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Chapter 7
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She finds him tending his wounds one night. They are not serious injuries, no, he rarely let an enemy's sword draw blood, but shallow wounds. His shirt lies on the ground nearby, and she can see the light scrapes on his right cheek as well his chest.
It is rare that she sees him without his hood. Or a shirt.
She stops at the doorway to admire him quietly. His imposing features, and those impressive muscles are things she will never become accustomed to. Which is good.
One should never grow comfortable around an assassin.
"If you are done staring, I suggest that you go back to your business. There are less than two days to finish your task."
His voice, crisp and terse, gives no indication of self consciousness. Not like when he caught her with her body exposed.
Jin scoffs at his tone, and then turns back to go into her room. Within a few moments, she comes back holding something in her hand. She walks right up to where he is sitting on the cot.
"Here, chew this," she says as her palm opens to reveal a small, brown pellet.
"What is it?"
"A pain reliever. My own mixture from cannabis extracts."
"I must have my senses alert at all time. Pain means nothing to men like me," he growls.
Her green eyes soften at his barbed comment. She does not realize it, but she has been around him long enough to know he is not angry or offended. That with all these years of isolation and bloodshed, this is his way of dealing with unexpected kindness.
Jin takes a few steps to stand right in front of him and with a hand, reaches out to gingerly touch the slight wound on his cheek. She expects him to flinch away from her touch, whether from the pain of contact or from her proximity, it really does not matter. Because then she can make him eat the pill.
But Altair remains still. Staying motionless, his eagle-like gaze follows her every move unnervingly. He knows that moving away will be his defeat, and so he stands his ground firmly.
"How did you acquire these?" Jin asks in a hushed murmur. She can feel her face growing hot under his unwavering stare, but since she started this battle of wills, she can only see it through. She resolves her hand to not shake, and to keep its position on his face.
"A particular person, with a particularly strong punch, and a particular stall happened to cross my path."
Jin notes the usage of past tense grimly. Obviously that particular person is no longer breathing.
He has told her of the many interrogations he must carry out. And in order to do so, he must fight with fists, and not with blade. Skilled assassin that he is, in a fist fight with a man taller, bigger than him, he cannot help but sustain injuries.
She sighs, not impatiently, and informs him, "This is my own mixture. Regular cannabis extracts do dull the wits, but my methods have been tested true. On myself of course."
An unexpected ambush this is. He cannot help but smirk a little.
This little minx has so many tricks. So she thinks she can win this one eh?
Altair's hand comes up slowly to grasp the hand holding the pellet. Carefully, he pulls her open palm towards his mouth, and with a sensual brush of his lips, takes the pill from her offering hand. With a quick glance up at her frozen face, Altair's grin grows even wider as he silently congratulates himself on an unquestionable victory.
He does not let go of her hand; however, at least, not until he is sure that she knows of his intentions. Even a chaste nun can tell that it is lust; pure, wanton need, that is clearly being broadcasted. Jin knows this. She has not grown up in a brothel to be unfamiliar with the desires of men.
But it is her own awakening hunger that catches her off guard.
To her own alarm, Jin realizes she wants physical intimacy almost as much as he does. She has found him attractive ever since the first time when he fell into her room. But she knew what a dangerous man he is and can be. Desiring a man like him is foolhardy. And she is certain that unlike him, her feelings of lust can easily turn into deeper, stronger emotions. That is why she has forced herself to forget that he is a man.
But to have him look at her in that manner, that way… A thousand lies will not be able cover the truth.
She must have blinked, for suddenly his face is very close. The distance between them grows smaller by the second. Or minutes. Or by an eternity.
Jin cannot even tell. Or care for that matter. For a foreign touch is caressing her lips, and she can only presume he is kissing her.
This is different from the last kiss he forced upon her. That one was brutal, callous, and uncaring. This… this is different.
He is watching her as they kissed. His golden eyes bear down upon hers, looking, no, more like searching for something. And she is scared of what he might find. So Jin closes her eyes, not wanting yield to that scrutinizing gaze, but instead loses herself to the pleasurable sensations. His lips are surprisingly gentle, and when he moves a certain way, his day-old stubble grazes her skin. There is a subtlety to his kisses and caresses that is so characteristic of him. It is not difficult to mold her own mouth to his movements, and she lets out a shuddering sigh.
All of sudden, the kiss changes. Like unleashing a flood, a torrent of movements, pressures, and touches pour into her. He pulls her down onto his lap. His hands are everywhere, exploring every part, every shape of her body. Her own body is now pressing into his, and even though her hands were originally at his chest to push off, they are now traitorously entangling themselves around his neck. His lips are more demanding, prying open hers to gain entrance to her mouth.
Altair does not even spare the girl a moment to adjust as his tongue flicks out and he begins an intimate exploration. There is a yearning to know every single part of her. Inside and out so that all her mysteries are lying out in the open for him. She starts pulling away, but his hand snakes behind her head and he firmly holds her in place. His other hand shifts from its position on her hip and daringly moves up underneath her shirt to cup a breast through her bindings. The small moan in which she rewards him almost sends him over.
Jin cannot deny the intruding tongue. Its slick, bold strokes are tormenting her senses. A warmth is curling in the pit of her stomach, moving down to the juncture at her legs. She feels something, deep inside of her, on the verge of exploding.
As if he is reading her body at the same time she is awakening to it, he draws away. With an arrogant glance, he is pleased to see that her face is flushed scarlet, her breathing is uneven, and her pulse beating erratically.
"You were right. I feel much, much better," Altair all but purrs at her.
Quite the opposite really. If that forceful bulge in his pants gives any indication. He has to make a conscious effort to regulate his breathing. His own body is now tightly drawing taut and begging for release. But she does not have to know.
Jin opens her eyes slowly. His words are not registering within her mind. Like trudging through thick mud, she tries to make sense of his statement.
He is referring to… the pill?
The hazy veil lifts as she takes in his smug expression, their scandalous position, and that- that audacious hand underneath her shirt with dismay. Furthermore, there is a familiar taste in her mouth. She focuses on it, and to her surprise it is no other than her own medicinal tablet. He must have given it back in the middle of their heated kiss. If it is even possible, her face flushes to a deeper shade of crimson.
"I-I must be g-getting back,' she stammers.
He does not stop her as she quickly whirls away and retreats back to her own chambers. After all, he has met his objective.
There is no better way to give the impudent girl a taste of her own medicine, Altair commends himself silently, but even he cannot deny the twinge of disappointment.
He falls back into his bed and shuts his eyes.
Immediately, memories of her smell, the small moans she unconsciously makes, and that irresistible taste of her mouth begins to torture him. A paradise within a personal hell, she is.
Sleep will not come easy tonight.
In spite of everything he did to claim victory, she is not the only one who does not win.
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"My liege! Enemy approaching!"
King Richard the Lionheart looks up from his discussion with his generals. The scout is huffing and puffing as he runs up to him.
"A small group of men comes this way. They bear the Saracen truce flag. Should we allow them into the camp?"
The burly Frenchman lifts an eyebrow. "If they come with the truce flag, why should we not let them in? Please, show the guests our courtesy. I shall see to them myself."
"Your majesty," his personal aid speaks up, "What shall we do about your brother Sir John?"
King Richard makes a disgruntled grunt and waves his hand dismissingly. His brother John is suppose to be ruling in England as a regent whilst he is fighting for the Holy Land. However, recent events suggest that John and the King of France are plotting to seize the throne themselves.
He is fighting a battle on both sides.
"Let my little brother play around for a while longer. There are more important matters at hand," he answers absentmindedly.
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For the fifth time that day, Jin peeks out from her headdress at Altair and wonders what exactly is the man planning.
This is the first occasion she ventures outside in the open dressed as a women. Her entire body is swathed in a turquoise burqa, which spans from her head to her ankles. There is a small slit of opening for her eyes, and she sees the world outlined by a veil of lace. She carries in her arms a basket of fruits, and a wineskin mixed with the poison that Altair requested for.
Altair is dressed differently too. Instead of his assassin garb, he is clothed in civilian clothing. Drab muslin and bland colors. His face is not shadowed by his usual white hood. Instead, he has a black keffieh covering his shaven head.
What worries her is that he carries no weapons. Not even his metal gauntlets containing his hidden blade. Instead, he gives her a small dagger, with a hilt of silver, to conceal within her robes which she strapped to her right calf. She has instructions to take her own life if capture is inevitable, but on no grounds to attack soldiers with it. No matter what happens to them.
Ever since that passionate episode in his room, the taciturn assassin has avoided all interaction with her. The few words he exchanged with her were to give her instructions. She has no idea what is to happen. The slight girl cannot help but tense up in apprehension as she takes in the colors of the Crusader's flag approaching near.
It seems like nothing but a suicide mission.
The Saracen soldiers escort them as far as they can go. Which is at the border of the enemy's encampment.
Crusaders, imposing in their heavy chain mail and steel helmets, greet them cordially. They take over, and lead them to a huge white pavilion, which no doubt is King Richard's receiving room.
A guard stops Altair at the entrance, and he gestures to the surrounding men. They immediately begins patting and searching his person in an intrusive manner. When they are satisfied, they turns towards her.
"Please, do not touch her. Women of Islam will be deeply disgraced if men other than her husband lay as much as a hand on her. She only bears Saladin's gifts and is here on good faith," Altair smoothly interjects in foreign tongue.
Jin glances at him in surprise. She did not know he knew English.
The main guard regards her carefully, and then nods his assent.
They enter and are promptly seated at a table already laid out with food. There is a man, with flaming red facial hair sitting down at the far end. He is flanked on both sides by guards. His eyes are sharp and alert. Like a lion on the prowl.
This is King Richard of the Crusaders, Jin realizes with a start.
"Welcome, ambassadors of Saladin. Please, help yourself to the provisions here," booms King Richard.
"Thank you. On behalf of Saladin, I present you with some modest gifts. Please accept them," Altair answers calmly while lightly pushing Jin in front of him. Other than his heavy Arabic accent, his control over her native language is near perfection. Jin faintly ponders when he learned the tongue.
She picks her way forward to the imposing man. She places the basket of pears and figs in front of him, and lays the wineskin incongruously by its side.
The guards stationed at the man's side visibly tensed as she neared them, but does not move to stop her. Jin can see the reason why Altair has brought her here. A woman presents a lesser threat. No doubt to put the enemy more at ease.
"Is this charming girl one of his gifts?" King Richard jokingly asks.
"Unfortunately no. She is my wife. I will be most distressed if you take her as one of your concubines," Altair banters back. He glances at her, and smirks at the flashing green behind the veil.
Jin swallows her objections. His instructions for her were to remain silent and play along. Lives of the thousands of soldiers depend on their performance today. She settles for a silent glare at Altair through her veil which he easily brushes away.
"Oh, she must be very important to you if you allow her to follow you to places such as this."
Altair smiles wanly back. "She worries so much for my well being that it is impossible tell her otherwise."
Underneath the concealing burqa, Jin bites down on her lips to hold back a smart retort. Her hands are itching to wipe that teasing grin off of the arrogant man's face.
He is enjoying this opportunity in which she cannot argue back.
King Richard throws back his head and laughs. "Your wit is pleasing to my ears. Tell me, have we met before? Your voice and features seem familiar to me."
Altair pauses in consideration and then slowly sets his left hand on the table.
"I believe we first met at Arsuf."
The older man catches a glimpse of the hand with the missing finger and remembers.
"Ah, so I see. Have you renounced your occupation as an assassin, got yourself a wife and family, and turned to peace-making instead?" The guards immediately tensed up at the word assassin, and their hands clutch at the swords at their side.
Altair notes this, but remains unperturbed. "Not quite. But the purpose of today's visit is to bring peace. Though it seems that I am on the Saracen's side, I can assure you that I am not. My organization is an independent and neutral party in this war. But like everyone else, my wish is for the senseless bloodshed to stop and to hasten the formation of a peace treaty."
"Such a serious issue you have opened up with. I must weigh it with careful consideration. On the other hand, I cannot properly think without something in my stomach. Tell me, do you think your young wife will also like to eat some?"
Jin almost answers, but then shuts her mouth. She looks at Altair, who nods back. King Richard offers her a fruit from the basket she presented him with.
Smart man, she thinks to herself. If it was poisoned I would think twice about eating it.
Showing no hesitation, she takes the yellow pear from his hand and lifts the veil which covers the front of her face. She lifts the fruit to her mouth and begins to eat it. When she is done, she sets down the core on an empty plate.
King Richard notes her actions with a pleased smile.
"Saladin knows that I do like the pears from this country. Tell me, what is in the skin?"
"Famous fermented barley spirits. Unfortunately, strict followers of the teachings of Islam prevents Saladin from drinking it. Another reason why I was sent in his place," Altair evenly replies.
At his signal, Jin quietly pours the contents of the bag into two empty goblets. She sets one down in front of the king, and then she walks to her 'husband' with the other. Her green eyes searches his beseechingly.
He must know that the poison is mixed in with the wine. That and she did not have the time to prepare an antidote for its effects.
Altair must have seen the warning in her gaze. He accepts the cup willingly. In a barely audible whisper, he thanks her and praises her on a job well done. The sincere smile he gives her is like a blanket to her mounting anxiety. She helplessly retreats back to her place by the table.
In the course of several hours, she has gotten up often to refill their cups. Underneath her veil, she observes the two carefully.
While Altair remains mysteriously unaffected, beads of sweat have gathered on the other man's forehead. The nobleman have continually shifted during the last couple of minutes, and he grows increasingly uncomfortable.
Jin looks back at Altair again. He sits cross-legged on the floor rug, his face the epitome of composure and relaxation. There is no irregular breathing, no sweat on his brow, and his golden eyes takes in the king's gradual deterioration with no expression.
"I think it is time for us to take our leave. I am sure my wife is tired and needs her rest," Altair says even though his body language shows no sign of fatigue.
King Richard nods his consent weakly and replies, "My soldiers will see you out. Forgive me for I cannot do so in person. There are other matters I must attend to."
"I understand, I thank you for taking the time to speak to me."
Altair beckons to her, and Jin rises to her feet and joins him quickly. She hastens to catch up to his fast strides, and they walk back to Jerusalem in silence. The Saracen soldiers, meets with them on the outskirts of the city, and escorts them past the guards at the main gate. After Altair exchanges a brief word with their leader, the soldiers leave them to their own devices .
It is not until they walked a few blocks that he falters. A tiny misstep, and she is there. Offering a shoulder for him to lean on. He gratefully accepts.
"Here I was, wondering if you had your own antidote," Jin murmurs softly, "You are handling the side effects pretty well."
Altair clenches his teeth and does not answer. Suddenly, he pushes her off and dashes into a dark alley. Sounds of heavy vomiting reaches Jin's ears, and she cringes.
She finds him bent over on the ground, with bile dripping from his mouth. All the food he ate earlier lies in a steaming pile near her feet. The stench is making her gag, but she holds her breath.
"Can you stand?" she asks as she bends down to his level. Altair does not respond to her voice, and dread crashes down on her.
Have I made the poison too strong? How many cups did he have? Did I… kill them both?
She places a hand on his forehead, and hisses at the hotness that meets her touch. His eyes are closed, and his face is set in a pained grimace. She quickly checks the pulse at his wrist, and is surprised to find his entire arm wet with perspiration.
"You idiot!" She curses at him. He probably cannot hear her anyways.
She wriggles herself underneath one of his arm, and tries to lift him. No use.
He is too heavy for her petite frame to handle.
Frustration and panic creeps into her. She cannot leave him here. The Bureau is too far away. She scours the crowd for a familiar face. Anyone who can help. But the guards-
A noise behind her causes her to whip around. Altair is leaning his frame against the wall. Laboriously, he stands to his feet. He walks a few steps forward. His eyes clamped shut the entire time.
Not sparing the time to marvel at his tenacity and willpower, Jin hurriedly moves to support him. She does not complain as the heavy weight is shifted to her shoulders. Her only thoughts are to get him back to the Bureau, as fast and quickly as possible.
Through some act of providence, they manage to drag themselves through the city and into the Assassin's Bureau. The Rafiq exclaims in shock as the two, one drenched in sweat from exertion and the other burning with fever, collapse within his doorway.
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Saladin reads the message with disbelief all over his face.
The messenger resists the urge to inquire, and waits patiently.
Slowly, the Saracen leader sets the paper down. With a loud voice, he orders, "Prepare an embassy to depart for the enemy's camp. Tell them to bring a block of ice and plenty of pears."
After that, Saladin sits down with a dumbfounded expression.
"My lord, may I ask what does the letter say?" The messenger asks, no longer able to resist.
His eyes still staring off into space, Saladin answers, "Richard the Lionheart has fallen ill. He requests an immediate meeting for the arrangement of a peace treaty."
The aide's exclamations of joy is lost upon him. He is not even listening.
His thoughts are revolving around one man: the assassin.
Notes:
Haha cannabis is a type of plant that when extracted, produces hashish, which is what Hashshashin is derived from. Anyone catch that? eh eh? And it is basically like marijuana... so it does impair some senses.
So with extensive Wiki-researching, I learn that King Richard doesn't know much English and is actually French. For the sake of this fic, he needs to know English. (Plus game developers didn't explain how Richard and Altair conversed in that scene). His brother is the notorious John, who is regent of England when he was away. And spawned Robin Hood and those Men in Tights. lol
King Richard really did win the battle at Acre, and he was preparing to take Jerusalem when he got sick. Conveniently. That and Saladin was a good Muslim and sent him ice and fruits while he was ill. Everything is as historically correct as I can make it.
Altair:
+1 for taking medicine and giving it back in a most... interesting manner.
+1 for an Oscar worthy performance.
-1 for vomiting and dropping from his status as "sexy eagle god". (Go read the reviews for Ch 3 if you don't understand)
+1 for ending the Third Crusade
-1 for not ending it single-handedly and now being in such a state that Jin will have to nurse him back to health... (oh the possiblities)
Jin:
-1 for being seduced over a med. tablet and starting something she cannot finish.
+1 for being best Supporting Actress as Altair's wife
+1 for getting poison in on time
-1 for not being able to do much while assassin's throwing up in alleyway
+1 for making this statement true - Behind every great man stands a woman.
Total Score: Altair - 1 , Jin - 2
She leads by 1! ... although this is totally biased...
...And when you least expect it, I insert random make out session. It was supposed to be a companion scene to last chapter's line when he found her tending her wounds. That's my compensation for those fangirling readers. Btw, some reviews are ridiculous and funny. It's great fun reading them and out loud for my beta.
We stayed up one night brainstorming the entire story, and we pretty much got it set. I can see how it will end and all that... it's the getting to there and middle part that will be difficult. Now that the Third Crusade is over, I feel like going back to the randomized drabble format I had in the beginning. So there might be lots of timeskips.