I care." I said lowly, but he said nothing.
Adham barked loudly as the assassin took a blade from the holster around his shoulders, but I urged him to be quiet, pulling rhythmically at the fur lining his neck. He calmed to whimper, and watched.
A small dagger slit down the back, hand firmly on my hip to keep me from moving away as the sharp tip grazed my spine, making me jerk forward instinctually. He attempted to peel the material away, but it caught and pulled on my skin and I hissed, breaking free of his grasp and give a low moan.
A sigh, and he soaked a rag in the steaming water, wringing it out and patting it over the areas stuck to my back. I hissed in protest, but he ignored me. Soon the dress was soaked from the back, and he guided me over to my bed, sitting down, pulling me down with him until my hips were nestled in between his knees.
My dog sat protectively by my side, back against my legs, glaring up at Altair, who ignored the canine.
Trying desperately to will the flush in my cheeks back down, I bit my lip hard when he slowly tugged the material down, pulling scabs with it sharply when they stuck. Twitching, I jerked at every pull, until his hand brushed the dress about my waist and shoulders.
He gave a low oath. "I had no idea it was this bad."
"How is it?" I uttered meekly.
"The wounds are beginning to seep." He said, bending down to soak the rag again, hips moving forward into mine, fingers clenching the water free. "You will be left scarred, I'm afraid."
Nodding, I bit harder along my mouth. Now I would forever have a personal, physical reminder of everything that has happened. Pensive as the hot water rolled down my back, I thought of what Mundhir would say if he saw these scars. Would they be like Altair's when he saw them, pink and angry, or white and faded? How would he react? After all, he is the main reason I will have scars in the first place…
It continued, the ache under my skin lessened to a dull throb, my feet still scratched and scabbed, but I stayed silent.
This scene was familiar, only now the tables have turned it seems. At first, I was the one to heal the hurt, but now he is taking care of my wounds as I did to his. How… how funny.
I groaned, the water soothing my aching back as he washed away the dried blood, and then laughed. "And to think, barely a while ago I was doing this for you… How quickly things change."
He remained silent, hands still working against my back. At least I tried to keep it light-hearted, but perhaps that was bad form on my part, joking about my torture after all he has done to rescue me. I winced inwardly as the silence stretched.
Did I… did I say something wrong? Perhaps he was worried, or angry with me for some unknown reason. But of what, I had no idea. He seemed so cold to me after… after… Oh God.
"Is something wrong, Altair?" I asked quietly.
"Hmm?"
"You seem… annoyed. Is everything alright?"
He put the rag back down into the basin, and I heard the light pop as he uncorked the phial of liquid Malik handed him. The strong smell soon reached my nose, and I jerked when it was spread thinly over my wounds, cold compared to the water, and stinging. The sting however quelled into a cold, numb feeling and then there was no pain at all. I sighed, as he continued his long trek down my injured back. But he didn't answer, and I was too afraid to push him for one.
The silence stretched again, I rolled my neck to soothe the stiff muscles, Adham by my feet lay lengthways on the floor, yawning widely. I must have said or done something wrong, or perhaps it could have been the incident on the boat that annoyed him? But for what reason? Or maybe it was my initial kidnap. If I hadn't been so worried over nothing, I wouldn't have been caught in the first place.
Halfway down my back, the urge to speak became too strong, and I once again voiced my question. "Altair, are you alright?"
"Fine." He bit out, and I shuddered at the coldness in his voice.
Gulping, I swallowed my own tongue, and chose my words carefully. I must not fear, I told myself. I have as much right to question his behaviour as he does mine. For all I have been through, I deserved that much.
"Why do you lie?" I asked carefully. "Surely, something must be wrong for you to speak so coldly."
I frowned when there was once again no reply, only moving hands and the rise and fall of Adham's frame against my legs. Another pop, and the second phial was poured into the bucket of warm water next to me.
"Soak your feet in that." He said, monotoned, leaving my back bare before pulling me to my feet and edging out from behind me. I dropped back onto the bed, the dress falling around my shoulders but I clutched it up.
"Altair-"
"Nothing is wrong with me." He snapped, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and making his way out of the room.
"Please!" I stood, my arms around myself, holding up the ruined robe. "What have I done to deserve such treatment?"
Eyes hidden under shadow, he looked to the dog still by my legs, to the bucket, then finally to me, but he didn't meet my gaze. "There isn't time for this."
"If there is time for me to soak my beaten feet, there is time for you to talk to me."
"I will only say this once again. Nothing is wrong with me."
"You are a poor liar."
"And you are burden in a situation that is becoming far too difficult for me." He hissed.
I stiffened, "A… burden?"
Hidden eyes narrowed along with bow-shaped lips. He folded his arms, and turned his head to the side, indifferent to me, as though the argument was simply… boring him. And that made me angry, I could feel my face heating up before I could control it.
A hand, encased in a gauntlet rose to his face, fingers brushing back his hood to run through his hair, before fixing the white back into place, pulling it so far over his eyes the inside turned black, grim, empty. "You can't simply expect me to carry you this whole way." Once again his voice was monotonous, cold, just like his hood. "And I cannot burden myself or my mission by getting close to you."
"That explains nothing." I said pleadingly, my robes slipping down my shoulders once more, I, catching it before it fell too low. "You are cold to me because it is a danger if we get too close? A little late, isn't it?"
God, stop my moving mouth. I couldn't help the stream of thoughts pouring out without my ability to control them.
An irate snarl broke over his lips. "What happened on the boat, I cannot afford to let something like that happen again-"
"Funny, you didn't seem to have any qualms the first time!" I spat, but snapped my hands to stop my defiant mouth before it could say anymore, elbows holding the dress in place. How… how could I say something like that? How dare I be so spiteful! How dare I try to hurt him, after all his sacrifice for me! Me, a foolish woman, a burden on him indeed!
His head snapped to the side, as if I slapped him. I don't think he could stand to look at me after that. He crossed his arms again. Blood froze in my veins, I glanced fearfully to find his eyes, but I couldn't see them under the shadow, cut off from me by the wall of material that separated us.
"Please, I-I d-didn't mean-" I stuttered, but he cut me off.
"There is no time for this." He waved me off, and walked back downstairs, leaving me to simply stand in my bedroom again, not knowing what to do with myself really.
How many more times must I be left like this? I sat down on my bed after a few pensively silent seconds, Adham jerking in surprise when I tugged my feet from under him and put them into the small bucket.
I took a cushion from the bed, held it up to my face, and groaned as loud and as long as I could into the feathers and material, muffling the sound. My lungs soon lost air, blood rushing to my head and pumping until I was dizzy, and I stopped.
But it didn't make me feel any better. And this water was stinging my feet something terrible.
At first I was angry. Angry, with him for being so cold to me and for leading me on this whole time that he actually, maybe just a little, had some sort of affection for me. I was angry with myself, for turning spiteful and trying to hurt him. I was angry with Malik who insisted we leave Adham back with Fadil, and I had the sneaking suspicion he was quite afraid of my dog. I was angry with Adham, for bounding away when offered fresh meat.
And I was angry with Mundhir, for having the nerve to start this whole mess.
God, where was he? How was he? And when was he coming home?
The ride to Masyaf was long, and hot under the afternoon sun. I changed my dress and sandals, feeling better for wear than what I was, but with a heavy heart and a buzzing mind.
Both Malik and Altair… commandeered a horse driven cart while myself and Al Din hid outside the gates of Jerusalem, and hopped in the back with Malik when the guards changed their afternoon shift. A snap on the reigns from Altair, and the horse took off, the stoic assassin at the helm of this ship of fools.
Al Din was content with the whole ordeal altogether, which struck me as rather odd. The old man in the essence of collected, he rose a long fingered had to his chin in a thoughtful expression when asked about it.
"I suppose you could say the Assassin Master and I are… old friends." He said quietly, fingers stroking his little white moustache, grey eyes far away as if recalling pleasant memories.
"An informant?" Malik asked.
"More like old tea drinking partners." He laughed. "But yes, an informant is one way to put it."
I sensed there was much more to it than that, but I of all people couldn't hope of drawing information out of Diya Al Din. The man, too old and too wise wasn't fooled by anyone, least of all me.
Sitting back as the two chatted, Malik vying for information about his Grand Master's earlier years, I fell into thought as the hills rolled by, jagged cliffs worn down by rain and wind, trees twisted like dancers frozen to the earth. Glancing up at Altair, he sat at the top of the cart, reigns held fast in his hands, his back bent, hood up even in the heat. Guiltily looking away, I played with my shoes, shifting against the rocking wood pressed against my back.
Why did I feel so guilty? I had every right to say what I said after all. But…why did I say it in the first place? Was I angry with Altair for being so cold, and if I was, why did I care so much what he felt anyway? He wasn't my husband, I didn't have to care about him…
But I did. God, I cared more than I could stand.
He tentatively reached out a hand to me, approaching but I cried out, squashing myself against the wall…
"You have nothing to apologise for."
"I'm so sorry." He said. "I only wanted to protect you."
But was this protecting me from harm? If it was, it hurt far worse than trying to protect me, surely he would understand that.
It wasn't fair. Why must everything good that comes to me be snatched away as quickly as it arrived? I had a wonderful family before I married Mundhir. I had a beautiful home, and a place to belong before my husband slowly networked in criminal activity. I had a perfectly normal life before Altair used me on one of his missions. I was happy to live out the rest of my days before he… before he…
And I think I hated him then, for making me feel like this, and clutched a hand to my heart, praying for some sort of guidance to help relieve all this tension welling up inside until it feels just about ready to burst open and drag my sanity with it.
Do what you think is right… I remember, Johara. I remember.
So I did the only thing that felt right at that moment. I shut my eyes and spoke to God.
"How many years has it been, Al Din?"
"Two full years, if my sources are correct."
"It is good to see you again, my old friend."
The two men embraced, and I seemed to be the only one who didn't find it odd that Al Mualim, the Master of the Assassins, embraced this frail old man like a long lost friend. The accompanying assassins and guards seemed to brace themselves, or become uncomfortable for those few seconds of two friends meeting once again, but breathed a sigh of relief when it ended.
Sitting behind his desk, he regarded the group before him, entwining his fingers, elbows resting on the stained wood, his one white eye gleaming in the sun, the other under shadow as he peered over his hands.
"So, word has it that Mu'ayyad is much craftier than I thought. No matter, tell me of what you know first, child."
Dearest Lord, I come to you again asking for guidance.
Please Lord, though I understand I ask much of you, I simply do not know where else to turn. I am at a crossroads, though each one is paved with traps and filled with thistles and winding paths leading me down dangerous routes, I fear there is no good ending one way or the other.
Why do I feel so… hollow now? Yet I am bewildered, because I feel I must say something, but when I open my mouth I find myself at a loss for words.
So much has happened Lord, too much for one woman to take in her lifetime. My husband, I pray that he is safe, I pray he is in your hands. I can't live knowing I will be alone in this world. Through everything that has happened, I cannot be alone.
Why do I feel so sad when I think of him as the man I will be spending the rest of my life with? Why must I be so bitter with every thought of him, so callous?
What has happened to make me hate so much, so suddenly?
I am sorry, Lord, I will try to quell these wicked emotions. And even more of those towards him.
I am so sorry Lord, for letting that happen on the boat. I should have… I should have been true to my marriage, and crushed my feelings from the start. I should have stayed away from him, pulled away when his lips were so close to mine…
So blessedly close…
Oh Lord, please help me stop. Help me get over this, become stronger for it, destroy the lust aching at me and move on with my life. How dare I lust for a man, a murderer.
But I fear it is more than just lust…
Please Lord, I beg of you to help me move on with this, lend me strength to fight my wicked heart. Please protect me from him, from everything that is conspiring against me, give me the courage to stand up and demand my right to stay true to myself.
Please protect Mundhir, for I know something has happened to him, and I pray for his safety. Keep Adham safe, my beautiful ebony hound, who has been my angel from you ever since I first brought him home.
And… And Lord, please, please save Altair…
Thank you.
Amen.
Author's Notes: For future reference, that prayer is like a break before the next chapter, which is the continuing conversation with Al Mualim.
Thanks for reading!