Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed.

Warning: You're going to hate me for this chapter. LAST CHAPTER OF THE BOOK! Also, this is going to be an infuriatingly short chapter, just because I'm evil like that and it's the end of this book. Language.

Racing the morning light over,
Here it's always cloudy.
When it rains it'll all be over,
There's just never enough time.

We're going nowhere so very fast,
And everything else is changing,
And flying through our present becomes the past.
With every second that's spent, We're spent.

Boats made from leaves,
Sacrifice, wrapped in straw,
When I was a kid, the world was in a bottle,
Cause my friends they were different.
I've got civilizations living amongst the tree's,
Whole families living inside of my own sleeves,
In these stitches that I wore so thin.

Waking up clutching shards of broken glass,
Shattered reflections of a broken world,
Waking up pouring drops of my own blood.

"World In a Bottle" by: Anavae

Chapter Twenty Two: The Real Beginning

I woke up in the middle of the night and after a couple minutes of sorting out my thoughts I decided to find my more sensible half. No- not Altaïr- Lord knows that man couldn't think straight if you shoved a metal rod through his brain, which was something I wanted to do quite often, mind you.

I went to her quarters only to find it empty. With a slight frown, I headed to the only other place I'd expect her to go.

Closing the solid door behind me, I walking through the nearly pitch black library silently. Nearly pitch black.

"You should be sleeping." I whispered softly to her.

She jumped slightly before smiling, "Hypocrite." There was a moment of silence and Amelia looked beyond my shoulder with a troubled expression. I followed her eyes but saw nothing. She sighed before looking back at me. "What's wrong?"

"I have a bad feeling, Amelia.´

"A bad feeling about what?"

I waved my hands around. "About this, about everything!" Amelia nodded slightly and I rubbed my wrist absentmindedly.

She looked at it with a sad expression. "It still hurts?"

"Every damn day." I muttered.

"Not working?"

"It's hindering my abilities as an Assassin. It's deadly. I'd rather just lose my hand instead." I grumbled.

Amelia laughed slightly. "But at least you can climb with it."

"Barely." I sighed.

A sympathetic look crossed her face. "Cien's working on it."

I snorted. "She hasn't said anything."

"She's guilty about it and doesn't want to get your hopes up."

I rolled my bad wrist in the socket slightly, wincing when it caught and popped. "She told you?"

A nod. "Yeah."

"I think my dreams have been shattered anyways." My eyes clouded over as I drifted into my own world.

Amelia's voice snapped me out of it. "You have a plan?"

"I don't think it will work."

She scoffed slightly. "Don't your plans always work?"

I allowed myself to smile. "In some shape or form."

"Then I wouldn't worry about it." Amelia comforted me.

"Soo… what's new in your life?" I changed the subject awkwardly.

She shrugged. "I don't think that's important right now." I rolled my eyes at her antics. Amelia leaned forward with a mischievous look in her eyes. "So… you and Altaïr? What's going on in that front?"

"I have no idea, honestly." I answered truthfully.

"He likes you." She sung lightly.

"I'm starting to question that notion." I objected.

"You're right- he loves you." Amelia drawled out.

"He has quite the way of expressing it."

"He's new to it."

"So am I and you don't see me acting like a jackass."

"But you do act like a bitch." She stated matter-of-factly.

"I do not!" I protested before giving pause, "Actually, I kinda do. But that doesn't count!"

She gave me a disbelieving glance. "You like him."

I stilled for a moment. "Yes?"

"Yes Or Yes?"

"Yes." I answered firmly.

"Well that's good." She clapped her hands and jumped. "And it's about damn time you admitted it too."

I gave her a confused glance before following her line of sight once again to see none other than Altaïr perched on the rafters like a big game cat getting ready to pounce on its prey. He hopped down and Amelia ran out of the room before I could react.

A serious look was painted onto his face and he strode towards me. I stood frozen in place.

"Oh damn." I breathed out.

He stood right in front of me and grabbed my wrist, studying it intently.

"You shouldn't be moving this wrist. Or climbing with it for that matter."

"I shouldn't be shoving lustful assassins off me with it either." I shot back, clearly flustered.

A breathy laugh came from him. "There are a few exceptions to every rule."

I nodded. "You prepared to fight?" I asked him.

"Yes." He growled softly, leaning close.

I nodded again, this time shakily. "That's good."

"You're not doing assassinations with your wrist either."

I let out a pathetic laugh, "Oh, I don't think I'll be doing assassinations for a while." It wasn't a lie… it just wasn't the truth either.

"That's good." He breathed. "You are taking a break from this line of work, am I correct?" I paused for a moment. Altaïr sensed me hiding something and grabbed my chin so our eyes met. "What is it?"

I swallowed slightly before attempting to stand tall. "The Mentor has placed me in charge of the army. I'll be on the front lines for these fights."

His grip tightened on my chin slightly before he let go and kissed me softly. "We'll see about that."

I blinked before turning cross. "Just who are you fighting for, Altaïr?"

"What do you mean?"

I opened my mouth to explain before snapping it shut and dropping the subject. "I'm leading this army whether you like it or not."

Altaïr remained silent.

I took the silence as a chance to end the conversation. "Goodnight, Altaïr."

"This wasn't the battle I was expecting, Anima." Altaïr called after me.

Well, this was just fucking great.

I was officially fighting three wars, and I was now pretty sure I was going to lose all three.

The End. For now, at least.