Sorry this is so late. I'm getting over the flu/fifth disease, and I've been feeling crappy for a little over a week. Today, I felt better, though, and up for some writing, so I decided to post the next chapter. I noticed I write better when I'm in a goofy, giggly mood. I like this chapter.
Boo to Meadjean and Christina for not editing XD This is all me.
All original characters belong to ubisoft. Everyone else is my property.
"You really should consider my offer, Maria. It'd be beneficial to both you and our Brotherhood if you were to take up the hammer and anvil. You, unlike my Brothers, actually have sense in your skull! It's amazing, Altair, what accomplishments women can achieve that men cannot! Perhaps you as well, Hildegard, should find a profession now that you're at Masyaf? Oh, I don't mean to sound like I'm trying to force you to earn your keep, that isn't my intention at all. But since you'll be staying for a while, it never hurts to occupy yourself and make yourselves comfortable. After all, what better way to know the people than to work with the people? Eh, I- I don't mean that physical labor is a must in Masyaf, but…"
Maria and Hildegard exchanged amused glances with each other as Rauf continued to blabber sentence after sentence between mouthful and mouthful of pilaf, kebab, and semseg. The two women couldn't help but to smile, more so Hildegard than Maria. The latter's responses to Rauf's proposals were to smile politely and thoughtfully lower her lashes. She wasn't nearly as outspoken as Hildegard was. It was as if the woman had no compassion after the episode in the study. No, Hildegard was lively and animated as she waved bits of kibbeh around and chortled from Rauf's conversations.
She even went as far as to nudge Maria occasionally and make sharp remarks about how hitting something would definitely improve her attitude.
Hildegard would ask questions about smithing, some absurd and completely unrelated to the topic, and Rauf would gladly answer them with much enthusiasm. It made Maria wonder how long it'd been since he spoke freely with another person who was genuinely interested in what he had to say. Though, knowing Hildegard, that woman was always genuinely interested in what everyone had to say. Quite the gossip, she was.
Maria partly paid attention to Rauf and Hildegard as they both quickly agreed how Maria would indeed be an excellent smith—how the woman earned her place in nearly everyone's good graces still remained a mystery to Maria. She spared glances at Benjamin who hadn't even touched his food yet. He sat in his chair, hunched over his meal with tense muscles and a stern frown locked in his jaw. Maria sighed, a gesture that was quickly noticed by Altair.
She wasn't shoveling food down her throat like Hildegard and Rauf were, though he couldn't particularly blame them for being hungry (but he could berate Rauf for his manners, later of course), nor was she masked with shame like Benjamin was. She quietly picked at her food, listening whenever her name was mentioned in conversation, and did her best to answer without twisting Hildegard's neck into a French braid. He gave her credit for holding her own when she clearly wanted her own as company.
"—And like I was saying, she could possibly help with new weapon designs. She crafted a spear once, you know, quite unlike anything else in this world! Oh, what did you name it? Benjamin, what was that spear called? The pointy one?"
Benjamin gave a small start from realizing that Hildegard was still waiting for an answer. The man blinked rapidly and ran his hands over his face. "Ahh, the food? Yes, it's… it's delicious, very satisfying and very…" His voice died as Hildegard looked bewildered. Sighing, he pushed his chair away from the table and inclined his head. "Excuse me," he murmured before turning and leaving the dining hall.
Maria bit her lip and closed her eyes as Hildegard tried to appear indifferent to the obvious tension following Benjamin as he left. She leaned her head in her palm and idly pinched and folded the edge of her tunic with her other hand as Hildegard tried to smooth the atmosphere down with more weak remarks about smithing.
Rauf seemed to be more suited to save supper than Hildegard was. Clearing his throat, he asked, "So, you know how to shape spears? Do you know how to form javelins?"
Maria looked up from the question and sluggishly nodded, suddenly feeling dread and bile build up in her throat. "Yes, once. I only made one once. A spear, and it was for a friend who desperately needed a weapon to scare his lousy swings out of him. There were many flaws to her—the weapon, I mean."
"Oh, she's partial, isn't she?" Hildegard laughed. "It was a fine weapon fit for a fine soldier. And Damiel was indeed a fine soldier!" Maria narrowed her eyes at Hildegard in warning. Baffled, she only continued. "He was always so spirited, so rambunctious and, dear lord, what races he made Maria take part of just to keep him out of trouble! They were like siblings, you know, though the boy has only nine and ten years—or does he finally have twenty summers on his shoulders?—and Maria is five and twenty years."
Altair opened his mouth to speak, but his words were spoken by Rauf. "Damiel? He is one of your allies, I presume?"
Hildegard nodded, ignoring the protesting looks Maria shot her. "Yes, though he's more acquainted with Maria and Benjamin. Why, he's known you two for how long? Almost seven years now? I've only known the boy for a mere three years, mind you, and I can tell he's a big personality. Perhaps too big, but who am I to judge such a thing?"
"Yes, who indeed," Maria hissed. Hildegard blinked at her, then shrugged.
"He's a good boy and very loyal to his friends. I wouldn't even be surprised that his mouth would remain clamped firmly shut if he was tortured for information about the Rose. He's had a rough life, poor thing—"
Rauf whispered to himself as he stared at his plate. "You said… Damiel, correct?"
"Yes, what of it?" Maria gave him an icy stare, as if she was daring him to make one ill comment about the boy.
"And he's a man, now, yes? Twenty years, you said?"
"We think his birthday is in June," Maria blandly replied.
"What do you mean think—"
"As I was saying," Hildegard huffed, pouting at Maria, "his childhood wasn't exactly the brightest of them all, but then again, who has one that was full of laughter and flowers? He was brought into slavery!"
"Slavery?" Altair frowned. One glance at the man told Maria exactly what name was running through his mind. Talal. She could feel her gut twist painfully, and she tried to plead with Altair through her eyes. He, however, was too busy absorbing what Hildegard was raving on and on about to notice her. She tried Rauf next, but he seemed equally intrigued by what the other woman was explaining.
The questions and answers fired back and forth across the table, Maria caught in between all of it. The two Assassin's were practically interrogating Hildegard as they demanded to know as much as they could about the boy. Maria understood Altair's intentions, as he was Grandmaster and needed to know every last detail about Masyaf's residents, but Rauf's source of excitement was unknown. Why the man's eyes sparkled so much from hearing a mere name, she didn't know, and at that moment, she didn't care. She felt sick to her stomach as she stared at the food on her plate.
She didn't wait for the course to be over, for Hildegard to shut her mouth, or for Rauf to cease his verbal assault. She excused herself from the table so abruptly that two jaws fell slack while one hardened in concern. Maria rushed out of the room and through the fortress, slowing her pace down once she was sure she was well enough away from the dining quarters.
Kneading her forehead with her fingers, she leaned against a wall and slowly slid her knees from underneath herself. She sat on the floor, her head between her legs as she steadily rocked back and forth. She could feel the vomit rise and fall within herself, as if it was teasing her. She groaned as she inhaled and exhaled every breath with great effort, knowing that any hasty movements from herself would result in seeing her dinner again.
And that'd be a damned reminder of what dinner's topic of discussion was about, and Damiel—
She pinched the bridge of her nose as she felt another wave of nausea creep into her stomach. She synchronized her breathing with her rocking, trying desperately to settle herself. Finally, after coaxing her body to relax and to not hack up her stomach contents, she took the time to survey her surroundings. Somehow she'd managed to stumble into the foyer of the fortress, though she didn't know how. She swore she took a left instead of a right when she left the dining room—
"Bloody nerves," she scoffed as she gingerly hoisted herself back onto her own two feet, unsteady as they were. "One moment I'm fine, the next I'm on the floor providing food for almost all the villagers and their damned brothers." She winced as her stomach flopped around again. "When in Mary's name am I going to have one day when I can just breathe without worrying like a mother hen about who I might upset?" She groaned and balanced herself against the wall for support.
"It's either I have a one-armed Assassin practically piss himself as an attempt to have at my throat, or I disgruntle my own person! Damn, I should have been a debauched mercenary than a righteous rebel," she muttered as she eased herself through the foyer and to the entrance of the garden. "And now look at me: a mess. A mess whose purpose in life is to fashion metal into weapons for men to poke at each other with like toothpicks."
"Or," she mused, "I suppose it'd be shish kebab sticks here, instead." She sighed and leaned her cheek against the entryway to the garden. "At least those foolish women aren't here still," she optimistically argued to herself. "Though, I doubt there's anything good about feeling as sick as a dog—no offense to you, sweetie," she added in as Bayo came trotting up to her. An unimpressed frown was stamped on his furry face as he stared at her.
"Oh, I don't need you upset with me too, you walking miserable plop of fur," she mumbled as she cautiously stepped down the ramp to the garden's second level. She could feel her insides quiver, and all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep. "It's worse than the bloody months," she sourly thought aloud. "And worse than Hildegard's bloody months combined, as well."
"Surely it can't be that bad?"
She made the mistake of swiveling her head in the direction of the voice. She felt a headache greedily pounce behind her eyes. The pressure pounded at her skull and brow, and she grabbed and shook her head. "I should have known you'd be here."
Benjamin shrugged and patted the ground beside himself. She carefully walked toward him, being sure not to trip over a rose bush or a clump of uneven earth. Unceremoniously, she plopped her bottom next to him and stared accusingly at him.
"I have a migraine, thanks to you," she murmured.
He sighed and offered her his shoulder as an apology. She wasted no time to lean her head against it. "Are you ill, Benjamin?"
He shook his head. "No, my dear, I'm fine. It's just…"
"This day is too eventful for our own good?"
"Yes," he chuckled, "though I don't see how you'd be affected in the same way that I was. I destroyed a family, Sarah, a family. The most important thing to a man, and… just like that, I tore one apart."
She chewed her lip and shifted uncomfortably. "You blame yourself for something you had no control over—"
"I had complete control over it—"
"No, you didn't. You followed orders and defended yourself. Why trouble yourself for what happened in the past? Why bother to keep looking back at it if you can't change anything? Don't you realize that there's no use hiding from everything and covering yourself with guilt? If we can't right our past mistakes, then we right our present and future ones, Benny."
He quietly stared at her in awe as she stood from her spot on the ground. "And damn the Lord for flawing humanity like this. All of creation is errors and mistakes. We try to tell ourselves that we did the right thing when we know we acted out of ambition or impulse. But what justice is there in slamming ourselves down if we can't do anything about it?
"There is none," she finished. "There's no use for you to hate and separate yourself from others just because of something that happened years ago. Three years, Benjamin! A part of you bled when you saw that he was just a boy, and you knew that… you knew that…"
Benjamin stood in front of her and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "Sarah…"
"You knew that you should have never left him go on that damn rampart! You should have just waited and used your head instead of pushing him so hard!" She clenched her fists and glared hotly at her feet. "And now because of how stupid we are, he's—he's—"
A tear spilled down her cheek and she violently wiped it away. She smacked Benjamin's hand when he tried to cup her face. Taking a step back, she blurted, "And since we're imperfect, we try to chase our problems like bloody lymers! But that's a lie—it's all a lie. We aren't chasing anything, but actually running from ourselves. It isn't our mistake that we're afraid of, it's fear of ourselves that drive us to failure and our fall.
"That fear only grows and accumulates into a larger amount until it swallows us, thus in turn encouraging us to run some more! So, why are you running from it, Benjamin? You apologized already, and you realize that an apology will not get you anywhere, so atone for it instead! Damn, you just kept on pitying yourself that you were blinded by how others started to suffer because of it!"
Benjamin took a step forward and held an arm out for her. "That's enough, Maria," he whispered.
"Well, I for one am tired of running! I'm tired of not taking responsibility for myself, for my friends, for Damiel—" Arms wrapped around her and she buried her face into Benjamin's chest. Her fingers dug into his back as she swallowed a lump down her throat. "I can't do it anymore," she hysterically confessed. "I can't, I can't."
He murmured into her ear, "You aren't alone in this, my dear. Everyone has a shadow waiting to overcome themselves—"
"But I'm supposed to be stronger than this!" She pulled away from him. "I'm not supposed to break down at every obstacle in my way! I'm not the type of woman to do that, and it goes against my upbringing and beliefs! So why, why am I letting them down?"
"Letting who down?"
"Everyone! Xavier, Emily, you—"
Benjamin stared at her as she gnawed on her lower lip, trying to hold back more tears. She continued with a shaky voice, "I'm supposed to make them proud. I'm not meant to have them look upon me in shame and regret." She frowned when a smile twisted Benjamin's mouth. He chuckled to himself, then, feeling more daring, threw his head back into full out laughter.
"So you think those two didn't have their own mistakes, is that it?" he chortled. He turned away from her and rubbed the back of his neck. He mused, "No, those two had it far worse than you ever did and could." He shuffled to face her again with a bewildered yet fascinated gleam in his eyes. "What made you think that they weren't proud?"
"What? Didn't you listen to me a few moments ago?"
"I did," he smiled, "but I know they'd never regard you as a failure for having a heart, Maria. Walk with me?" He didn't wait for her to answer, as he took her arm in his. He matched his pace with her slower one. She sniffed and blushed from pride and embarrassment.
"Oh, crying's natural, Maria," he scoffed. "Don't be ashamed of it. They certainly wouldn't be, I assure you. Xavier and Emily had their share of tears and fights."
"I doubt it."
He laughed again and shook his head. "Believe what you'd like, my dear, but I was Xavier's most trusted friend and ally. I ought to know what he went through when he was in love, and that man could make lovestruck, pining, fluttery maidens look like the epitome of masculinity. Have I ever told you how he and Emily met?"
"Yes, you said he ran into her while running away from guards."
"Is that what I said?" Benjamin scratched his chin and smirked. "Well, that's part of it, I suppose, though not the full story." He briefly paused as he looked ahead of himself. Standing near the garden's pillows and rugs stood a tall figure, partially hidden in shadow. Benjamin turned away from the man, Maria obliviously following his lead.
"I never told you how Emily hit him with a shovel and tied him up with her spare undergarments?"
Maria stared at him in horror. "No, I'm afraid you never mentioned that before. I believe an explanation is in order," she pointedly added in when Benjamin slyly puckered his mouth.
"Well, listen closely then, Maria, and for heaven's sake," he pulled out a handkerchief and thrusted it at her, "blow that nose of yours. You sound worse than a walrus in heat." She snatched the cloth from him and did as he said, but made sure to give him an angry look.
"There! There he is! I want him strung up for good! Don't just stand there, you fools, get that man!"
The young Templar watched in fascination as a group of guards, newly recruited and eager to please their commander, clambered past him in an attempt to catch the hooded man. He blinked as the guards tripped over themselves and fell to the ground. He couldn't help but to chuckle as they yelped when their armor clinked rudely together.
The commander stormed over to his men then, taking in the sight of his pitiful recruits. His square and squished face reddened, and the Templar would have applauded if steam began to burst from his ears. The commander fixed a well-practiced and insulted glower on him. The Templar shifted his feet happily, knowing that the symbol on his tunic taunted the man. Sputtering and twisting his mouth this way in that, the commander's decision was to stand as tall as he possibly could, tilt his chin up, and then walk away with his inexperienced group of guards sulking after him.
Shaking his head in wonder, he eased himself from the building he was leaning on and walked past the flustered group of vendors in the marketplace. Their English voices rang back and forth, demanding to know what was going on. Well, if a fully armed man with his face covered bolted full speed past him, he supposed he'd be squirming and squabbling about, too.
It wasn't difficult following the man. He left the streets of Greenwich full of panicked and alerted citizens, most of them either picking themselves up from the ground or looking this way and that from the sudden commotion. The Templar sighed and looked up at the sky smugly, wondering what on earth went through the hooded man's head.
He strolled calmly through the streets, a pleased an amused smile on his handsome and cheery face. England's people looked at him as if he was insane for being so relaxed when they had just been shoved this way and that by a fleeing and suspicious individual. Flashing a gleaming grin, the Templar easily stepped past and over them.
He finally stopped in front of a familiar, two-story house. He chuckled and rubbed the back of his blonde head. "Out of all the places, Xavier, you choose to hide in Baldwin's house? Dearie, dearie me." His boots clicked against the cobblestones as he walked through the gate and pushed open the door. He stepped inside the house, tilting his head above the stairwell when he heard what sounding like a manly yelp.
Flapping his lips, the Templar jogged up the stairs and invited himself into one of the bedrooms on the far end of the hall. A loud and obnoxious guffaw exploded from his throat as he stared at the two people in the room.
"Xavier and Emily, I presume?" Maria asked with a small smile.
Benjamin clicked his tongue and frowned at her. "Don't interrupt me, missy, I was getting there."
"I suppose you can add a new name to your suitors, Emily," he sarcastically remarked as he gestured toward the unconscious man, tied up in a woman's shift, lying on the floor with a roused and furious lymer holding him down. "Or maybe you're one of his secret admirers."
The woman lifted her head up, a mop of dark curls flying this way and that. Her grey eyes widened in surprise. "You know this ruffian?" She pointed at the hooded man.
"Oh, him? Let me take a closer look." He pulled back his hood and blinked when he saw a large and angry bruise forming on his forehead. He eyed the shovel lying not two feet from the bed and shrugged. "I suppose I do."
"Benjamin," she reprimanded, "I'm quite serious here. He came storming through my window while I was getting dressed! Give me one reason why I shouldn't let Oliver," she nodded at the dog, "have at him!"
"It wasn't intentional," he easily answered. "He was being chased—"
"Chased?" she shrieked. "Then he is a criminal? Father would murder me if he knew I had contact with a vagabond!"
"No, I believe he is the victim," Benjamin drawled. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, smiling at her beautiful face and other features. The round features, that was. "You see, our dear friend here, well, without the bruise on his face and the sweat caking him, is quite the looker. He was being pursued by a group of rabid women."
"Rabid women?"
"Yes, Emily, rabid women, the kind that want to pin a man down and feast upon them! They froth at the mouth, they snarl and bear their teeth, they—"
"And they were after him?" She pointed at the man.
Benjamin nodded vigorously. "Yes, they were. I witnessed it with my own two eyes, love! I was hoping to rescue him from the frothy and virile women, you see, but God's blood!" He peeled himself from her and leapt onto her dresser. "I soon found myself running with everything my soul had to escape a fleet of angry… angry," he glanced at Oliver, "dogs! Angry dogs! Yes, beautiful Emily, angry dogs! They growled and yipped this way and that—"
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "I suppose they gave you quite the workout, then."
"You have no idea, love. They almost had me, too! One had his jaws tightened around my boot, the other bit at my tunic, but ho ho!" He unsheathed his sword and held it over himself. "I fought those mutts off, I did! I sliced at them, spilled their entrails, ripped the life from them, and then resumed my chase of your new acquaintance! But it was when I caught sight of Baldwin's residence that I felt fear take hold of my heart!"
Emily frowned and glanced at Oliver. "I'm sure you did."
"Memory did not fail me! I remembered that you were staying at Baldwin's for you were visiting your beloved brother! And then, I began to worry! For if beautiful," he stepped off the dresser and approached her, "lovely, maiden-like Emily had harm fall upon her by such a pitiful being, then I would surely fall to the earth, cold and dead."
"As a bone, I'd imagine," she dryly noted as he snaked two arms around her. "Benjamin," she warned.
"And here I am, protecting thy fair maiden from harm." He leaned his forehead against hers and was once again ever thankful that she wore a somewhat revealing doublet that day. "So, if you will excuse me," he breathed against her ear. She pushed him away from herself and held her palm toward Oliver when he growled at Benjamin. "I will just take this poor soul with me and won't trouble you anymore, hm?" He gathered the man in his arms and swung him over his shoulder.
Emily gawked and grabbed Benjamin's arm when he made to leave. "Wait—you can't just go like that! Carrying a man around as if he was a sack—"
"I promise you, no rabid woman will have victory as long as I am around," Benjamin proudly announced with another bright smile. Then, with darker and provocative features, he whispered lowly, "Unless you have… other troubles that I can perhaps assist with…"
Emily glared and crossed her arms. "Don't tempt me to fire an arrow or two at you. It might do your backside justice, though."
"Any favor from you is like a gift from God."
"Forgetting about Rose so quickly, are we?"
"Oh, how could I ever forget about my sweet little Rosie, whose hair flaps in the breeze and whose eyes enchant me?" Benjamin stared at her with mock horror. "I prefer rose-blonde over ebony black, dear. But," he smirked, "I suppose practice couldn't do me any harm, could—"
"Ollie? Sic him."
"You mongrel," Maria growled. "That was my mother—"
"Oh, I didn't even have twenty years on me, Maria. You think I was always sensible, wise, cunning—" He yelped as she swiftly jabbed his side. "But, of course," he continued, "I had enough sense back then to let my dear friend Xavier make his move. I wasn't that controlled by hormones."
"And I suppose you and my uncle visited Emily and Rose when they were wearing their low corsets?"
"And Catherine, too," Benjamin chuckled. He held his hands up as Maria raised a fist again. "Blot, Maria! No more hitting from you, young lady! And I only dropped by a few times to say my 'hello's to Emily occasionally. I was much more occupied with courting Rose, I assure you." He quietly mumbled, "But Xavier certainly looked forward to seeing her. Well, after he remembered what she looked like, of course."
"Gracious, good man, if you keep fussing with that collar, we'll have ruffles upon ruffles all over your neck! Why are you so fidgety, anyway? It's just dinner at Seward Ayars' estate! They aren't cannibalistic, and they don't eat their dogs!" Benjamin grumbled and watched as Xavier toyed and pulled at his collar.
"You've obviously installed a choking device on this… outfit." He tensed his jaw irately and tried to smooth the ruffles down. "This is ridiculous, Benjamin. If we're spotted together—"
"Oh, what will they do to you? Shout 'Assassin!' and chase you? Besides, I can always feign that I have no idea who you are and where your loyalties lie."
"Templar and Assassin are not meant to go to dinner parties together," he bit back. "Someone is bound to recognize you, and when they recognize you, they'll want to know who your companion is."
"Frog bottoms! Of course they'll recognize me! The Mills are very respected across England. I'll be insulted if no one recognizes me. And if they ask about you, you're a cousin from my mother's side of the family."
"This will never work," Xavier sternly put in. "We look nothing alike, and what if they start questioning me about my family? I don't know what it is your mother's family does for a living!"
"Ahh, good Xavier, good, little Xavier," Benjamin sighed as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is why you are an Assassin. Make it up as you go along."
"Will you stop looking so nervous? You're as tense as a wet cat," Benjamin murmured from the side of his mouth. "And stop playing with those ruffles! Goodness! For an Assassin, you sure are out of your element." Though he knew that when actually stalking a contract, Xavier was invisible and one with the crowd, he couldn't help but to feel his friend's demeanor dampen. No matter, Benjamin could easily make up for his lack of spirit.
"I don't appreciate self-indulgences, Benjamin." Xavier frowned as they approached the grand and expensive estate. They stepped through the courtyard, and the Assassin felt his mouth dry from seeing all the fancy tunics and dresses the guests wore. "How many people did they invite, anyway?"
"Oh, just the whole of England, Xavier, nothing to fear," Benjamin shrugged. "Just smile and everything will be fine."
"How can you guarantee my pleasure, Benjamin? I'm a farmboy and you're having me parade around as some noble! My brother's the only noble in my family, not me. Why didn't you invite him instead?"
"Because Alan is a fool and his looks aren't nearly as appealing as yours, Xavier. Why, look at you with your chocolate hair and shimmery blue eyes! You're certain to have a lady or two fawn over yourself. Besides, you never take any time to spoil yourself. Have fun tonight!"
"I frown upon the rich and their ways," he hissed, "and you know this. If anything about tonight will be fun, it will be me silently insulting each guest—"
"Your invitations, good sirs?"
Benjamin and Xavier didn't even stop as they handed the doorman their slips of parchment with the Ayars' seal. Patting his friend's back, Benjamin chuckled, "Now, don't look so sour, else you'll end up scaring Rosie away from me. Just remember: nobility is an oxymoron."
Xavier opened his mouth to protest, but Benjamin had already melted into the crowds and groups of dancing guests. Xavier stared in disbelief at all the people, the decorative tapestries, the skirts flying this way and that as dancers twirled, and of all the new faces. He uncomfortably fingered his side, wishing that he'd brought along his sword. All he had was a small knife in his boot. He felt his chest tighten from how close everyone was.
He glanced side to side, already seeing people cluster together as they mingled and laughed. This estate was ridiculous! All these fancy and pointless archways and finely woven rugs! Who had the time to purchase such luxuries? Didn't these people have careers to keep them busy?
And all these women, dancing and exposing more than what was necessary! Didn't they have families and husbands waiting at home, or children missing them? Xavier swallowed and strode with the confidence of a snail throughout the estate. Benjamin was nowhere to be seen, but he figured that with all the feminine squeals and gasps that he was nearby.
Finally finding a small corner that wasn't occupied by clusters speaking of nonsense, he sighed and tried to slow his pounding heart. Leaning against the wall, his eyes skipped over each face in the crowd, trying to find anyone that might know him. Thankfully, he couldn't place any names with the faces, but that also had him stand stock still with his shoulders squared. He felt vulnerable to the extreme as several guests glanced and frowned at him.
They chatted and pulled one another to the center of the ballroom when they heard a new rhythm set by the lutists. They stepped this way and that, too elegant to be called skipping, talked and smiled at each other, barged this way and that—
Xavier furrowed his brow when he saw one particular couple with the grace of a duck running on ice join the other dancers. Their movements were choppy and over pronounced as they twirled and skipped this way and that. To him, it looked like they were hopping up and down on hot coals.
His observation was interrupted when he felt a pair of hands grab his shoulders. Jerking himself to attention, Xavier glared when he realized it was Benjamin. The other man laughed and gave his shoulders a squeeze. Glancing behind him, Xavier noticed that there were two ladies giggling and batting their lashes at him. He felt like an item on display at the marketplace by how their eyes raked up and down his form, obviously approving of his fit figure.
"Oh, Xavier, good man, why are you just standing here all by yourself? Did you try the wine? It's magnificent! I hear that it's a French brand, you know. If those dogs are good at anything, then their talents are in their vineyards. Did you know that Seward Ayars is acquainted with the Beaumont's? The weaponry-merchant family? Apparently his ties to them allow him to purchase an abundance of wine!"
Xavier closed his eyes and quietly groaned. Benjamin, oblivious to his friend's misery, pulled one of his companions and might as well have thrown her at him. "This is Aster, Xavier—isn't she beautiful?" he whispered in his ear. "I'm having Fern for myself, lad. Come, we should go to the dining rooms. I hear Seward Ayars wants to make a toast and thank his guests for coming."
Xavier barely had enough time to register that a woman was literally clinging to his arm and pressing her corset against his side before Benjamin began dragging him toward the dining rooms. His legs were almost buried in her skirts by how close she was! He murmured a quick prayer to Jesus and Mary before they entered the dining hall.
"He was very uncomfortable," Benjamin chortled. "He never saw that girl coming when I flung her at him. He was always such a gentleman, that Xavier. His face turned the color of strawberries during picking season."
"Fern. Her name was Fern?"
"Yes, what of it?"
"Who names their child Fern?"
"Maria, it isn't nice nagging at someone's name. She was a lovely girl, too. Very well-mannered and all too willing to please—"
"Why do I take that the wrong way after how you've described your youth? But, tell me about the toasts anyway."
"They were the usual type," Benjamin said, walking through a small pool of water, "holding out his wine glass, thanking everyone, mentioning a few names, nothing unusual about it at all. What was interesting was what transpired after the toasts."
"Well, what a marvelous speech that was, don't you think, Xavier?" Benjamin applauded with the rest of the guests, though probably with more enthusiasm. His gaze swept to two familiar people, and, leaning over to Xavier, he motioned for him to follow. Xavier willingly complied as the two men left a heartbroken Fern and Aster behind.
"Xavier, there's someone I want you to meet before the night ends," Benjamin explained as he approached the man and woman. Xavier recognized them as the lofty and terrible dancers from earlier. "Xavier, allow me to introduce you to Baldwin and Emily Ayars, Seward Ayars' son and daughter, and two very good friends of mine."
The Ayars' turned at the mention of their names. The woman smiled and allowed Benjamin to take her hand and kiss her knuckles while the man narrowed his eyes at Benjamin's behavior. "Ahh, Emily, looking as radiant as ever! Why, red is such a flattering and blooming color on you! It almost makes you look larger in the breas—"
When Emily's brother cleared his throat, Benjamin was quick to spread his arms out in a welcoming, brotherly hug. "And Baldwin, my man!" They exchanged a small embrace. "You're looking well, my friend! Have you gone hunting, yet? I've heard that the stags this year are particularly skittish!"
Xavier decided not to join in on their discussion of game. He'd never gone hunting in his life, as it was a sport that only nobles participated in. He turned his attention over to Emily, who was staring at him thoughtfully. He shifted and tried to smile politely, but it was a complete failure.
She didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she didn't care. She reached out and touched his forehead and whispered, "Does it still hurt?" He swatted her hand away, appalled by such a bold move from a woman. She bit her lip, confused, but heroically saved the situation from becoming awkward. "I'm sorry, that was out of my place," she smoothly continued, "and where are my manners? Emily Ayars here, daughter of Lord Seward Ayars." She even went as far as to courtesy.
When she asked for his name in return, he could only mumble, "Xavier Thorpe here, madam."
He knew by the flash in her eyes that the name was familiar to her. "Thorpe, you say? You're old Owen's boy? From Greenwich?"
He wasted no time to shake his head. "No, Miss Ayars—"
"Call me Emily, please."
"I'm a distant cousin," he lied. "Owen is my uncle."
"Oh?" She quirked an innocent eyebrow. "Then you wouldn't be acquainted with Sir Alan Thorpe, would you? He's such a handsome man," she drawled, giving him a knowing look, "and I've heard that his younger brother is even more appealing to the eyes."
He wasn't fooling anyone. Xavier hardened his gaze and would have bid her a farewell had Benjamin not stepped in again. "This party is most entertaining!" he exclaimed. "I've never seen so much color in my entire life! And even you, Emily! Why, your cheeks are so rosy in this light, or maybe it's the dress!" Baldwin glared again before Benjamin could name a few more parts of her that looked astonishing.
"And speaking of roses," Benjamin diverted, "where is that Rosaline lass? I haven't seen her all evening, have I, Xavier?"
"Rose is here somewhere," Emily answered. "She was with Catherine before." Leaning closer to Benjamin, she whispered, "There was a crisis involving wine bottles and petticoats at one of the tables about an hour ago." Leaning away, Benjamin answered with an 'ahh'.
"And speaking of Catherine," Benjamin mused as the woman herself stepped toward them. Much to Benjamin's dismay, Baldwin's sensors were prepared, and the man quickly pulled Catherine toward the ballroom. "A pity," Benjamin sighed, "but maybe not so much." He eyed Emily keenly, causing the woman to glare.
A growl had Xavier and Benjamin look down toward her skirts. A dog was standing loyally right beside her with a red bow tied to his neck to match her dress. It was a lymer, and a huge one. "Well, hello there, Oliver chap!" Benjamin reached to scratch the dog behind the ears. Oliver's greeting was to bare his teeth. Recoiling his hand, Benjamin gave a small smile to Xavier and Emily before sulking away to find new prey.
"So, what happened the rest of the night? Did they dance?"
Benjamin stopped and frowned in thought. "No, I don't believe so. I don't think they spoke the rest of the night. When we returned to my estate, Xavier was too embarrassed to say anything. No, don't think that he was swept off his feet by Emily's beauty. He was angry at me for dragging him along to that party, and I believe he was frustrated that he gave his name out publically. Not only that, but Emily was quick to categorize him with his father, who, Maria, is nothing like Xavier."
Maria nodded, recalling how her uncle used to speak of her grandfather. "And when did Emily and Xavier meet again?"
"Oh, after that, they ran into each other quite frequently, actually, even if Emily didn't know it. I couldn't really keep an eye on the two of them, you see. I had to attend drills and fighting lessons, so I was basically in the southern end of the country for the whole time. But I remember Rose speaking to me about them. She said how they were hospitable to each other in the beginning, though it was forced. Soon afterward, Xavier did little to hide his bitterness toward Emily. He was disgusted with her because she was royalty.
"I tried to persuade him that just because she had coin didn't mean she was corrupted. I think he was afraid that her family would be his next contract, seeing as how he killed many nobles. England was so corrupted at the time! The country was slowly but certainly going bankrupt all because the rich were spending so much money. Xavier tried to stop them, but I believe The Crusades speak of his success well enough. It'd take miles and miles of chains to restrain those men, I tell you!"
"And people don't believe that the past predicts the future," she humorlessly noted.
"People believe what they're comfortable with, Maria, just how Xavier believed that Emily was only a porcelain doll. He kept his distance from her for four years, you know. Oh, it wasn't that she was following his every move, but he began to see more and more of her after those four years when Baldwin began contacting him. Somehow, he learned what he truly was. Xavier, needless to say, felt threatened that Baldwin knew he was an Assassin. And keep in mind that he no longer was a shy and awkward man. No, he was purely in his element by the time Baldwin started calling on him.
"Xavier began to become close to Baldwin and Seward. Seward was a good, good man, who believed in women having equal rights as men. He'd even go as far as to debate and argue how women in some cases were more important than men. He'd discuss how the baby grows inside the woman, how the woman raises and brings the family to greatness, and how the woman has beauty where men do not. Because of that, certain people began to plot ways to silence the man. At first, it was just verbal threats, nothing serious, and Seward paid little mind to it.
"But then the threats became more violent. There were break-ins, theft, and unfortunately, death. Xavier was always around their estate and would patrol during the night. He killed a good handful of trespassers, too. When the threats eventually stopped coming, Seward offered Xavier the opportunity to return to his own estate and be with his family—he was away for three years. It was a difficult decision for Xavier, as he found friendship in many people at the Ayars' estate, including Emily, though it was just beginning to form.
"Xavier still saw her like every other noble, but he wanted to know her better. For her protection or not, I don't know. But they began to understand each other. Mainly Xavier spent time with her dog, Oliver, instead of her. He was always good with animals. But when Seward died, their relationship shattered. It was partly because men attacked the Ayars' estate when Xavier returned to his estate in Greenwich. Emily was heartbroken that her father was murdered, and she didn't want to hear Xavier's sympathy.
"She felt that only Baldwin could possibly understand her grief, and as a result, had Baldwin occupy Xavier as much as possibly to keep him away from her. But at the same time, she began receiving attention from Xavier's brother, your father, Maria, Alan Thorpe. Alan decided to see for himself what kept his brother away from home most of the time, and it was impossible for him not to notice Emily. She was beautiful and spirited, and that attracted him like bees to pollen."
Maria grimaced and kicked at a loose stone. "And Xavier and Emily? Didn't they used to fight side by side with each other? You said that Emily was an archer and that she accompanied him on missions—"
"That wasn't until Emily realized the only way to ward off Alan was to stay close to Xavier. She decided to find Xavier, as he had not returned to her estate for quite some time. She rode off to Greenwich without even telling Baldwin; you can imagine how he felt. She wore the commoner's clothing and was ready for battle if men tried to take advantage of her."
"But," Maria finished, "she was cornered by a group of ill-minded bastards, correct? And my uncle just happened to come to her rescue?"
"Yes," Benjamin chuckled, "that's about right. He was looking for her, as well, it seemed. He barely recognized her while she was wearing a normal tunic with trousers. That's how terribly he categorized her. But it isn't a heroic-damsel-in-distress tale, Maria—don't give me that face. They were cold to each other while she stayed at his estate. It wasn't until she saw him tending to his fields and his dogs herding the sheep that she began to think. And that's when she realized that though he was born into a noble family, there wasn't a drop of nobility in him. And over time, he realized that though she wore expensive garments, there wasn't any stain to her soul.
"But when Xavier started taking long trips away from his estate when he was given more names to erase, she put the pieces together and correctly assumed that he was an Assassin. Their relationship… cracked, if anything, but resulted in very… romantic moments between the two that are not appropriate for your ears."
Maria rolled her eyes. "My mother was a good Christian, Benjamin."
"I wasn't talking about making love, dear. You should get your head out of the hay. But they were right for each other. Xavier was a man who loved every piece of property he had, Maria. He loved every blade of grass, every crop that he grew, every horse in the stables, every dog he trained. He was a good man, Maria, don't ever forget that."
"So then they married and started a family?"
"Married? Not right away. Conflicts began erupting with the French Beaumont family. Catherine Beaumont, who was a dear and beloved friend of Emily, had left a few years before she and Xavier became close to each other. It was believed that the Beaumont's were travelling to Acre to support The Crusades by making them arms and armor, but they had other intentions. Not only were they selling equipment to Christian-borns, but also to Muslims.
"It caused riots throughout Europe when they learned of this. More than once, Emily was accused of being a wicked woman and for being an Arab spy. Xavier had his hands full dispatching of those who falsely pointed their fingers at her. It was no time for them to be married and to settle down. As a compromise, Xavier was forced into letting Emily accompany him on several of his missions."
"But didn't this outbreak across England force you to turn against Xavier since you were a Templar?"
"It did, Maria, but we were clever. We casually avoided each other and spoke through Rose and Emily. We knew where the other was at all times to avoid fights. My visits to Xavier grew thin and less often. When my commanders started to think that Emily was affiliated with him, chaos began to erupt between the two.
"Emily grew weary of the things being said about her. She tried to persuade Xavier to let her spend a year or two in France until the panic died down, but he wouldn't have it. Since Xavier had not proposed, Baldwin was trying to find his sister a husband that could provide for her and keep her safe. He knew the risks of Xavier's profession. Xavier didn't want her to travel to France and be stolen by another man. He knew there'd be nothing he could do if that happened.
"But Emily didn't take that in kind. She became angry, thinking that Xavier didn't trust her and that he thought her to not have fidelity toward him. In the end, she was almost taken by another man—Xavier's own brother, no less. But when the Beaumont's became quieter in Acre, England started to relax. There were hardly any more screams of 'Assassin' on the streets, thank God, and Xavier and Emily managed a relationship."
"So then they started a family?" Maria asked as she took her hair out of her bun. The clip was tangled in her hair, and she braced herself as she tore the thing right out. Her scalp screamed as hair was mercifully ripped from her head. She could feel another headache on the horizon.
"I can only assume so," Benjamin sheepishly shrugged. "I set out with Doctor Foo—do you remember your tutor?—to the Middle East and received more training as a Templar. When I returned to England and visited them, and it took a while for me to find them since they moved to Canterbury of all places, I could safely guess that they were happily married when I saw David in their arms."
Maria nodded, her headache bobbing up and down with her. "So they were able to have a life together, as well as make new life, even though they had their conflicts."
"And they had their conflicts quite often, mind you," Benjamin added. "But, yes. Don't you see, Maria? You're right when you say that everyone commits some form of sin. But we were created imperfect, and we will stay imperfect. But the important thing in life is forgiving and creating more from your actions. You think you'd be here if Emily never forgave Xavier for considering shipping her off to France like cargo?"
"Hmm," Maria hummed, "I suppose not." Benjamin took her hand and started walking back up the garden's slope. "But what of Rose and this Catherine Beaumont? Would they like knowing that Emily's daughter is her own worst enemy?"
"Rose would be proud of you, I know it. In fact, she'd want you to marry one of my sons, probably." He smiled at Maria and squeezed her hand. "I think any of my boys wouldn't survive if you were their wife. As of Catherine, she'd be happy to know that Emily's daughter is strong and independent for the most part."
Maria frowned. "For the most part?"
Benjamin nodded and decreased his pace. "We are imperfect, aren't we? We require something to support us in life: gold, pleasure, indulgence. Or, we require someone." He turned and pulled Maria over to where the vases and pillows were in the garden. She turned the corners of her mouth downward in confusion and was about to speak.
When she saw the shadowed figure, her mouth dried and her jaw fell slack. She planted her feet to the ground and stood as still as a statue. Benjamin motioned for the man, and he reluctantly revealed himself.
"The friendship of another person offers us a new life to see, new feelings to handle and understand, and companionship to comfort us. It supports us like scaffolding, Maria. But, I believe the scaffolding between you two has rotted, hasn't it?" Benjamin calmly looked back and forth between Altair and Maria. The Assassin was unreadable as usual with a shine in his eyes while Maria looked harassed.
"But friendship also guarantees misunderstandings, arguments, revenge, hurt, and shame. Sometimes the pain can transform into hate. It steadily consumes us as we try to fault the other and not ourselves. Yes, I see it has turned into hate. But what really is hate?" He held his hand out for Altair's.
"It's a strong emotion that is commonly confused with another just as equally powerful. A fickle and flexible thing, hate is, for it promises grudges but actually gives feeling to whoever harbors it. Isn't that what you've felt, Maria?" Benjamin closed his hand around Altair's when the man gave him his left hand.
"For a year, being alone and producing a dead family? You've said it yourself, time and again, that you hated this man. But what caused this feeling, Maria?" He met resistance when he tried to pull on Maria's hand. "What caused you to join the Assassin in his travels to India? Was it friendship? Curiosity? I can believe curiosity, certainly. You were curious to know his life and how different he really was from you."
"But why did you beckon him to Acre? Why did you lay with him? Why did the two of you expose yourselves, Assassin and former Templar who at the time was factionless? Why did you feel the attraction between yourselves?"
The answer wasn't only in Maria's eyes, but in the man opposite her's as well. She kept her eyes on Benjamin and felt her arm slacken. He brought their palms together, the Assassin's left and her right. She flinched from the contact and heard Altair take a sudden intake of breath. Her eyes swept from Benjamin to his, and then she was captured.
Benjamin held their hands together for a few moments as the emotions raced back and forth between the two. Hazel relentlessly poured all thought and feeling into grey, and vice versa. Bringing his hands down, Benjamin watched how the slightest of movements in one of their palms earned a reaction from the other.
"Two people who support each other have feelings reflected upon themselves. When one triumphs, so does the other. When one falls, two are defeated. You depend upon each other, so why hurt yourselves by neglecting and ignoring?"
"By God, Maria," Benjamin whispered, "if you really want to make Xavier and Emily proud, you will realize what is right. And the right thing is to forgive and build from there. Acceptance wounds yet heals, and guarantees prosperity. You know this—you both know this."
Benjamin closed his eyes and waited. There was nothing more he could do.
Altair followed every expression on her face: how she fixed her jaw, how her eyes softened, how she blinked away tears, and how she frowned each time one of their hands would quiver. He felt exposed, as if he was bare before her. She could see every thought, every emotion, and every fear within himself. He saw her swallow and stare imploringly into his eyes.
To answer her unspoken question, he intertwined his fingers with hers and brought her hand to his face. He lightly kissed her palm, feeling the jerk in her arm as she tensed from the gesture. But he knew her better than she even did. She was not angry or upset with him, and she certainly didn't want to cleave his head off. No, she was startled. Pleasantly startled.
He held her hand in both of his and ran his thumbs over it. This was his territory. If Masyaf would fall, he'd always have Maria. This was his battlemaiden, his confidant, his warrior, his free and brave woman. And he knew by how she took a step closer to himself that he was hers alone, her protector, and her other.
He felt no shame kissing her knuckles in front of Benjamin, but he had a feeling that the man knew what was happening between the two even if his eyes were closed. He finally clasped Maria's hand as she stepped backward. She nodded at the fortress and walked back inside the foyer, him following her.
Benjamin peeked one eye open, then the other. He frowned and placed his hands on his hip when he realized he was the only one in the garden. Shuffling toward the fortress, he smiled when he saw them, hand in hand, walking up the stairs together.
"Well," he announced, looking down at his side, "I think I did a pretty damn good job, if I do say so myself, hm?"
Bayo looked up at the man and tilted his head to the side.
"Oh, yes, I did. After all," he boasted to the hound, "I am the best guardian ever, aren't I?" He patted the dog's head. Bayo whined and tilted his head further.
"What's wrong?"
Maria paused, processing what Altair said as she rubbed her forehead. "Bloody headache," she grumbled. "I'm fine—"
He brushed her hands away from her face. With one hand, he massaged her temples with his forefinger and thumb, and with the other, he grasped the back of her neck and rubbed the nape of it. She frowned from his sudden actions and would have surely protested if she didn't realize what he was doing and why he was doing it.
His hand covered her eyes as he soothed that annoying and pounding pressure behind her eyelids. He felt her eyelashes flutter and tickle his palm. He felt his hand tingle and send small and hopeful sparks throughout his body. He bit down on the impulse, reminding himself that haste only made waste.
He glanced at her lips, wondering if she'd allow for him to steal a taste of them. He weighed his decisions and shuffled the consequences in his mind. It was only a kiss, and he'd kissed her hand in the garden. Besides, it wasn't as if they hadn't kissed before.
He'd settle with a little kiss. Satisfied that her head wouldn't be throbbing the whole night, he bent his head toward hers and let his hands fall on her shoulders.
She sluggishly peeled her eyes open and frowned when all she saw was his neck. Her confusion turned into shock as she felt his lips brush against her forehead. He squeezed her shoulders, then pulled away from her. She blinked at him, a demanding look on her face.
"Goodnight," he whispered. He was well aware that their faces were only inches apart, and he'd be damned if he glanced at her lips. But why, dear Allah, did they have to be so soft looking?
"Sleep well," she quietly answered back.
He nodded. "I will." Your hair looks beautiful down.
She awkwardly smiled as he slid his hands from her shoulders. She nodded and they both turned in opposite directions as he went to his own chambers and she went to the Residence Hall.
But she felt her heart pound as she heard, "Maria?"
HAH! YEAH, I'm cruel to all of you.
No translations here, but new food! Semseg (don't try googling it, you'll just get Samsung pictures) is like a meat patty with fried dough bordering around and underneath it. Kinda looks like a sunflower (a little), and I probably spelled it wrong. Oh well :D