Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed

Warning: Minor flirting? Is that considered worth mentioning? Yes? No? Maybe so? Oh well.

If I should die tonight,
May I first just say I'm sorry,
For I, never felt like anybody,
I am a man of many hats although I,
Never mastered anything.
When I am ten feet tall,
I've never felt much smaller, since the fall.
Nobody seems to know my name,
So don't leave me to sleep all alone,
May we stay lost on our way home?

C'mon, c'mon, with everything falling down around me,
I'd like to believe in all the possibilities.

"C'Mon" by: Panic! At the Disco ft. Fun.

Big Thanks to my beta, Believe in Fairy Tales, she's awesome. She also helped out writing the training scenes – so a round of applause to her.

Chapter Nine: Feelings are the One Thing an Assassin Shouldn't Have

I sat quietly for a while, thinking to myself ways in which to make Kinja swallow his pride a little. I felt a small pang of guilt – it felt as though I was setting him up for failure. A knock on my door snapped me out of my thoughts, and I realized I had been staring blankly at the wall. Raan cracked the door open and peered inside, seeing me facing the wall. He raised an eyebrow.

"Raan?" I smiled sheepishly.

He stared at me like I was insane, which I probably was. "…Yes?" he answered slowly.

"Do you by chance know any assassin that could kick Kinja's butt for me? One to teach him a lesson or two? Perhaps make him swallow his pride?" I looked at him pleadingly.

A smirk appeared on his lips. "One or two come to mind."

"Well then, I think you can tell one of them to sic Kinja." I smirked at him.

"Of course." He turned to leave, a calculating smile on his face.

I threw in my last sentence just as he shut the door behind him.

"Oh, and he's not allowed to learn how to fight from anybody else, got it? Tell all the others. And if they ask why, tell them to go to Al Mualim."

The clang of metal and the shouts of a fight drew me out of my room and onto the rooftops of the bureau.

Sure enough, there was Kinja and another apprentice trading blows in the middle of the courtyard. By now, almost everybody was watching the match between the two. The Levantine Assassins were standing under one of the archways, and most of the other Assassins were perched up above the area, watching from above like me.

I took in the boy's movements - he had potential, but like any other novice, he had his obvious flaws. His movements towards his left side, for example, were slower than to his right. It was a clear indication to any enemy that the boy favored his right side, and it would be easy to exploit such a weakness.

As if to illustrate my assessment, the other novice picked up on Kinja's weakness and had him floored in a matter of moments.

With Kinja's defeat, the crowd dispersed. I stuck around a minute and made sure he saw me - just to rub salt in the wound a little at the fact that the teacher he had so vehemently rejected had witnessed his failure.

It was two more days before anything happened relating to Kinja. Raan practically came skipping into my room with his hood down and hair a mess from running.

"Guess who just asked for my assistance?" he literally sang. He was an odd assassin, that one.

"Does it have something to do with a hormonal teenage boy?" I feigned obliviousness, my tone sarcastic.

"You could say that… Kinja, to be precise," he laughed victoriously.

I leaned forward eagerly. "And what did you say?"

"That it was your job and your job only," Raan said with a wink.

I laughed and winked back. My plan was working well so far.

Another two days passed and I was talking quietly with Amelia in the library – she was picking up on reading quickly, but was struggling with writing. The door swung open and hit the wall behind it loudly. An angry novice –specifically, my novice- stormed in, ignoring all the glares from those inhabiting the library. He paused for a moment and scanned the library before locking onto me and stomping over. Without a word, he grasped my arm and started tugging me out of the room with a surprising amount of strength despite his lanky frame.

"I'll be back later!" I called out to the confused girl over my shoulder.

I allowed myself to be dragged to the training ring without much protest. When we got to the sandy arena, only then did Kinja let go of my arm. He walked over to the chest on the side of the ring and picked up two swords. He tossed one to me I caught it deftly in one hand. I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

The boy literally ripped his hood off and scowled at me. "Teach me." His lip was curled in a snarl and eyes were narrowed.

I opened my mouth to make a remark about respecting his teacher, but something said that swallowing his pride to ask me to help was enough. Instead, I settled on a somewhat neutral remark.

"Why Kinja, I thought you'd never ask."

He squared his shoulders and held up his sword. I smirked slightly, "Oh no, not yet. Right now, we run."

With that, I wheeled around, stuck my sword blade-first into the sand and took off at a hellish pace towards the wall near the outskirts of town.

*One Day Later*

"Good, now try it with your left hand!" I called out over the clanging of the swords.

Kinja and I were circling each other warily in the training ring, swords at the ready. I took a few jabs at him, all of which he clumsily defended or dodged. I thrust my sword at him again. Another dodge. The boy still wasn't learning to use his left side, and I used that to my advantage.

I brought my sword down in a wide arc towards his left side. "Left hand, Kinja!"

Ignoring my instruction, he twisted his torso at an odd angle in an effort to parry the blow again with his right hand. While his center of gravity was shifted, I nudged his right leg with the toe of my boot. The small touch sent him off balance and he landed in a heap in the dirt, coughing and spluttering.

"That wasn't your left hand!" I huffed in exasperation.

*Two Days Later*

Kinja's sword hit the ground with a dull thud, as did his greaves creaked slightly from the weight; he tore them off in frustration. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stomped away from me after I had bested him yet again in a one-on-one duel.

"Are you walking away from me?" I raged. "Are you walking away from me!"

The others training in the arena had stopped to stare. Kinja's step faltered for a moment, but he kept going.

My anger grew exponentially. The brat wanted me to teach him? He could bloody well act like he wanted to learn. "Because so help me Gods, I will turn you into a eunuch if you keep going! You'd do more good singing soprano than fighting with all the fighting training you've had, dammit!"

"That's only because you're teaching me!" he called spitefully over his shoulder.

"Kinja, I swear – YOU WILL NOT GET ANOTHER TEACHER AFTER ME!"

That stopped him in his tracks.

*Five Days Later*

"Square your shoulders! Don't let them curl in when blocking!" I shouted as we sparred.

I landed another bone rattling blow. This time, Kinja kept his shoulders as straight as a pole as he deflected my blade with his own. The added force of his defensive maneuver made me spin in a half-circle before I could regain my footing. I smiled to myself when my head was turned - the boy was improving.

I spun back, thrusting my sword back towards him. "Better – this time step into the blow and plant your feet!"

*One Week Later*

Kinja and my hurried footsteps blew up clouds of dust in the sandy training arena as we danced around each other in a flurry of whirling blades and robes. The constant clang of our swords was only broken by my shouted commands.

"Try again!" I snapped as he tried another sloppy maneuver to get underneath my sword. I pushed him back roughly and motioned for him to charge. The tip of his sword grazed the red sand, his blade far too low to get enough speed for an effective attack. "No! Again! This time don't look at the ground, and keep your shoulders higher!"

A better swipe came in my direction this time, although Kinja still wasn't focusing on me when he attacked – he was looking as some point just next to my left foot for some reason.

"Look up! Look up! Look up! How many times do I have to tell you this! I hate repeating myself, dammit!" I smacked the flat side of the blade across his shoulder. He stumbled and fell, landing on his knees in the sand.

I grumbled. "Why did that happen? Perhaps because you didn't look up! Get off your ass and do it again!"

*Ten Days Later*

My furious flurry of blows drove Kinja back a few steps. He stumbled and teetered like a drunkard. "If you're going to lose your ground, at least keep your balance… stop falling backwards! Keep your feet under you! Are you listening to me? What are you… eek!"

Kinja's foot caught me just behind the ankle, dragging me down with him as he toppled over. We both hit the ground, my shoulder jamming into his chest. I could literally hear the air rushing from his lungs. I smirked – it would teach him to stop jittering around when avoiding attacks.

"I think that's enough for today," he wheezed as I jumped back to my feet.

I nodded slightly. He groaned in relief and let his head lull back against the ground.

"But first we need to run to the river and back."

He groaned loudly.

*Two Weeks Later* (AKA Two weeks since Kinja started training with Anima)

I relaxed and watched the sunrise from the benches near the training ring. A shadow fell across my line of vision and I grinned lazily at a tired looking Kinja who hopped off the roof.

"Go put on your full armor and as many weapons as you can carry and use," I ordered him.

"Why?"

I gave him a condescending glare. He huffed and headed back inside. I was in the same position when he came back five minutes later.

"Today we're going to work on free running - and swimming - in full armor!" I squealed excitedly. Free running was my forte.

Kinja looked me up and down with an annoyed expression. "But you're not even in assassin's attire!"

I smirked. "I'm sorry? Did I say we were running in full armor? I meant you will be running in full armor while I tag alongside you and laugh at your misery and enjoy my lightweight clothing."

He stared at me in disbelief. I laughed slightly and clapped my hands gleefully, before standing up. "Oh, and I forgot. While running we're also scouting out the town and certain landmarks. At any given time after today, I might just decide to make you draw the layout of these landmarks in detail. So I suggest paying attention to your surroundings."

And then I took off running.

The slight breeze felt amazing on my face. Up ahead, were some beams sticking out of a building. Without thinking twice I launched myself onto them and used them as stairs before finally jumping onto the rooftop above. I hopped from to rooftop to rooftop without so much as a single hesitant step. Up ahead, there was a particularly large gap - the kind that you didn't know if you were going to make it across or not until you were halfway into the air. Of course, most jumps were hard for me because I didn't have the advantage of long legs. Still, it was a pretty big gap – even for other full assassins.

I briefly considered stopping and not jumping, but it was a challenge and I wasn't about to turn around now. Anyways, I had seen Altaïr jump twice –if not three times - the distance just the other day like it was nothing. Then again I was pretty sure Altaïr was suicidal; a god; part wild animal; did I mentionsuicidal?; oh, and insane… and had about a ten foot stride. And no, I wasn't exaggerating. And yes, he is about a foot and a half taller than me. Again, I'm short. Then again, he was also taller than most of the other men here. Still, he hopped over most jumps like a gazelle without breaking a sweat. I envied him for that.

I, however, was still faster than him (I liked to think) and definitely a better swimmer – if not anything else.

So maybe it wasn't the best idea to take the jump. However, I would never know if I could do it until I tried, right?

I threw myself into the jump and felt the wind get knocked out of my lungs as I landed solidly about three feet into the other rooftop. I rolled to absorb the impact.

Before I could recover, my apprentice crashed into me from behind – in full armor. I hit the rooftop again, much harder with Kinja's added weight driving me down.

I shoved Kinja off of me and pushed myself to my feet, dusting off my robes. He was bouncing up and down with a manic look on his face.

"Gee," I started tartly, "it only took you all day to catch up. And I wasn't even moving that fast."

He just laughed like a maniac. "That was fun! We should do that again!"

I stared at him incredulously before glancing at the sky - it was long into noon, heading towards early evening. His laughter was infectious, and I joined in as we headed towards the river. We sat in the shade near the banks for a couple minutes in silence to recover from the run before heading back to the bureau.

"I was wrong about you," Kinja commented suddenly.

I glanced over at him and shrugged. "Most people are."

"The assassins… well, more like the men back home don't think that fondly of women. I don't even think my dad loved my mom at all." He frowned at the thought, lost in a memory. "I wouldn't be surprised if she only got pregnant with me only because he raped her. That would explain why both of them avoided me like the plague." He took a deep breath. "The women that my mother worked with were whores who pitied me and teased me. I got into the habit of thinking that all women were the same: useless, material, replaceable."

I shifted awkwardly before attempting to crack a joke. "Does that mean I'm actually worth something to you?" I turned to him with a goofy smile. It quickly fell when he remained silent and searched my face intently. After a moment I cleared my throat and turned back to the water. "I watched my father beat my mother to death when I was seven. That's something no child should experience, ever. After watching my mother just take the blows, not knowing how to fight back and me not being able to help… I promised myself I wouldn't be so helpless or weak."

I laughed humorlessly for a moment.

"The next day I started picking fights with whoever I thought I could take - just to learn. I came home with a bunch of busted lips and black eyes. Of course my dad wasn't around to see them… he wasn't around much after my mother's death. One day, after I got my face slammed into the ground and was about to black out, a man took me in. He was an ex soldier. He taught me hand-to-hand combat. Why I would trust a random old man to teach me, I don't know, but I trusted him…"

I trailed off, gathering my thoughts. Kinja remained silent while I continued. "He taught me how to swordfight and play to my strengths. He gave me suggestions on how to free run. He became a father to me. He taught me how to survive. What to eat, how to prepare food, how to fight, how to swim. He treated me like a son, but still gave me dresses." I laughed at the fond memory. The river glimmered in the sunlight. "I lived up North, even farther North than the Holy Roman Empire. In a place called Sweden. When I was eleven, people invaded my town. I watched the man that raised me die. My biological father was nowhere to be seen – come to think about it, I think he was out of town for business or something."

I took a deep breath, reliving painful memories. "They took some of us as slaves. Sold us to whoever paid the most. They worked their way South and sold off more people wherever they stopped. The previous Mentor found me in France, fighting off the guards. He saw my potential and bought me. Of course, I didn't know that at the time, so imagine his surprise when I kicked him in the shin and took off running." I smiled slightly. The look on the old man's face had been priceless.

"He thought it was the funniest thing that ever happened to him. It was the last thing he ever told me… that story. He was on his deathbed laughing like there was no tomorrow. Well, I guess for him there wasn't. Then our current Mentor took over and he let me become an assassin, though I have a sneaking suspicion that's only because he pitied me."

"That's… rough." Kinja stated awkwardly. "That's like losing three fathers."

I smiled sadly. "It is the past. I try to look on the brighter side and tell myself that I gained many more brothers as a result. Of course, most of the new recruits, whoever was born into the Creed, and the really old assassins don't appreciate the fact that a girl is in the Order. And they make sure that everybody knows they disapprove, but there are more cool old guys here that support me."

Kinja scratched his head. "Sorry."

I laughed. "I don't think I'd be assassin material if I burst out crying every time I heard some sexist remark about me."

There was silence for a while longer. I watched as the sun began to sink.

Kinja spoke up again after a little while. "How many assassins were there when you got here?"

I frowned, vaguely remembering. "About sixty. We try to keep fifteen recruits at all times and twenty fully ranked assassins to train them. The rest are of ranks anywhere between the two. Now there are fifteen full Assassins and only ten new recruits. Forty five Assassins total. Our numbers have been dropping. We don't have enough people to teach the new recruits and as a result, not as many are gaining rank as they should be. What of your bureau?"

"A couple hundred. At least fifty fully trained Assassins. Thirty or so recruits at any time. The building is a lot bigger too." Kinja shrugged casually.

My jaw must have dropped. "So it's a big bureau? Do you get lots of missions? Do you gain rank quickly? Do you get lots of training?" I fired off rapidly. He nodded enthusiastically. "That's so cool! I want to go there!" I breathed in wonder.

"Well then, I'll have to take you someday." He grinned at me.

"When we're both full assassins, right?" I laughed.

He nodded.

I sighed dramatically, "Well, if you keep moving as slowly as you did today, I'll be old by then and would've long forgotten this conversation."

He scowled jokingly, dipping his hand into the river and flinging some water at me. I shrieked before pushing him into the shallows and taking off, sprinting down the street towards the bureau. I only stopped when I was back inside the bureau, panting outside the library doors. Amelia, having heard the ruckus and still being in the library, came out and looked me up and down disapprovingly. I smiled sheepishly at her, but our attention was caught by another heaving runner behind me. We both turned our heads towards Kinja as he caught up with me.

I tutted. "We really are going to have to work on that whole speed and stamina issue of yours."

He was hyperventilating when he gasped out, "So what? Same thing tomorrow?"

I nodded and smiled wickedly at him. "Well, how else to you expect girls to like you if not for your physical abilities?" If it weren't for the fact that he was out of breath and dark skinned, he would've blushed at that comment. Instead he just rolled his eyes and made his way towards his room, hobbling like an old man.

Amelia turned to me with a teasing grin. "You know…" she started. I blinked at her, not liking where this was going. "He likes you. And you and him would look good together. He's filled out some since he first came here, and he's the perfect height for you."

I blinked again. "I'm five years older than him."

She shrugged. "Eh, it's not that bad. He can knock you up, right?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Why would I want to have sex with my apprentice?"

She rolled her eyes, "Because he's cute, he likes you, you need a love life, and you two are perfect for each other."

"A couple of things - one, didn't you grow up chaste and in a church? Two, I'll say it again: I am five years older than him. Three, I don't think of him in that way… it's creepy. Hell, I don't even like him for anything more than a brother. And four, who are you to be talking about a love life? Last time I checked, you didn't have one either."

Amelia snorted and flicked her hand dismissively. "Technicalities. What I'm saying is, that maybe you should be more open about your options."

I rolled my eyes and walked away. "Yeah, whatever. Goodnight Amelia."

*Altaïr's POV* - Can I get a 'yay' or 'thank you', because I debated whether adding this section or not. So, call it a treat. Don't expect many of these.

He watched her make a leap about three times her height between the buildings with a grace he'd only seen once before - when he first arrived, and she was completing an assassination. He had just finished collecting information from the nun at the church when he spotted her from the alleyway. She hadn't seen him, though. He winced almost imperceptibly when she landed roughly on the rooftop – he could almost feel how hard she hit the top of the building.

Not even a moment later, a figure robed in white crashed into her. Altair's hidden blade slipped out on instinct, and he made to move forward and check if she was okay. He stopped when he saw Anima throw the gangly youth off of her, and he chuckled. They both got up and talked for a moment before slowly making their way towards the outskirts of town.

He should've headed back to the bureau then. But instead, he followed them, fascinated by the young woman. He sat near the riverbank – far closer than he'd ever dared before considering his fear of water. He listened to their conversation and felt disgusted at himself for being moved by the girl's story.

Altair had slipped away once Anima had finished her story – he wasn't comfortable with the… empathic emotions it was invoking. He landed up back at the bureau's library. It was silent, save for the occasional mumbling of a younger girl attempting to sound out words while reading. After a couple minutes, there was a sound outside the door. The girl – Amelia, he thought her name was – got up and opened it before slipping out, leaving a crack in the door which allowed the voices beyond to slip through.

Again - Altair didn't know whether to be angry at himself, furious at the boy, angry at the Amelia girl, relieved about Anima, mad at Anima, or repulsed by the whole conversation. Instead, it came out as a white hot mass of confusion and rage, which was a different sensation for the assassin who usually held a cold and disconnected regard for practically any situation.

One thing was for certain, though - He would see an end to those emotions.

Molten gold eyes blazed with determination in the receding afternoon light.

A/N: Writing the beginning of the chapter and Altaïr's POV were extremely difficult. So, what did you think of Altaïr's POV? Edward Cullen worthy status? Just plain creepy? Should I edit it out later? What do you think I should do with it? Or do you like it even though I personally think it's shit?

P.S. – Long chapter here people. Be proud?