Super special early update on the same day as the last update. This will probably never happen again... XD

Enjoy.

Masyaf- 1191

Sweaty, tired, and troubled upon returning from Acre, Altair Ibn La-Ahad climbed the stone stairs that lead to Al Mualim's study. As he had countless times before, he pushed the memory of that night three years ago from his mind, though it proved more difficult this time. He'd be going to Jerusalem next and would face not only Malik, but the girl he lost. That is, if Malik hadn't made other arrangements for her. Still, there were more pressing matters to attend to than his own, personal turmoil.

As he rounded the pillar, Al Mualim was discussing something with one of the record keepers. He knew better than to eavesdrop here and closed his ears to the conversation as he waited respectfully off to the side. He took note of a white rose in a small clay vase sitting on the window sill and pondered over it. The Master rarely kept such trifle things inside, so why was it there?As if to answer his question, her voice floated to him through the years.

Sibylla had led him out to the garden, past where the Sacred Blossoms lounged near the cool fountains, down to the lowest tier that overlooked the river. It was where he had often come to watch the sun set and wind down after a long day of training or a hard ride back after an assassination. It was peaceful and private where one could be alone.

She had to have been ten at the time, for he had been about seventeen. She led him over to a rose bush, brimming with the summer blossoms of the Damask Rose. She had smiled up at him as she picked the only pure white rose and held it to her nose, inhaling deeply in a rather exaggerated manner. He could smell the strong scent of the rose before she ever offered it to him. He thought her silly for the gesture, but accepted all the same. The last thing he wanted to do was make the girl cry, so he stood there awkwardly holding the white flower as she hunted for another one. She found what she was looking for, a blood red blossom which he knew to be rare for the plant. She picked it and held it to her protectively.

"Promise me, Altair," she said in that childish squeak. "That whenever you see a white rose, you will think of me."

It took all he had not to roll his eyes at the girl. He could not understand why he had to babysit her instead of Malik. He knew he should be honored to be trusted with the Master's daughter, but he'd rather be in the sparring ring than being shadowed by this child. Like a falcon chasing the mighty eagle, as Malik had described it after watching him with her one day. But as he looked at her now, he no longer saw the sweet innocence that he had been accustomed to. Instead, she looked up at him with the intensity of a full grown woman, her blue eyes boring through him. If he hadn't known any better, he could have sworn that she was not seven years younger than him, but the same age or older. He was startled to see this and instantly felt bad for the man unfortunate enough to marry her. This girl would be able to ensnare any man she wanted with just a flutter of her ebony eyelashes. He knew this, for with a single look, she had already brought him, a trained assassin, to his knees and he neither understood how nor why.

"I promise," he said, suddenly paranoid of what she would do to him should he decline.

"Good," she said in a tone that he swore was of an older and wiser woman speaking to him. "And whenever I see a red rose, I will think of you."

She was quiet for a long time after that, staring off at the setting sun. Altair shivered. He was no longer sure if he was seeing the girl or a premonition of what she would become later. It chilled him to the bone and goose bumps rose up on his skin despite the hot weather. And then she was staring at him again, her blue eyes like deep pools of water that he would someday thirst for.

"When I marry you, Altair, we will have white and red roses only. Not pink, or sort of red, or even off white. Just white and red."

"But white and red are rare for these roses," he said, humoring her childish fantasy.

"I don't care," she replied very seriously. "We'll find a way."

Altair shivered and he didn't know if it was from the memory or from the sweat trickling down his spine. The irony of the whole situation was, when she started her assassin training, they became bitter rivals. And after she became his apprentice, he occasionally saw that same look in her eyes when she would stare at him, and he knew now that he had glimpsed a premonition of her future self in the garden eight years ago. He could only wonder about her now.

"Have you news for me, Altair," the master said suddenly, cutting into his thoughts.

"Garnier de Naplouse is dead," he replied immediately, stepping forward.

"Excellent," said Al Mualim, pacing in front of the wooden table. "We could not have hoped for a more agreeable outcome."

"And yet…"

Al Mualim stopped his pacing and turned to look at Altair, a concerned expression adorning his wrinkled face. Altair couldn't blame him, not after the mistakes he had made.

"What is it," he asked.

"The Doctor insisted his work was noble," Altair continued and Al Mualim resumed pacing slowly. "Looking back, those who were supposedly his captives seemed grateful to the man. Not all of them, but enough to make me wonder. How did he manage to turn enemy into friend?"

"Leaders will always find ways to make others obey them. And that is what makes them leaders. When words fail they turn to coin. When that won't do, they turn to baser things: bribes, threats, and others types of trickery." Al Mualim stopped is pacing again and turned his eyes, one icy with blindness, on him. "There are plants, Altair, herbs from distant lands, that can cause a man to take leave of his senses. So great are the pleasures it brings, men may even become enslaved by it."

"You think these men were drugged, then? Poisoned?" The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

"Yes, if it truly was as you describe it."

"Herbs. This seems a strange method of control," he said pensively and he could not help but recall that night again. The Master had insisted his daughter take herbs. He knew it was for contraceptive purposes but what if he had given her something to make her complacent enough to leave Masyaf? No, the Master would not do that.

"Our enemies have accused me of the same," Al Mualim replied.

"The promise of Paradise," he shivered inwardly, his blood turning to ice for a moment.

"They think there's a garden, overflowing with women and pleasure. That I drug you as Garnier did with his men and tempt you with its rewards."

"They do not know the truth of it."

"Which is how it must be."

"But if they knew the truth of it," Altair said defensively. "That all we seek is peace-"

"Then they would not fear us, and we would have no hold over them." Al Mualim rounded the table and stood facing the window, a dismissal. "Go, it is time you continued with your work. Another rank is restored to you, as is a piece of your equipment. We'll speak again when the next has fallen."

Altair moved forward and took his throwing knives from the table and placed them accordingly. As he made sure everything was properly in place, he noticed that the Master's fingers touched the white rose and he instantly felt guilty. It was clear to him, that even though the Master never spoke of her, he missed her greatly, and it was all his fault. Had he controlled his urges, Sibylla would still be here and perhaps, things would be very different. He honestly missed the rivalry they had; he still would not admit that he missed her. He had closed his heart after her and reinforced that barrier when Adha was taken.

He turned and left the study, leaving Al Mualim to his thoughts, his own enveloping him again. He would ride for Jerusalem now and he wasn't sure what was causing his stomach to churn more. The thought of seeing Malik again after what happened in Solomon's Temple or the possibly seeing Sibylla again, whether in the bureau or on the streets. He took a deep breath as he mounted his steed at the city gates to steady his nerves and urged the horse into a canter. He knew Malik would not be happy to see him and no doubt they would argue, but what of Sibylla? Would she welcome the sight of him, or would she scorn him for his part in Kadar's death and the loss of Malik's arm? Why did he care? The past was the past and it would stay that way. He could not afford to anger Al Mualim any more than he already had. But… what if? He shook his head. The ride to Jerusalem was a long one, and he would need to use the time wisely to rid himself of these silly thoughts, lest he make another mistake that might end his life.

NOTES:

The only roses native to Syria and the rest of the Middle East before the 13th century was the Damask rose. It's colors usually range from a pinkish white to dark pink. Pure white and red are rare for the plant but it does happen. Damask roses are commonly used for perfume, rose oil, rose water and culinary purposes. They are also known as Damascus Roses.

The line "Promise me when you see a white rose you will think of me" is taken from the Blackmore's Night song "Ghost of A Rose". The song also provided the inspiration for the scene involving the roses.

The dialog between Altair and Al Mualim came directly from the game. If you dont know where in the game because it;s been forever, this is immediately after the FIRST Acre mission... as if it isn't obvious.

The Sacred Blossoms are Al Mualim's concubines. You know, the prissy women in the garden who ignore Altair, unlike the poor women with five dying children and a sick husband.

Author's Comments

OH MY GOD! TWO chapters in one day!? I must love you guys or something!

Naw, I was just dead set on getting this one done too. That and I had nothing better to do while waiting for my laundry. I promised something better, and here it is, on the same day! A week in advance. If you are lucky I may get the next chapter up by tomorrow!

Oh, and do you see the stuff I have to research for this story!? FLOWERS?!

Yes! I had to! Along with contraceptives, undergarments, and a slew of other random crap that I must save for the notes in other chapters.

I hope I did Altair justice. It's fun writing as him. Not half as fun as Malik, but still...