Loving Hate

by Era-Age

He had thought that she would stay with him, that they'd start their own family. However, that was all to be mistaken, for she left. Now the two of them are forced to confront each other as well as new enemies. Violence, lemons, and language, Altair/Maria

16. Chapter 12

Woah shit, must be Christmas already XD Um, no, I don't have my days mixed up, thank you. I have been working on this chapter for over a month now, devoting 20 minutes per day to work on a small, small, small, small, small, small, small, chunk from a scene. Hm. So. Yeah. First, I created this chapter about half a month ago. Then I hated how it turned out. So, I deleted it, threw out my outlines, and started all over again. And la-dee-da, this is the outcome of that. It was a bit hard writing the chapter. I wanted to put so much into it, but I couldn't form the words to do so. SO, I AM GOING TO BE TAKING MY TIME OVER LIKE, the next... 8 chapters? OF DEVELOPING MY PLOT and not cramming it all into one chapter TO MAKE THE STORY if you can even call it that A BIT MORE INTERESTING.

Hah, who am I kidding. I have over 12 different plots running through this baby. THE VEINS ARE DEEP, MAN!

So, time check. it is 9:11. Oh my. I hope that isn't a sign.

Editors were outta town for this one, but let's give 'em a round of applause anyway. I SALUTE YOU, MEADJEAN AND CHRISTINA!

And also cheers to Maki-San, one of my readers, for helping me out with my awful Spanish. You made the story that much better, mi amiga :) Still gotta go back and make corrections to Damiel's dialogue. Think I'll do that right now.

All original characters are property of Ubisoft.

Everyone else is MIIIIINE along with the extra plots that are not found in the original Assassin's Creed game.

'Kay, enjoy XD

And for my lovely, most recent anonymous reviewer: I'm sorry, but I have no idea how to log in with an iPod- I didn't even know you could do that o.o; I'm sorry :(

---

"First of all, where do I even begin with your outrageous performance last night? Waking up the entire fortress with your ruckus and buckus..! And no, I don't know if that's even a word! How could you be so careless, Altair? I told you that I haven't let anyone else know about this, this woman, as you claim her to be, living inside of our walls! And then you go and destroy my hard work— and believe me, it was very hard keeping it in— by causing a little tantrum in the hallway! Do you want to know how many novices came to me only a few hours ago, asking what all the noise coming from the Residence Hall was? Oh, of course you don't know, because you've been too busy pacing back and forth outside of that she-devil's room!"

Altair sighed as Malik continued to demoralize him, making the trained and skilled Assassin feel little more than just a troublesome boy. They were in the Master's bedchamber, and Malik had forced the man to sit down on the bed so that he was forced to look up at him as he continued his oral punishment.

"And then, when you wake up this morning— though I actually doubt you've slept much— you refuse to attend your work; your duty. Instead, you go back to the Residence Halls and pace around with your back hunched over like this," he demonstrated by craning his neck out and taking rather large steps, "looking like the complete fool you really are! How many times, Altair, do I have to tell you? Do not compromise the Brotherhood."

He frowned and countered, "I do believe, Malik, taking simple walks outside of Maria's room does not compromise our Order."

"No, it doesn't," he agreed. "But taking walks outside of that cobra's lair, looking like you're expecting an attack with the way your eyes fidget— oh, don't try to deny it— certainly makes one believe something is askew. Our Brothers are curious, Altair. And what do we say when they wish to know what plagues the Master's minds?"

"You tell them the truth then, Malik," he said calmly. "They do not deserve to be lied to. They are loyal and faithful-"

"Which is why we can't have them know. Altair, are you truly as clueless as you let on to be? You were the one who told me that you did not chase after her because you feared what our Brothers would do! You said that they would rid the problem of Masyaf; the problem being Maria. And now you want me to go around, skipping with joy and chanting in a soprano tone: Maria Thorpe, the long-lost love of Altair Ibn-La'ahad has returned!" He shook his head at the man. "I will do no such thing-"

"And I never said you had to be so out of character just for me. I am merely saying that if our Brothers wish to know what is wrong with the Master currently, you may tell them that his friend Maria Thorpe has returned. You may not use the term 'lovers'." He closed his eyes and fell backwards onto his mattress. "Now, Malik, if you will excuse me. I tend to take a brief rest for my eyes."

"Oh, and then what? You will be back outside her door with your ear pressed to it, waiting to hear if she's awake yet again. Altair, do you honestly think brooding over her will benefit yourself in any way?" He sighed and shook his head in irritation when all the Master did was yank his canopy curtain closed. "I will remember this, Altair," he growled, "and be assured, you'll regret abandoning your duties as Master!" He raised his chin, even though Altair could not see him through the curtains surrounding his bed. With an insulted hmph! Malik left the Assassin's bedroom, being sure to slam the door with all his strength on the way out. The hinges creaked from being abused, but he couldn't care less if the wood had snapped in half from being mistreated.

He fumed furiously as he walked down corridors. He didn't have a particular destination, though, he just wanted to walk his anger off. But he could do without the stares from the novices and intermediates as he past them.

Several of the younger boys were crouched down on the floor, pampering a rather spoiled and giddy canine. Bayo lolled his tongue out and rolled onto his back to have his stomach rubbed. The novices giggled and continued to love and pet the dog. However, as a rather upset looking man with only one arm that reminded the small group of a depressing storm cloud walked right by them, shivers went up each of their spines. Obviously, Malik was not in a good mood, but for what reason? Did he and the Master get into another squabble once more?

Bayo rolled back onto his feet and trotted over to the rain-cloud-of-a-man. He followed him throughout the fortress, wagging his tail and glancing up at him now and then. Something was irking him; it was clear as day. The dog hoped that his cheerful mood would be transferred over to him, though that was not to be the case.

"Pathetic, stupid, ignorant, lovesick man," he grumbled under his breath. "Stupid women.. so much trouble.." He stopped at a window and peered outside. Contrary to his thoughts, it was a beautiful day in Syria. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze, and even the people of Masyaf that were busy purchasing goods in the market were in bright spirits.

"Hopeless, infuriating, obsessing, aggravating, arrogant novice. The nerve of that man," he pouted. He clenched his hand into a fist and narrowed his eyes. "Always being such a child- never taking responsibility...!" Although, he knew he was wrong. He knew that Altair was under a great deal of stress. He had Assassin's to take care of, Templars to stalk, a city to rule, and a woman to win back. His agenda was pretty full, leaving little room for selfishness. But he still found the time to snooze the day away and to find peace with his shut-eye. Could Malik really blame him, though? Altair spent all night worrying over her, pacing back and forth the hallways while running his hands through his hair in frustration. Was being in love such a tragedy? If so, Malik vowed never to fall in love with anyone. The only things he would love would be his job, his Brothers, his purpose, and his kibbeh. Other than that, he was happy being a loner. If women caused so much distress in a man's life, as he saw whenever he glanced at Altair, then he'd be better off without one.

Bayo's ears perked up as a familiar figure made its way over to them. He wagged his tail in greeting as the blonde woman leaned against the windowsill, clicking her tongue at Malik.

"Fester, fester fester," she sighed. "Rot, rot, rot."

He growled and rolled his eyes from her quip. "Are you quite done trying to prove a useless point?"

She shrugged easily and simply replied, "Pardon me, but I'm not the one getting worked up over the situation. Do you see me hunched over and mumbling to myself? No, you don't."

Malik snorted and glared at Hildegard. "We'll see who ends up fretting in the end, woman."

"Not to mention," she sighed as she gave him an amused smirk, "you do rather resemble a raincloud today, Malik. I mean, I'm just waiting for lightning to surround you and dramatic music to play to match your rather blue mood."

"I am not blue today!"

She clicked her tongue and crossed her arms in fake thought. "You're right, you seem a bit red in the face, actually. Is it the sun? I've heard that sometimes it can cause a person to faint or to become dehydrated. Do you need a glass of water?"

He groaned and shook his head at her. "Silence your tongue before I have Bayo do it for you!"

Hildegard raised her hands innocently and half mumbled to herself, "Whatever you say, Mr. Gloomy. Your word is my command, O' Depressing One."

He blinked, then turned on his heel, hoping to rid himself of her. However, the one-armed man would have no such luck. She trotted over and began walking parallel to him.

"Besides," she continued, "you should be in a lighter mood today! Aren't you happy that Altair's found her?"

He grumbled something under his breath and frowned deeply.

She sighed. "I can see not..."

"And are you happy for that woman?"

"Yes, yes I am," she casually said. "Though Altair and Maria hate each other at the moment- or rather, Maria despises him greatly- in time, everything will be normal again and there will be babies everywhere."

Malik muttered to himself once more before hissing out, "Sons of him will be twice as troublesome. It will be my downfall, for sure."

She rolled her eyes and decided to change the subject. There was no use pressing the topic further with the man- she didn't want lightning to produce from his eyes and singe her to a crisp. "Is he going to be a leader then instead of a miserable man?"

"I cannot say for sure, Hildegard. I can only hope."

She bit her lip, then beamed as an idea came to mind. "Maybe we should lock them in a room together? They'd have time to settle things out, wouldn't they?"

He laughed lightly at the thought and gave his companion a look that questioned her sanity. "Why, so we can sew his limbs back on and restuff his entrails?"

"N-nevermind then..."

---

Two days later...

"Come on, you pathetic, brainless cloth- dammit!" More profanities spilled from her mouth as her attempts were unsuccessful. Maria was trying to remove the bandages from around her less dominant arm, but to no avail. It proved too difficult to do with one hand, but she was determined to find out the extent of her injuries.

Her attempts fatigued her, which, she found to be rather sad and unimpressive on her behalf. Her muscles ached as she tried to tug the bandages off of her, but it had to be done.

Finally, after many frustrating and curse-spewing tries, she managed to unravel it partway down her arm. She stared in shock as scabs and dried blood were revealed to her. She was horrified to find a cut that extended most likely from her underarm to her wrist. How did this happen to her? When did this happen to her?

She tried to recall what had happened a little over a week ago. She was at Acre, staring at the sea; she remembered that. Then she beat a rather foolish man up at a tavern, and then...

Then there was the stronghold, and that peculiar 'psst!' sound. No, but before that, there was the note from Dam-

She groaned and clutched her arm as she tried to bring forth the memory of her obtaining her wounds to her mind. She hissed and tried to rewrap her arm with the bandages, but it proved to be too much for her to handle. She remembered walking into that fortress, following that sound, entering a room...

"J...J..."

The last thing she heard before she fell into an unconscious state was her own voice whispering her brother's name.

---

It was time to visit her that day. Hildegard was outside doing whatever the Hell that woman found amusing, while Malik was pampering Bayo. It was the perfect opportunity to pay his beloved a visit.

Altair walked briskly down the hall that led to the room she was occupying. He'd learned when she was awake, and when she was sleeping over the past couple of days. And this was the time when she was sleeping, so he'd be safe from her wrath while examining her wounds.

He stopped at her door and was about to turn the handle, but halted his actions as he pondered over his choices. What would he even do in there? Hildegard had already rebandaged her wounds the previous night, and it was still early morning yet. It'd be a waste of the material if he changed her dressings. He slowly withdrew his hand. It'd be pointless to go in there just to see her. She was still bruised and still looked like bloody Hell, even if she was still beautiful to him.

He turned and was about to retreat back into his study, when an agonized groan filled his ears. His head snapped toward the direction of her room, and after several moments of standing there like the fool he truly was, he barreled into the room and was at her side in less than five seconds.

Her expression was pained as she laid in her bed with closed eyes. His gaze settled on her partly uncovered arm, and he immediately took to dressing it once more. Even though she had scabs and the blood had stopped pouring out of her cuts, it could still become infected, and he was not going to take that chance with her.

Once he was done covering her arm back in the cloth, he sighed and stroked her cheek gently, hoping her features would soften. And, sure enough, once his hand made contact with her face, her brow relaxed and a calm expression took the place of a painful grimace. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and admired how soft her skin was. However, he frowned from thinking of how exactly she had ended up in this bed- in Masyaf.

She was in Acre, for some odd reason. What for, though? He remembered Hildegard informing him of a wedding that Maria was to be forced into as the bride, but he saw no ring on her finger. She obviously did not marry. Was Hildegard lying, or did Maria manage to escape this 'Clarence'? Furthermore, what was a Templar doing by assaulting his woman?

Nevermind the fact that a Templar almost attempted to claim her, but why were they after Maria? Did they discover her? Were they set on vengeance since she had betrayed them in Cyprus? Or was the man simply controlled by his lust and need for a woman?

Perhaps all his assumptions were wrong. Maybe she was in the Holy Land because she was meeting up with allies. She could have been trying to rendezvous with them in Acre, that was a possibility, sure. But wouldn't his Brothers have known about this? There are good scouts in the Assassin Order, surely they would have known?

Or maybe she returned to Acre just to see him? What if she hoped that she'd find him there? What if she came back for him? He sighed from all the choices in the matter. He could come up with thousands of reasons as to why she was in his life once more, and only one of them would have been the correct answer. It was pointless to storm his brain with so many possibilities.

He discarded the thought, persuading himself that he'd find out from Hildegard once Maria woke and confided what had happened to her.

Still... it was difficult to believe that Maria was right there, in front of him. Only a year had past, but it felt like a decade. She was alive and slowly becoming healthy, just what he'd wished for. Yet his heart was still full of sorrow and pain. Was this what all deprived lovers went through, or was it just him?

He removed his hand from her cheek and placed it on her chest, feeling her steady breathing keeping in time with the rise and fall of her pulse. Yes, he was sure of it now. She was alive, and she wouldn't vanish like that dream he had of her nearly a month ago.

With his other hand, he felt his cheek where she had smacked him. It still stung, but only a little. He had a feeling only Maria was capable of doing such a thing to him.

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead before reluctantly leaving her bedside. Making his way to the door, he gave her one last look. Oh, how much he wanted to join her in bed, wrap his arms around her, and hold her tightly to himself. How much he wanted to share his warmth with her, and to have her share her warmth with him.

How strange that only Maria had the power to cast such a spell on him.

---

The Master of Assassins was not the only one perplexed as to how they were feeling such a foreign emotion. Hildegard kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she walked through Masyaf's marketplace. Like her mood, the weather wasn't anything to brag about. Dark clouds hung in the sky, and a chilly wind occasionally swept through the sparse grass and sandy pathways. She sighed out of depression.

'Altair has his lover back— what about the one that I truly care for?'

What of her Aden? Where was he, and why wasn't he with Maria? Surely the Rose would have traveled together and not left anyone behind in England?

Was he even alive? Oh, she wished she knew that answer. She dearly wanted to see him; to see that charming and handsome grin on his beautiful face. She could just picture him in her mind.

He'd be standing there, his black hair that reached his chin slightly disheveled. His posture alone told of how confident and successful he was. He was always standing up straight, which only made him look taller, and by God, he was tall! Perhaps he was even taller than Robert?

Like Zaina and many Arabs, his skin was dark and he had brown eyes like a typical Middle Easterner. It was such a common characteristic, yet the man made it seem special and unique in a way she couldn't quite describe. He was always elegant, save for whenever he was around Damiel. Those two were like arguing children sometimes.

Oh, and Damiel. What she'd give to see his silly and immature grin! She missed his unimpressive jests and how he'd always manage to put a smile on someone's face, albeit in strange ways. Hildegard missed how he and Aden would always bicker like two old ladies. Their arguments were always about something unimportant or stupid, but yet they brightened her day. She remembered while in the Crusades, Aden and Damiel had first met. It was all going well, until Damiel had claimed himself a 'pro-Arab'.

By God, it was no surprise that when Damiel started screaming, 'yalla, yalla, yalla!' at Aden, the older man had slugged him one right in the face. Damiel declared while in England that he still had that bruise, but that only earned him a swift kick in the leg from Aden.

By the Heavens and Afterlife, she missed the Rose. She prayed with all her heart that everyone was still alive and not in the condition she had found Maria in.

'Oh, Benjamin, why couldn't you be here now to tell me everything will be fine? You always knew what was going to happen, and you always had a trick up your sleeve to counter any surprise circumstances.'

What had even happened to the old veteran? Was he even still alive? Or... or were they all dead? What of her friends? Did they all leave England to look for her, a woman that had stubbornly ran away? Or did they leave because of that idiot Clarence and his ridiculous wedding?

And then there were the survivors of the Rose: Maria, Bayo, and herself. Was Maria her only friend left alive? Would she stay alive, or would Fate decide to rob her not only of the man she admired most, but also of her best friend?

And what of Altair? Would Maria and Altair sort through their complicated relationship and make amends? And would Maria even remember what had happened to her, or why she was even at Acre to begin with? Or would she be deprived of her memory and shut Altair out of her life, completely ignoring him and attempting to move on? No, she couldn't do that...

Hildegard saw the love in Altair's eyes for that woman. She saw the admiration, adoration, lust, love, respect, and responsibility he harbored for her. For them to be apart would be untruthful to each of them. He wanted to live by Maria's side for the rest of his days— could Maria be so blind as to not see that?

It seemed so right and natural for the two to start a family and have children. The stillborn that Maria birthed looked so much like the father... Any child that the two would have would be beautiful like their parents.

Though, the thought of 'making' a family caused Hildegard to blush. It wasn't any of her business, she knew that. She was pretty sure she'd live from not knowing what may happen in a bedroom if those two decided to share it. If they both loved each other and vowed to stay together, fine, she couldn't care less what they did.

Maria told Hildegard of that night on the tower, however. It was their rare girl-talk, whenever one would be able to leave their sanctuary to visit the other. Maria told her everything that had happened. She told Hildegard of his kisses, how he felt and tasted her, and how he had marked her. Hildegard had listened faithfully, but was also ashamed to admit to herself that she was jealous.

She, being a former prostitute, never experienced that type of love from a man. Many men had had her in bed, but not one of them had truly loved her. And then there was Maria, the type of woman Hildegard had thought to not want a man or any partner in life. It broke Hildegard's heart when Maria told her how much she hated that man, how she had regretted ever meeting him.

How could she say such a thing? It was clear as day that Maria's eyes betrayed her words. Those grey eyes nearly screamed that she wanted him so badly, that she wanted to be in his arms forever. Did she honestly expect Hildegard to believe her?

She sighed sadly and headed back towards the castle. No doubt Malik would have been wondering where that pesky, annoying woman went. The more she walked toward the fortress, the closer her feet brought her back to the problem at hand. And the more she neared Altair and Maria, the more pain she suffered.

She wanted those two to be one in body and soul. She wanted them to have a family and have children. She'd always imagine them as herself and Aden, though; something that would never be.

---

Three days later...

Altair sat at the small desk in his room as he unbuckled the gauntlet on his left hand. He turned his head at the sound of snoring and rolled his eyes as he saw that Bayo had made the foot of his bed a place to sleep. He'd have to teach the dog that the bed was not for hounds to rest in.

He pulled the bracer off and set it on the table. He studied the hidden blade, wondering if there was a way to wield it without the removal of a finger. Was it even possible? He extracted the blade from its sheath and furrowed his brow as he examined the design and angle of the blade.

"Perhaps, if the degree of the blade was bent slightly forward, making it obtuse and not straight..." he wondered aloud. He shook his head as he disagreed with himself. To do that would mean that the gears inside of the bracer would have to be removed and angled differently, and that the gauntlet itself would have to be redesigned. He would have done it himself, but he had no idea how to. Finding the blueprints that instructed how to craft the Assassin weapon was still on his to-do list as Grandmaster.

It was ironic to him. He had always used his hidden blade to claim a targeted life, yet he didn't know the first idea on how it was made. Yes, he would most certainly have to dig through Al Mualim's library and former study to find the manual.

He breathed out deeply and leaned back in his chair. The sun had already departed from the world hours ago, and soon, it would be morning. There was no way in his tired state that he'd be able to think of a new design for the blade. He decided that he'd look into the idea later, with the help of Malik and possibly a few of the blacksmiths.

With that out of his mind, he tried to find something else to occupy himself with. He needed to be having his brain on overload, or he knew he'd be thinking about her. He didn't want to think of her because he knew that by doing so, it'd cause worry and desperation. As a leader, he couldn't let his weaknesses show to his people, and he'd been doing a poor job of that lately. But, he could still live with someone to talk to...

He wished he could talk to her. He hadn't visited her in three days. He'd only asked Hildegard how she was. Apparently, her wounds were healing slowly still, but she was healthier. She had no fever, thank God, and the bruises had faded partially from her face.

It was lonely nights like the one he was experiencing when he just wanted someone to talk to. Malik was acceptable when it came to conversation, but the man usually only criticized him or mocked him. It was good natured, but he'd never really listen to what he was saying. What Altair wanted most at the moment was someone who would sit down and listen to him drone on and on about his problems without interrupting him. And then, when he was done confiding to them, they'd give him advice. That's what he wanted.

His mind was plagued. The Templars, Rose, Acre, Maria, Clarence, the wedding, and Cilicia, Armenia were all his thoughts. He wondered, if he was on good terms with her, if Maria would listen to him. Was she the type of woman to?

Was she the type of woman that would read before going to sleep? He knew that some of his Brothers did just that. They mainly read the Koran or other novels (fighting manuals, of course). Or, was Maria the type of lady who would keep a journal and write in it, like he did, before bedtime? After all, she was always curious to know what he was writing about while on their voyage to India.

Or, was she the type of woman that immediately got down to business once she was dressed in a nightgown and just slept?

'Did Maria even wear a nightgown to begin with?'

Or did she wear short pants that only reached her mid-thigh and a loose tunic like he did? Oh, how sad it was that he didn't even know something so simple about the woman he loved. But, would she wear it? He knew she wore men's clothing while out and about, but did she also sleep in them as well?

Or did she just wear her undergarments? Or perhaps she was the type of person that slept while being full-out nude?

He shook his head from the thought. He didn't want to think about her bare. But, of course, he was a man, and he did just that. Such beauty and grace she beheld while wearing nothing but her own strong womanly body. The scars on her pale flesh only added to her looks— at least, to him they did. Those 'flaws' told stories of her beliefs and hardships she endured while disguising herself as a man. It was admirable that a woman would go to such lengths just to prove herself to society.

To Altair, a confident and capable woman was more attractive than a curvy, seducing and luscious woman. Of course, he had found certain fleshy areas of Maria's anatomy that were plump and ample where a man was not quite pleasurable.

He smiled from the thought. He shamelessly admitted to himself that he liked thinking of her naked. He'd be the only man that would see her as the woman that hid behind armor; the woman she truly was. He felt privileged, and would be sure to keep it that way.

Throwing his head back, he let off a moan of deprivation. He'd enjoy to have her at night. No, in fact, he'd love to have her right then and there. It was all so frustrating for him. She was in the fortress— so close! But he couldn't have her. He couldn't even speak to her. What he loved the most in life was taken from him, but at the same time, it was haunting him and teasing him. She was just out of reach.

He stood from his chair and made his way to his bed and pulled his shirt over and off his body.

Did she feel the same way? Did she see this awkward predicament as a punishment as he did?

Did she like to think of him nude?

Altair looked at himself in the mirror across the room. He was never concerned about his body-weight or being out of shape. It was never really something he thought about. He was always exercising and training, so he was always in shape. He was confident with what he looked like, but more importantly, he didn't care.

Maria had a strong body as well, surely she'd want her man to have an even stronger body? And he did. He was a man, and therefor he was capable of having more muscle than a woman. Did she like the way he looked?

He kicked his boots off and slid his pants and undershorts down to his ankles. Did Maria like seeing him bare on the tower? Was his manhood satisfying to her? He himself was content with his size, but what if he bored her?

"This is ridiculous," he growled to himself. "Of course she wasn't bored-"

But what if she didn't even care?

"How can that be though?" He frowned and placed a hand on his hip while the other stroked the stubble on his jaw. He turned his head around when he heard the dog whine on the bed. The animal was looking at him with a curious tilt of his head.

Altair walked over to him. "As I recall, she was quite loud on the tower," he mused to no one in particular. Bayo tilted his head even further. "Moans, gasps, and even short screams came out of that woman's mouth."

Bayo crossed his legs elegantly as he listened.

"Perhaps she didn't even want me atop her?"

Bayo buried his head in his paws and whined.

Altair rolled his eyes, annoyed with himself for even considering such foolish thoughts. Quickly, he pulled his undershorts back on and climbed into bed. Bayo was still whining into his paws.

The man closed his eyes, wishing that Maria was there with him to hold his tossing and turning at bay. With much anger, he pulled out his pillow from beneath his head and held it as close to him as possible.

He could always imagine...

---

She groaned in discomfort as she felt hands hold her down. Plump, greasy, disgusting hands...

She frowned and gasped in pain. It felt as if a blade was running up and down her body, slicing at her flesh. She bit her lip in pain. Her body ached and she felt as if she was lit on fire.

Slowly, a sticky red substance covered her skin. She felt the fat hands rove up and down herself, prodding sensitive flesh and tightly gripping two bloody mounds.

She could feel his putrid breath on her skin as his lips trailed up and down her neck.

Earl...

She opened her mouth to scream, to call for help, but no sound came out. Her throat was dry, and her voice was nowhere to be found. She found herself panicking, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She thought it would burst from her ribcage at any given second; it was thumping so hard.

The hands slowly closed around her throat. They tightened, choking the air inside of her. Her own hands scrabbled against the man's, desperately trying to tear him away from her. Soon, her vision became blurred and her body refused to respond to her. She tried to move, to kick this man off of her, but it wouldn't happen. She couldn't even flinch.

Never in her life did she want to be saved so badly. But, who was there to save her?

She knew who the answer was, and just as she thought of him, she could see him in her mind. Where was he? Why wasn't he ridding herself of this man invading her? Didn't he... didn't he love her?

Why wasn't her eagle the man riding her?

Summoning the last ounce of strength she had, she screamed his name as a final and hopeful attempt to be free.

---

"Honest to Allah, why does no one like kibbeh?"

"I like it, it's just a bit... too dry? I don't know, it seems like it's missing something. Maybe if you added some spices?"

"That would surely ruin it! It's perfect the way it is!"

"Well, pardon me, but so far, every novice that you'd asked has said the same thing. It's too dry and bland."

"Hmph! You just don't know good food from bad food!"

"Oh, believe me, I know shit from food when I see it, and kibbeh is shit."

Malik rolled his eyes and allowed Hildegard to walk in front of him. After all, with her back to him, she wouldn't be able to see his eyes narrowing and glaring at her. Lucky him.

"Here we are," Hildegard sighed when they finally reached Maria's room. She was carrying Maria's breakfast on a tray. Malik had offered to join her since his two options were either to strangle Altair out of bed or to give Hildegard some company. The latter had won that small debate.

She turned around to address the man. "Now, remember what I told you-"

"No sudden movements, no mentioning the Master, and absolutely 'no nonsense'. Yes, yes, I understand."

"And no mentioning of Acre either. Understand?"

He groaned and balled his hand into a fist. "You try my patience with your orders. I'll stay in the doorway if it'll suit your needs."

Hildegard opened her mouth to scold him, but frowned and raised an eyebrow at him as she heard strange noises come from Maria's room. She and Malik both looked at each other, blinked, then immediately barged through the door.

The blonde's eyes widened when she saw her friend kick the blankets off of her and grasp the sheets on either side of her in her sleep. Maria thrashed and gasped, as if she was being attacked. Hildegard quickly set the tray on her nightstand and hurried over to the woman. Malik, however, had stayed true to his word and stood in the doorway, not knowing what to do.

She was screaming for him, tears streaming down her face as her pleas became more and more terrifying and frightful. Hildegard grabbed her shoulders and began to shake her awake, but it proved useless.

"ALTAIR! KILL HIM, ALTAIR!" Maria threw her head back as she continued to beg for him to save her. Hildegard frowned, and pulled her hand back. With one rather powerful smack! to her cheek, Hildegard gave a rather satisfied and proud smile as Maria woke up with a gasp.

Sweat caked her skin as she panted heavily. Her eyes darted around the room, and she stared at Hildegard as if she was the Devil. However, once she realized that it was her best friend she was looking at, she breathed out in relief and her body instantly relaxed.

She muttered beneath her breath, "Bloody dream..."

Hildegard's smug grin grew slightly as she took her friend's hand in her own. "I never knew you were the type to be afraid of nightmares, Maria."

Maria rolled her eyes at her friend. "And I never thought you'd be stupid enough to think such a thing." Her quirky smile, however, meant that she was merely jesting, and Hildegard laughed at that.

Reaching back over to the nightstand, she picked up the tray of cheese, bread, and fruits and offered it to the injured woman. "Even if you're in a good mood today," she began as she placed the tray on Maria's lap, "you're bound to be hungry. It's almost midday."

Maria simply nodded and nibbled on a piece of bread while Hildegard made her way over to the window. She undid the latch and swung it open, sighing from the fresh breeze that welcomed her. "It's a beautiful day today, Maria. Why, this place is so charming sometimes. The mornings are always so peaceful, the people idly walking, birds chirping..." her voice trailed off as she sighed once more in admiration. "I only wish that England was like this." She turned around to give her friend an assuring smile, but stared in disbelief at what she saw.

The tray, that was practically invisible due to the amount of food placed upon it, was picked clean by that gluttonous woman! Maria sat, her mouth puckered while she stared at the empty tray. She glanced at Hildegard, as if to ask, "more please?"

Hildegard blinked for a few moments before shaking her head in wonder and sitting back down at the bedside. "Fatty."

Maria frowned and crossed her arms to the best of her injured ability. "I am highly insulted that you say such a thing. Do I look round and plump to you?"

"Well, if you want my honest opinion, you look like you've been dragged through a cow pasture and through their droppings," Hildegard shrugged. Maria's frown only deepened.

"Oh? Well, Hildegard, you look like you hired a blind man to groom your hair and dress you. Good Heavens, I do believe your hair resembles a rose bush in need of desperate trimming."

Hildegard raised an eyebrow in offense. "Is that so? Well, I believe I've never seen a dry person look so sodden and slimy in my life."

"Slimy?"

"Yes, slimy! My God, it's as if you used horse saliva as shampoo!"

Maria lowered her head and her eyebrow began twitching. "At least I don't resort to horse shit like someone in the room."

Hildegard gasped and placed a hand on her chest out of hurt noble dignity. "Why, such impudence! At least I do not relieve myself in the bed! I actually know what a chamberpot looks like!"

"Oh, yes, I do as well, as one is speaking to me right now! I'd relieve on you if you'd only visit me at a more convenient hour!"

The blonde female gawked and folded her arms beneath her breasts. "Thou shan't tinkle on me!"

"I shall tinkle on thee!" she barked back. "And while I'm at it, I may even use you as my personal rag to clean the floors!"

"You'd use a tinkled-on rag to clean floors?" she asked in horror.

"Yes, I shall use a tinkled-on rag to clean floors! That way, you'd have to clean them again!"

Hildegard huffed and glared at Maria. "If I am used to clean floors, you'd be used to do the laundry!"

"At least I won't be tinkled on!"

"True, but you'd have to go through the undergarments! Such messy jobs are most certainly not the work of a lady," Hildegard stated, her nose held highly in the air, looking down upon Maria.

Maria merely snorted and suggested, "And what is? Being relieved upon?"

Hildegard's eyes blazed with anger as she growled at Maria.

Maria's eyes blazed with challenge as she gave Hildegard a mocking sneer.

They sat there, glowering at each other for some time, before they both turned the corners of their mouths up in smiles.

"'Thou shan't tinkle on me'? Hildegard, what in God's name possessed you?" Maria laughed. Hildegard merely shrugged and chuckled to herself. Maria gave her friend a toothy grin before wrapping her arms around her, as did Hildegard.

"It's been too long, Maria," Hildegard sighed as she embraced her most trusted friend.

Maria nodded in agreement. "Far, far too long, my friend."

Hildegard pulled away from her companion to look her over. "Good grief, Maria. It's only been nearly a month, and yet it seems like years. How are you feeling?"

"Not too spectacular."

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Everywhere."

"Are you tired?"

"Surprisingly, no."

"Do you need anything? Is there something you need?"

"Answers would be absolutely love- who is that?" Her eyes instantly narrowed as she looked over Hildegard's shoulder at Malik. Little did they know that he had been horrified from the women bickering with each other.

The cripple returned the look and crossed his arm.

Hildegard followed Maria's gaze and gave an uneasy smile to her friend. "He's... an acquaintance I've made while being here."

"Pleasure," Maria stiffly mumbled. Had it not been for her aching limbs, she would have been standing with pride while speaking. However, her limited abilities, thanks to her condition, proved to be amusing to Malik.

He gave a small smirk, and replied, "It's so good to finally meet you. Why, I've heard so much about you over the past year."

Maria blinked, then looked at Hildegard for an answer as to what he was inquiring. Her friend, however, was too busy giving a dangerous stare at the man as a warning to meet Maria's eyes.

But Malik wasn't done- not yet, at least. It'd been too long for the man since he had some fun with twisting his words as to confuse a person. After all, he was still edgy with Hildegard since she had insulted one of his favorite dishes. He'd be able to handle that woman's wrath later- after he was done entertaining himself.

"Sometimes people even talk about you while moaning to themselves, even," he mused aloud.

Maria turned her head to the side and her glare became more suspicious.

"Or, a few times they take baths and choose to mention your name here and there-"

"Malik."

"Oh, and I mustn't forget to add that they wrap their arms and legs around sheets and pillows and mumble your name under their breath-"

"Malik!"

"Don't interrupt me, Hildegard, I'm not finished yet." And finished he was not. He was practically innocent while jeopardizing Altair's secrets. Besides, he should have never abandoned his responsibilities as Grandmaster. Revenge was delicious.

He took in a quick breath and was about to continue his embarrassing harassment, had it not been for Hildegard throwing the food tray at him. His eyes bulged out of his head as he ducked, barely missing the tray. He remained in a crouching position while he looked over his bad shoulder as the tray clanged to the floor behind him. Slowly, he turned his head toward Hildegard and gulped.

"I-I suppose I'm quite finished," he stuttered. Hildegard gave him a devilish grin before glancing back at Maria. The woman, however, was still staring intently at Malik, though, was no longer frowning at him.

"You look familiar," she spoke at last. "Do I... do I know you from somewhere?"

Malik recoiled his head back and shook his head as a 'no'. "I've never seen you before today, woman."

"Do you mock me?" she challenged. He shook his head once more. "Malik, was it?"

"Indeed. Maria, was it?"

The injured Englishwoman raised an eyebrow and nodded. "I swear I've seen you before- come closer." He, however, was reluctant to take orders from her. He only obeyed Altair's word and that was it; end of story. Though, he did partly obey Hildegard's requests, but now another woman kicking him around like a dog? Then he thought of what would happen if Altair ever found out that he disregarded his precious Maria. Judging by that sneaky little sneer on Hildegard's face, that was exactly what the bitch was planning to do to him if he didn't listen...

The thought of Altair's wrath upon him quickly made his mind up.

He bit the inside of his mouth and slowly walked over to the bedside. Her eyes settled on his own, and he felt as if those grey pools could see through his entire soul. He didn't break the contact, but shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"Your eyes look so familiar," she whispered. "You are sure we've never met before?"

He swallowed and bobbed his head up and down. He wanted to pull his gaze away from her demonic light eyes- the eyes of the European heathens. He didn't believe the foolish stories that fanatics raved about how the Land to the West was home to monsters and murderers that wished to purge the land of all that were unequal to themselves. The Crusaders justified that theory, but there were some from Europe that merely wanted to explore and wished not to fight.

"I am positive, woman."

She bit her lip and tilted her head to the side as she still searched his eyes for any answer. "Perhaps I've seen one from your family?"

"No, it is only me. No one else," he quickly stammered. There was absolutely no possibility that she knew who he was. He saw the soldiers at Solomon's Temple that had claimed his brother's life and also his arm, and she was not one of them.

"I see," she sighed in disappointment. She finally blinked and let her eyes leave his. "Forgive me, I'm still a bit loopy from these injuries," she said while gesturing toward her arms and legs.

While she had halted meeting his eyes, he had not. "There was no harm done, friend." Hildegard's eyes immediately snapped toward him and as he said this and she stared questioningly at him. He blinked, then glanced back and forth between Hildegard and Maria.

"I must take my leave," he stated breathlessly. "The Master would wish to speak with me." He didn't wait for either of the two women to give a reply. Malik immediately turned on his heel and walked out of the door.

'Allah...'

He allowed his feet to take him out of the fortress and lead him up to Masyaf's ramparts.

---

"Grandmaster Malcolm? You wished to speak with me?" Christopher slowly opened the door to the Templar's study and allowed himself to enter as the man waved him over. The Templar Leader was standing on his balcony, his hands folded neatly on the small of his back. He was staring out at the night sky, his body in this world yet mind in another.

Christopher approached him and stood beside the man, following his gaze out to the stars in the heavens.

"Nature is a beautiful thing, is it not, Christopher?"

The Templar turned his head to his master and he nodded. "Yes, I too have noticed the beauty of the world. Spring is probably the most astonishing time of year."

"Nature is only admirable when man does not ruin it, Christopher. I would have thought that a man with your knowledge and wisdom you would have known this."

"Sir?" Christopher turned a corner of his mouth down and angled his head to the side.

"Do you know why I summoned you, my dear Christopher?" Malcolm's eyes never left the starry night. His mouth would quirk side to side occasionally, as if he had a rotten piece of meat in his mouth and he was desperately trying to find a way to discard it without seeming rude.

Christopher nodded and cleared his throat. "You wanted to discuss Earl's orders, yes? I believe it'd be wise if we told him-"

"Earl is dead," Malcolm stated flatly. "He's been dead for over a week now, Christopher. I think dead men are not capable of carrying out orders, are they?"

The Templar blinked and sighed. He lowered his gaze down to the stone beneath him and shook his head. "How did he die, Master?"

"The Assassin disposed of him, apparently. It seemed that Earl strayed from our Brothers and decided to take the matter dealing with the Piece of Eden into his own hands- as well as Maria Thorpe."

"Earl... he was always so brash and hasty with his decisions. I only wished that he could have had sense touch his mind before his death-"

"Nevermind his death, Brother. Nature intended it to happen, and we must respect God's beauty."

Christopher understood that mourning over the loss of a comrade was respectful, yet a waste of time. No matter how many tears would fall, none would ever bring back the life of one that had past. However, Christopher did not understand why there was a small smile on Malcolm's lips, as if he had anticipated Earl's death.

The patient man bobbed his head side to side. "Master, I'm aware it may seem beyond my bounds, but you speak as if Earl's murder is a holiday- something to be celebrated and then forgotten the next day. He was our ally, one of us, Master."

Malcolm's eyes narrowed and he swallowed. Christopher pressed on. "You didn't purposely have him killed, did you?"

"The blame is not with me, dear Christopher. The fault lies with the Assassin's and their cursed leader-"

"And you chose to leave him alone at Acre, unsupervised? Sir! I believe in my cause, but I do not believe in treachery."

"Christopher, you fail to notice something. Earl died because he was weak. The weak do not survive in this world, Brother. Earl perished since he lacked this strength."

"Earl was a good fighter, even if he did not possess anything in here," Christopher tapped the side of his head. "He was a pawn to you, a useless heap of flesh."

"As I recall, you and Earl were never the best of friends. Why is it that you defend him here?"

"I would defend any man that was butchered because his master deemed him unworthy of our cause. You could have had him stay in England. He could have funded us. He has an army, Malcolm. You could have used him as a way to supply weapons for our own men. But instead you chose to send him out to Acre, fully knowing that his mind would be lost to his selfish need of a woman's flesh. You let him die, Malcolm. You killed one of our own. I view that as betrayal."

"And I view your accusation as being defiant toward ME, your LEADER." Malcolm turned to fully face his man. The look he gave him was that of fury and impatience. "He weakened our faction, Brother. Can you not understand that?"

"As I've said before, Malcolm, you acted unreasonably and there was another solution-"

"Oh, I know I could have left him in England so that he'd supply us with arms. However, dear Christopher, I've already taken over his army. The moment he left England, his territory was no longer his. He had no claim left. He was merely a peasant; a pathetic existence. Oh, I let him think that he had the power of men at his disposal, but my God, I could not risk his disobedience any longer."

Christopher balled his fists and breathed deeply as he stared at his master's boots. "You fooled him? You tricked him and deceived him? How do I not know that you will not do the same to our other Brothers?" How do I know that I am serving God and not a mad man?

"And that is why I summoned you here, Christopher. You're the only sensible one in the Templar Order. You see, I am currently purging our title of weak links. I can't just remain as Grandmaster and watch as the fools in our Order destroy us!"

"You weaken us by killing our Brothers. Who, pray tell, will take their places?" Christopher looked up into the man's eyes. What he saw in those cold, blue depths of deceit was anything but pleasant.

"As you know, my family has been a high-standing dynasty for years. We are well bred and well trained. We do not suffer from self-indulgence like others, Christopher. I plan, once I rid us of our most beloved idiots, to have my brothers rise to their position."

"You wish to have all the power, then? Is that it? Is that why you killed Earl?"

Malcolm sighed and clicked his tongue. "You say that I killed him, Christopher. Yet, your words tell me that you knew how easily manipulated his mind was. As I was told, you two shared dinner together at your estate before he left for Acre. Is that correct?"

Christopher exhaled and flared his nostrils.

"I take that as a confirmation. If anyone is going to be accused, you could easily be called the murderer, Christopher. If I were you, I'd keep my mouth tightly shut. Pretend as if we've never even had this conversation in our lives."

"I cannot promise you anything. Even if I am sent to the dungeons, the truth is still out there. Someone will find out, and you will witness your own fall... Master."

Malcolm laughed and gave a dangerous, toothy snarl to his ally. "Oh? What is this, Christopher? Your empty threats are just that: empty. You have no proof that I am in the wrong, even if I did betray a Brother. What will you say to those that have half the mind to hear your weak words? 'Malcolm said that he sent Earl to Acre so that he'd be killed by the Assassin'? Is that your plan?"

He bit his lip and admitted his defeat. "I don't know what I will say-"

"Exactly!" Malcolm threw an arm into the air, his thumb pinched to his fingers as he shook it violently at Christopher. "Even if someone believed you, they wouldn't have the power to stand up to me. I take it that you know of our alliance with Armenia?"

"It isn't an alliance yet," Christopher barked back. "You still have to convince the Rupinian's to join our cause. They will not involve themselves in a war like ours unless they benefit from it."

"Oh, but they do benefit from it," Malcolm smirked. "You are familiar with John of Brienne, yes?"

"Yes, he supplies us with men and raves about how spectacular the Templar's are," he scoffed irately. "What does this have to do with the Rupinian's?"

"It seems that we are beneficiaries to dear John. He's most set on aiding the Templar's, even if he is not one of us. Did you know that his family is currently looking for an opportunity for more investment and land?"

Christopher took a step back. "You plan on having him create an alliance with the Rupinian's? How, though? Levon would never side with a man that is helping an army. Armenians are not fighters, Malcolm. They are spectators and negotiators; observant and cunning. You expect Levon to shake hands with John and agree to join us?"

Malcolm sighed and rubbed his forehead in frustration. "King Levon and I are on good terms, Christopher. He and I have been communicating lately, and it seems that he too would be thrilled if we rid the world of these pesky Assassin's. I do not expect him to 'shake hands', as you put it. However, John is inclined to join his family with the Rupinian's- through marriage."

Christopher gawked and furiously swiveled his head back and forth. "You cannot decide who the next heir of that family will be! This is treason, Malcolm! You have no business butting your head into the affairs of a King and his people! Who would John even marry in that family? I highly doubt King Levon would send his deceased wife as a treaty between two dynasties!"

Malcolm took in a calming breath in hopes to settle his nerves. Christopher was upset, he knew that. But he had to confide in someone. "He has a daughter; Rita Rupinian. She is young and too spirited to grasp the concepts of our Order. I've heard also that she is quite the looker. She'll prove useful to our purposes and also as John's plaything."

"Rita Rupinian is not even twenty years of age yet! And I do not think it wise to assume things about a person. She could be just as cunning as her mother was-"

"And that is why she was killed," Malcolm snarled. "We don't need another Armenian bitch running around. I'm trusting that if Levon's daughter throws chaos at us, John will silence her one way or another. I don't think you grasp the situation, Christopher." He licked his chapped lips. "If we acquire Armenia as one of our territories, we will have Masyaf surrounded. Already our men are distributing themselves to cities bordering that pathetic fortress. If, per chance, the Assassin's were to escape, they'd have nowhere to go. Armenia borders Syria to the north, and once the Templars are united with Armenia, we will begin having Levon's men trained and stationed to the east of Syria as well."

"You are planning on choking them? They still have the water- I doubt you can take that away from them."

"Yes," Malcolm grumbled. "They have their precious Mediterranean right at their disposal, unfortunately. And to make things worse, that Hashashin trash, Alejandro, has been killing off our men stationed in Spain. We're even having trouble escaping to England, thanks to Baldwin and his ilk. The man and his damn sons- not to mention his men- will soon be too much for us to handle. Even France, as you and I occupy this chateau, is threatened by those Spaniards."

"Then perhaps it was not the best idea to have Earl killed, Malcolm. You, saying that we are slowly being clenched in an eagle's talons, only proves that what you did was unjust and wrong."

"Aha!" Malcolm chortled. "No, we are not being destroyed by the Assassin's, Christopher. Let the heathens think what they want. We have Seer's army, don't forget. And we have spies and informants almost everywhere. Not to mention we will soon have control of Cilicia, Armenia. We'll corner Masyaf from the north and also have control of the Mediterranean."

"And if Alejandro intervenes?"

He gave a blasé wave of his hand, as if what Christopher had asked was the most irrelevant question regarding the conversation. "Then Seer will deal with him. Alejandro already fears us. I doubt he forgets what we did to his wife."

Christopher frowned and crossed his arms. "Just because you wiped the poor woman clean of her memory does not guarantee a man will be afraid. Rather, he'd be anxious to seek revenge and mutilate us!"

"Then he will be angry, which will make him stupid," he drawled smoothly.

"He is the Maestro de Asesino's! You speak of him too lightly, Malcolm! I'd bet all my money that he does remember what his wife suffered from the Templar's, but do you remember when he claimed most of Spain back from us? How he and David's men collaborated and purged France almost free of us? We are lucky to even be occupying Chateau Narbonnais!"

"He almost destroyed us, Christopher!" Malcolm roared. He jabbed the man in the chest with his forefinger and growled devilishly, "Almost! But he did not succeed because he proved incompetent! Do you see? You put a woman in war and a man's mind turns inside out! If we had not managed to kidnap his precious Estela and rape her- in more ways than one- we would have never beaten them back to their home!"

"Andorra is a well protected city, The Pyrenees Mountains surround Andorra, don't forget that. We cannot just penetrate through a mountain, Malcolm! It'd take weeks- no, months, even- to trek through the peaks! By then, our men would be exhausted, and what proper battle would we hold against the Assassin's, hm?"

"You are absurd!" Malcolm sneered. "You give little to no credit to our men, Christopher! Why, I think you-"

"Enough," Christopher backed away and held a hand up to his master. "I think I've taken in as much as possible tonight. No doubt I'll get any sleep tonight either."

Malcolm nodded and folded his hands behind himself once more, as if he was waiting for someone to offer him a cup of tea. "We will leave this between you and myself, Christopher. I hope those lips of yours prove not to be loose."

"And I hope your decisions prove not to be foolish-"

"Clarence will be the next one, Christopher," he whispered. "He's too easy to rally and make angry. Another weak link in our beliefs."

"And another Brother to betray," he muttered bitterly. "You're going too far with this, Master. My God, what will you have him do?"

All Malcolm gave him as a reply was a wry, devious smirk.

---

Four days later...

"Bayo, unmouth that cloth!" He stared long and hard at the dog, but he only wagged his tail and pranced around the room playfully, still holding his master's red sash. "Let go of it, ahbal!" The man pounced on the dog and pinned him to the floor, partly forgetting that this was a war dog he had just leapt onto.

Bayo growled and snapped his teeth. He wriggled out from beneath his master and ran to the other side of the room, the red cloth still in his mouth. Bayo shook his head back and forth, whipping the cloth to and fro. He outstretched his forelegs as he raised his hindquarters into the air and gave the man a challenging stare.

"This is no time to play! You son of a bitch, give it back!" He breathed in deeply and glared evilly at the dog, waiting for him to obey his command. However, Bayo had no intent on listening to the Assassin. So, instead, he gave a small whimper and scampered out of the room and paraded throughout the fortress with his master's red bolt of cloth. The man huffed in irritation before bolting after the hound, eager to have his precious sash back.

---

"That man," Maria breathed, "looked so familiar, Hildegard. I don't know where I've seen those eyes before, but I know I've seen them. I'm not one to forget a face, Hilde."

Hildegard only smiled and tucked the blankets around Maria in a motherly fashion. They were both laying in the injured woman's bed in deep conversation. That is, it was a conversation mainly about where Maria was and how she'd gotten there, but the woman paid Hildegard no mind. She was too indulged in her own thoughts to listen to her friend.

Malik...

Why were those eyes so familiar?

"They're just brown eyes, Maria- just like my eyes. Maybe you're just tired?"

Maria sighed and gave a small shrug with her shoulders. "Maybe," she whispered as she pulled the covers up to her chin. "So, what were you saying, Hildegard?"

"You mean to say 'what have you been saying for the past half hour'?" she snorted. "I was trying to tell you where you are and who else is here, you deaf bat."

Maria scrunched her face up and closed her eyes. "Please repeat what you have said then. My apologies for being distracted, Hildegard."

"Yeah, your apologies," she mumbled. "I'll be brief. As I was saying before you went into la-la land, you were found at Acre-"

"Acre..." Maria whispered.

"-injured and in need of healing. So, you were taken out of Acre and brought to Masyaf."
"Masyaf..."

"You've been here for over a week now, and are still recovering. As we've both witnessed in the corridor, your legs are still quite weak, especially that thigh of yours."

Maria nodded in understanding and blew out of her mouth. "What was I doing in Acre, Hildegard? I... I can't remember."

She wrapped an arm around her friend before replying. "I don't know, Maria. I wasn't the one that rescued you. I was hoping that you'd be able to tell me what went on in Acre. I only bandaged your wounds."

"Then who found me?" she muttered. She rested her head on her friend's shoulder and curled the blankets around her body.

The blonde woman bit her lip. Malik had told her not to tell Maria of her current circumstances, but sooner or later, she had to know. But then again, maybe it was meant to be told later...

"A man I recently met." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the entire truth. She only prayed to the Lord that Maria would not press the issue further.

But of course, Maria Thorpe was not satisfied with an answer unless it was thorough and absolute. Frowning, she questioned, "What man?"

"A manly man."

"Hilde."

"He..." She tried to think of what to say. Maria wanted a frank and straight-forward answer from her, she knew that. So, Hildegard decided to give her friend Hell and be passive for the time being. "Do you remember when you woke up and took a little walk through the corridor?"

"How does this relate-"

"Just answer the question, love."

Maria sighed a 'yes'.

"Good, so your memory isn't failing you completely. Do you... do you happen to recall anything significant about that night?"

"I almost fell flat on my face and was mere inches from breaking my nose."

Hildegard laughed lightly and rolled her eyes. "Interesting. Do you know why you almost fell?"

"Because I am a foolish woman and I tripped."

"Do you remember how you didn't fall?"

"I..." she paused and furrowed her eyebrows together. "Well, there was... a person, I'm pretty sure. He prevented me from smashing my head and took me in his arms, if for a brief moment." There was a short moment of silence before Maria chuckled and waved her hand in the air. "Listen to me, I sound like a romantic nothing."

"What of this man, Maria? Do tell."

"He was tall. And he wore white. And he was very handsome, yet there was a certain dangerous aura about him that clearly said, 'piss me off, and I will kill you'. It was a bit arousing, I suppose. It sort of makes a woman curious to know if that type of man would be gentle with them and not treat them the same way as others."

"Are you fantasizing, Maria?"

"No, I'm just answering your question- something that you have difficulty with," she scoffed. "Anyways, continuing. He had these... eyes- not like Malik's. No, Malik's were a deep, dark brown. But beyond the color was emotion, which is the same for both of them. This man, though, had hazel eyes; brown and green. The green was almost golden, but not quite. They were weary and suspicious at first, but once he saw me, they softened and so much was told through those eyes. Is that... possible? That a person's eyes can tell the story of their life?"

Hildegard shrugged and withdrew her arm from Maria. "He was attractive, then?"

"Immensely so."

"He was... arousing?"

"Unbelievably- as if he'd seen me without a stitch of clothing on before, and likewise for me."

Hildegard secretly smiled. She knew that a certain man would personally maim her if he ever found out that she had been toying with Maria's head, but this was just too delicious! Maria hardly ever spoke of Altair in such an inappropriate way before, and Hildegard was in the mood for this sort of talk.

"Was he a sex animal?"

"I don't think he'd be the type to raid a brothel, if that's what you mean. He seems the kind of man that would be passionate to a woman and give her what she wanted, as well as fulfilling his own desires."

"So, you're saying he'd be rough in bed?"

Maria rolled her shoulders and shrugged the sheets off of her. "Maybe, I don't know. Why are you asking me these things, Hildegard?"

"My beautiful Maria," Hildegard sweetly chanted, "I have been deprived of my gossip mate for almost a month now. Surely it's appropriate that we speak of such things?"

"We were only separated because you left," Maria grumbled.

"Oh, don't be so sour. You're destroying the mood. So, what else was he like?"

"We're still speaking of this man, Hildegard?"

"Yes! Tell me more about him."

She whined, but gave in. "He had a full mouth, whereas I have these two scrawny, flappy, thin things called lips."

"Describe these lips of his, darling."

"Lay off the name-calling, rat. Well, they were full, like I've said. He had stubble, but it wasn't a skunk infesting his face like that man that always bought peaches back at London on Thursdays. I think he had something on the right side of his mouth, though I can't really remember."

"Do you think those lips are capable of loving?"

"I think those lips are capable of smirking and giving arrogant little sneers. But," she whispered, "I think... if he really loved the person, they'd be able to love someone."

Hildegard's small, impish smile only grew to a point where it was almost audible in her voice. "So you are saying he'd be good at capturing a woman's lips with his own?"

"I-I said no such thing!" she stammered. She could feel her cheeks begin to burn, and she wanted to push Hildegard off the bed. But she wasn't that cruel to her friend. Most of the time.

"Well, then speak, woman."

"I... I mean, well, if that woman wanted to put herself in danger of that type of man and remain still enough for him to tame her-"

"Ooh! Tame her! I like how you speak, Maria!" Hildegard lightly elbowed her friend and laughed when Maria pouted and blushed. The black-haired woman cursed the fact that since it was only mid-afternoon, the spreading redness of her embarrassed state was clearly visible to Hildegard.

"A-ny-ways. Those lips of his have probably traveled the contours of a woman's body already. Why are you even making me think of his mouth on my anatomy?"

"Oh, is that what I'm making you imagine? My apologies, Maria." 'Don't pretend you wouldn't want it.'

Maria snorted and slowly crossed her arms over her chest. That only made Hildegard giggle again, and she really wanted to sew the woman's mouth shut.

"But, tell me about it, Maria! Tell me how you think of that man atop yourself, both of your bodies exposed to one another, his hands either cupping your femininity or traveling up your thighs to a most restricted region. Tell me how his lips would touch yours, how he'd slowly part your mouth and slip his tongue in. Tell me how he'd pleasure you by suckling on your feminine curves as a babe would do, and how his fingers would part skin to find a hidden, sensitive nerve that would have moans escape your lips and betray your aroused demeanor."

"H-Hildegard! Those are highly words from the Devil!" She brought the blankets back over herself to cover her face. Normally, in front of others, she wouldn't have been so flustered. If anyone else besides Hildegard had said what that cursed woman had just told her, she would have either walked away, or punched them and walked away. But it was always Hildegard that brought out the girly and immature side of her.

"Speak, Maria, of how he'd moan and gasp from hearing your lustful melodies. Of how his throbbing-"

"BLOODY MURDER!" Maria yelped as she quickly rolled and launched herself from the bed. She had hoped that her legs would be strong enough to support her, but her hopes were diminished when she hit the floor, belly first, with a loud smack!

She groaned and slowly flopped onto her back and raised her head. What she saw didn't please her all too much.

There was Hildegard, sitting on the side of her bed, kicking her legs out like a child, with a small grin on her beautiful face. "Oh, my," the blonde woman sighed. "That'll be another two weeks in the bed for you, miss."

Maria groaned and let her face fall back onto the floor. "Mmmf..."

"Pah, Maria dear, do enunciate, no one can hope to hear you if you're mumbling into the floor."

"I... said..." she growled as she glared frightfully and coldly at Hildegard, "I'm taking a walk."

Hildegard would have been unnerved, but this was Maria hissing at her. Often times, she compared the way Maria's face shriveled up and how her eyes would get all wrinkly to a wet cat. Course, she never told Maria of this to her face. Instead, she and Damiel shared that comical quip with each other. Turned out the boy thought the same exact thing.

"And, just tell me, where are you walking to?"

"I don't know!" she spat. "I have to walk this," she motioned to her red cheeks, "off. Now, if you'll excuse me- oof!" She had attempted to lift herself off the floor to have some form of dignity, but her arms wobbled and flew from underneath herself. Once again, her face was planted firmly into the stone floor.

"Hildegard," she whimpered. "Help me up."

Hildegard sighed, "If I must," and helped her friend off of the floor.

Maria's legs shook and for the most part, she had to lean on Hildegard. The woman had her arms wrapped securely around her injured friend's waist. "Now what, genius," Hildegard sneered.

"The door... need to walk..."

Hildegard nodded and led her friend out her door and throughout the fortress.

'If Malik sees me, he'll butcher me alive and make me eat kibbeh for the rest of my days,' Hildegard thought bitterly. She hoped with all her heart that she wouldn't pass by any Assassin's. The last thing she needed was a nosy novice poking around her business and wondering why Hildegard was escorting an unfamiliar woman throughout their walls.

And she prayed that Altair wouldn't round the corner at any given time and pay them a surprise visit. Maria'd probably faint. Again.

"You know, maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Hildegard sheepishly commented after several minutes of hearing Maria grunt in pain. "I mean, your body isn't exactly in the best condition ever, and who knows when you'll just fall?"

"That's... that's why..." she gritted her teeth as her muscles protested from a mere stroll. "That's why... you're here... to catch me..."

"Right, right... Maria, I'm serious. Maybe we should go back?"

"No. I... I have to walk. I'll be damned if... if I can't... move... Sick of that bed..."

Hildegard sighed and rolled her eyes. 'Benjamin, if only you could see her right now. I know she'd listen to you, but no, no one ever listens to Hildegard anymore. God dammit.'

They ventured on, and, as if God was smiling down upon Hildegard, they did not meet any Assassin's so far. 'Training must still be in session,' she thought cheerfully. 'Good.'

But that didn't guarantee that the Raincloud would make his dramatic appearance of sulking toward them and demanding what had possessed Hildegard to allow Maria out of her room. 'Well, he can just go dump a load of kibbeh for all I care.'

Once or twice, Maria almost tripped, but Hildegard had remained faithful and had stopped her from crashing down on the hard stone floors. She could see that Maria was in pain, but the woman was persistent, and stubborn. Why Hildegard had to choose her as her best friend, she had no idea. Must have been the weather that day.

"Does that... does that lead outside?" Maria panted. She nodded toward a pair of open double-doors.

"Yes," Hildegard smiled, "it overlooks the courtyard. Come, we will get some fresh air." With that, she led the woman through the double doors. The two usual guards were posted at the top of the staircases on either side of the entrance to the fortress, their eyes set on the training novices in the ring. They didn't seem to notice Maria and Hildegard, or, if they did, they paid them no mind. After all, Hildegard had befriended many of the Brothers at Masyaf, especially the novices.

They stood for a moment, surveying the novices hard at work, trying to better themselves and raise their status amongst their own. Maria was scoffing, muttering to herself how that novice held his sword like a butter knife or how that idiot down there had a stiff swing with his blade.

"The air is good," Maria stated, "but not the fighting. Jesus and Mary, who's in charge of these men?"

Hildegard gave her a wide, forced smile before shrugging. "I don't know."

Maria sniffed and harshly whispered, "Some of them have potential- no, all of them have potential. But they aren't being disciplined enough to-" She stopped herself when she heard shouting coming from behind her back in the fortress. She and Hildegard both glanced at each other before staring back into the doorway they had come from.

"What in Christ's name?" the two women wondered aloud.

---

"Bayo! You sharmuta! GET BACK HERE!"

Bayo happily raced throughout the fortress, his master running after him. Though his master was a trained and agile Assassin, the power of four legs was much greater than the power of two.

The dog leapt over tables and scurried past scholars busy burying their noses in texts. He could hear his master's shouts in the distance.

"Khara, khara! You KHARA!"

Bayo didn't know what he was saying to him, nor did he care. What he did care about was that he had the red cloth securely in his mouth and was running as a vagabond.

However, he skidded to a halt as a familiar scent wafted its way into his nose. He sniffed the air not once, not twice, but thrice. He...

He knew that smell...

Whimpering, he turned around just in time to see his master round a corner and charge straight at him. Though his black hood was up, the dog could tell that the man was furious and upset with him.

Bayo growled and ran out of the hallway and to the master's study. He bounded down the stairs, fully aware that the man was mere seconds behind him. Growling, he sprinted out of the foyer and out of the double-doors that led to the courtyard.

---

Maria barely had enough time to register what was happening. One moment, there was shouting coming from inside the fortress. The next, the novices had exited the ring and had each barreled into the doors, all worried and on full alert. Then, a furry, familiar companion came running through the crowd of men, barked, and-

"Stop the dog!"

"Restrain him!"

"No, Bayo! Be a good boy!"

The Assassin's were in heavy pursuit of the canine now, chasing him through the courtyard. They had tried cornering him, but the dog easily scrambled through their legs, still proudly biting onto the red sash.

To add to the chaos, a startled Malik came rushing out into the courtyard. "He has taken it!" he hollered.

Hildegard quickly hurried over to him, just in time to avoid a dog on the loose and a mob chasing the poor thing. "Who's taken what?" she yelled over the chaos occurring.

"The dog!" Malik yelled back. "The dog has taken the Master's belt! His sign of honor! The symbol of blood and respect! Of duty and loyalty-"

"I get it, I get it!"

"The Master is not going to be- Altair!" Malik called as Altair himself entered the courtyard, his eyes blazing underneath his hood. "The dog-"

"Will. Be. Disposed. Of." He searched frantically for Bayo, but it proved little challenge. After all, twenty or so Assassin's chasing one hound wasn't a sight to miss.

"All this ruckus and buckus that one dog can cause," Malik moaned to himself. "Allah! You'd think one of them would be able to catch him!" He and Hildegard turned their heads to the right as another mob came dashing up the stairs to stop the hound, and then they turned their heads to the left to watch another wave of Assassin's give chase to the animal.

Hildegard blinked and slowly shook her head. "They should stop chasing him and let him calm down."

"No, really- look out!" In a split second, Malik grabbed Hildegard and pulled her out of harm's way as Bayo ran up the stairs with Assassin's in tow. However, coming up from the opposite staircase was yet another group of Assassin's. There was bound to be a collision.

Hildegard closed her eyes, whimpering about not being able to watch. Malik stared in horror, while Altair glared, a vicious smirk on his lips as the dog was about to meet his fate.

But, the collision never happened.

"STOP!"

The command halted both the dog and Assassin's in their tracks. A few of them stumbled backwards on the stairs, while the others stood rooted to the spot, searching for the source of the order.

There, in the middle of the would-be chaos, was a black-haired woman, her grey eyes burning into Bayo's brown, wild ones.

The Master of Assassin's breath was taken away by her sight.

The dog stared at the woman and blinked at her. She towered over him, mercilessly glaring at him.

"Sit."

Bayo obeyed. His bottom immediately plopped onto the floor. Even some of the novices were caught in mid-squat as they, too, listened to her order. Thankfully, some of the older and more experienced Assassin's were present and had quickly scolded the boys and had them stand upright.

"Release."

Bayo fumbled the cloth in his mouth with his tongue, then spat it out onto the ground. He nudged it with his nose toward Maria's feet, avoiding her gaze this time. He held his head low out of shame and gave a small whine.

"Look at me."

Bayo blinked and raised his head just enough to meet her eyes. Had he been a bad boy? The man with the one arm had tied a cloth identical to the one he had just given up around his neck... had he made a mistake and accidentally stole the Master's cloth instead of his own?

Maria did not smile, nor did her eyes soften. She slowly knelt to the ground and picked the slobbery and dusty sash up. She gave it a brief look-over before turning her attention back to the hound. He was looking at her with the most hurtful expression she had ever seen.

She trained this dog. She raised this dog. She knew this dog. She knew that Bayo would never look so ashamed of himself from doing something wrong. He was not the type of dog that would pity himself. He was a soldier and would accept his punishment.

She'd never seen him look at her like this, not in all the years she'd had him.

Maria placed her hand under the dog's chin and brought his face closer to hers. She searched his eyes, knowing that he desperately wanted to tell her something without words. She wished that he had the ability to talk; that he'd be able to declare his innocence.

The Assassin's watched in awe, some of them even murmuring to each other. Malik gawked just as much as the novices, and Hildegard had finally opened her eyes to witness the scene unfolding before the entire Assassin Order.

Altair, however, had pulled his hood down and was too busy staring admirably at his strong, beautiful battle maiden to fully comprehend what was happening.

Maria stroked Bayo's lip with her thumb. Slowly, her rock-hard expression softened and the corners of her mouth turned upward in a gentle smile. "You didn't know, I understand," she mumbled. Bayo nudged her cheek with his nose, whining as he did so.

Permission to slobber my Mistress?

Maria chuckled and scratched the dog behind his ear. His foot immediately began thumping against the ground.

A sigh was heard from the Assassin's as the tension was at last broken.

Maria stood, cloth in hand, and turned to her spectators. She glanced at the red fabric in her hands, then at the men. They shook their heads and motioned toward the Grandmaster.

Maria turned once more, and once she saw the man they indicated, her face drained of color and her smile was no longer. She was highly aware that countless eyes were on her back, waiting for her to make a decision. Bayo stood loyally by her side, glancing back and forth between her and Altair. It was as if the dog knew their story as well.

Clearing her throat, she slowly made one foot move in front of the other as she approached him. Once she was a foot in front of him, she held the cloth out for him.

"I believe this is yours," she rasped out.

The cold and unforgiving look in her eyes had his insides clench and twist. He, too, cleared his throat, then nodded. "Yes, it is." He also felt sweat begin to trickle down his neck. His Brothers were watching him, waiting for him to make some sort of action. He never told them about Maria, and the novices that had assisted him when he had brought her from Acre had sworn themselves to secrecy.

She stood there, and he stood there, for a few moments, drinking in each others' eyes. He looked down at the cloth stupidly, then back up to her. Slowly, he took it out of her grasp, never letting his eyes wander from her own. He let his fingers glide smoothly against hers. He could have sworn that he felt her tremble.

He licked his lips. "My thanks, woman. I will discuss your duties to Masyaf with you in due time." Simple, unsuggestive, and to the point.

She, however, did not take his statements very well. Her eyes flared with anger and offense from his words.

Maria Thorpe was not a woman to take a man's garbage and shuffle it around in her hands. She did not tolerate insults, nor did she tolerate behavior from him. Balling her hands into fists, she raised her chin and haughtily replied, "Oh, thank you. I never knew that the Master of Assassin's hired little boys to deal with their affairs. Good to know."

The spectators gasped and gawked from her arrogance. A few even tried to charge at her, but were held back by their Brothers.

Malik groaned and slapped his forehead. "All my hard work of keeping it a secret," he grumbled.

If possible, Altair thought her eyes burned through his even more. He felt as if someone was sticking a hot rod through his skull and branding him alive. He opened his mouth to whisper an apology, but before he could, she had pushed her way past him and back into the fortress, no longer limping or hobbling around.

Hildegard gave a shortly-lived, worried glance at Malik before scampering after her friend. Bayo stood and loyally trotted after his Mistress.

Once the three of them had left the courtyard, it remained still and silent. All of the Assassin's had their eyes on the Master. Some were staring at him questioningly, others looked hurt and betrayed. The three novices, however, gave him small, understanding grins as reassurance.

Altair met the eyes of his Brothers, but had no words to say to them. What could he say to them? Words and phrases refused to form in his mouth. Thankfully, though, Malik had stepped in to save the day. Bless the man.

"Alright, the show is over, and there is still sunlight. Get back to your trainings, Brothers."

Slowly, they shuffled back to the training ring.

One man, though, stood for a moment longer than the others, a satisfied and disgusting smirk present underneath his grey hood. Altair's gaze crossed over to him, and the Master narrowed his eyes at the man. The novice threw him a cocky sneer before following his Brothers to the ring.

"Malik?" Altair whispered.

"Yes, Brother?" Malik sighed.

"I am in the depths of despair."

"What poem did you get that one out of?"

---

**NOTE: John of Brienne is NOT the same John that is mentioned in previous chapters. They're two different people. Just to clarify that.

Aaaand, little FF, Fun Fact. A couple of weeks ago in the cafeteria, I was eating my pasta and I overheard a group of boys from the table behind me. They were talking about Assassin's Creed, so, naturally, I was interested, so I joined in the conversation. They were discussing a fanfiction that they read online, and hey, I'm interested in ANY canon Assassin's Creed fanfic.

ANYWAYS. So, I asked them to write down the name and author for me on a slip of paper so that I could look it up in my free time. So, they write it down, I pocket it, and I return to class. Later that night in my dorm, I take out the paper and I read it.

Lo and Behold:

Loving Hate by Era-Age

Translations:

Yalla = come on/hurry up/let's go

chateau = castle (whenever I hear that word, I think of Castle Crashers XD)

Maestro de Asesinos = Master of Assassins

ahbal = idiot/stupid

sharmuta = prostitute

khara = shit

Also, I'm quite proud of myself with writing the Christopher and Malcolm scene. I think I revealed a small corner of what's to come without fully announcing it. I think this is my best chapter yet, but I don't know yet.

And heh, adding this in here too because I forgot about it T.T I know, shame on me, slap slap. So, one of my readers drew a concept art of Damiel, and okay, I love it. I'm not just saying that because you drew something from my story, I'm saying it because I LOVE IT. :) You did a fabulous job, and thank you, Koriiko.

Here's the link (remove spaces):

h t t p : / / koriiko-chan. deviantart. com / art / Damiel-Concept- 180589293