I promised a reader that I'd update before a month's time, so here it is! I had fun writing this chapter, especially the Hildegard and Maria scenes. I'm a bit iffy about the Altair Maria parts, but hey, it's supposed to be awkward for them. Ahh well XD
Throw tomatoes at Meadjean for not doing her job for the past I don't know how many chapters. And give a round of applause to Christina for helping me out with some future chapters. UPDATE: Meadjean has been fired as my editor/beta. Now, it's all Christina helping me.
And HEY! ...Favorite OC's? Believe it or not, mine is Clarence. We will see a lot of Clarence in the upcoming chapters. And we'll find out a lot about Clarence. We will hate Clarence yet love Clarence. We will keel Clarence :D Hem. Hem.
All original characters belong to Ubisoft, everyone else belongs to yours truly.
...I bet I got everyone's hopes up in the last chapter, didn't I? XD
Maria whirled around to see Hildegard trudging toward her. The woman groggily rubbed her eyes and yawned a loud and outgoing, "Maria?" She strode past Altair, turning when his back was to her, and promptly stuck her tongue out before continuing her dutiful walk.
"Good Heavens, Maria, have you any sense of time? Why can't you take strolls at a godlier hour? You know how long I've been walking up and down those bloody stairs, searching for you?" Hildegard narrowed her eyes and frowned so hard that it created wrinkles in her brow. "No, don't you give me any excuses," she deadpanned when the other woman made to respond. She held a finger over Maria's lips. "You storm out of the dining room without even excusing yourself—were you raised by barbarians?—and then decide to go M.I.A for half the night!
"And I don't like it when people go M.I.A," Hildegard finished quickly when Maria frowned. "Because then I have to go on a royal goose chase just to find them. I missed the latest gossip from the novices because of you, you know."
"What a pity, I'm sure your health will suffer from it," Maria snapped.
"Watch that tongue of yours, I'm afraid I don't appreciate the steel in it, you savage. But, I suppose that's to be expected of you," Hildegard softly mused as she paced away from Maria with hands folded neatly at her stomach. "You, who just go on about, rampaging this way and that, not caring about poor little Hildegard—"
"What is it that—"
"—and not even wondering about the delightful and eye-opening conversation that I had with Rauf! Oh, Maria," Hildegard's eyes glittered as she spun and grabbed Maria's shoulders, "there's just so much to tell you, so many things that all make sense now! Like how he never told you much of his past, why he never went home after being freed, or—"
Maria blinked and shook her head. "What in Satan's name are you talking about?" Before Hildegard could even think of a reply, Maria brushed Hildegard's hands off of her. "Nevermind, I don't want to know. Perhaps you should pay more attention to the bells, Hildegard. I believe in just five more, the sun will be rising, and I don't plan on walking like the dead tomorrow—today—either." Maria flung her hand over Hildegard's mouth when it gaped wide open. "No, save it for another time, Hildegard, just not now. I'm tired, and I haven't been getting much sleep lately."
Maria walked away, groaning and rubbing the back of her head. She was sure that that small niggling pounding would eventually blossom into a full-out migraine.
"First, we will repair your swords, Maria. After that, we will have to make new arms for the novices. It seems that their training swords either magically disappear on their own, or those boys snap them in two. And their weapon trainer doesn't seem to have any concern for it, either. He expects me to supply them with endless swords and daggers—well, I'm so sorry, but if I was still trainer, there'd be no missing equipment."
Rauf and Maria walked out of the courtyard and into the village. Maria smirked from his complaints, and he smirked from her irritation to how hot it was outside. The sun wasn't even highest in the sky yet and it was already blazing hot outside! She could see the heat rise back into the air, for God's sake! On top of that, sweat was dripping into her eyes!
'Europeans never learn,' Rauf thought. "And after we're done serving the novices with their petty needs, you are going to help me with a project that the Master personally asked me to see to."
She quirked an eyebrow. "What sort of project?"
He purchased two loaves of bread from a vendor and handed her one. She bit into it, delighted that it was freshly baked and still soft. "He's trying to reconstruct the hidden blade so as not to have any fingers removed for its wear. I'm not sure why he wants to redesign it, maybe to let us blend easier into the crowd? He asked Malik's assistance, I know, but though Malik is intelligent and has broad knowledge, his know-how with forging isn't as vast as mine is, so Altair turned to me. Of course I told him I'd be more than happy to help him, it's just that I wasn't expecting it to be so... trivial."
"I suspect that if it was easy, it'd already be redesigned, no?"
"Precisely—well, if former Grandmasters wished it to be remade, that is. We have to change the gears in the blade, remodel the bracer itself, and tweak with the angle of the blade. I don't expect it to be done in one night. It'd probably take months, actually, but I'm sure we can get it done."
"Mathematics," Maria mused. "You're lucky your assistant is a girl who knows her numbers."
Rauf chuckled and scratched his chin. "If you didn't know angle measurements, then I'd be better off hiring your dog as my apprentice. Or one of the novices, maybe even Mustafa."
"I haven't seen him lately—"
"You can blame that on Hildegard. They seem to be getting along quite well. Gossip has coincidentally spread since she came to Masyaf. From crickets to marriages, they have it all covered." Rauf paused from eating his breakfast and looked toward the city gates. He tilted his head to the side and ate the last of his bread. "They're either Templar's being taken under custody, or they're visitors. Probably Templar's, though."
Maria turned to see what he was addressing and almost choked on her bread. Novices were leading in a small group of adventurers, but Maria knew better. The Assassin's kept their arms locked behind their backs as they ushered them into the city. The leader of the small group of strangers was covered in dirt, sweat and patches of blood here and there.
Though he was covered in God knew what else, she doubted she'd ever mistake that tall and big figure for anyone else other than—
His eyes swept over her, his face scrunching up just from looking at her, and then—
"And this one suggests a man or two to investigate the Rich District, Altair. Butrus seems concerned with the caravans outside the city as well, it looks like." Malik glanced up from the paper in his hand and rolled his eyes. His great and royal pain in the arse leader was smiling—smiling!—out from the window, no doubt at the woman walking with Rauf.
"Perhaps the Grandmaster should not spend all of his attention on the new blacksmith, showing his true novice colors, and instead focus on the matter at hand."
Altair turned his head from the harsh comment. His smile was gone. Malik stared at him with a scowl. Altair had told the man to spend some time for himself and to basically take the day off, but Malik had flatly refused. He'd said he'd rather occupy his time with work than think of his losses, which Altair could understand and respect. He just wished his adviser wasn't so quick to bite at him. "We've sent men to investigate the caravans before, Malik. From what we learned, they aren't tied to the Templar's."
"We only examined them from a distance, though," Malik argued, "because getting too close to them would arouse suspicion, and we both know our brotherhood needs very little of that."
"Then send a man or two to Damascus to speak with Butrus, see if there can be any investigations done, Malik."
Malik strode over to the window and rolled his eyes by what he saw. Rauf and Maria were leaving the courtyard to go into the town below. "Yes, while I'll busy myself with Butrus and his needs, you'll just be staring and daydreaming, hm?"
"No," Altair lowly stated. "I've other documents from the other Bureau Leaders to attend to. Qasim says that there's been talk in Acre. Whispers and mutterings mainly, but there's been rumors of something in the West, Malik."
"The West?" Malik placed the letter back on the desk and tilted his head to the side. "As in Europe? That's a bit out of our line of sight, Brother."
"I know, but if necessary, we may have to send men over to Europe. Qasim says that Spain, France and England are stirring up. For another Crusade, I'm not sure."
"I'm not sure if Spain's even in the condition to rebel or start trouble. They're too occupied with Muslims invading and conquering their lands, Altair. And what of England and France? Those countries are only united by the idea of Christianity and the Knights Templar. Beyond that, they'd like to go at each other's throats—in fact, I think they are. King Richard and King Philip II aren't exactly the most... thoughtful of men, to put it nicely."
"It's politics, Malik. As long as the Assassin's aren't tied into the middle of everything—"
"—which we will be if you decide to send men there—"
"—there is nothing to worry about. Besides," Altair smirked, "I've dealt with King Richard before. He's reasonable, as long as you prove to him it's God who's trying to change his mind."
Malik snorted and placed his hand on his hip. "So, what will you do? Send men to Damascus as well as Acre?"
"I'm not sure about Acre, Malik. It has nothing to do with our region—should we even be concerned to begin with?" He curled his fingers around the window's iron grating. "It would have been helpful if Al Mualim told us if we had any other allies in the world. Are we the only Assassin's, Malik?"
"There's Alamut, but that's in Persia, and mainly our evacuation site should Masyaf miraculously fall. They're a bit far from us, too. We might have Brothers in Spain, maybe sold into slavery or under the guise of commoners. After all, Arabs and Spaniards do look similar, don't they?"
Altair wasn't given a chance to chew over what Malik had just suggested since a very flustered and red-in-the-faced Mashhur came running—and almost tripping—up the stairs into the study.
"Master Altair!" the novice screamed even though he was practically breathless. Both Malik and Altair turned their heads simultaneously. They weren't fast enough to ask the boy what the commotion was. "Quick, Master! In the market—the biggest man I've ever seen!" He doubled over and began panting as if his life depended on it.
Malik could only stare with a slack jaw, slowly shaking his head back and forth. "And why, Mashhur, do you feel the need to tell us of a man that's very big—"
"Your...woman...Master!" he managed to choke out. Altair instantly stood from his desk, almost toppling it over, completely at attention. "She's...she's under attack, Master!"
And that was all Altair needed before pushing Malik and Mashhur out of his way, leaping over the railing, and sprinting as fast as his legs could allow him down to the marketplace.
"Get off of me, you—"
"Is that any way to treat an old friend, Maria?"
"Dog!"
He laughed and shoved her back to the ground. "Why is it that I go through Hell for our cause, while you look like you just took a nice little stroll from a bathhouse? Hmm? Tell me...that!" He winced when she shoved her knee into his gut. Had he not shifted his position, a more masculine part of his anatomy would have been crushed by her.
"Because you don't know what a clean kill is," she snarled. She gasped as her body once again slammed into the ground. She dug her nails into his neck and tore through the flesh.
He hissed and growled, "Why is it that you're as safe as can be, when I received beatings, then was promptly sent to go do idiotic investigation missions, hm? Here you are, looking so pretty, though you'd never be able to compare to Hildegard, and—"
"Shut your mouth, you son of a bitch!" She jabbed the heel of her hand into his jaw. His body raised little more than an inch from hers, and she took that space as an opportunity to squirm and push out from beneath him. She sat up, but was brought back to the dirt when he introduced her stomach to his foot. Her primary instinct was to curl up and gasp for breath. He smirked down at her, his hands on his hips.
"I'll kick your legs and throw you to the ground again, Maria. It wasn't so pleasant before, was it? What were you saying about who was the better fighter? I do believe the position you're in and the position I'm in shows who is the victor, Maria."
"You speak nonsense, you Ganymede!" she gritted out between clenched teeth. He laughed, a cruel and joyless sound, and stared down at her with cold and disgusted eyes.
"You're always trying to look better than everyone else, aren't you, you bitch? Always sticking your nose into other people's business and wanting to butter everyone up for your liking! Well, guess what?" He knelt and leaned toward her, his face a hand's width from hers. "That will not get you anywhere with me!" His voice rose unbelievably, Masyaf's citizens taking steps back in fear, and Maria's ears ringing from it. He grabbed the front of her tunic and hauled her back onto her feet.
"Why's it that you aren't covered head to toe in dirt and Allah knows what else, but I am? You're the one that performs sins as if they were part of nature—as if they were the same as breathing! And what have I done, Maria? Oh, let me think: I've been worrying about the love of my life for over a month now, wondering if she's dead or alive, and all I run into is you!"He let go of her and she fell to the ground in a miserable heap.
She looked up at the giant of the man, his face shadowed and eyes dancing with adrenaline and loathing. "It's nice to bloody see you again, Aden," she weakly mumbled. He looked on the verge of beating her again, but to her surprise, and Masyaf's spectators', his mouth uncurled from its snarl and his face softened. He slowly smiled and—
Benjamin wasn't an expert when it came to smelling out danger, but when he saw Altair leap from building to building with a breakneck speed, something told the veteran that yes, something indeed was amiss in Masyaf.
He pulled Hildegard aside from the market stall just as she finished purchasing new necklaces and bracelets. "Come, my dear," he whispered and took her hand in his. They jogged down the city, Benjamin in the lead, and stopped behind the crowd gathered. Muttering, Benjamin shoved past the onlookers and broke into the circle with Hildegard somehow still in tact.
When Benjamin saw Maria face down in the dirt with a familiar man sitting on top of her, he recoiled and shook his head. "Goodness, Aden, what do you call this?"
The Arab looked up from his handiwork and smirked. "I call it saying 'hello', Benjamin! I'm hardly to blame, too. It isn't my fault she isn't as enthusiastic as I am."
Benjamin clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. "I'm sure 'enthusiastic' isn't the right word to use, my boy. Why is it that disaster follows your every move?"
There was a muffled reply from Maria and Aden chuckled.
"It's good to see you as well, Maria," he calmly said as he pulled her back up. She held her head with one hand, God cursing her with another lovely migraine, and numbly accepted Aden's handshake.
"Bloody oaf," she scowled, "I'd prefer one of your hugs over your testosterone-fueled welcome-backs."
He chuckled and shrugged his massive shoulders. "Maria, I think I'd break your back if I hugged you. Besides, I wouldn't want to get any filth on me."
"Likewise," she spat back. She smirked at him, the closest to a smile she could manage at the moment, and tried to steady her wobbly person. "You don't even know your own strength—that hurt—"
"You have my apologies for that," he bowed, mocking her, but frowned and turned his head. "But I sincerely think that you—" He stood stock still, his mirth draining from his face in an instant, as he saw the woman behind Benjamin looking like the epitome of guilt. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish—surely, it couldn't be her?
Maria punched him in the soldier, snapping him from his thoughts. "I demand more than an apology, you gutless hound. I demand to know why you attacked me—"
"Because Dumm here wanted to run ahead from group, like barbarian he is, and then go charge his huge self, not to mention stinky self, at Maria."
The unmistakable German accent filtered through to Maria's and Benjamin's ears. The veteran smiled and gave Maria a sly look as Olivia marched up to Aden and smacked him on the arm. He yelped and took a few steps away from her. "He left cloud of dirt in his wake," she gestured to her clothes that were filthy and also to her hair—was it longer now? On further inspection of Aden's wreckage, there were novices squirming and lying on the ground. Benjamin sighed and kneaded his forehead.
"We're guests, my boy, and you treat these people like—"
"Guests?" Aden laughed. "Guests to whom? We're the ones carrying the information, Benjamin, and I doubt that there's any king or ruler that—" He soon took up Maria's former position as a hard blow was dealt to the back of his head. Hildegard sighed in relief and Maria looked pleased. Benjamin seemed to be repressing a grin.
Altair glared at the man beneath him, rubbing his knuckles from the punch. He shot one glare at the crowd, and they instantly dispersed, some even muttering excuses to leave beneath their breaths. He looked toward his Brothers and to Rauf who was helping the novices back to their feet, and then at his other 'guests'. Two women, one European and one Arab, stood off to the side looking highly uneasy. The European one fingered the quiver on her back, contemplating whether or not to knock an arrow. The look he gave her quickly made up her mind to be still.
The other woman looked close to fainting.
He turned his attention to Maria then. Her face was covered in dirt and dried grass and there was blood trickling from her temple. Other than that and also the fact that her clothes were wrinkled and torn here and there—what did this man do to her?—she seemed alright. She was kneeling and petting Bayo—no, that wasn't Bayo. The same breed as Bayo, but definitely not Bayo. Bayo was beige, and this dog was white and black.
Maria looked over to him, as if she could feel his eyes beneath his hood. She stood and cleared her throat. "Aden: he's an ass of a man, but nonetheless a member of the Rose," she explained. "He's a bit..."
"Like a bull," Rauf grumbled as he took his place beside Altair. "He bulldozed her, Altair! One moment he was at the gate, the next moment he was on top of her and nearly beating her skull out! I kept to the Creed and helped our Brothers," he motioned toward the whining novices, "and sent Mashhur to tell you the news. Allah, it was awful."
Altair waved his hand in dismissal of the excuses and nudged the man responsible for Masyaf's disorder. Aden groaned and Altair cursed beneath his breath.
"He'll be out for a few hours," Benjamin chuckled. "In the meantime, Maria, you might want to clean yourself up. And Hildegard, you'd best prepare yourself for some highly needed explanations."
"And you'd better wear armor," Maria spat, "or else he'll do worse to you than he did to me."
Hildegard gulped.
"As for Aden," Maria lilted sweetly, "you can just drag him back up to the fortress."
Maria leaned back in the tub, sighing as the hot water soothed her aching muscles and bones. It was evening, Aden was still knocked out cold, and Olivia and Zaina were resting. Maria's arm was sore from hammering and shaping away at Ebony and Ivory, something Rauf insisted she tend to that day. He, however, decided to survey the novices train with Altair and the swords teacher. All she wanted to do was sleep.
"Hildegard, you know you're going to have to face him."
Hildegard sat at the edge of the tub, her feet splashing nervously in the water. Altair had been such a gentleman to offer Maria his personal bath, and Hildegard had taken the opportunity to corner her and dump all of her thoughts onto the poor woman. And Bayo and Belle, after their joyful reunion, had followed the women to the bath and were gnawing on two juicy and delicious bones to the side.
"I'm well aware of that, Maria. I'm not prepared, though—what do I even say to him? 'Oh, I'm sorry that I caused your heart to bleed for me for running away from England. And I'm sorry that you thought I was dead, but let's just forget about that and start all over, hm?' He'll strangle me, like you said—"
"No, he won't," Maria argued as she cleaned her face. "He only does that with me or Damiel. He's gentle with you—surprisingly. He'll be angry, yes, but he won't hurt you. He's too hurt himself to do that, I think. Who knows, maybe when he wakes up he'll forget about it."
"Altair did hit him pretty hard," Hildegard smiled. "Why, I even believe I heard his knuckles crack. Your man is a weakling, Maria."
"He isn't my man, Hildegard." When the blonde raised an eyebrow, Maria explained, "It's complicated."
"But you've forgiven each other, haven't you? Well, that's what the novices told me—something about the Garden, too. Well, what happened? Why the sudden change of heart, Maria?"
"I was just tired, Hildegard." She rubbed the herbal soap onto her arms and chest. "I suppose I decided to finally listen to what you and Benjamin have been telling me all this time—"
"—stubborn woman—"
"—and we forgave each other. I'm still not sure how to act toward him, believe me, I'm clueless. And no, don't tell me to act normally, that doesn't help in the slightest." She hooked a leg over the edge of the tub and rubbed it down with the cream. The water was a depressing grey color. "I'm not going to be hostile toward him, only if he deserves it, that is. But I don't think I'd be spending every minute of my day on him."
"Sounds understandable," Hildegard nodded. "I can't wait to see you put those words into action. Maria Thorpe, heartbreaker and hearthealer, twisting and playing with the emotions of the great and powerful Grandmaster of the notorious and peace-making Assassin's. Oh, I can see the scenes of that lovely drama already."
Maria rolled her eyes and dunked her head beneath the water. "That's ridiculous," she frowned when she resurfaced. Her hair clung to her head and shoulders like a second skin.
"Oh, no no, no it isn't, lovey. I can just picture how you'd tempt him, what with your pretty face and fiery remarks that beg any man to tame you—"
"I'm no horse to be tamed!"
"And oh, how he'd be fighting the instinct to be the one to mark you as his—though, he's already done that, so I suppose it'd be remarking, correct? What's the term to use nowadays? 'Dipping the quill into the inkwell'? 'Putting the spear through the suckling pig'? 'Sheathing the sword'? You know, he isn't exactly unattractive, though I prefer Aden's looks over his. Yes, he's a bit rugged, but I think he suits you perfectly. He has a nice bottom, too. Did you ever look at him from behind when he walks?"
Maria blinked and shook her head. "No, why in the Apostles' names would I want to do that?"
"Because it's a nice bottom! And the way his back muscles ripple! How they must have felt when he went to work on you! Were I still a prostitute, I wouldn't even ask him to pay to have him in my bed. But back to his bottom: It's not one of those skinny and bony bottoms of soldiers that barely have any meat on their bodies. It's a very appreciative rear end, Maria. God spent a bit more time constructing his figure, I'd say. And oh, speaking of construction—"
"Hildegard, I've been clocked on the head by your beloved one too many times today. My head is already pounding and I don't need—"
"Those hands of his! So rough and worn from the sword and whatever other pointy, shiny things Assassin's play with. How splendid they'd feel against something soft and warm and supple! All the callouses rubbing against rear cheeks and breasts—your breasts are soft, right, Maria?"
She squawked and glared at Hildegard. "Of course they're soft, they're breasts!"
"How he imagines them and how you'd moan out his name from torturing a nipple or both."
Maria's cheeks flushed red and she was ready to pound Hildegard to a pulp. "I don't need such pleasure as—"
"Oh, yes you do," she chanted sweetly. "As if you aren't picturing it in your mind. His lips planting such soft and tender kisses down your jaw, suckling at that sensitive part in your neck and nipping at it, then traveling lower to the bosomy delights—"
"Your mind is ruined—"
"No, my mind is logical, Maria. Like you can't feel his stubble brushing against your jaw and neck—now, I don't know about you, but men with hair are attractive. Not fur or on their backs, though, but on their chests, stomach, and pubic area is just so... masculine! Gets me all tingly and riled up just thinking about it! Tell me, Maria, where is his body hair?"
Maria's face was a bright red and she sunk into the water. Hildegard waited until she had to come up to take a breath. "I'm still waiting, dear, you know I'll keep pestering you if you don't tell me."
"In all the places you've said," Maria bit out, "where men should have hair."
"Oh, splendid, splendid!" Hildegard clapped her hands together and kicked childishly at the water. "Do you enjoy following his treasure trail?"
"His what?" Maria blurted.
"His treasure trail! The hair from the chest that leads into the pants where the peni—"
"So, the Master has us sew six blankets—six!—and he has you babysit a woman who doesn't even need babysitting? Mustafa, what is this?" Nabil placed his hands on his hips and clicked his tongue. "You've no idea the torment Rakin and I have been through! Just look at our fingers!" They held their hands out for Mustafa to see, and sure enough, there were small cuts and pick marks from needles. "This is unfair justice!"
Mustafa chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Did you two look at my face, though? Only two days in the smithy, and my cheeks are permanently pink!"
Nabil and Rakin both looked unimpressed. "On top of that, we missed the latest talk from Hildegard! You know how boring our days were, just sitting around with thread and needles? And we couldn't even watch our Brothers in the ring! And we had to eat leftover kibbeh! Malik's leftover kibbeh! I'm surprised he even had leftovers."
Rakin nodded vigorously and put in, "And we had to clean the waste room. I still can't smell anything!"
Mustafa laughed again and innocently raised his hands in the air. "I'm sure the Master has a perfectly reasonable explanation—oh, Mashhur, what are you doing here?"
The novice was muttering to himself as he sulked throughout the fortress, and when he heard his name being called, he yelped and jumped to attention, looking as though he saw a ghost. When he saw that it was Mustafa speaking to him, he scrunched his nose up.
"I thought you were supposed to be at the post?" Mustafa asked politely.
Mashhur wrapped his arms around himself and cowered. "None of your concern," he hissed at Mustafa, his heart pounding, and scurried away.
"A jumpy person, isn't he? Even more timid than Rakin," Nabil commented. "But I suppose we can't all feel safe at home in Masyaf—"
"You get back here, you blinded, conniving, insufferable, ridiculous, thumb-sucking flea!"
All three novices looked bewildered and shouted as Hildegard raced past them, followed by a furious and huffing Maria. "I think we've just found our entertainment," Nabil smirked. Mustafa, though, still had his suspicions about Mashhur.
"Maria, please, my dear! Try to understand! I was merely trying to encourage you—"
"Encourage me?" Maria had Hildegard pinned to a pillar, her forehead pressed against hers as she stared terrifyingly into her eyes. "I don't even want to know what you were trying to encourage me to do, but I demand that you leave me alone." Letting go of her, she briskly walked away, only to be pulled back by Hildegard.
"What are you saying, Maria? You're tearing me apart! Why is it that you neglect me? Do you not love me anymore? We never speak to each other—have I done something to anger you?" Hildegard dramatically flung her head to the side, her hair covering her face. "I try my hardest, you know, but—"
"Save your soliloquy for another time, Hildegard." Maria tore her arm away from her friend and resumed her pace. Hildegard fell to the floor from the motion.
"Maria, my love! You've left me all by myself, no one to shelter me from the cold! How could you be so, so cruel! Here I am, lying on the cold, cold floor, without any form of—"
"Then get off the floor."
"But—"
"Hildegard, I'm not going to pity you—"
"But if I get off the floor—"
"Just do it already."
"How will you mount me?"
Maria halted in her tracks, almost falling on her face, and whirled around. "What did you—"
"Or maybe you prefer the bottom. I'm sorry dear, but I'm a bottom person myself, but I think we both know a certain Assassin who'd be willing to take the top for you—"
"Hildegard!" Maria blushed as she heard the novices chuckling and mumbling to themselves. She shot them an ugly look, but they were too busy laughing and nudging each other to pay any attention.
"Oh, the sounds he'd be able to pull from you, all those lovely little noises that'd only feed the flames of hunger in his soul—the taste that only makes him crave for more!" Hildegard stood from the floor and smiled from seeing Maria's flustered blush. "And, dear, I believe his menu consists of only one entree—"
"Don't you dare—"
"Why, Maria Thorpe herself! And oh, dear Lord spare me, he'd want appetisers as well! All the foretastes before the main course! How could I have forgotten that? And he's the kind of man that'd make reservations for a private room, yes? Dinner for two sounds like a splendid cup of tea! Just make sure there's a great, big, sturdy bed in the room," Hildegard whispered to the novices. "Lord knows that bed would need all the support it could get, what with all the rocking and the thrusting—"
Maria hunched her shoulders and balled her hands into fists, steam almost shooting from her ears.
"Maria, don't look at me like that," Hildegard waved casually, "it's common knowledge that women need more time to reach their peak of excitement than men do. No need to be ashamed about it, I assure you, plus he'd probably be absolutely grateful for a reason to still be inside, no doubt." Hildegard proudly raised her chin in the air, not noticing Malik slowly passing by, looking completely horrified.
He shuddered and growled at Rakin, Nabil, and Mustafa, "Novices," before leaving the room. But he sneered, a cunning and clever idea coming to his mind.
"I'm not ashamed," Maria shot back.
"Then what are you, my dear?" Hildegard gave a toothy grin and continued in a sugary-sweet voice, "If you're afraid he won't spill anything again in such a short time, don't worry your pretty head over it. After all, men are messy eaters."
Maria opened her mouth to scream at her for being so provocative and inappropriate, but she was interrupted when Hildegard nodded toward the doorway.
"My, my, what a sight that is, no?"
Altair and Rauf were speaking to each other in hushed tones, gesturing from time to time and looking back at the training ring. Rauf looked like he was trying to negotiate with Altair, and the other man seemed to be denying him. But what caught Hildegard's attention were the clothes that Altair wore, or rather, the lack of clothing.
"Just look at all that hunk of man," Hildegard admired. "A gorgeous thing he is, isn't he, Maria?"
"It isn't that noteworthy," Maria countered.
"Oh? Are you arguing that every inch of him isn't man? Well why don't you go check and report back to me, hm?"
Maria opened her mouth in a silent shout and was about ready to pummel Hildegard to the ground, but her arm was stopped in mid-swing.
"What is the purpose of all this commotion and shouting?" Altair and Rauf.
Maria glared daggers at Altair for halting her punch. She whipped her arm from his grasp and refused to look at him. Hildegard, however, looked ready to burst by how delighted she was.
He looked back and forth between the giggling novices, Hildegard, and Maria. Maria's cheeks looked like they were on fire—did she have a fever?
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Hildegard explained as she took a few steps toward Maria. "We were just discussing dinner, and our friends here," she nodded toward the novices, "found it comical when we discussed rather juicy and mouth-watering intercourses."
Maria almost choked. Hildegard gave a mock gasp. "Did I say 'intercourses'? A slip of the tongue, that's all. I meant to say courses, or corsets. Which do you prefer, Altair?"
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Courses."
Hildegard nodded. Putting an arm around Maria, she lilted, "Mind if I steal her for a moment, gentlemen? No? Good." A good distance away from the Master of Assassin's, Hildegard mumbled to Maria, "Now that is what I call a treasure trail. Although, it's a bit faint, but all the more fun for you following it!" Indeed, Altair was not wearing a tunic or robe as he'd just come back inside from training with the novices. "Just look at how that sweat accents those muscles. And how they flex and are so pleasing to the eyes. Mmm, Maria, he looks delicious."
Maria shrugged and pushed Hildegard off of herself and walked back to Altair. Rauf was speaking to the other novices and he quickly shooed them away, Hildegard prancing after them.
They stood facing each other for a few moments, neither of them knowing what to say. He stared at her as if he wasn't the least bit ashamed of presenting himself in such a way. She was never a woman to be insulted by shirtless men—such a thing was impossible not to see in the Crusades.
"Aden is still unconscious," she said, hoping that her face wasn't as red as it felt like. She tried to compose herself and wipe away all signs of embarrassment. "Benjamin had him investigate Damascus, and until he wakes up, we don't have any information. What's your call?"
He paused before pursing his lips and walking up to his study. She followed him, trying to keep her eyes off his back and behind. Hildegard was certainly right: his back muscles moved so gracefully and he did have a nice bottom. Though, she'd never admit that to Hildegard. She wasn't even sure if she could ever speak with Hildegard again.
"We wait, of course," he sighed as he pulled on a spare tunic. She tore her eyes away from his built torso and scolded herself for internally marveling over such a sight. Damn Hildegard and her idiotic banter! He paused, noticing her admiration, and stared at his desk, apparently looking over a document. "Until he tells us what he learned from Damas, we can't make a move."
"Hm," Maria grunted. She leaned against one of the columns in his study and seemed absorbed in her sleeve. He studied her. She was uncomfortable, he could tell, but he missed what transpired between her and Hildegard. He was sure it was something unpleasant, but to be so blunt as to just ask? Would she tear his eyeballs out for that?
Well, dammit, he was a man of action, anyway.
"What did Hildegard say?"
"Hm?" She looked up from her sleeve. She blushed from the question and returned to prodding at her sleeve. "Oh, she was venting, that's all. Aden has her on edge. He fancies her, you know, and she's too fickle to return his feelings. At least, that's how she always makes it out to be."
Altair understood completely how love tortured a man. She wouldn't even look at him! "I see." Silence. Awkward and lengthy silence. He looked back and forth between her and his desk. She was still fiddling with that stupid sleeve. Clearing his throat, he tried to salvage the moment. "That man, Aden, he didn't hurt you, did he?"
"When doesn't he?" Maria bluntly snorted. When Altair approached her with concern smeared all over his face, she raised a hand. "I'm fine, honestly, just a bit sore. You don't need to cluck at everything that happens to me."
"I'm merely concerned for your well-being, Maria, and if that man hurts you again, I'll do more to him than knock him out." He ignored her comment and took a step closer to her.
She looked ready to raise Hell from his words. She breathed out of her mouth, trying to hold back her flames, and cautiously replied, "I don't need pity, Assassin, especially not from you. Aden's always been seeking a way to remove me from existence, and I don't expect that to change just because you wish it to be."
The tiniest of muscles moved in his face and he easily replied, "Is it so terrible that I be concerned for you?"
"No," she insisted, "but there's no reason for you to waste your time in such a foolish way. I'm sure there are many other things you could occupy your mind with."
He crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side. "You are a guest at Masyaf, Maria, and it's my duty to keep Masyaf's people safe and provided for."
She snorted. "And are those the words of the Grandmaster? You belittle yourself to a common babysitter."
"Babysitter? I prefer the phrase 'vigilant leader', Maria. And no," he shook his head, "those are the words from Altair, a mortal human man." The person I can be when around you.
He watched as she struggled to hide her astonishment and how she looked everywhere else but at him. It was remarkable how much he could effect her with words.
Finally deciding on a reply, she sarcastically said, "Well, it's good that your robes don't choke who you are, Assassin. I'd hate to go fishing you out of them."
His mouth twitched as he took another step closer to her. "I wouldn't want you to go through such troubles for me, Maria."
She swallowed. "I can see the feeling of independence is mutual, then, and I assume you can understand my request for you not to hover over me."
"Hover?" He took another baby step. Their chests almost touched. "Assassin's don't hover, Maria." He touched her cheek and murmured in her ear, "We fly."
His breath had the hair on her skin rise. He made the slightest movements next to her face so that their cheeks barely brushed against each other's. His stubble tickled her and made her want to squirm, but she knew that he'd be utterly satisfied and smug with himself if she gave in.
Satisfied in the manliest of ways, that was.
She wanted nothing more than to push him away from her for violating her personal space in such a way. Standing in front of her? She could handle that. Speaking to him face to face? Although his voice had such a sensual rumble to it, she could survive. Breathing against her neck and nuzzling her? Line drawn.
She fought the urge to shove him off and instead gently pushed him back. He reluctantly listened, letting air escape his mouth that almost made her gasp. Almost.
His eyes were dark with something... something that was familiar in a most unexpected yet completely welcoming way. And when she saw herself reflected in his eyes, the most beautiful green and brown she'd ever seen, she felt her chest bubble.
Her fingers curled around the material of his tunic when he dipped his head toward hers. She cleared her throat. "Altair?"
He paused so that their noses touched.
"Last night," she managed, "after the garden. You.. you helped my headache. How did you do it?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You've headaches often?"
"Breakfast, lunch and dinner," she dryly remarked, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to see his. "Benjamin says it's because I worry too much. Hildegard says that I'm not getting enough sleep, which I suppose ties hand in hand." She wanted to kick herself for her babbling nonsense.
"But are you worried?"
She opened her eyes. "Yes, I suppose I am."
He searched her face, seeing how her eyebrows were gently knitted together.
"Don't open your eyes," he eventually whispered, "otherwise it doesn't work." She creased her brow further but listened anyway, unable to see the sparks lighting up hazel. His good hand snaked its way to the back of her neck, brushing against her side, and started soothing the nape of it. His other hand tenderly brought her closer to his body so that her head was nestled comfortably between his neck and shoulder. "Worried about what?"
"Templar's," she lied. How was she to tell him that he was the reason her palms were slick and that her heart was racing at a speed she couldn't keep up with? And how was she supposed to keep her composure when she could smell the sweat on him, a scent that suited him so well?
She felt him stiffen from the words.
"Do you remember Acre?" he lowly whispered into her ear. His voice, so baritone, sent a pleasant shiver crawl up her spine.
"As in Earl of Gloucestershire? Yes, yes I do. At least, I remember enough to know what that pig-headed bastard wanted to do with me. Thank you for that, by the way."
Altair nodded and tightened the hold he had around her waist. She flinched from the touch, deciding whether or not to deny him such a privilege. She decided not to pull away. A good sign for him. "Assassin's and Templar's have been raging war against each other for many years, Maria, and always the Assassin's have come out triumphant. The same will go for these new Templar's; they will not hurt you."
"I'm not asking for protection, you cur. I'm perfectly capable of holding my own, in case you've forgotten. I'm worried about what they're planning and what they want to achieve."
"Their goal is clear, is it not? They want the Piece of Eden."
Maria sighed. "You still have that thing?"
"Of course, Maria. I wasn't about to go lose it." Though he was done with his treatment, she still kept her head on his shoulder. His voice always had a pleasant undertone quality to it—whenever he spoke to her, of course—and she mentally cursed herself for almost forgetting it.
"It's damnation given form, Altair."
"I know," he breathed, "and the Assassin's would be damned if the Templar's got a hold of it. I don't plan on using it to win my battles."
"Your battles?" She pulled away from him, her hands on his chest, and was still locked in his embrace. "In case you need to be up to speed, Altair, I've my own bout to settle with the Templar's as well. Clarence thought he could marry me, might I add, and Earl attempted to take advantage of me, not to mention that I still have scars from him, and I have a missing comrade. On top of that, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the Templar's. I think I'm more involved in this than you give me credit for."
"Forgive me for my misunderstanding, then. They are our battles—"
"And Hildegard's, Benjamin's, Aden's—" She swallowed her words when he leaned his forehead against hers. His breath tickled her face as he spoke.
"Then we will all see to it that the Templar's will fall and that their perverse designs for world domination will never see light."
"You can't guarantee that," she quietly argued. Oh, how much she just wanted to push him away from her and ignore the tiny leaps her heart was making. Why did this man have to be such a bother to her? And was it necessary that his fingers were twining themselves in her hair? And—blast—where did her clip go?
"You're right: I can't. But I can stay with my beliefs, my Creed, and keep the Templar's from harming my Brothers," he sighed, "and you."
She quietly swallowed, wishing that her mouth wasn't so dry and that her fingers weren't curling around his tunic. She barely managed to croak out, "That's a little ambitious, isn't it?"
"You've said those words before."
"Have I?" She could feel that taunting blush return to her cheeks as he glanced at her lips, and just when she thought she'd had herself under control!
"Yes," he mumbled as he leaned forward and—
"Good news and bad news, I'm afraid, though I suppose having any news at all is good."
Altair cradled his head on Maria's shoulder, sighing irritably before pulling away from her, leaving her stunned and looking more than infuriated. Her hands slid from his chest as he took a few steps backward.
"I'll start with the good news then," Benjamin announced as he invited himself into the study. "Aden's finally spoken." He eyed Altair and Maria, noticing the pink on Maria's face and how she ran her fingers through her hair. The Assassin, as usual, looked unaffected but interested in what Benjamin had to say.
"Firstly, Aden would like me to say, and I'm not exactly happy about being courier pigeon, but he says he has a 'God-awful headache that reminds him of Maria and Damiel combined'. Secondly, he says he will sleep the rest of the night, and in the morning, he will have a nice heart-to-heart chat with whoever hit him over the head. Thirdly, he has news of Damascus.
"He says that there are caravans linked to the Templar's just about a day from Damascus and that someone should go investigate them on the double. Apparently, there's been recent Templar activity in Damascus, which I think is believable."
"We've inspected those caravans before," Altair stated. "Yes, there have been many guards around them, but there were carts full of spices and herbs. It was explainable, unless—"
"Unless that was just to cover up something else," Maria finished. She looked over at Altair. "What are your orders, Grandmaster?"
He frowned and spoke, "We will send men to the caravans, then. I've given the task to Malik already, we will need to see who he has elected to go." He walked out of his study, Maria and Benjamin following, but then stopped and turned around. "Although I believe your presence is beneficial to Masyaf, Benjamin, perhaps it'd be wise if you didn't accompany us."
The veteran sighed and gave a small smile. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I'll check in on Hildegard and the others, then. That woman seemed a bit too giddy when I saw her last."
Maria rolled her eyes. Benjamin squeezed her shoulder before leaving the two.
"Shall we?" Altair motioned toward the stairs.
"Have I decided?" Malik mused as he helped another ball of kibbeh into his mouth. He smirked while he chewed, occasionally glancing at the man and woman in front of him.
"This is urgent, Malik. It's been confirmed that Damascus is a threat to Masyaf."
"And did that walking boulder of a man tell you that?"
"Yes."
Malik swallowed and neatly wiped his mouth on a handkerchief. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that yes, I've assigned two people to this mission, and I'm certain that you'll thoroughly enjoy each other's company."
When Maria and Altair exchanged puzzled looks, Malik only sighed and shook his head. "A novice to the end, Altair—I've picked the both of you. You could both do with the exercise, I'm sure—"
"But I'm needed for forging and assisting Rauf!" Maria stuttered, utterly appalled by his selection. "To have me run off on some petty mission would look terrible to Masyaf's people!"
Malik smiled and swallowed another kibbeh. "Rauf will be able to manage on his own, I'm sure. And as Masyaf's guest, Maria, it'd be rude to decline the city's request, wouldn't it?"
Her eyes flashed and she clenched her fists. "But surely there are others more suited for the task! I'm out of practice and I agreed to serve Masyaf's people as a blacks—"
"And serve you will," Malik casually replied. Allah, this woman could be terrifying. "Uncover the truth about the caravans, and our Brothers will be most grateful to you."
"But this is—"
"We will leave at dawn, then."
Maria whipped her head around to glare furiously at Altair. "What did you just say—"
"An excellent decision," Malik smiled. "I was about to say the same. Prepare your saddlebags tonight: blankets, bread, waterskins, whatever you require, then get yourselves some rest. We wouldn't want you falling off your horse—"
"Horses," Maria growled. "We're taking two horses."
"And increase the chance of being spotted by guards along the way? Never. No, you will ride the same horse, but you'd do well not to choose Shihad. He's exhausted from his exercise today and it'd only be polite to let the horse rest. Take Hafa instead. I hear she's eager to break out of her stall."
Altair clenched his jaw, the only sign that he was irritated by Malik. Maria looked like she was ready to shove all the kibbeh on his plate down his throat until he choked.
"As you wish," Altair lowly replied before turning and leaving the dining hall. Maria turned as well.
"Oh, and Maria?"
She halted and whirled around to give Malik her most menacing look possible.
"Do sleep well."
Mashhur wrapped the blankets around himself tighter as he shivered on his pallet. Syrian nights could be so freezing and numbing, but that wasn't what had the novice jittery and anxious. No, it was an entirely different matter.
The Rose was in Masyaf! He was doomed, he knew it! All of them were practically united, save for Damiel, but his chance of discovery was increasing at a rapid speed! And worse: that idiotic master and his woman were going to the caravans! All his letters would be found, revelation upon revelation would be made, and he'd be put to death! He knew it!
And not only that, but Clarence and Tagvoryan would be discovered as well! Oh, he hated to think how that Armenian man would react! He was always so lifeless and cold and unnerving! He'd bring Mashhur back from the dead just to kill him again!
He had to do something, but what could he do? His orders were to stay in Masyaf, and he'd be punished if he disobeyed his orders. Did Clarence think him so insignificant that his death wouldn't even fracture the Templar's plans? No, that couldn't be so! He'd been giving information to Clarence for some time now, so he had to be considered important!
Or maybe this was all a part of Clarence's little game! Aha! But, no, Clarence was good to Mashhur and gave him food for his empty stomach and put a roof over his head. No, Clarence was a good man. So, he murdered his parents and destroyed his younger sister's life, but he was still honorable. Without Clarence, Mashhur wouldn't even be alive! And all the documents he gave to the man—
The documents! They were supposed to be delivered at Damascus two days ago! He was safe! They wouldn't still be at the caravan; they'd be at the Merchant Palace where Clarence was staying, safely tucked away from any Assassin's grubby little hands. No, he wouldn't be discovered! He'd go on being a traitor to these foolish men in the bizarre robes!
Mashhur smiled and nodded to himself in reassurance. Nothing could possibly go wrong! All Altair and Maria would find at the caravan would be spices! Lots, and lots of spices! They'd never find the letters or their plans! Clarence and Tagvoryan would be safe, and he'd soon be in Armenia where no Assassin could follow and bring harm to him. Even if he was revealed to be a traitor while in Armenia, nothing could touch him! Tagvoryan would protect him, he was sure, and no one could defeat Tagvoryan.
Mashhur curled his toes and bit his lip as he held back his excitement. The time of cleansing these heathens was nearly upon them, and soon, the Templar's would be the last ones standing.
Altair would be dead along with his Brothers, Masyaf's women would be plundered, and Maria would have her legs spread for Clarence's pleasure.
Yes, Mashhur liked that dream.
For those of you who disagree on Altair's body hair, lemme clarify something. He's an Arab. I don't care if he's only half Arab. The other half of his culture that I'm making him in my Fanfic is also a hairy group of people. 70 percent of Arabs are hairy, 10 percent are blessed with a little amount of hair, while the leftover 20 percent either wax, twease, thread, or do laser treatments. And I don't think Altair does any of that. I'm not saying that I'm disgusted with body hair. I actually find it extremely hot. To me, you aren't a man without it, and you aren't a woman without it either.
In fact, being Armenian, I have my share of it. Is it annoying? Yep. Do I think it's ugly? Not really, I'm a clean person. Are there men so shallow to think it's ugly? Yep. But hey, girls wouldn't be hairy if their fathers weren't. So, guys out there who detest body hair? You can go change your genetic makeup so that you're as bald as a baby.
And with that, since it's the time period, I doubt ladies really shaved. Unless you were a prostitute, I mean. So yeah, Maria, Hildegard (now that she's out of prostitution), Olivia, and Zaina have hairy legs and pits. And Altair is a real man to be attracted to a woman who doesn't shave. I give him brownie points for that.
Translations:
Ganymede: Medieval slang for homosexual
Dumm: stupid