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Chapter 13
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She cannot believe it. Theirs is not an organization to resort to dank tunnels and moldy basements for meetings. No, their men belong in grand halls. High, marble arches inlaid with jewels and gold, with plush carpet and redwood tables with padded chairs.
Not scrabbling around like rats in a sewer.
Maria wrinkles her nose from the stench. Her leather boot slips on a patch of putrid slime, and she almost loses her footing. The hooded guide at her left does not even so much as bat an eye at her un-ladylike swearing.
"Milady, we are here," her guide solemnly ushers her in through a half-rotted door.
Her icy blue gaze sweeps the room at a glance. One table. Two chairs. One empty for her. And in the other, sits the current leader of the Knights Templar: Gilbert Horal.
"Maria Thrope, we meet again. I am glad that my sources were wrong and that you are still alive and well," he greets her as he stands up and bows. The perfect gentleman in so many ways.
She sneers. Refuses the hand he is holding out.
This is one old, crafty snake. Gilbert Horal might not be the bravest warrior. Or the strongest. People cannot pick him out easily from the crowd. But he is one sly bastard. If he can avoid it, he almost never faces an opponent straight on. He uses coaxing words and the deft exchange of information to get his way. And he always gets his way.
"Where is he?" She demands with no pleasantries.
The older man sighs. He gestures for her to sit, but stubbornly, she remains standing, glaring daggers into him.
"Robert- that is his name am I correct?- Is currently under my custody. He is the sole heir to De Sable's estates. Maybe you did not hear, but the plague wiped out the last member of his half of the family. Your son, at the age of two, is already the rightful owner of a mansion, the acres of land around it, three horses, and the family dog."
Maria unconsciously takes a step back. She does not like the direction of the conversation.
The Knight watches her carefully, and continues, "It is my personal belief that a child should be raised up in a nurturing environment. He will be responsible for many lives and has great potential in the future. Here, in France, he will receive the proper education and training in social etiquette. What were you planning for him in Acre? Sword-fighting and horseplay? Realize that if young Robert grows up there, he will undoubtedly have a hard and short life. Greater things await the child of the late Robert de Sable here."
He walks over. Places a hand on her shoulder in a paternal manner. She wants to slap it away.
"Please Maria. I hope you can see my reasoning on this matter."
"You will not return him to me," she hisses. It is not a question, because the answer is already out in the open. Gilbert shakes his head firmly.
She is no fool. This is not some altruistic generosity. He mostly likely is after the handsome inheritance a Sable is privileged to. Or perhaps he wants to raise her baby as her own. It is common knowledge that he is lacking a heir, as his now aging wife will not provide him with children.
Fists shaking with barely contained rage, Maria bites out, "I want to see him one last time. You cannot refuse me this as his rightful mother."
The elder shrugs ruefully. A motion to the guard standing by the door, and he leans forward to murmur something ineligible in the other man's ear. The guard nods slightly, and Gilbert turns to address her.
"You may. I must warn you though, do not make rash decisions. My personal guard will escort you to the mansion and will be at your side every second. Good day, Maria, we are done here."
She scoffs. Does not bow in departure, and leaves the desolate room, cape swishing angrily behind her.
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She is dreaming while awake. And living a dream at night.
She goes through the motions of routine. The days pass by in a daze. The faces passing by a blur.
It is only at night, when he appears by her window, that her senses awaken.
He is like a drug, she muses one day while lying under her favorite tree, one that is addicting and yearned for.
"Ah, finally found you! Think you can hide your secrets from me do you?" A high-pitched voice pipes up close to her ear. Jin yelps in fright.
"Yasmin! You scared me!"
"Peace, Habibi," the grinning girl jumps up from behind the tree trunk and plops herself besides Jin, "We are alone here. I must hear of what happened that night, and the three nights following that one since you refused to come visit me." The conspiratorial glint in her dark eyes is making Jin slightly uncomfortable.
When moments pass in silence, Yasmin nudges her insistently with a shoulder.
"Did you lie with him?" Rather then replying, Jin gives the barest of nods, and smiles shyly.
"Ah you lucky girl! Was he good to you? Did he pleasure you as you did him?"
Jin blushes beet red as she nods again. She pulls down a section of her scarf, and shows her the healing bite mark from the first night. Yasmin squeals in delight.
"He has even marked you as his own! Oh my dear student," she gathers up Jin's hands in her own and declares, "You make your teacher proud!"
Yasmin's exuberance is infectious, and Jin finally lets out a giggle. She brings her hands to her lips and imparts a light kiss upon Yasmin's darker skin.
"Thank you."
Yasmin's face softens at her genuine admission. She returns the gesture with a kiss of her own. "You are most welcome. And I think this is the proper time to impart my last words of advice as a mentor. Listen well." A somber mood suddenly sets in.
"You must never, never fall in love with a man unless he has given his heart completely to you. To pine after an unrequited love is both suffering and foolish. This is a man's world, Jin, and we must protect ourselves," Yasmin speaks lowly, with her unsmiling gaze holding hers.
Jin's smile immediately vanishes. She pulls her hands away quietly, and looks down at the grass dejectedly.
"I… do not know if I can do that," she admits finally.
Yasmin smiles sadly. She kisses Jin's forehead gently, murmuring, "Poor girl. I never said it would be easy."
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He can see her. So vividly.
Her eyes are closed in eternal sleep, an expression of excruciating pain and anguish frozen in her pale rigid features. Her hair is plastered to her face, wet with… blood. The crimson flows still. Taunting, mocking him for being just a few seconds too late.
He falls to his knees. Gathers her still form in his arms. Calls out her name. Many many times. Her skin is still warm, but the spark of life is already extinguished. He buries his face in her long tresses, and for the first time sheds tears for the death of a loved one.
Blood boils in his veins. A furious pounding in his head. Rage, in scarlet red, spreads across his vision and his blade claims one life after another.
But it does not change a thing. Adha, pure and sweet Adha who he has known since childhood, is dead. Gone.
Altair opens his eyes. His breaths comes in heavy and fast.
The nightmare is not new. But the pair of bright, green eyes, peering down at him with worry is.
Jin, with her hair mussed, completely naked, and glowing in dawn's rose-colored rays, asks him quietly, "Bad dream?"
He finally finds his voice. "Yes. But I had it many times before."
"You called for her again. Adha," Jin shifts her gaze uneasily, "I know it is none of my business, but you sound so-" He cuts her off with a kiss. Breathes in her scent, touching her face, and holding her close to assure himself that she is real. She is alive, and here with him.
When he is finally able to recollect his composure, Altair explains softly in her ear, "Adha was my first love. I have always thought I would lay down my sword for her. Settle down and have a family. But she was taken from me, and when I finally caught up with her captors, sacrificed like a matyr for the greedy needs of men. Her death, my incompetence, haunts me still. I have failed my duty and failed her," he finishes thickly.
Jin is speechless. This is a rare vulnerable side of him she does not see often. During that incident in Jerusalem he was physically ill and delirious with fever. He has all his wits about him now.
To confide in her his insecurities, his fears is striking. She has his complete and utter trust. And although he never says three words she needs to hear the most, this admission is enough.
She strokes his short-cropped hair soothingly. Holds him tenderly and lets her resounding heartbeats, synchronized with his, comfort him.
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"Do not fall in love with her."
Altair looks up sharply. Malik's intense, critical gaze is leveled at him. He is in the main library, looking up the history of India and its trade routes when his friend suddenly appears by his side.
"Safety and peace to you too my friend," Altair replies back lightly.
"I am serious."
Altair's expression turns grave. "I know you are. And I can assure you I do not plan on it. I, of all people, knows what can happen . I do not plan to have another repeat of last time."
Malik regards him carefully. "Then what will you do? Have your fill and toss her away like a discarded toy?" His eyes harden into obsidian.
"You sound like a lecturing father. First you disapprove of her, then you will not let me leave her. Pray tell, what will you have me do?" Altair snaps back. Malik stiffens at his words.
The assassin exhales slowly. "Forgive me. I do not mean what I say."
Malik lays a hand on his shoulder. "I am only looking out for your best interest. I do not want to see you…When you lost Adha, we thought we had lost you too."
Altair snaps the book in his hand shut. Dust from the wizened text scatters in the dim sunlight, obscuring the other man's vision.
He mutters under his breath, in a rueful voice, more to himself than to Malik, "So did I."
Jin, with her arms full of maps and scrolls from her earlier lessons, slows down as she hears familiar voices. One is the serious, sharpness of Malik's. And the other the deep, rich timbre which only belongs to Altair. From the tones, both are in earnest, deep conversation.
She does not think it wise or polite to eavesdrop, and was turning to leave when she hears her name. She pauses mid-step. Curiosity finally wins and she quietly takes cover in a nearby bookshelf and crouches low.
"You plan to keep Jin within the walls of Masyaf her whole life?" Malik inquires.
Altair replies stonily, "She knew what it meant to follow me here. She is well-provided for and sheltered from harm. Letting her outside would be a security issue."
"Altair, she is but a child, with plenty of possibilities in front of her. You will not marry her but yet will not let her go. Where is the fairness in that?"
"Her future is with me," he answers firmly. With dead finality. "And when have you cared so much about my charge's well being?"
Silence hangs in heavy tension within the musty library.
Jin bits down on her lip. Her breathing seems too loud, so she covers her nose and mouth with one trembling hand.
"I see it is no use talking about this matter any further," Malik scoffs. He reaches inside his dark robes and takes out a sealed letter. "This came for you by air. I believe you have some explaining to do," Malik pointedly looks at the red wax seal.
A cross patée. The seal of the Templars.
"I am just as curious as you are. I have no dealings with the current Grand Templar that I know of," Altair answers evenly.
He breaks the seal, and quickly reads the letter. In an instant, his expression turns grim.
"What does it say?" Malik asks.
"A friend is in need of assistance. I will make preparations to leave," he replies brusquely.
"A friend," Malik repeats. With angry emphasis on each syllable.
Altair hesitates, and then sighs wearily. "I did not tell you the entire story of what occurred in Cyprus. I did capture one called Maria Thrope, and instead of being my prisoner, she became a valuable comrade of great assistance. I chose to omit that from my report because it would cause complications. To avoid a messy argument such as this one."
"You did not inform me of your relation with a Templar? Consorting with the enemy?" growls Malik. "How can this not be an issue of security?"
"I believe in her integrity and good character. She is of the same situation. Should word spread through her organization of her temporary alliance with me, it will be disastrous."
"That does not mean she cannot lay out a trap for you and the rest of the Brotherhood. How can we know she can be trusted?"
"I just… know." Altair, for the first time, averts his gaze from his elder. The answer lays out in the open, unspoken, but as clear as crystal.
Malik is livid. He sharply grabs the front of Altair's robes. Although he is a good three inches shorter, his ferocity makes him equally menacing.
"You slept with her! Is that the basis in which you make the claim of trust?" He roars into the assassin's face. His shouted words bounce off the walls, dealing unseen damage.
"I offer no excuses. I will take responsibility for my actions," Altair replies stiffly. "Either way, I will ride for Acre. If I deem her a threat to the Brotherhood, I will take her life myself."
Malik roughly shoves him away. Turns his back to him.
"I cannot let you leave. Your judgment is clouded and your actions will compromise the Brotherhood."
"Malik, heed my words please. She is our link to the inner circle of the Templars. She can be a useful tool in bringing down their organization. It is important to remain on good terms," Altair argues.
"If you mean by good terms to jump in her bed, then I would say you are doing an excellent job of that," Malik scathingly remarks. "Forget it. I would rather have us take down our enemies without taking such unnecessary risks. You are to remain here."
"You have no authority to issue that order," Altair quietly says. There's a dangerous undertone to his words, and Malik digests it with apprehension.
"No. No, I do not. But reflect upon my words. Reflect on who's best interest is your priority before coming to a decision. You are responsible for every single life within Masyaf, reflect upon that." The older Dai closes his eyes with a sigh.
"I will. You have my word, as both a comrade and a friend," Altair promises as he takes his leave.
His angry strides slow down as he nears the east entrance. He stops next to a bookshelf. Not turning his head but instead looking straight ahead, he asks coolly, "Just how much did you hear?"
Jin, who has stayed perfectly silent up to that point, can only look up at him disparagingly. Her eyes are red, but dry. And she cannot bring herself to answer him.
So she rises from her position. The scrolls and papers lie forgotten on the ground. She rushes past him, tearing through the empty stone halls until the sounds of her rapid footsteps can no longer be heard.
He does not stop her. Or give chase. It was pointless to do so.
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She was not in her room that night. Altair searches through the many rooms and halls of the fortress, but Jin cannot be found.
Finally, a novice points him in the direction of the meadow. Behind the Garden and at a lone tree in the distance.
He finds her at the base of the tree, curling up on her side and eyes shut.
"Leave me be," she orders hoarsely as he draws closer.
"I cannot. Come inside, you will get sick sleeping here," Altair admonishes lightly. He kneels down in front of her. Reaches for her hand tentatively.
He sees her intention before she does. The hand which shoots out in resenting fury. He does not flinch as it makes hard contact with his face. He does not show pain when it leaves a hand print across his left cheek.
But his chest does tightens at the sight of her tearful face. The trembling lower lip, and eyes puffy from too much crying.
He captures the offending hand in his own. "Enough."
It does pain him to see Jin shrink from his touch. She struggles for a moment, but soon gives up. Exhaustion is written all over her features, along with anger and anguish.
"Leave me," she whispers brokenly. For the briefest second, fear slices through him. Is her fighting spirit gone? Has he hurt her beyond repair?
He knows not of the right words to say to her. But hopes that logic and reason will prevail in the end.
"Jin, I did not and cannot promise you anything. I already gave you word that I will see to your safety and provide for you. You are my responsibility and I accept that. But I am bound by duty and obligations to many others. Do you understand?" He calmly asks.
She does not meet his gaze, and nods.
"The situation with Maria is complicated. I did not want anyone, especially you and Malik involved for selfish reasons. For that, I do sincerely apologize. With that said-"
"Just what am I to you?" Jin interrupts him abruptly. He stops.
"What do you want to be?" He quietly asks.
She finally lifts her emerald eyes to face amber. Within her green gaze he can clearly see the answer: your everything.
He chuckles a bit ruefully. "An assassin's not allowed to love. It is a weakness and a burden. I thought your training would have already enlightened you." He carefully brushes a strand of stray hair from her face. "But know this. I cannot stand to see you suffer. I am concerned profoundly for your well-being. And if possible, I will risk my life for yours."
Jin sighs. Her anger already dissipating with his apologetic words.
"You will not stay," she confirms. He takes the hand he is holding and kisses the inside of her delicate wrists, and then shakes his head.
"But you will come back." It is more of a statement than an inquiry.
"Yes."
She leans into his touch. The unspoken understanding passes effortlessly through the two. Jin cannot remember falling asleep, or of him holding her in his strong arms. But she awakes to the sunlight pouring through the window in her bed. Alone.
He is gone.
Notes: Somewhat short chapter this time. Running into major writer's block, and all of a sudden the writing muse strikes and 80% of this chapter was written in one night. Straight to 3am. Yes, I stirred up drama between our couple, but the s^& is going to hit the fan eventually. xP
1) Good job to everyone who got the Sherlock Holmes reference. Went back and fixed some spelling mistakes, but I'm sure more will turn up.
2) I sometimes go back and read my older chapters. I notice there were more descriptions and fancier prose than what I have now. I miss that, but I guess a faster pace of action kind of demands trade-offs.
3) I love writing Malik. More fun with him next chapter... :D
4) Some ages right now:
Almost 3 years since Jin met Altair. Which makes her around 18+3= 21 years old?
Almost 2 years since Maria had her baby. Assuming she was around 30ish in the beginning of AC I, she is now 32?
Assuming Altair was 25 in beginning of AC I, he is now 28? A good marriageable age...
Who knows how old Malik is? I have no clue... T_T
5) Thanks for the reviews~! I read all of them, and I love people's reactions to various points of the story.