Assassin's Creed: Shadow Falcon Chapter 8: Enjoy the Silence, an assassin's creed fanfic

I'm on a role! wooot! Two chapters in two days!

Jerusalem – 1191

Hours had passed since Sibylla had slapped him. She had stopped crying and now lay, seemingly content, against his chest. She didn't move except when she took a shuddering breath every so often. Altair's lower back was cramping from sitting so still for so long, but he ignored his discomfort as he ran his hand through Sibylla's hair. He was kicking himself mentally. He'd hurt her. He never wanted to hurt her but he had. His very presence in her life had hurt her and for the first time in years, he was honestly sorry for his selfish actions. She was one person that he never wanted to hurt.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, breaking the silence finally. He honestly didn't know what else to say to her.

"I hate you," she replied in a small voice, saying those three words for what seemed like the hundredth time. They still stung him somewhere deep inside and he knew he deserved every bit of her contempt.

"I know," he whispered, burying his face in her hair and held her a little tighter. He did not understand how she did it; how she had managed to penetrate every defense he put around his foolish heart and captured it once again. Perhaps it was seeing her cry that did it. He had always hated seeing her cry when they were children. At first, it was because he was always afraid that he would get blamed, but as he grew older he realized it was because it hurt him to see her cry and even more to be the cause of her tears. It wasn't long after that epiphany that he realized that he had loved her.

"Sibylla," he said softly. She shifted in his arms and whimpered. It was then that he remembered that she was injured and that he was the one who did it. "Where are you hurt?"

Sibylla moved out of his arms, sitting up on her own and cringing. He couldn't help but wince as he saw how swollen and bruised her cheek was. Moreover, he winced because he could not believe that he had done that to her. If that was what his hand did, he was loathing seeing what her ribs looked like.

"Arm, mouth, ribs, wrist," she replied coldly.

"Can you disrobe," he asked cautiously. The outrage in her eyes did not catch him off guard.

"I believe so."

"Then do so."

She stared at him and he waited far more patiently than he would have liked. After a while, she stood and began removing her weapons and finally stripped down to just her pants and the binding over her breasts. Heat rose up in him slowly at the sight of her almost naked before him but he pushed it back down and stood. Upon a closer inspection, he was shocked to see how tightly she bound herself.

"The binding," he said slowly, soliciting a glare from her that could kill. He met the glare head on, holding her eyes with his own and not giving into the pleading that was behind her hateful look. She finally gave in and slowly began to remove the binding from around her torso.

Altair circled her as she peeled the cloth from her, revealing faint bruises all over. His eyes slid over her and he kept his lust at bay, trying to ignore the fact that Sibylla was actually a half naked woman and that he was locked in a room with her. He took a deep breath as she finished, her arms covering her breasts, and came around to stand in front of her.

"You wrap your bindings too tightly," he said softly, his eyes straying downwards. He pushed them further to her ribs, where he had kicked her and the nasty bruise there. He gently took her left arm, his fingertips accidentally brushing across her chest, and raised it so that he could better examine her side. She was glaring at him again and he ignored her, moving a hand to push lightly to find the fractured rib. She dodged his hand and yelped in pain and he glared at her.

"Trust me," he commanded, placing his left hand over the bruise and pushing lightly. Sibylla hissed through clenched teeth and he had an idea which rib was broken. He allowed his hand to linger on her longer than he should have, marveling that she still seems so familiar to his finger tips. He sighed and turned his attention to her injured wrist and examined it. It was off colored but did not appear to be broken. He knew exactly what she had done for he had injured himself in a similar way when he was young. He took a firm grip on her arm and took her hand gently in his free one. There was a silvery line that extended from the center of her palm that split into two parts that both traveled up her ring and middle fingers. He smiled gently at the sight of it, pleased to see that her hand had healed so nicely after she nearly amputated her own fingers with her hidden blade. He shifted his eyes to hers.

"Recite the tenets of the Creed," he ordered. She looked at him, obviously confused. He waited.

"'Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent'," she began. He continued to wait for the proper time to pull her hand from her wrist, setting it back into place. "'Hide in plain sight, and never compromise the…' OUCH"

The last tenet was cut off by not only her scream but an audible pop in her wrist that he felt up into her hand. She wretched it free of him, clutching her wrist while trying to keep herself covered. He couldn't help but smirk. He turned away from her and moved to the washbowl near her bed. A rag sat by it and he wet it, ringing it out before he moved back to her. She was glaring at him and for some reason he found it absolutely adorable. Altair carefully dabbed the bite on her neck, cleaning the last of the blood with a satisfied smirk. It was a mark he should have left on her long ago. It would scar, and though he hated the idea of any blemish on her, this was one he could bear.

"Why didn't Malik tell me," she asked, fixed on him.

"Tell you what?" He didn't look at her.

"Everything you told me about Kadar. He left out so much when he told me what happened. Why?"

Altair's eyes slid to hers and locked with them as he spoke, "If you were Malik, would you have said anything?"

"I had a right to know."

"But would you have said anything."

Sibylla was quiet for a long time and Altair could not help but be fascinated by her eyes as she calculated and chose her answer carefully. A million emotions flitted through those beautiful orbs that were as wild and unpredictable as the sea. But he did not get the answer he expected. Instead she changed the subject.

"Why didn't you just listen? You could have saved yourself so much pain and humiliation."

"I could ask you the same question," he snapped, annoyed that she was bringing it up. He was careful not to lose his temper again. No matter how mad he was at the situation, he did not need to take it out on her again.

"Don't turn this around on me, Altair."

"Sibylla," he growled, giving her a look of warning that he knew she would disregard.

"You're temper and your ego is out of control! You are offended by every last thing! And you take it out on anyone in your path."

"I am warning you, girl."

"Or you'll what," she snapped. "Beat me again? Go ahead! I'm of no real concern to you now that your heart belongs to your precious Adha."

Altair raised a hand to strike her, but did not follow through when she did not flinch. He dropped his hand with a snarl.

"Just like I was nothing to you after you were betrothed to Kadar. Tell me something, Sibylla; how long was it after you left Masyaf before you let him have you?"

"You arrogant pig," she spat at him. He knew before the words had slipped off his tongue that he'd gone to far and he honestly didn't mean it. He held his ground though, knowing it was too late to take it back. It was out there, the paranoia he'd felt since the moment he found out she was promised Malik's brother.

"For your information," she snapped. "Not that it is any of your business, he never touched me, nor did he try. You're the only one."

Altair had to work to keep his jaw from dropping. True, he had no reason to ever think of Sibylla as a woman of such low morals but he had almost expected her to lay with Kadar since they had been betrothed. He realized, too late, that the shock was naked on his face and it was clear that she was hurt by it. He bit his lip, quickly masking his emotions and drew a deep breath. There was another question that nagged at him and he hesitated to ask; did not know if he could bear the answer. She turned away from him.

"Did you take the herbs," he asked her, his voice shaking slightly. She did not answer him immediately. "Sibylla? Did Al Mualim make you take the herbs?"

"Yes," she sighed. "He gave them to me but I did not take them."

"And… did… was there?"

"No." she said darkly. "I was not with child. I cried for days when my cycle came."

"Why," he was confused why she would be upset over not being pregnant.

"Because, Altair, I was in love with you and if I couldn't have you, I wanted a part of you that I could call my own. Something that no one could ever take from me."

He stood there, silent and unsure how to react and utterly distressed to find that another barrier around his heart had crumbled in her presence. He couldn't understand the gentle ache in his heart nor did he want to understand it. He shook his head and moved around her to gather the cloth that she used for binding. He began to work silently, creating a sling for her arm and then binding her arm against her ribcage. He ignored her naked breasts, despite the temptation they offered him, though it was not easy and as he finished his work, he found it even more difficult not to let his eyes wander over her.

Altair kneeled before her, securing the last of the binding around her lower torso. His hand strayed as he finished, fingertips tracing over her flat stomach and he looked up at her as she shivered under his hand. He was fascinated by her. He always had been and he had truly wondered about the feminine body under her robes that his hands had touched but he had never seen.

"You've kept yourself well," he said softly. "You must be proud."

"I didn't stop to mourn Kadar's passing," she said and he was amused to see that her eyebrow twitched upwards. "Malik allowed me his sword to train and I poured my time and energy into that."

His eyes slid back to her stomach and he briefly wondered over what things would have been like had she stayed in Masyaf and if she had been carrying his child. He tried to imagine it but could not and the pain in his heart from re-awakening his past desires made it all the more difficult. He pressed his forehead to her and sighed heavily. Her free hand was in his hair and he was amazed that she wasn't trying to get away from him. Instead, she was holding him as best she could, comforting him and his throat tightened as he held the urge to shed tears over all that he'd lost at bay.

Sibylla stepped away from him after a minute and pulled on a tunic. He watched her, missing her warmth, wanting more and knowing that he couldn't have her. That was why she had been sent away in the first place, so that he couldn't have her. He was an assassin. Love was not for him. He should have learned that by know after losing Adha. Sibylla's hand on his face startled him. Her smooth hand was curved under his chin and she brought his face up to hers. She said nothing to him, and he wondered over her action until her thumb touched the scar on his lips. His flesh tingled under her touch.

"We're even now," she said. "Scar for a scar. I marked you and now you have marked me."

She leaned down then and kissed the corner of his mouth very softly, exactly the way she had after she had stitched his torn lips back together. The vividness of the memory of that day nearly sent him reeling. He had been angry and snapped at her, though he had not meant a word of what he had said. Her temper had gotten the best of her and she had come at him with a throwing knife. He had been lucky that his mouth had only paid the price of his arrogant tongue and she had been lucky that Malik had been there to stay his hand in his blind rage. And yet, he had been the one to insist that she not be punished for her deed.

Altair wanted to turn his head and seize her lips, to taste her and make her his. He wanted so much but could not take. Her soft smell was getting him drunk, clouding his judgment and he knew he needed to leave or he might make a rash decision that he could not afford. It took all of his willpower to keep himself from pulling her back to him when she righted herself. Her hand caressed his cheek, cracking his already weak will and he reached for her hand before she could pull it away. He turned it palm up in his hands and stared for a moment. He was pleased that her hands were untouched by the life of an assassin. With the exception of the scar on her other hand, her hands were still perfect, soft and un-calloused. He pressed his lips to her palm and stood.

"Rest now," he said, pushing away his emotions and motioning towards her bed.

"The mission," she asked, clearly crestfallen.

"Not this time, Falcon."

Sibylla's eyes lit up and he had to repress the smile that was trying to tug at the corners of his mouth. Thankfully, she obeyed and let him go. He slipped out the door, closing it behind him, and leaned against the wall with a sigh. Malik was there; hand on his hip and glaring at him with a raised eyebrow. He glared back at the one-armed Rafiq.

"What?"

"Don't go falling in love with her again," Malik ordered.

"What I do is my business, Malik, not yours."

Altair pushed himself off of the wall, tugged his hood back on, and headed towards the exit. He needed to deal with Talal. He had wasted far too much time as it was.

"And she is in my care, Altair. If you are true in your ambition to regain favor in the eyes of the old man, then you will think of her as nothing more than a novice, like you should have done three years ago."

"Then perhaps you should have thought of that before you insisted that I take her as my novice again," he growled, whirling back around to face Malik. The other man stood there, unimpressed and clearly unashamed. Altair shook his head and continued his exodus.

"I had hoped that you were over your silly obsession, Altair," Malik said finally as Altair prepared to scale the wall in the courtyard.

"I have a slaver to do away with and no time to spare to argue with you," Altair snapped. Malik did not respond and he sighed angrily and climbed to the roof. He looked out over Jerusalem, the slight breeze stirring his robes. He flicked his wrist and the hidden blade slid through the empty space where his ring finger was missing. He sighed again as it retracted and made two decisions. First, Malik was right, unfortunately, and he could not afford to fall in love with Sibylla again, thus he wouldn'tm if he could help it. Second, he'd need to control his temper when he was around her. He could have easily killed her today and that would not sit well with the Master at all.

He started over the rooftops towards Talal and continued to push away his emotions and his thoughts of Sibylla. His last thought of her before he closed himself off was the memory of her standing before him, her arms wrapped tightly around him, her eyes spilling tears down her lovely face as he said goodbye to her. The echo of her voice from three years past mirrored his present thought.

"Then what becomes of us?"

"The world will decide." he mumbled the answer he gave to her then. "The world always decides."

Notes:

Altair made a splint for Sibylla's ribs with her arm. You CAN do that.

Altair is ultimately torn between duty and his heart.

Malik is regretting his decision to allow Sibylla to be near Altair because she is so badly injured.

Kingdom of Heaven reference, find it. If you read the prologue, you already know what it is. Lots of references to the prologue so if you havent read it yet for some reason, do so now.

Author's Notes:

dA does not like me today.

Anyways, this was another all-nighter for you guys. I wanted to get this done before I go to my mom's house sinc emy laptop is not working. It was pretty hard to do off the RP I was using because in the RP, Sibylla and Altair had no past. So adding all the stuff was pretty difficult.

I have to go off of another RP for Abu'l Nuquod's assassination...

Oh spoilers!