I'm backkk! Sorry this took so long, this is officially my first ending to a long-term fic. I had to rewrite, sit and stare at it, and re-edit until I was satisfied with it. That and I have a full-time job now. hehe
It wasn't until I read angsty Hunger Games and listened to the equally angsty soundtracks that I was inspired to finish this. Before you guys proceed to the madness... I suggest listening to some of the tracks, esp "Kingdom Come" and "Safe and Sound" from the soundtrack as you read. It might just add the to the experience. I dunno. xD
Last warning: Not your typical fairy-tale ending.
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Chapter 22
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The day heat is heavy and humid. Jin looks up the cloudless sky, and thinks that it will rain soon.
Her hand protectively goes to her midsection, where a heavy bump sits. It is near the last month, and she knows the baby is about ready.
She did not think she would be able to conceive again. After the first miscarriage, she never wanted to go through the pain and loss again. The poison she took should have killed her on the spot, and it was unlikely that her body did not take any lasting damage from the toxins.
The physicians cannot explain it. The elder who specializes in herbs and medicines cannot give her an answer. Only Yasmin, with her mischievous smile, gave her an explanation.
"The power of two human in love Habibi. It can make anything happen."
Jin laughs at her obvious teasing. But then she rethinks it, more carefully, on her own. She repeats her words to Altair as they lie half-asleep in each other's arms.
He does not see it as a joke. His serious gaze catches her off guard. As does his next words.
"I do not doubt it."
A strong kick stirs her out of her reminiscing. As if the unborn child is demanding her attention. Jin laughs quietly.
"Yes, little one. You will be my one and only. Just wait a few more days and you can finally see the outside world," she murmurs as a hand strokes the bump affectionately.
"I will pretend I did not hear that." His deep voice is gentle, laced with playfulness, as his arms come around her shoulders.
Jin leans back. Savors the feel of his solid frame against hers. "Why? Are you jealous?"
"That the unborn child is already stealing your time and attention?" His breath tickles her ear. "Perhaps."
They stay still for a few moments. Savoring the moment's quiet, and each other's presence.
It's been almost a decade since their trip to Europe. The Fourth Crusade began and ended abruptly within the Byzantine Empire. With uncontrollable riots ravaging Constantinople, the Brotherhood can do little but retreat back to Masyaf.
Ever since then, Templars all have vanished. Malik and Altair have both agreed that this is an appropriate time to recruit and expand their influences. From the far East to remote corners of Europe, they have contacts stationed across the lands.
Every time Altair leaves for one of those recruit missions, she stays and waits. He always come back. Sometimes a bit worse for wear, sometimes appearing much older than he is. But he does comes back to her. Every time.
Jin knows that each moment might be their last. The fear, the anxiety that grips her as he rides out of Masyaf is the same. But time has been a valuable mentor.
"Why are you outside? You should go and rest."
"Beloved, can I not step out for a breath of fresh air without you following my every move?" Jin replies lightly. She chuckles at his growling response. His over-protectiveness the last few weeks would be endearing, if she does not find it slightly irritating at the same time.
She slides out of his arms. "Be at peace. I shall head back inside. You do not want to keep Nasir waiting."
He scoffs. "That child." But he smiles fondly all the same. "Mahfuz will be there if you need anything." Another one of his ideas. Having an apprentice posted by her room and keeping watch from dawn to dusk. As if she cannot go relieve herself without some sort of companion.
Jin shakes her head ruefully. She lifts her face to his, presses a light kiss against his chin, and watches as he departs for the training grounds.
She steels herself for the arduous climb back up to the bedroom. Yasmin has suggested that she share a room with her for the last month. Malik even tried ordering her to.
But she knows the baby, like his father, will want to be as close to the sky as possible.
It is a very tiring climb for Jin. She takes many breaks halfway. She is breathing heavily as she crosses the doorway, and gingerly sits down on the side of the bed.
Foreign footsteps approaches the ajar door, and she can already tell it is not Mahfuz.
Jin barely has enough time to unsheathe her short blade at her waist and block the swing of a sword. As metal clashes with metal, she takes a good look at her attacker.
"Who sent you?" she demands. An assassination attempt does not surprise her. What does catch her off guard is the familiar pair of cerulean blue that bears down on her.
"Nobody but myself," he snarls. He breaks away. Begins to circle.
Jin weighs her options. She is clearly at a disadvantage. Her room is too small. The window is too far. Her baby-
The sick realization hits her. There is not one but two lives at stake. And even if she has not neglected her training, the extra weight and obstruction might as well sealed both of their fates.
"I beg you," her voice trembles, but rings loud and clear, "spare the baby. He does not deserve death. He has not wronged you."
The assassin, who looks so painfully young, unhoods himself. The dark markings on his neck strangely resemble an angry cobra. His eyes are cold, and his words are emotionless, "I understand. I also wish to see his face as I gut his offspring on my sword."
Her last thought, as their blades sing with air, are two simple words.
"Forgive me."
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Altair tilts his head. He thinks he is imagining it, but he hears the sounds of a babe crying. Yet with Jin's due date still at least two weeks away, he assumes it is his recently overactive imagination.
"...did you hear me?"
He turns towards Nasir. The waif of a boy has grown up to be a tall, lean-muscled youth of fifteen. His dark hair is cut short, like all trainees, and he proudly wears the gray robes of a novice.
"My apologies. My mind was... elsewhere," Altair answers simply.
The youth snorts. Rolls his eyes. "Forget it, I can train on my own. Go. I know you cannot focus when she's due so soon."
Altair gives him a rare smile. "It seems to me you have become wise beyond your years lately. You have been working hard these days."
"Yes, there's a good reason to." An embarrassed scuff of his foot. "There's been more and more recruits. Each one a better fighter than the last. Especially the one they call "Thu'Ban". Nasir aims, and the throws a dagger at the target.
Thunk.
"He came two years ago, and climbed from recruit to apprentice in one. I refuse to fall behind like that."
Thunk.
The knife sinks into the straw dummy's head.
Altair listens carefully. He has heard of that name being mentioned a couple of time. But mostly in passing conversation and nothing more.
He wonders why they would name an apprentice "The Snake" as he climbs the stairs. Most people would prefer something along the lines of 'honor', 'victory', or 'sword'.
Altair reaches the top of the stairwell. He pushes open the door.
His eyes widen. Breath catches sharply.
Jin. On the floor. Surrounded by blood. A sword imbedded deep within her stomach.
Not comprehending what he is seeing, Altair takes a step. Then another. And then he rushes to her still form, leaning against the stone wall stained with crimson.
The pool of blood keeps growing. It does not stop. The wound looks fresh. Her face is deathly pale and her eyes are closed.
"No…" he chokes out.
At the sound of his voice, her eyes flutter open. He reaches for her, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
"Altair," she gasps out. Even through the haze of pain and darkness, she can still make out his features and those distinctive golden eyes. However, the look of anguish and panic written on his face is something she is not accustomed to seeing. "I-I was not fast enough. Nor skilled as he…"
"Who?" Altair demands roughly, his throat tightening up inexorably. "Who did this?"
"The new recruit. H-he is not actually… his n-name is Robert. Robert De Sable," Jin grits her teeth against each wave of pain. Each word is a mountain of effort to form.
Altair freezes.
Not possible. There is no way the Templar lives. He had killed his old rival with his own two hands!
Unless... His mind rushes back to the failed rescue attempt. Maria's troubled expression. Small, subtle clues that pointed to a baby's existence, and yet he chose to overlook them. He violently swears.
Jin tugs on his sleeve with the little amount of energy she has left.
"Beloved…"
There is so much blood. It keeps on coming. Seeping in between the cracks, staining his hands, and draining her of life.
"Hush, save your strength. I need to get you to the infirmary-" Altair swallows hard. His experience tells him all he needs to know. It is a fatal wound.
"Stop l-lying," she smiles sadly, "I know… I-it is too late. Listen, he t-took …the baby. Do not waste time… r-rescue our child," Her eyelids flutter shut.
He shakes her shoulders. "No! Do not give in! Jin!" He cradles her face reverently with both hands. Her blood dyes his hands crimson, leaving grotesque print marks on her face. "Stay awake… please…" he whispers hoarsely.
She struggles to remain conscious. "Beloved… remember how we first met? I was but a girl l-living in a brothel, long for freedom and a-adventure. I did not have friends, did not have a f-family, and was living in such ignorance. A-and look at me now. I have learned... experienced so many... new... wondrous things since meeting... you. I f-found friends. I-I have a... family. And…" Tears overflow from viridian depths and trickle down her ashen cheeks. "I found love."
He cannot find words to reply. He can only grip her tighter, willing her eyes to stay open.
Her last words, so soft and gentle he has trouble hearing over his pounding heartbeat, "I w-will be wa-waiting for you...in the... Garden of...Eden. " He sees the light fade away from her pained eyes, and feels her last shuddering gasp as Jin finally gives into the overwhelming exhaustion.
Dying is a surreal experience. Sounds, like Altair's voice, his anguished breaths, and what sounds like distant crying are slowly fading away. Instead of blackness, she sees flashes of light. Within them, she sees moments from the past.
The bright sun of Damascus. Mama Kathlum and the girls. White robes and an eagle feather. Blood, metal, and a fire. A beautiful tree nestled within rough crags of rock. Faces, some friendly and some not, pass by in an amazing speed before her. Yet the only face she wants to remember is not there. With desperate longing, she wishes she could still be with him.
But she knows her time is done.
Jin flies towards the light. It is warm and inviting. Familiar arms reach out and carry her in. When she finds the strength to open her eyes again, she looks upon the loving face of her mother and father. She had long forgotten what their faces looked like, and to see them once again after so many years brought tears of joy. With a cry, she embraces them tightly.
She has finally come home.
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He can hear Nasir before he sees him. The gangly youth struggles wildly against the tight hold of older assassins. His ferocity is frightening, and his peers are looking on with a mixture of awe and morbid fascination as it takes three men to restrain him.
"Unhand me! I'll murder him!" Nasir roars. His voice is already raw from yelling.
Jin's body, now long cold, lies swathed in white sheets. Yasmin hunches over her, staining the linen with uncontrollable tears. Malik is nowhere to be seen.
The assassin closes his eyes tiredly. Mentally steels himself for the confrontation. He then approaches the group.
"Altair! Finally! Tell these fools to release me at once!" There is a frantic tone in Nasir's voice that Altair has never heard it before. It almost sounds like begging. And the child has never once begged him for anything in his life.
His metal gauntlet makes a loud sound as it strikes Nasir's cheek.
"Be quiet. Take a look at yourself. See how pathetic you are, letting your emotions take control." Here the Master Assassin turns to the silent ones holding him, "Tie and lock him up. Make sure he does not leave the fortress."
Nasir can only stare at Altair in pure shock. Dismay and plain disbelief drain his face of color. And then fury erupts over his features.
"Rot in hell! Eternal damnation upon your soul you heartless bastard!"
Altair's face remains emotionless as he takes in the verbal assault. He whips around, and without a backward glance, leaves the cold halls without another word.
"Jin's dead! Murdered! How can you-" Nasir's cursing is only interrupted by a stern hand on his shoulder.
"Stop." It is Malik. His haggard face is unusually wan, and his voice strained. "You are merely wasting your breath. Take a look a closer look. Your words will not reach him."
Nasir stares at the older man with bewilderment.
"Those are the eyes of a man who has lost everything. A dead man. He will be the only one going. And he will not be coming back."
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It is not hard to track the murderer down. He purposely left a trail. Taking the newborn is another way of making sure Altair will meet him alone. And on his demands.
The gray, overcast clouds yield a few drops of rain. And as Altair nears the cliff's edge, the skies erupt in tears.
Despite the thunder and pattering of rain, the frantic cries of a babe can be heard. But he does not feel anything.
No panic. No doubts. Nothing.
There is a person sitting down on a flat rock at the edge. He looks abruptly up as Altair approaches. He is wearing a novice garb, his face surprisingly youthful. But at the same time, it is a face that has seen too much in too few years. There are traces of familiar features. The strong chin, the arrogant, aristocratic nose. He sees Maria in the icy blue eyes, and he almost loses it.
Altair clenches his jaws. No more emotion.
"So you came. I knew you would." The recruit rises slowly, his hand gripping a short sword. He gestures with a careless hand. Toward the little bundle that he had the mercy of covering with a piece of cloth. A stained, bloody bed sheet.
"She will be yours. If you win. Did you... like the present I left for you?" A twisted, maniacal grin carves itself in the man child's face.
"Who are you?" Altair 's voice is cold.
The grin disappears. "Oh you did not figure it out?" A choking laugh. "But of course. You have whetted your blade on so many. My father and mother are just nameless faces in hundreds."
With a flick, Altair's hidden blade slides out. "I only ask because it is customary. I will have a name for your funeral."
Amusement lights up the youth's eyes with a dangerous glint. He also begins to brandish his weapon, slicing through the sheets of rain in graceful arcs. "If you must know," he conversationally says, as if addressing an old friend, "It is Robert. I am the son of the late Robert De Sable." When he does not see any reaction from Altair, he spits out, "Does the name mean nothing even now?"
"No," Altair's voice is more resigned than angry, "I remember." And gives no more explanation.
There is a note of hysterics in young Robert's voice. "Do you have nothing to say for yourself? I was made an orphan because of you!" Water drips off of his pointed chin. It is impossible to tell if it is actually rain.
Altair considers about telling him about his real birth mother. That she is still alive and well. And that he has brothers.
Yet with one look at him, and Altair knows there is no point. The half-crazed expression in the youth's face clearly says it all: he is beyond saving. This is a boy shaped by the sole purpose of revenge, feeding off of his own poisonous hatred.
And what was done, cannot be undone.
The two stare at each other through the curtain of pelting rain. Each waiting for the other to attack first.
The sky splits with a bolt of lightning. In the momentary blindness, Altair hears him move.
Robert's blade screeches against his metal gauntlet. Altair steps away.
The boy is fast. His body, young and well-trained for years, springs lightly into action.
Jabbing, slicing, and then eventually, cutting.
Crimson pours from a light wound on his left shoulder. Altair does not flinch.
He counters with a punch with his right fist. Connects with his stomach. Sidesteps. Aims another blow at his head, but Robert dodges.
Altair realizes he only has the upper hand in experience. If the fight drags on, his opponent will definitely have the upper hand in stamina.
The blade swings towards his midsection. Altair jumps back.
The boy knows his techniques. No doubt he has watched him spar with Nasir, and learned all his moves. And all his weaknesses.
Which means there is a simple way to defeat him.
At the next swing, young Robert aims for his legs. Already anticipating the counter, he brings a hand to his throwing knives. But instead of blocking, Altair lets him slice open his thigh.
A moment of surprise. The boy realizes too late that it was intentional.
The hidden blade buries itself in his sword hand.
He cries out in pain. Altair wrenches the blade out, and sinks it again.
Into his chest.
Crystal blue drift up to meet cold, hardened topaz.
"You-you..." Robert sputters.
For the final time, Altair closes his eyes, and enters the gray realm of the non-living. He lays the murderer down on his back.
He is so young, the assassin notes with a pang. He cannot be more than eighteen years of age. Just another pawn in a game that he has no control over.
"Be at peace. Your real mother, Maria Thrope, is alive. She resides in Acre with your two brothers." Altair swallows hard. "And... know that...you are forgiven. You did not know any better. Even the best among men committed crimes due to ignorance."
Now he is certain there are tears on Robert's face. "I-I coated my sword with a t-toxic resin. The poison," the man-child gasps out in pain, "-will kill you anyways. I n-never planned to come down... from this...forsaken mountain anyways..."
His eyes roll back. And with one last shudder, Robert's body goes limp.
There is no satisfaction. No feeling of completion upon avenging her death.
Just weary exhaustion.
Altair rolls away from the body, coming to a rest on his back. Lets the rain drip down his hood and wet his face. The creeping pain of poison is already stirring in his blood. Making his head pound and his hands shake. He examines the bleeding wound on his shoulder and leg. Perhaps if he makes haste, the apothecary will be able to mix a suitable antidote. Yet he does not find himself caring.
Instead he crawls towards the flat rock. The cries have long stopped. A small part of him listlessly wonders if the baby still lives. It is cold. The rain drenched the sheets. And it has been hours since the newborn was wrenched from the womb.
He lifts a corner of the cloth. The baby is covered in dried blood. Jin's blood. But otherwise she appears unharmed. He gently brushes a finger against her cheek.
She wakes. A shaking, pitiful wail escapes her tiny mouth.
Despite everything, all the bloodshed and heartache and hurt, a smile slowly emerges. He breathes out with relief. He looks on in silent awe as her miniscule hands instinctively latch on to his finger. Almost as if she is struggling to show just how alive she is.
The rain has stopped. A few rays of sun peep over the clouds.
The gates of Masyaf loom overhead.
He does not hear the gasps and yelling of his Brothers. Only the scuffing of his boots against the rough, paved stones as he makes his way towards the infirmary.
He smells the scent of spring. It comes from the precious treasure within his arms. And he pushes on.
When his strength finally gives out, Altair makes sure to sink down to his knees and twist his body. To not crush her with his weight.
He sees a familiar face. Someone takes the bundle from him. He is lifted from the ground.
No longer burdened with ties to this world, Altair Ibn-La'Ahad flies.
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He recalls it quite clearly. There once was an eagle. A proud, majestic thing. It built its nest on an ancient oak, by the stream. Every turn of the season, it would leave, but with the incoming spring, the same eagle would always return to its roost. That is, until a harsh winter storm, with its unforgiving blasts of wind, toppled the ageless tree. And come spring, the eagle returned, but cannot find the tree again. It could have built a new roost, in a new tree.
But it didn't.
The eagle wandered until his strength gave out and he fell dead to the ground.
So Altair, this is what happens to the eagle when its tree has been cut down, Malik muses sorrowfully. Flying aimlessly with reckless abandon until your strength finally gives out.
His eyes were dry during their funeral. Half of the ashes were buried under the soft soil of Jin's favorite tree. The other half scattered into the wind. Sometimes he finds himself gazing at it from his window office. Searching for a familiar head of blonde or an arrogant white hood.
But they are no longer there. Will never be there.
He does not venture into the Garden again.
"Malik." A soft voice behind him. He turns, and nods to Yasmin in greeting.
"Safety and peace." His voice is raspy and dry from disuse. He clears his throat, and in a more normal voice, "You have come to seek an audience with me?"
She does not reply. Merely walks up to him.
"Please, do not take offense." Her hands come up to cradle his face tenderly. "I know what it is to lose someone dear to cruel fate. Jin…" she forms the words with much effort, "Was more of a sister than a friend. But for you, who lost two loved ones, when will you take time for yourself?"
Surprise flits momentarily through Malik's sharp features. His scowl deepens. "I have no time for sentimentalities. There is chaos within the Brotherhood. This incident proves the Templars have found a way to infiltrate-"
He is interrupted by her pulling him into an embrace.
"Stop. Just stop." Her painful whisper reaches out to him. Gentle tendrils of comfort, just a few simple words, harmless really, but they manage to slip beneath the chinks of his armor. And suddenly, Malik finds himself so horribly vulnerable.
Slowly, hesitantly, his arm came around. She is so small, he realizes suddenly. Her frame is so very delicate in comparison with his tall lankiness. His head, so heavy with responsibilities and burdens, comes to rest on her slim shoulder.
The sun is shining brightly that afternoon. Birds are singing their lullabies, amidst the fragrance of jasmine flowers.
That day is when Yasmin first saw Malik al Sayf cry.
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"Do you believe in reincarnation?"
A carefree wind blows freely among the flowers. The scent of blooming spring, the sky the color of blushing vanilla, and the man is holding his entire world in his arms.
"Living another life after death? Many philosophers do. I will believe it when I see it." His words somehow makes her laugh and he suddenly forgets to breath.
"Do you?"
"Believe? Yes… yes I do," she answers gravely.
"Why?"
She holds his scarred face within her soft fingers. Leans in until their foreheads brush against one another.
"Because I know. In another life, we will meet again."
Notes: Please, please no spoilers in the reviews! Or Revelations... b/c I STILL have not played it. T_T So busy...
Final year and ages: 1208
Jin- 35
Altair- 43
Nasir - 15
Robert Jr. - 18 (Yes I did calculate/plan his age since the year he was born.)
Yasmin -32
Malik- 45
... alright here's my long, incoherent rant:
So I guess it was 2 years ago when I brainstormed with my beta about the ending. Our reasoning: This is mainly a story of Altair. Jin is a big chunk of his life, but what really needs to happen is for him to develop as a character and learn about his mistakes. The consequences of his actions eventually catch up to him, but the tragedy of it is that it's too late for anyone to stop it. His arrogance in Jerusalem led to Kaddar's death and Malik's injury. His ignorance and blindness led him to murder Robert De Sable even though he wasn't quite sure for what. And he had a chance to help rescue Maria's firstborn, but he chose to pursue truth (information about Templar secrets). And finally, he openly declared Jin's importance to him, allowed her to stay with him, and therefore revealing a key weakness to his enemies.
I planned to have Altair's past mistakes catch up to him. I never believed an assassin, a person who kills and uses violence, in such a dangerous time period can have a normal, long-lived life. The main struggle for Altair, ever since the beginning, was to find truth and inner peace. Truth is something he continually seeks, and it will always evade him. Inner peace is kind of what Jin provides. She's the "garden" for him, but that is also temporary. He knows he's destined for greatness, but there's always a pricetag that comes with.
That was the original intent.
However... I am a real life person, and real life events affect me. The story kind of became something else in the process of writing.
A little confession here:
Yes, there is a real life "Altair" guy I wrote about. I'm not sure, but I guess that means Jin is also modeled after myself? But not really? (Gad and I detest self-insert fics...) And I promised a happy ending if we actually got together. Which obviously didn't happen.
No worries, I'm not heart-broken or angsty about it. I actually expected that. The best part about falling in love is how that person inspire you to be better. I accomplished many things (like writing a ridiculously long fanfic haha!), pushed myself to overachieve, tried very hard to get his attention and in the process grew as a person. I am very thankful for that experience. I don't regret it at all.
The story might have turned into something of what I went though. The initial meeting. The sparks, the chemistry. The wonderful possibilities which of course becomes exaggerated in my mind and was spiced with an overly active imagination. For those very depressing chapters in 17-18, that was probably written when he did something that really upset me. It was literally like a slap in the face betrayal, and I'm very glad I could use writing as an outlet. A bit rough I agree, but I needed it.
I can understand if people are upset I killed off my main character. Honestly, Jin sorta knows that going with him most likely means dying before her time. But she chose her own path. Maybe it seems like a tragedy for the readers, but they had many years together even if I don't really write about it in detail. And the ending isn't exactly sad, I think it ends on a hopeful/bittersweet note.
It also signifies the end of one chapter and the beginning of a new life. I'm hoping the future generation will learn from Altair's past mistakes, just as I will learn from mine, and hopefully bring about a "happier" ending next time around. :']
The last scene is up to the readers' interpretation. It could be something that happened in their past, or it could be them in the Garden of Eden waiting to be reincarnated. Who knows? :P
No, I don't enjoy putting my characters through this. I can't believe I come to a point where I would write about a topic I don't like. But I feel it's necessary. And it's also probably why it took me so freaking long to work up the courage to do so. Dissect the story/ending and what you will. Give me your honest opinions and thoughts. I'm a tough girl, I can take it. And if time allows it, I'll try and reply to signed reviews. ^_^
Thank you readers, new and returning ones, especially those who took time to write reviews/pm me suggestions/and draw fanart. You guys make my day and absolutely rock.
- Malik will have happier/cooler things awaiting for him. He deserves it, that sweetie.
- Epilogue is coming, once I finalize first chapter of sequel. (Oh what? Did not go there...)
- I just realized how hard it will be for ppl to give me their feedback w/o spoiling the ending. Uh... haha get creative? Or chat it up on Twitter: Ricecooker2000