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darkdevasofdestruction · 2 years

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Caress My Soul ~ Malik Al’Sayf x Katrina

Thank you my dear @rebelspykim for jumping to help me with this aesthetic as soon as I mentioned this one shot idea~ <3

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“Brother? Who is that?” a young Kadar tugged on his older brother’s sleeve as they watched from a corner as an assassin in training, roughly around Malik’s age, was continuously fighting using martial arts against his foes in the middle of the training ground. “That’s Haakim. He’s the only assassin our age that trains to become a physician. He can be pretty weird sometimes, and he’s very quiet and antisocial, but he’s a kind soul. Do you want to befriend him?” the 10 year old Malik chuckled, patting his brother’s head. “Oh yes, that’d be great! He’s really good at fighting! I think he’s almost as good as you and Altair!” the young one was exceedingly excited. “Ah, ah, that’s enough, Kadar, quiet down. Pay attention to his fighting style, it’s unique. His physique is much frailer than ours, despite his training, so he came up with moves that use the opponent’s strength against them, and he’s using his reflexes, speed and agility to confuse and feint the enemy.” the young boy standing out for being the only one of their age fighting with his hood up was seen to easily raise his foot up and hit his heel on the opponent’s chin, making them fall to the ground, only to turn around and throw the other enemy over his shoulder. As if he heard them, Haakim raised his hand to stop the training, and took a towel to wipe away the sweat away, as he stepped towards the two Al’Sayf brothers. Raising his hand up, he patted Malik’s head, making the boy stare bewildered by the action. “Malik – Your name shows you were born to be a King, so do not gossip, but lead. You have all the qualities for that.” He chuckled, turning his attention towards the younger one. “And you – You must be Kadar. It is my honour meeting you, young one.” Haakim crouched to get to Kadar’s level, extending his hand for him to shake. “Ah – N-No, the honour is mine! Malik – You said he’s antisocial, but he came to befriend us!” embarrassed at his brother’s blunt denouncing, and he barked his name as a scolding. “It is quite alright, your brother is not wrong. I have long since realized I can be… An oddity, amongst those my age.” Haakim let out an amused exhale, defusing the situation. “O-…Oddi-…Tee?” Kadar muttered, but was unable to reproduce the word. “It means weird. People think I’m weird.” The boy’s innocence only amused the boy further. “Weird? But you’re not weird. You went out of your way to come to talk to us. You must be really nice, like my brother said!” at these words, not only Malik slapped the back of his head, but Haakim started laughing. “I am flattered, thank you, you two. You are both very kind.” He nodded his head, getting up. “Kadar… Your name… It is a destiny for you to become incredibly powerful. You will have success and good fortune in the future, if only you keep training and working hard.” The boy praised the young one, who seemed so happy with the praise that he was almost but bouncing up and down. “You really think so?! Malik, Malik, did you hear him?! He said I’ll become really strong! I’ll become like you and Altair one day! I’ll become like papa!” though Malik knew that the boy’s words were mere kindness, he still nodded in gratefulness at making his brother happy – Although, he noticed, through that dark hood, that as soon as Kadar mentioned their father, Haakim’s smile faltered a bit. ��Become stronger and wiser than even your father. That is the meaning of future generations, to become better than the old ones. Progress, thirst for knowledge, ambition and hard work.” His words were wise, and Malik knew that no matter how much he loved and admired his father, he wasn’t as wise, calm or strategic as he’d like. But Malik was always praised for his intelligence, and he was going to make use of it. “HAAKIM!” before Malik or Kadar could thank the boy for his time, a voice called out to him, making him spaz backwards in a second. It was just Altair. “Stop wasting time, we’re supposed to go climbing.” “…Patience is a virtue you will never learn, Altair…” Malik could barely stop his snort of amusement as he heard Haakim’s snide comment. “Thank you for your time, you too. Be well.” With a lazy salute, the boy ran after Altair, and the two started running away – They might be racing or something. “Haakim was so nice, brother! Can we befriend him? Pretty please?” seeing how excited his little brother as, Malik could only nod with a smile on his face.

Since then, Malik and Kadar would make sure to always go and salute Haakim, whether he was training, or wanted to eat with someone by his side. As soon as the young one was old enough, Haakim agreed to help him train in hand to hand combat, though he would never beat Malik at a proper sword fight… At least, not without the use of cheap tricks. Everything is permitted during a life or death fight, though, and the boy had to accept that.

Though 15 years passed since they first started speaking to each other on friendly terms, Malik realized that he knew absolutely nothing about Haakim. Standing inside the healer’s quarters, watching the man work hard day and night to save all of his patients, or watching him train, or study… And when he wasn’t doing either of that, he was nowhere to be seen. He knew nothing of his family, if he was an orphan, if he had any siblings – Hell, he didn’t even know if he had a last name at this point. Still, it didn’t seem to bother Kadar at all, and he was getting along very well with him, and truth be told, so was he. He wasn’t obnoxious or arrogant or vain like everyone thought he was, he was just shy and awful at making conversation… Though, considering how dumb and annoying most of the other assassins their age, he couldn’t blame him for choosing solitude over that idiocy.

The best strategy to finding out more was clearly making Kadar ‘innocently’ ask something more personal while they were eating lunch - It was perfect to watch his reaction too… Though, Haakim never took off his hood. It was the weirdest thing Malik has ever seen, and though Kadar asked once, the answer was that he was ashamed of a nasty scar he got in his childhood. But Malik didn’t buy it. He must be lying, but why, he could not tell.

“Haakim – I really wanted to ask you something. And it’s very important. VERY important! You MUST answer me!” seeing how impatient and needy he was, the man motioned for him to go on and speak. “Do you have a sister?!” hearing that question, Haakim spit out his food and coughed violently. “S-Sister? Why would you think so?” the man, if you could see his face, had a horrified expression on his face. “Well… Some boys made fun of me for not having a girlfriend… And I thought that, maybe, if you had a sister, she would have been as awesome as you, and… Maybe… If you didn’t mind…” but the more he spoke, Malik could see the grimace Haakim’s lips made… He seemed terrified and ready to flee on the spot, for some odd reason. “No, I… Well… Yes, I… I do. But, uh… I don’t know if, uh… If she’s… Interested in, uh… Being with a man…” Haakim stumbled over his words awkwardly, barely making any sense. “So you mean she’s interested in women?” Kadar’s eyes went wide, making Haakim drop the plate of food in his lap and wave his hands aggressively in a negative motion. “N-No, No, nothing like that! I just mean that, uh… O-Our parents, they, uh… No, I mean, she’s uh… She’s very shy, and she’s always at home, and, uh… She doesn’t know anything about men, a-and, uh…” Lies. Blatant lies. Malik could see how awful his lies was, though it was interesting, or he knew Haakim as a great deceiver, when he wanted, and he was always cool headed and collecte whenever he spoke, so why was he so agitated now? “Oh, really? But you’re a man, why don’t you tell her? Or, don’t tell me… You’ve never been with a woman before?! Come on, everyone has, you can’t tell me – But you’re so awesome, you can’t tell me you can’t get women to like you!” though the conversation was hilarious, even he got a little embarrassed by Kadar’s shamelessness. “No, I… I haven’t. I don’t… I’m busy. I have a lot of training and studying to do, I don’t have time for leisure activities of a social life.” The poor man tried to play it cool, though his hands were trembling. “Can I meet your sister, then? Or – Let’s all hang out together! It should be fun! I mean – You got more social after hanging out with us, maybe she’ll get out of her shell too! Your parents must be really proud of you two.” The conversation was obviously making the physician more and more uncomfortable by the second, for he got up and turned around, leaving towards the castle. “I apologise for my rudeness, I have to return to my duties.” But before he could leave, Kadar called out for him. “At least tell us her name, please!” begrudgingly, Haakim spoke a name out loud. “Katrina.”

Since then, Haakim avoided speaking about his private life again, and when Kadar tried to ask question after question again, he simple left, not answering to any other question. Malik’s plan failed, but now, at least, he found out that this one had a sister with a very beautiful name. But it was awful, because now, he got even more curious, and he wanted to know more.

But where was she? Did Haakim and his family had a separate house, somewhere really far away from the Masyaf castle? Were they hiding intentionally? Was that why he never invited them over? Not that they did… But the more Kadar was trying to get up and personal with Haakim, and quieter he’d get, and the more he tried to avoid them. He almost seemed now like that arrogant Altair who wouldn’t bother speaking to people, thinking himself above all the others for becoming a Master Assassin at the youngest age recorded. Still, he knew it wasn’t the case. That’s how he was born, and he couldn’t blame him.

He did his job perfectly well, hence why, he became the chief of the Healing Department, and he’s saved countless of people who were thought to be hopeless, he came up with revolutionary medicine, drugs, topics and ointment, and even surgery procedures, things that seemed above and beyond anything Malik could even imagine. No wonder Al Mualim was seeing Haakim as one of his favourites, though, unlike that bloody Altair, this one seemed to never get any favoritism. It was almost pitiful.

Somehow, the stars answered to his prayers though, and his curiosity was going to be quenched soon, as Altair came over to him and threw a package in his hands. “Give this to Haakim tonight. It’s something he requested I get for him from my latest mission. I’d have gone myself, but Al Mualim is sending me urgently on another mission.” Thus, he explained how to get here, and sent him off.

It was, by far, the perfect opportunity, and just about the only good thing Altair ever did in his whole entire life. It was already night by the time Malik was able to go to Haakim’s house – From afar, it seemed to be rather big, and settled next to the water, and it was surrounded by various well taken care of plants and flower. It was beautiful. Maybe his parents, or him himself was able to gain this much money to get such a villa.

Before he could step in front of the door and knock, however, the sound of singing, a voice so crystalline and beautiful that he thought some kind of spirit of arts, some divine angel was blessing his ears like a lullaby made to enchant him. He was drawn towards the back of the house, and he hid behind the wall as he watched a beautiful silhouette dancing with her feet on in the shallow water. This must be Haakim’s sister, Malik thought, as he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the stunning woman before him.

In the moonlight, the light blue of the outfit highlighted the sheer material, revealing a delicate form that moved with such grace and elegance – He was completely entranced by her. The golden jewellery was sparkling, and so did the gems, but none as powerful as those light eyes of hers… And that hair, so unusual, kissed by fire, falling down her back like a crimson cascade, dancing in tandem with the flow of her body.

Just like Kadar mentioned, he had been with women before, and he’s seen dancers and beautiful females before, dressed intricately and rich, showing of lascivious moves and wearing bold make up… But none compared to the one before his eyes. Without realizing, he stepped towards her, but he had no idea that she would turn around, only to stop stunned in her tracks, a horrified look on her face and unable to move an inch. She merely let out a small squeak of fright and jumped backwards, her hands covering her face, as if hiding timidly.

“Forgive me for startling you, that was not my intention. You must be Katrina, Haakim’s sister. I am a friend of his. Altair told me to send him this package.” Though, despite speaking, the girl still didn’t move. “Could you give this to him?” The girl slowly nodded her head at him, but didn’t speak. “Are you afraid of me?” the girl shook her head as a negative. “Then why aren’t you speaking to me?” “… I-I’m shy.” Her voice was so soft, barely audible even, completely different to the strong and alluring singing from just before. “S-Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, Malik.” “Oh? How did you know my name?” if her body was rigid before, now, she looked like a statuette. “A-Ah… Th-That’s because… Because… Y-You said you’re Haakim’s friend. He, uh… He has no other friends… Except you and Kadar. And, uh… Kadar, he said, is a bit more… Uh… Talkative.” The girl explained, though, through her fingers, Malik noticed that beautiful shade of green, as her eyes were darting around, looking for an excuse. It was such an awful lie, that it reminded him of Haakim’s own poor attempt at lying to him and Kadar about his private life. No wonder they are siblings, they share the same mannerism… And height. And jawline. “Ah, I see. Then, I am honoured to know that Haakim considers me his friend as well.” He wanted so hard to smirk and tease her more, but he was also afraid of startling her even more. “Y-Yes, he does. Uhm… Since you came all the way here, I, uh… Let me make you some tea, as a thank you. F-From Haakim, I mean! B-But he’s not at home now.” The man watched attentively as the girl let her hands down at a slow pace and hung her head as she stepped towards him and took the package from his hands. Her face was beyond beautiful, and that dark make up only made those eyes glimmer even brighter than the moon. Though her hands were trembling, he noticed her hands weren’t as impeccably delicate and soft as other women’s were, but going by the wealthy life-style she lived, he couldn’t understand what kind of work could she have done that would leave the faintest trail of coarseness and small callouses on some of her fingers. “I hope I’m not intruding. Thank you for your hospitability.” He spoke, following her inside the house. As soon as he stepped inside, he looked around, and it was furnished rich, but with style. It wasn’t cluttered, and it had lots of colourful plants and flowers – Though, the highlight of the whole house was probably how it was a bit messy with tons of medical supplies and equipment scattered around the house, but somehow, it gave a lot of personality. “Y-You’re not intruding at all. Haakim’s friends are always welcomed here.” Quickly, she put a large shawl to cover her indecent outfit and brought the man a tea. “You’re all alone here? No parents?” the girl seemed troubled as she shook her head as a negative. “No. It’s, uh… Just myself and Haakim. Our parents died, uh… About 15 years ago.” She spoke remorselessly, and a bit harsh, he thought. “But Haakim is almost all the time at… Work. Are you all alone here at night, all the time?” he asked, raising his eyebrow questioningly. “I know you’re Assassins it’s alright. And, uh… Yeah. I’m mostly alone, but it’s alright, I’m not afraid. I don’t think people even know where this house is. I don’t think I’ll have thieves any time soon.” She seemed to be rather sure of herself. “Still, it’s not safe for a lone woman to be alone. I’ll scold him tomorrow when I see him. He should take care of his sister better.” The look of disdain that she presented made him barely able to stifle a chuckle. She seemed to be desperately trying to hide something, but he had no idea what. “It’s quite alright, please don’t scold him, he’ll start hiding or something. You’re the only friend he has, he needs you. Altair changed too much. He forgot where he came from. He forgot his friends. He forgot even the creed. You’re the only one he has.” Katrina looked away, hiding the sadness and concern on her face, though her voice was sincere and genuine. “Alright, alright. You’re his sister, you know better. Thanks for the welcome, and make sure you lock the door before I leave. Safety and peace, Katrina.” As he got up, however, he didn’t realise that one of his sleeves was splattered with fresh blood. “Ah, Malik, wait! Are you hurt?” with unexpected confidence, Katrina rushed towards the man and raised his sleeve, revealing a long, gaping wound. “Oh, no, how could you ignore this? Go sit down, I’ll treat it right away.” She dragged him back and she rushed to some back room, bringing a handful of supplies. “I didn’t even realise I got injured on my mission. You shouldn’t worry so much, it’s nothing I can’t handle. Haakim can fix it in the morning.” He tried to calm the girl down, but the frown on her face shocked him. “I’m just as good as Haakim at healing!” she burst, before hanging her head, allowing her long hair to hide her face. “S-Sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to. I just… Uh… I can’t stand injured people, that’s all.” She muttered, as she disinfected the wound. It was, as he said, not as bad as she thought, and it was mostly stained blood. “I’ve seen small, insignificant wounds festering and killing people. We, uh… We don’t like playing chances.” “Well, then I suppose I should thank you. You are obviously very dexterous and have great knowledge. Haakim was right when he praised you for being smarter than him.” The girl looked up at him, confused. “Did he?” she blinked, almost as if she couldn’t remember anything of the sort. “Yes, he did. He also said you’re very beautiful. He was right both times.” He threw another bait for her. “You’re lying.” The man raised a questioning eyebrow. “Haakim would never say that. In fact, I’m surprised he even mentioned me at all. He doesn’t like drawing attention to him or me.” Malik chuckled, nodding his head. “I apologise, I was teasing you. You know Haakim best, after all. Thank you, again. I hope to be seeing you again.” He spoke, getting up and towards the door. “… See you a-again…” her voice was back to the mousy, timid one from just before, but he didn’t mind. In fact, Malik didn’t lie, and neither did she – They both wanted to keep the promise of reunion.

Though Al’Sayf was busy most of the time with his missions, he’d occasionally find a few spare minutes to go by Haakim’s and Katrina’s house, always bringing her whatever little token he could find from his missions, though, their little rendez-vous remained a secret from both of their siblings. The more time they spent together, the more the woman was able to let loose and speak more around him, though she never did anything as bold as to sing or dance before him, hell, she never wore make up anymore, and she only dressed modestly. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes. It was rather endearing to the man though, and he enjoyed speaking to her, listening to her wisdom and her unintentional humour, even going as far as to tell him some of Haakim’s silly stories from work.

He wanted to court her so badly, but how could he tell Haakim that he wants to court his sister? Or, rather, that when he wasn’t home, he would visit her, in the dead of night, and share a quality conversation?

Just as he found his chest bursting with emotions and need for that beautiful woman, he went to the man and confessed. But the answer was a very harsh negative. Why would he get so defensive? He didn’t even ask his sister what she wanted. How arrogant and controlling of him. “Haakim, reconsider, please. Did you even ask Katrina what she wants?” “She’s way too young to be dating, Malik! She’s an inexperienced child who’s afraid of men, she always runs away from them and she can’t even get the courage to speak to them.” He got quickly defensive. “She is not a child, Haakim, she is our age. Stop treating her like some clueless child, she’s not as afraid as you think she is. Maybe you don’t know her as well as she knows you.” This comment left the man completely flabbergast. “If you love your sister as much as you say you do, how about you return home and have a talk to her, see what she wants, what she’s feeling. 15 years ago, you told me I had every quality to one day lead, and that means being able to talk reason into people.” “W-Wait, Malik!” Haakim called out to the leaving man. “Katrina… Has a secret. And she’s very afraid that, if you found out, you’d hate her forever. She… She told me she cares about you, but she’s afraid, alright? So… So… Just give her a little more time. She’s never trusted anyone before. You saw her, she’s odd. She doesn’t fit in this society. You were kind to her, that’s why she really appreciates you… I’m… I’m her brother, I can’t help but be protective over her, I’m sure you get it. She’s… Too innocent for her own good. I know you’re a great man, Malik, and I wouldn’t trust her to anyone else. I know you’d treat her right.” Haakim’s desperate confession made the man turn around and look at the hooded physician, and nodded. “See? It’s not that difficult to have a conversation, is it? I understand what you’re saying. Whenever she’s ready to trust me…” but before he could finish his conversation, Altair got into the room and called for both of them to follow him to Al Mualim’s office.

There, them and even Kadar were given a mission that they must not fail. The Master could only trust them and them alone with the success. They were to steal some kind of relic from the Templars that were plotting and scheming inside Solomon’s Temple, so they needed only the wittiest, smartest, stealthiest and strongest assassins.

Together, they made their way through the maze-like temple, in the underground, managing to avoid getting caught – However, Altair spotted one of the guards, a simple, unarmed man that was standing in the middle of the tunnel. Though Malik urged him not to kill him, the Master Assassin couldn’t resist the temptation to show off his fantastic assassination skills.

“An excellent kill!” Kadar praised him with admiration. “Fortune favours your blade.” “Not fortune – Skill. Watch a while longer, and you might learn something.” Altair’s arrogance was poisoning the atmosphere. “Skill? What kind of skill do you need to keep a man with his back turned? Have all your praises died, and now, you must seek any ounce of glory you can, from needless bloodshed?” Haakim was in an unusually snarky mood, the brothers remarked. Though they weren’t as close as when they were younger, Haakim still viewed Altair as an important person in his life and respected him. But this friendship did not come before the sanctity of life. “Indeed. He’ll teach you how to disregard everything the Master’s taught us.” Malik agreed, turning to his little brother. “And how would you two have done it?” Altair seemed aggravated by the scolding. “I would not have drawn attention to us. I would not have taken the life of an innocent.” Malik was as annoyed by this ruthlessness, as much as the healer was. “What I would have done is follow the creed.” “Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. Learn these words. It is not how we complete our tasks, only that it’s done.” Haakim couldn’t help but bite his lip, remembering his own voice saying those very words, over a decade ago. “But that is not the way—“ Malik tried to argue, but was quickly cut off. “MY way is better.” Haakim wanted to grab Altair’s shoulders and knee him in the face. This wasn’t his old, childhood friend! He’s changed so much since his falling out with Abbas, it was unreal. “Malik, do not bother with him. He’s way beyond hopeless. Let us scout ahead.” Despite Malik and Haakim going further, the other two followed close behind until they reached the platform from where they could stare down at the busy Templars.

The air was ominous, and the solemn atmosphere was making Haakim’s heart feel heavy. Something was going to go terribly wrong. All but Altair were crouched, making sure to stay hidden away from the enemies’ sight, as they discussed whatever it was that the Templars uncovered. It must have been something very precious, that both sides wanted. Still, the Master Assassin, in his overconfidence, was ready to proclaim Robert de Sable as his own kill.

“No.” Malik’s refusal was strict. “We were told to retrieve the treasure and deal with de Sable ONLY if necessary.” “He stands between us and it. I’d say it’s necessary.” He tried to rationalize his need for murder. “Discretion, Altair!” Malik was getting angrier by the minute, with this stubborn mule. “You mean cowardice.” He refuted. “You are going to compromise the whole brotherhood with your antics, Altair! Have you no mind at all anymore?! Has all that pride erased every bit of brain you had left?!” Haakim insulted the man, who, enraged, grabbed him roughly by the front of his uniform, his fists clenched into the material. “What would some skimpy physician who hides away in the shadows know anything about being an assassin?” his face was so dangerously close to his face that Haakim was almost sure he would get his face bitten by the rabid dog. “That man is our greatest enemy, we have now the greatest opportunity to get rid of him.” “We are outnumbered, Altair! We stand no chance, no matter how Almighty your Assassin skills are!” Haakim sneered, uncaring of how awful it was, being almost lifted up from the ground with such ease. “You’ve already broken two tenets of our creed, now, you would break the third. Do not compromise the brotherhood – And do not attack your allies!” he slapped away his hands from his friend, allowing him to be back on the ground. “I am your superior – In both title AND ability. You should know better than to question ME.” Altair, too, was unable to keep his emotions under control. “You may be stronger, but you’re certainly not smarter!” but Altair didn’t answer anymore – Instead, he shoved Haakim aside and went down the ladder and marched to the Templar king like a stag. “Look at him! He’s going to get us all killed! What do we do?!” “That empty-headed, stubborn jackass! We have to stop him.” We a nod to each other, they quickly followed the idiot, but were unable to catch him before he leapt to kill the taller and much burlier foe. “ALTAIR, NO!” but it was far too late. Robert de Sable caught the so-called Master Assassin with such effortless ease, head-butting him and overpowering him, before throwing him outside of the Temple premises, before alarming his allies to kill the rest of the assassins.

The two called out to Kadar to flee before – Poor boy wasn’t anywhere close to their skills, he stood no chance at all, but Malik was so loyal to the Master that he made sure to steal relic before everyone’s eyes… Everyone but de Sable, who got his sword up, ready to cut him down in two.

“Don’t touch him!” Haakim’s angry voice called out as he shoved himself hard into Robert’s side, making him miss and only slice Malik’s arm. Though his balance was off for a split second, he wasn’t anywhere near being overwhelmed by the small male, whom he punched in the face with that metal glove of his, and he tried to slice away at the physician, but before his head could be cut, he got quickly grabbed by the back of his uniform – His hood fell, and the blade went over his eye. Haakim let out a pained gasped and quickly covered his bleeding eye, not even realizing that his hair was now visible.

“Ha! Look at that! The best the Assassins can do is hire women to fight for them, how pitiful!” this comment wasn’t left unheard, but the assassin quickly hid again and tried to run away, pushing Malik, only to get grabbed and pushed to the ground. “Malik! Haakim! Quickly!” Kadar called out alarmed, from up on the platform. “Malik, run! Run!” Haakim yelled, managing to stab the one of the enemies in the wrist and ran away, not without getting another ugly slash on his thigh. He couldn’t feel it, the adrenaline was too high, and he leapt, grabbing Malik an running after Kadar, and out of the Temple, back towards Masyaf’s castle. “Are you two alright?” Haakim was panting, exhausted – He really hated doing field work, let alone with someone as stupid as Altair. “Yes, yes, now stop talking. Preserve your energy until we’ve arrived!” Kadar quickly shut him down, grabbing onto both him and his brother and dragging them, forcing them to move faster.

Although it wasn’t easy, they managed to make their way back inside, where they noticed Altair there, perfectly safe and sound, being scolded by Al Mualim, and pretending all three of them were killed. Though silent, Malik was boiling with anger. Absolutely livid to the point of bursting. But he kept quiet, until he managed to go up the stairs.

“We are not dead!” his voice was raw with emotion. “We still live, somehow! But not because of you! Because of you! I almost lost my life, though now, I might lose my arm. Haakim’s vision was hindered, and his leg is in an awful shape. Kadar is only lucky he is relatively unharmed because Haakim made him run away!” he was pointing his finger accusatory and shouting at Altair. “Robert threw me from the room! There was no way back! Nothing I could do!” Altair didn’t even bother looking at his distressed self. “Because you would not heed our warnings! All of this could have been avoided! And this – Our bodies may still have been capable of carrying us through our work!” He was very angry, and Haakim couldn’t help but put his hand on his shoulder, hoping to keep some of his weight off as to not force his body… Without realizing the precarious precision he was in, himself. “Altair, your disregard for human lives not only nearly cost us our mission, but it nearly cost US, your COMRADES, you BROTHERS our own lives. Who knows if we can still continue being assassins, with these awful wounds? And you? You remain perfectly untouched, like the hero you are. You are nothing but the condescending shell of your former self, Altair Ibn-la Ahad. I am disgusted to have called you my brother.” Haakim’s harsh words shocked the three men, though Malik couldn’t help but agree, in his mind. “Nearly?” Al Mualim, however, picked up on the key word. “Malik managed to get what your favourite failed to find. Here, take it. Though, I believe we returned with more than just the treasure.” The army of Templars from outside were at the high gates of the kingdom. Robert was laying siege to the village. “Very well done. Haakim, take Malik and Kadar and tend to their wounds. Altair, our discussion will have to wait.” And thus, as Al Mualim sent Altair off to fight the army, Haakim led the brothers to the physician’s quarters. “I can’t believe we’re alive.” He muttered, slumping down in the chair for a few seconds, taking a few breaths. “Alright, you two, stay on the bed and I’ll be tending to your.” “Haakim, you are injured as well, take care of yourself first!” Kadar cried out. “Look at me, I’m unharmed, and you’ve spared my brother from an awful death! But your face is bleeding!” “I’M FINE!” the man snapped, making silence in the room. “Altair is not the only arrogant one here. I may be an assassin, but I have the pride of a healer. I will always treat others before I treat myself. Now sit there and relax already.”

Though limping and with only one eye open, Haakim pulled through and easily treated Kadar, making him go to rest, and remained with Malik alone in the room, though none spoke a words. Though he was still angry and trying to let go of his anger, he couldn’t help but remember the glimpse of red hair from behind the hood. Even now, he could see a stray strand of hair out, into the light.

Though he’s had his own theories in his head, he never thought twice about it, and just let things go. Not only did he never find Haakim and Katrina in the same room, there were things that she knew, that only Haakim would know. Though it was probable they could speak to each other, the details were rather specific to begin with. Haakim’s build, his size, his feminine hands… Katrina’s not so soft ones, and now, the red hair peeking out of its hiding spot… It only made him wonder.

His mind went blank as soon as he heard the other physicians saying his arm would get completely amputated, only for Haakim to start yelling at them, saying none of them is allowed to get anywhere near him, and that he will be saving that arm. Though the anxiety was rising through his veins, afraid of possibly having his whole life ruined, all because of that arrogant ass – He trusted Haakim’s expertise. He’s proved time and time again how proficient he was, and if anyone could, it was him.

Until the dead of night, Haakim worked tirelessly on that arm, until he was sure it was going to heal properly. “It’s fine now. I need to change the bandages every… Three hours. And redo the treatment. But everything else is set. Don’t force the arm though, you will need to recover for a few months, so everything more than writing is strictly forbidden, if you want to use the arm again.” He explained, slumping back down on the chair, feeling the exhaustion taking over. “Thank you, Haakim. Now, take care of yourself too.” But the man was unmoving. “Haakim?” “Shut up, I’m tired. I want to sleep. I’ll do it in the morning.” With his arm sprawled over the table, and his forehead resting on his forearm, he let out a deep exhale. “Haakim. Katrina once said that a physician must treat even the smallest wounds, right away, otherwise they can fester and you might die. I know you’re exhausted, ground work isn’t for you, but if you die, who will be taking care of her?” Malik tried to reason with him, but he merely saw his hand wave dismissively. “You.” The answer, however, completely shocked him, putting doubts into his suppositions. “Live, Malik. You must live. I don’t care about me, but you have to live.” He muttered, his voice groggy and tired. “Now you’re being stupid. If you don’t get up and patch yourself up, I’ll do it myself.” He threatened, making the poor physician jolt up on the chair, scowling. “But… The wound is too high on my leg. I’d have to take my trousers off.” He hung his head in shame. “So what? We’re both men here, and there’s no one else around. What’s there to be so ashamed of?” but he refused vehemently. “Fine, be that way. I’ll go sleep. Will that put you at ease?” “Yes… Please.” The answer made the man sigh, but just as he promise, he got on his side and offered a good night.

Haakim waited about half an hour, before softly calling out his name to check whether or not he was still awake. By the lack of response, he was, so Haakim took off his trousers and his hood, remaining in only his undergarments, as he began patching himself up. The tied up red hair was now falling down past is shoulders in waves and he looked down at his battered up skin, and the blood caking over his bruises, and the gaping wounds. Haakim was now Katrina, but Katrina didn’t want to be Katrina. A woman shouldn’t be looking like this… Roughed up, bruised and damaged. A woman should be like she was before, in the safety of her home, in pretty clothes, and her hair was pretty and filled with jewellery, and her make up was done beautifully, and she was dancing in the sand. That’s how she wanted to be. Untouched by the horrors of the assassins missions. She was a woman and she loved being a woman… But the world hated her being a woman, so it always made her remember that.

Through the disinfecting and suturing of her wounds, she wanted to shriek out until her throat was bleeding raw, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t wake Malik up. He couldn’t see her looking like that. It was pitiful. She wanted him to remember her as the pretty woman from before, not… This. As soon as she finished bandaging her leg wounds, she limped in front of the broken mirror hanging on the wall, she noticed now the awful wound on her face. Hopefully, she would be able to save the eye and her vision. It hurt like hell, and she fell to the ground, unable to keep herself up anymore, but at least she was able to finish that up too. But getting up… Was a tougher mission.

Still, she dragged herself back to the chair and put the trousers and the blouse back on, keeping herself light. The night was beginning to disperse faster than she realized, and though usually there were no cases usually, now, Abbas, of all people, was there for a quick fix. “Oi, Haakim, you the--… Huh? What are you doing here, woman?” “Keep quiet, Malik is sleeping! He’s recovering.” Katrina shushed the man, still slumped on the chair, looking away so he wouldn’t see her tear-stained face. “This is not the place for a woman, get out already.” Though, before she could reply, another voice called out to him. “That woman is the physician that has been treating the whole Masyaf for the past 15 years.” It was Altair. It was the only person who knew her secret, save for Al Mualim, who allowed her to take that position. “What?! What about Haakim?!” Abbas protested, confused and angered. “Haakim never existed. It was always her. Now stop shouting, Master needs you.” Altair tried putting his hand on his shoulder, but was quickly shrugged off. By this time, Malik had awakened and was in a sitting position, watching as Abbas picked up the cross-dressing assassin with ease, slamming her into the wall. “You have nothing to do here, woman! Get out of here right now! The assassins don’t need you, they’ve done just as well without you!” though exhausted, through her anger, Katrina reached out her hand and clawed at his face, making him drop her. She was at her breaking point already. “THEN GO GET YOURSELF KILLED FOR ALL I CARE! YOU AND ALL OF YOU! ALL OF YOU, GO JUMP OFF A CLIFF ALREADY!” she yelled at them through the tears, all the frustration that she’s built up since birth. “If you’d rather die than be treated by a woman, then FUCKING DIE!” she continued. “If you think there is any difference in skill and knowledge between me and any other physician here, just because you’ve got that stupid little prick dangling between your legs, then I’ll have you know, they wanted to chop off Malik’s arm, but I was able to save it! But sure, to hell with all that, who cares, right?” “You have no right speaking to a man like that, you little whore. I’ll go inform Master about this!” though he tried to leave, Altair’s words stopped him. “Master was the one who put her in this position.” He spoke nonchalantly. “Now hurry up, we have to leave, before Al Mualim himself comes over and sees this mess.” “Al Mualim is already here.” The voice of the old man made the girl slap her face and rake her fingers through her hair. “You were negligent, Katrina. Now, you have two people aware of your secret. Whether they accept you or not, it is your business alone, and theirs.” The old man’s words made her so angry, she wanted to strangle him. “I am the best healer you’ve got – Why do I have to hide behind this stupid façade anyway? Haakim, Haakim – But what about me? What about Katrina? It’s been 15 years! I’ve done everything you’ve asked, I even played pretend and proved my worth to everyone – Why does this have to change everything?! There are many women out there, held in high regard for their knowledge in… Medicine, Mathematics, Calligraphy, Law, Religion, Literature, Art and Music -- Why is the Brotherhood any different? Aren’t we all Assassins here? Haven’t I saved enough people?!” though she was right, the Master didn’t take light to the accusing. “Enough with that attitude. You know the rules. Whether your secret gets told around, and you get accepted, is up to Malik and Abbas. The rules are sacred, and we cannot go against them.” The Master spoke solemnly. “Tsk… Altair, back me up! Come on, aren’t you my brother? I was born a week before you, we are basically blood brothers, yes? We’ve known each other since we first took breaths into this world, and not even once did you stand up for me. Now would be a perfect time for that. Haven’t I proved my worth yet, Altair?!” her jaw was set, and she was gritting her teeth in anger, but the man didn’t sketch any emotion. “It is not my place to question the rules of the brotherhood. You’ve misstepped, thus, it was your fault.” She couldn’t believe his words and he watched as he left was ready to leave the room. “You’re a coward and a rule breaker, and you can do all that because you have always been the favourite. You never get any punishment or repercussion. You are just that. A vain, stubborn jackass. And Abbas, you’re a nobody. You’re worse than even the novices. You’ll never be anything worth while. Whatever, get out, all of you. I won’t be bothering you for much longer, I’m out. I know when I’m not wanted.” Those green eyes held so much hatred and resentment. “You never stood up for me, even when you knew I was being beaten up at home. You never did anything. That’s why you’ll never grow. You’re not a man, you’re a coward.” She insulted them, and though Abbas wanted to go strangle her, Altair grabbed him and followed the Master.

Katrina simply turned and punched that mirror hard, not caring that she got her fist all fucked up. Instead, she used her other hand to punch the wall, only to get it even more screwed up. And then, her shoulders started shaking lightly, and soft sobs escaped from her lips, no matter how much she tried to restraint herself.

“What a bunch of idiots.” Katrina froze up – She completely forgot that Malik was still there. With her head still hidden in her hands, she was too afraid to move, or even let another sob. “I’d be armless without you, and they want to kick you out. How annoying.” He continued, but just like before, she was unmoving. “Ah, right, I should mention - I already knew your secret. I just wanted to let you get the courage and trust me enough to confess it yourself.” “Since when?” she managed to squeak out in that soft, broken voice. “You’re never seen together, you never speak of your life, you have the same height, same build, a terribly exaggerated voice, same touch, same mannerism, same skills, same knowledge… Should I go on?” he asked, but the girl shook her head. “It was a theory that I had, but I never had it confirmed until now.” “… I don’t know what to say.” She confessed, unable to show her face. “I didn’t… I just… I’m good at one thing, and I wanted to help people… I didn’t want to play this stupid game, but he made me. It was the only way I could run away from my parents and learn how to become a physician… That traitor knows this… He wasn’t always this awful… He’s changed so much… He’s completely another person.” She confessed, her hands raking down her hair, tugging on it roughly. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. Your injuries aren’t life-threatening anymore… I’ll tell the others what treatment is to be done, and I’m out of here. Nobody will have to see me anymore and despair at seeing a woman for the first time in their pathetic lives.” She slapping her legs, she got up and limped towards a book in which she started writing the treatment. “Are you giving up, Katrina?” he asked, and he watched her nod her head. “After all this time? Really? And what will you do, go home and watch the waves?” “Yup. I’ve been alone my whole life. What’s even more loneliness? Maybe I’ll find some work at the Princess’ place. I don’t know, and at this point, I don’t care.” As she finished writing, she threw the feather down and tore the page off. “I’d rather you take care of my injury then some fried brain.” Malik leaned forward slightly. “Have you forgotten? Woman or man, I enjoyed your company either way. I even said I wanted to court you. I said I would wait until you were ready to trust me. Is it that you still distrust me, or is it that you are so afraid and hurt that you’d rather run away?” the girl remained silent, though rooted to the spot. She always seemed to freeze whenever called out like that. “What I told you before, as either myself or Haakim, still is true. I don’t… I’m not… I’m not giving up. I… Y-You… I don’t… I don’t want to… Give up… But look at me. This is not… This is not me. I am a woman, Malik… And I love being a woman… But this is… What the hell is this even? Scars and wounds and bruises and running away? This is ridiculous. It’s pathetic. You deserve better than whatever the hell this has become.” She sighed, raising her hands so she could pin the treatment paper in the nail where the mirror once was. “Are you being purposely stubborn and difficult?” he snorted, getting up from the bed. Though he hadn’t slept the whole night, much too concerned for her health, he wasn’t feeling tired. He made his way in front of the girl, and he cupped her face, raising her face up. “Nothing has changed, Katrina, so stop making up scenarios in my stead. In breeches or in those pretty dresses of yours, with or without make up, and whether you have wounds and scars or not, is of no concern to me. The fact still stands that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and though Haakim easily became my friend, as soon as I saw you, I fell in love with you, and I knew I wanted to make you mine. There’s no one that had my attention like you did. No matter how exhausted I was, I always found myself in front of your house, every night, just to see your face and hear your voice. I would even get purposely injured, just so I could feel your touch one more time. So don’t run away from me now, Kat. Not now.” The man carefully wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her into his bare chest, yet just as before, her body felt rigid, and her hands were trembling in the air, as if confused at what to do. With a smile on his face, Malik reached out to hold those hands, and he placed them over his torso, watching as her face became flustered. “Don’t give me hope, Malik. I… I’m a weirdo with no social skills. I don’t even know how to speak to people. You’ll just get bored and frustrated.” But he only held her tighter. “Don’t just go around assuming what people feel, Katrina. It’s rude.” He teased the woman. “Besides, you were speaking perfectly to me before, I see no problem. Now come on, look at me and give me that beautiful smile of yours.” Gingerly, he raised her chin up and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Will you let me court you now?” as he let that question be heard, the physician hid her face with her hands, though she nodded her head in approval. “Don’t go around giving me a heart attack like that, Malik! I don’t think I can take it! You have no idea what you’ve done to me all this time, both as myself and as Haakim even, since the time you became my friend. You are crazy, Al’Sayf! Crazy!” she uttered, and with a burst of courage, threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “Though… I really need to take care of that arm of yours. I’m really scared, but I think I can save it.” One of her hands reached out to delicately caress the wound over his toned biceps muscle. “Does that mean you’re not resigning from here?” though she was silent for a while, she ended up shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. You’re not resigning, so… I suppose I might as well stay around for a while. At least until you’re in top health again. Then… Maybe I’ll go work in Jerusalem at Queen Isabella’s court… Though… I don’t have a home there, and I still need more money to get one as great as the one from here. It took me 15 years of work… Guess it’s 15 years more.” Malik hummed, pondering over the future, and he patted her head. “We’ll think of something, so fret not. Things will work out well for us.” And so they did, for as soon as the next day came by and Katrina explained to the Master that should Malik ever wish to continue his Assassin work, he needs complete rest, he transferred him to becoming the Dai of the Jerusalem divide, and under the claims that she needs to constantly monitor his health, she followed him, and together, they lived in the bureau’s small back chamber. It wasn’t as comfortable as the room back home, but with the right company, they made due.

Though Katrina constantly pestered Malik to make sure he doesn’t overwork or put any kind of strain onto his arm, he didn’t mind it one bit, except for the times when she’d take whatever it was from his hands and do the work herself, mumbling almost incoherently and scolding him. That, was amusing, though she was already working hard enough and forgetting about resting.

This new work was nowhere near as exciting as what he was doing before, but for some odd reason, he didn’t quite mind it either and he realized that he quite enjoyed the management aspect of his new job. Writing documents, creating maps, organizing missions for the other assassins, providing intel for them and giving the green light for assassinations, if needed. He quite enjoyed his new role as a teacher for the novices, considering he was now the highest in rank assassin in Jerusalem. Since they were required to create a business for themselves to not only create a front, but to generate money as well, Malik realized his passion for cartography, whilst Katrina would be dwelling into her healing arts, not only for the assassins, but for the civilians as well.

Since the successful mission from the Temple of Solomon, Malik was declared the Dai of Jerusalem, and he was the outright leader of the Jerusalem division, though his woman received no title from the Master despite all her hard work throughout the years. He was pissed, but only the Master could give away titles like that. At least they were happy with Altair’s punishment and how he became a novice, and with the new rank of Dai, Malik has now surpassed even his previous title of Master Assassin and field instructor. It was hilarious, and he wanted to see that ashamed mug when they’d next face each other.

He was truly happy now, though mostly away from his brother – Yet some day, he was going to buy a house in Jerusalem and he’d make sure all three of them live nicely, until Kadar find a woman and moves out together with her. Every night, he’d make sure he was the last one to go to sleep, not wanting her to work herself into exhaustion, and every time he’d get in bed, he’d look to his side and watch the peaceful form of the beautiful woman that he would soon be wifing. She was always dressed in those soft, sheer nightgowns of hers for it was always so warm, though a corner of the blanket was draped lazily over her back, as she always complained about spine pain. They were so young, yet so damaged. It was pitiful. Her limping was still visible on occasion, but he knew that, just like with his own arm, she, too, will be getting better.

At least, every time he’d gaze at her, and his fingers would trail over her body, the wounds were hurting anymore, and the scars were beginning to fade at a rapid pace. The miracle ointments she created were the highlight of the country, and women of all ages would come over to get their fix, worried about scarring or stretch marks. Youth creams, beauty creams, moisture creams, even make up, she would create them, and their business was booming thanks to her entrepreneurship skills, along with her medical knowledge and creativity. If it were to rely only on his map-making, they would be rather poor. Still, he was happy. She looked genuinely happy now, away from Masyaf, and into a place where her skills were recognized by the civilians, and her skills were required en-mass. She even received the title of “Katrina Al-Shifa”, the country’s renowned healer. What Al Mualim lost, Jerusalem nurtured.

As time passed, Altair walked the path of redemption and ended up being forgiven by the two, more or less encouraged by Kadar and his forgiving nature, but once they heard the truth about their Master’s real plan of domination, they helped the once hated, arrogant Assassin into reclaiming Masyaf, even going as far as to assassinate Abbas who was against them from the very beginning.

“Katrina. Now that I am the new Mentor of the Brotherhood, I can restore your position in Masyaf as the Brotherhood’s Medic.” Altair spoke, looking at the couple. “Thank you, but I have no intention of returning to The Kingdom. My life is fulfilling in Jerusalem.” She replied briefly with an uncaring shrug. “That is a pity. Your skills have been recognized since long ago. You would have been a great asset, as always.” He explained, though he wasn’t going to go against her wishes. “Yes, yes, and now, she’s the Queen’s favourite, everyone loves her, and we are on the verge of moving into a villa gifted by the King. My wife and I are not returning.” Malik’s stern voice was noted, though his last words were noticed by both men. Katrina, on the other hand, didn’t. “WIFE?! When did you get married?! And you didn’t call me to the wedding?!” Kadar’s petrified expression made the couple look at him with different emotions on their face. “We didn’t—“ Kat tried to stumble over her words, but it was meaningless. “My bad, my bad. I got so used to living with Katrina so much that I started calling her my wife before even asking her formally. What a drag, why do you have to only pay attention to these kinds of things, but not your work as well?” though amused, Malik scolded his younger brother who couldn’t help but grin widely. “Then what are you waiting for? Ask her now! Come on – We need more than one reason to celebrate!” as excited as always. “Alright, alright, you are being obnoxious. I was hoping to do it in private, away from you. Alas… Katrina, I’ll have to apologise to you once again, it seems that my younger brother has not learnt anything from when he was a child.” He chuckled, turning around and holding her hands. “That’s alright, we got used to him. He’s still a child, after all.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “I would love to be your wife, Malik.” “Congratulations, you two.” It was the first time either of them witnessed Altair’s genuine smile. “Finally, my grumpy brother is happy – About time! Now, settle a date for the wedding, and we’ll come with gifts for your new house!” the more Kadar spoke, the more awkward Malik’s and Katrina’s smile became, and they shared a look, stepping away from the young one without him noticing even. “He sure is excited. He hasn’t changed one bit.” The physician mused, shaking her head at his antics. “And he never will, that little rascal. Well, I suppose a bit of energy around isn’t that bad, once in a while.” Malik chuckled in agreement, before cupping her face and gazing into her enchanting green eyes. “Still… I can now show off my incredibly beautiful and intelligent wife all over Jerusalem, and she’s all mine.” “You are being too kind and considering, Malik, you are embarrassing me.” Though her words were timid, her smile was wide enough to match Kadar’s. That smile. That gorgeous, charming smile that he fell in love with. He could never hold himself back, and he’d always kiss that stunning that smile of hers. He could never get enough of her. “Then whatever I am doing, I am doing well.”

#malik al sayf #malik al sayf x reader #malik al sayf imagine #malik al sayf x oc #assassins creed #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed x oc #kadar al sayf #altair ibn la'ahad

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demigoddessqueens · 5 months

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Imagine being in the hospital sick or some reason and they cannot for the life of them keep your partner out of your room. They don't know how they keep getting in. But security finally coaxes them out but they turn around for 20 minutes and your partner is wrapped around you in the bed.

I think Haytham, Shay, Jacob, and Ezio would be the worst about it. Malik and Evie would just deliver the verbal smackdown of a century till they were let in. I don't know a single intelligent member of hospital staff who would try and stop Altaïr or Ratonhnhaké:ton

Sorry for the long ask, I just got out of urgent care myself cause the muscles in my left leg ceased functioning while my heart and pulse said "hey, you know what would be fun? If we decided to start doing our own thing" (I'm fine it's not a stroke or heart attack)

Omg 😱 I hope you’re doing ok! That sounds pretty serious and I hope you’re recovering

Ohmygooawdd 😆 this would be an experience for the poor medical staff

Connor is just so big and muscular and tall so no one gets in his way. Altair just has The Stare™️, striking gold eyes to match, and the nurses just move out of his way.

Haytham is not loud per se but he makes his sternly-worded opinions and voice known. Shay, Jacob and Ezio are loud AF and want to see you ASAP

Malik and Evie both have words for the staff about getting to see you, but also have gentle chastising for you too

#assassin's creed #headcanons #assassin’s creed x reader #evie frye #ezio auditore #ezio auditore da firenze #shay cormac #malik al sayf #shay patrick cormac #jacob frye #haytham kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #altair ibn la'ahad x reader #altaïr ibn la'ahad

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dazed-poltergeist · 1 year

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Powers of Eden (I)

Associated fandoms: Assassin's Creed x The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Altaïr Ibn La'ahad x Reader (Platonic), perhaps some Altaïr x Malik in later pieces

Warnings: One (1) spoiler for The Umbrella Academy

Summary: The reader, who is similar to the "The Umbrella Academy" character Five Hargreeves, attempts to travel back in time. While it succeeds, they travel a lot further back than what they would've liked..

Add. Notes: Allow me to give some background on Five, for those who haven't seen the show: The original Five Hargreeves comes from an adopted family of 9. The siblings' names are Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Ben, and Viktor, and his "parents" are Reginald and Grace. Along with his siblings, Five has superpowers, which in his case are teleportation and time travel. He used to work for a timeline related commission as an assassin. In this story, the reader/Five has no affiliation with the said Commission.

>✉️<

{ I've returned with a new piece! I'm pretty sure that I will write more parts for this, but I'm not sure how I should write a specific part related to languages without using Google Translate. So if any of you has advice related to that, I'd appreciate if you spare some for me. In any case, it looks like I managed to write something before St. Patrick's, so happy (still early) St. Patrick's Day! My so-called "spice" for this time is that I speak in English a lot more than in my mother tongue, which causes me to forget words in the latter language. }

-Eero, March 2023

Masterlist ✧⁠*⁠。

ー

When you were younger, you would practice teleporting –and on a few rare occasions, time travel– with Reginald's guidance, starting with a few small units at a time and then building up from that. On these very few occasions, he only allowed you practice time jumping to the future, and whenever you questioned him for that restriction, he would say things along the lines of "A wrong move down the line could change the whole world as we know it," "Time travel is far more complex than teleportation," and "You were not educated enough to understand time travel."

Even if what the older Hargreeves had explained to you these days was true or not, he wasn't just a prick, he was the whole cactus. Today felt like a good day to not listen to what he had told you, just to spite him. It wasn't like Reginald was going to stop you anyway; He was dead, "playing tennis with Hitler in hell," as Klaus said before his funeral.

You told Grace and Viktor about what you were going to do, even though they weren't going to know that when you meet them yesterday, the day you planned to jump back to. You strutted to the Umbrella Academy's courtyard, where after two attempts you successfully opened a way through time.

Except, when you stepped through the ripple of time and looked for signs that you actually time travelled instead of teleporting in an arduous manner, you realized that you weren't in the Academy's courtyard anymore.

You were standing on the roof of a small, sand-colored building. You could see a city around you, with a bunch of houses and towers in different shades of yellows and whites. You recognized a large building as you took in your surroundings; a blue and white temple with a gold dome acting as its roof. With the famous temple in mind, you easily concluded that you somehow ended up in Jerusalem.

Once you came out from your daze of admiring the landscape around you, you realized that a hooded man dressed in white was behind you, staring bullets into your head. You wanted to tell him about what happened to you, but given your location, you doubted that he would understand you.

The assumption ended up being correct, because he began speaking in an unrecognizable language. The only useful thing you could do in that situation was gesturing to him that you didn't understand him, which was exactly what you did. Some gears seemed to align for him, and as a response he took you by the arm and into the building below you.

The two of you landed on the floor of what seemed to be an outdoor living room. You couldn't really take in many details, since the strange man continued dragging you through the building. The room you stopped in had a collection of bookshelves, baskets, pots, and many other things, but what caught your eye was a one-armed man standing behind a table.

The cripple noticed you the moment you and the hooded stranger walked in, and began to question the latter about you. They talked for a short period of time, then the man behind the desk walked away from the table to you and the other strange man.

The two men turned to you, and tried to introduce themselves in the most simplest way they could to someone who didn't understand their language; they pointed at themselves and said their names. The now formerly hooded man introduced himself as Altaïr, and the other one with a dark robe over his similarity white outfit introduced himself as Malik. You told tell them your name in the same manner; you pointed at your torso and said "(Y/N)."

Altaïr looked at the other man and said something in his language, to which Malik chuckled and made another comment as a response.

("A name. That's a start.") ("What a funny name. You certainly weren't wrong about the 'odd person' part.")

The two began brainstorming on what they should do with you now; they couldn't let you leave the bureau, because you didn't understand their language, you likely had no idea what the surrounding world was like, and you looked like someone out of a bizarre story told by a drunk bard. All they could think of with the given circumstances was that they needed to take you in.

Malik went to one of the shelves in the room, and began looking for books that could possibly help with the language barrier. You joined him to look for documents with dates on them; you needed some year written on a recent paper, to get an idea of how far back in time you actually jumped.

Altaïr realized what you were doing, and found some excess paper to write down the year for you. You took the paper and thought that you wouldn't be surprised about the year, since their appearances seemed to give it away. Yet, you were very surprised, even for someone who just time travelled on purpose. You had jumped into the period of the Third Crusade.

You quickly recovered from the shock that came with that fact, and wrote down "2019" onto the other side of the paper Altaïr had given you. You gave the paper to him for both him and Malik to see. The two froze in place, and Altaïr dropped the piece of paper onto the ground. They turned to look at you again, and visibly wanted to ask multiple questions about the future from you; you could see the eagerness on their faces. Unfortunately, the language barrier was no help.

The presence of an inability to communicate with you made the two white-clothed men determined to try and teach you their language while you were under their wing.

For a change of scenery to let you process what happened, Altaïr took you back to the main area of the building, where he sat you down. He walked into a third room to get you some food, after Malik had left you two alone to find you some clothes that would help you blend in—to make it less obvious that you've come from 900 years into the future.

As Altaïr handed you some food, Malik came up to you two and placed a small stack of clothing next to your legs. He muttered something to Altaïr in their foreign tongue as he was walking back into what you concluded was probably his office.

("If they need help with the clothes, you can count me out.")

Since the building usually didn't have any visitors of your kind, majority of the spare clothes were related to what seemed to be their uniform. The clothes Malik had provided you included a pair of dark pants, some white robes similar to the ones Altaïr was wearing, and plain boots fit for running and climbing, along with a leather harness to keep the clothes in place. Those clothes obviously weren't what you were used to wearing, but they were relatively better than the ones you had on at the moment.

You left Altaïr alone into the main area to go change into the robes. Only after you had changed you realized that your clothes looked like a downgraded version of the two men's outfits. You concluded that the clothes they wore had different features based on ranks. You didn't even know what kind of organization they worked for or what their jobs were, so you couldn't put more thought into the conclusion that you had just made.

As you got back to Altaïr, you only then felt the exhaustion from the energy-consuming time jump kick in. Even if you would've had enough energy to try time-jumping again, you wouldn't have wanted to risk accidentally travelling into the Stone Age. The little "living room" seemed comfortable enough to be used as a bedroom, which was the reason why you lied down in the bundle of pillows that were sitting on the ground.

The white-clothed man briefly disappeared into another room and returned to get you a thin blanket. As you prepared to rest, Altaïr sat down to begin contemplating on the things he could try to do in order to help you adapt to a possible life in Jerusalem. Thanks to a sheer lack of ideas, he only thought of recruiting you as a novice for the Assassin Order.

Now that you had fallen asleep, Altaïr went to Malik to consult him on what they should do.The latter thought that recruiting you—a strange person who literally emerged out of nowhere and couldn't even speak their language–into the Order was an outrageous idea that should be out of question. The dark-coated man also added that they couldn't even take you to Masyaf to swear you in and train you there because of the language barrier. But even then, their morals told them that teaching you was the best they could do with the lifestyle they had.

The two decided to show you a little thing or two about being an assassin, without making you an official member, and see how it would go. Malik proposed that he would teach you their language whenever he could multitask, and Altaïr added that he could show you a move or few while he trained or when he brought you along for an info hunt. All they could do now was to wait for you to wake up and get ready for a bring-your-novice-to-work day with the two men.

ー

Personal pointers: A particular bureau for Assassins that Altaïr frequently visits in certain fanart is in Jerusalem, since Malik is the Rafiq there. Like majority of the buildings in that city, the hideout is in the color of sand and maybe a few specific spices.

#assassin's creed #altaïr ibn la'ahad #malik al sayf #altaïr x reader #platonic #eero's fics #assassin's creed x reader #assassin's creed fanfiction #altaïr #ac altair #assassinscreedseries #assassins creed #ac crossover #umbrella academy crossover #five hargreeves #five hargreaves

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rea-grimm · 6 months

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Masterlist Assassin's Creed

Grim reaper Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad

Dragon of Masyaf - Dragon Altair x Reader

Dullahan Malik Al-Sayf

Incubi Ezio Auditore da Firenze

Wendigo Connor Kenway

Dragon Haytham Kenway

Merfolk Edward Kenway

Vampire Arno Dorian

Demon Jacob Frye

Anubis Bayek

Harpy Alexios

Werewolf Eivor

#masterlist #assassin's creed #altair x reader #malik x reader #ezio x reader #altair ibn la'ahad #malik al sayf #ezio auditore

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xadoheandterra · 2 years

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Series: The Heir, The Reader, and Clay

Title: Run It Again Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI | XVII | XVIII | XIX | XX | XXI Enabler: @kingbob2-0 (if you wish to be tagged for this story please let me know!) Beta: @desmond-the-queer-dragon Characters: Malik al-Sayf, Faheem al-Sayf, Desmond Miles, Clay Kaczmarek, Layla Hassan, Altair ibn La’Ahad Pairings: Altair/Malik Tags: Altair Is Impressed, Gushing About Kadar’s Skill, Malik And Faheem Fight!, Faheem Reads Malik And Malik Hates It, Adorable Desmond, Clay And Layla Are Siblings Now Summary: They hadn’t found an answer yet, and Layla was impatient despite the promise of the Grey being timeless in its nature. She didn’t want to have to search for an answer that might never come–so she made another suggestion. Why not just change it? Why not counter the Isu influence on the Pieces of Eden where it counted, and counter what Juno inevitably did to the Eye in the Grand Temple?

It was all the push that Desmond needed to let himself be just that bit more selfish. So selfish he chose to be, and there was one moment where the Isu’s hold on the Pieces of Eden had a profound effect–the Levantine Brotherhood. Altair Ibn La’Ahad. Al Mualim. There was just one problem–Desmond was eight, a child, and didn’t remember dying.

Layla at least had his back, even if she was just a bit fashionably late.

Kadar was clever. Altair knew this in the way of a teacher, a mentor, and an elder brother. He knew the breadth and width of Kadar's mind, and the ways in which the boy thought, but rarely did he really get a taste of the cleverness bound up behind the dark curls of his head. The chance to see the way Kadar thought, laid out in front of Altair like a feast was a pleasure that Altair seldom got to enjoy. If it weren't for the trouble the teen had left behind Altair might've happily ensconced himself within the Damascus Bureau for a month just to piece through every little bit of coded evidence left to him. Sadly, he did not have that pleasure; time was of an essence that Altair had little of, a precious commodity, and so despite the wealth of information that waited at his fingertips Altair focused on the pieces he needed for the puzzle that the Novices had left of Damascus.

The puzzle painted a grim picture to Altair, one that as time wore on had him more and more concerned for the state of affairs within the Brotherhood. He knew something had to be off given the way Khaliq had reacted to his presence--a scoff and a question as to why Altair were still here when Altair had only just arrived in the city. The fact that the other man had shoved the bloodied feather in Altair's face, as if proof of Altair's actions--and the disdain he had for the measure in which the target was killed--it was not flamboyant enough! It was not public enough! It did not paint as stark a picture to the Brotherhood's enemies! Altair ground his teeth at the thought.

The kill was clever and smart, given the skill of the perpetrators--and it only took a brief visit dressed as a lowly servant to the palace of the Merchant Prince to piece together the events. It only took a few small words to hear of the group of children that had come and worked for a day, that spread word and rumor and sent the servants out--of the boy who was set to be used, rescued and taken to safety, covered in his assailant’s blood. Altair heard everything he needed to know Kadar had seen the way of events and worked out a strategy that would grant him the results he desired with as little risk as possible, and Altair applauded him. The evidence painted a much darker result of Kadar had not acted, and Altair knew the boy made the only choice available to him given that he had not seen any presence of his field master to guide him--of Altair's presence, given his delayed state from Masyaf.

That Khaliq did not notice grated Altair something fierce and led Altair to a dark thought of Khaliq's position as Rafiq of Damascus. The man affected the air of knowledge and kindness and spoke with such, gave false praise with hollow words, but he was not that man in truth and Altair could see that now. Self-important, self-affected--he desired his pottery and nothing else. These past few days in Damascus that Altair had taken to observe, to put sight to Kadar's coded, clever words--to understand the actions of the Novices who by evidence were well out of Altair's reach in this moment--it told Altair plenty. Damascus would soon be lost to the Assassins, if it were not already, given their foothold in the city did not deign to do their duty.

With a heavy sigh Altair scrubbed at his face and gathered up the coded documents, marked maps, and carefully began to bundle them into his rucksack. They would go to Malik, who could decode everything much quicker than Altair. Malik who had taught Kadar the code in the first place--Malik who had his way with words and ciphers that Altair could never repeat. No doubt Kadar and the Novices had unearthed more than what Altair scratched the surface of, enough to perhaps brand Khaliq a traitor to the Brotherhood if not a defector--neither option was good at any rate, and the punishment for both tended to end in death. Once everything was packed away, Altair licked at his fingers and snuffed the candle with little thought. He slipped from the room in the Bureau, and then out into the Garden and up and away.

Silent feet took Altair from the Bureau out into the night. He had one location to stop by, and then he would need to take the tunnels out of the city. While some of the tenseness had calmed, the front gates were still guarded far too heavily for Altair to attempt to leave with the Scholars around him. He would be pegged far too quickly, and it put the Scholars in further sights of the those in power in Damascus. Neither of them truthfully needed that. The tunnels would suffice; they may be dark and cramped and designed to be a maze, but Altair could pick the path as easy as breathing if need be.

Altair landed with a soft fwumph of boots and cloth outside a modest home, the window lit by candlelight and the heavy scent of drink upon the air. With a grimace Altair wrinkled his nose, even as he pressed the door open and slipped inside without care to announce himself. On a set of cushions, lounged with pipe and cup and bottle, Salim peered at Altair's entrance with half-lidded eyes.

"Done, then?" Salim slurred with a lazy blink, and Altair kicked at his foot with a grunt.

"You're drunk," Altair noted and Salim waved a hand in his face.

"Best place t'be."

"It is an insult."

"Pshaww," Salim set down his cup and stumbled to his feet. He swayed for a moment, fell into Altair who gripped him before the smaller man could topple them over and helped right the drunken fool who grinned wide and toothily back at him. "See? Functionin'," Salim cheered, and Altair mumbled a soft, "Barely," under his breath in response. "Now why ya here? Eag--eage--eagle!"

"It is as you said," Altair sighed as he dropped his rucksack on the ground. "I am done."

"Aaaand?" Salim leaned into his space, blinked slowly at him with a half-curled grin across his face. Altair leaned back.

"And you were right," Altair grunted out, turned away, and stepped quickly out of Salim's range.

Salim let out an explosive breath, straightened just a bit, and a small edge of that drunken silliness bleed off him like water from the back of a duck. He said, more coherent, "So they did it, the clever little shits." Altair glanced to him, saw the way he rubbed at his face and grunted with distaste. "Novices doing the work of grown men. Fuck."

Altair scoffed, but he agreed with the sentiment. He said a sharp, "And you did not think to stop them? To aide them?"

"I did aide them what the fuck do you think I was doing?" Salim grumbled. He moved and scooped up his cup of drink from the ground in a fairly fluid motion for a drunk man. "Not my fault you and Malik trained them too fuckin' good. Damn Kadar's a viper waitin' in the bush to strike. I only caught on t' em cuz of the other three."

"He's a Novice. You should be better."

"No fuckin' novice that boy is," Salim pointed out, downed the drink in his cup, and then with a yell threw it at the wall. "Fuck!" Altair startled, stiffened his spine as his vision flashed into twilight before he was able to calm himself and force his limbs to relax. Salim covered his face in his hands again and hissed out, "What d'ya want?"

Altair inclined his head to the question. He fingered the edge of the table as his gaze drifted to the shattered cup. "Watch Khaliq. Protect the Novices."

"Same ol' same ol’, ey?" Salim chuckled, just a bit on the side of bitter. "When should I 'spect our resident demon to come 'n take my head?"

Altair bent and picked up the rucksack as he fished out the bag of coin that he dropped onto the nearby table. He said plainly, "Malik is not going to kill you."

"Got his demonling in a right pickle, didn' I?"

"He might hurt you," Altair conceded with a faint curl to his lips. For a moment he and Salim exchanged a quick look, and then Salim tugged his hands through his hair.

"Hurt, right." Salim sighed heavily, dug his fingers in and tugged for a moment before he grunted. Altair turned and started his way back toward the door when Salim spoke again, "Where ya off t' next?"

"Acre." He paused for a moment. "Any suggestions? I know you and...."

Salim shook his head. He said a short, "Fuck no. None my business what that shit gets up to is it?" For a moment Salim eyed Altair, and Altair waited for what Salim undoubtedly wanted to ask. "Jus'...make sure he's eatin' right. Dumb fuck skips too many meals."

Altair ducked his head. "Of course."

"And Altair?"

"Yes?"

"Safety and peace, brother." The words were spoken solemnly with dark eyes, and a bright brilliant blue glow in twilight.

Altair clenched his fingers tight around the door frame as he said a short, "And to you," before he slipped away and into the night.

Malik slumped over his desk and massaged along his forehead to abate the headache that threatened to bloom behind his eyes. Desmond had been settled into sleep, much to the child's consternation. Desmond was quite ready to put up another fight with his now enforced bedtime and stricter rules, but Malik knew boys and injuries and he had certainly gained a bit of a handle on Desmond as well to know the new rules were necessary. It did not mean that Malik liked to deal with stubborn, churlish boys however, especially on top of an already stressful period given the nature of everything. He cast his mind to Faheem, who had been silent and disapproving in his way, his own churlish stubborn personality in full force. His mind then drifted to Maria, whom Malik had not seen since he told her rather forcefully to get out of his Bureau. He thought on himself, the way the rage that had curdled in him had finally drifted off to the side, no longer a frothing, churning sea on his chest ready to boil over, but one more contained--not calmed, because despite everything Malik still craved a good fight, but stabilized for the moment.

The words on the page in front of Malik blurred as he shifted his hand away and tried to return to his work. His temples throbbed in response, and almost distantly he could hear the door to the Bureau open and then close. A cup of tea settled next to his arm on the counter softly and drew his gaze. For a long, slow moment Malik stared at the cup almost uncomprehendingly. He blinked, slow, and then winced as another throb of pain tightened around his temples like a vice.

"You've worked yourself too much," Faheem said bluntly, and Malik darted to glance at him before he shifted to grab the cup. Faheem stepped forward quickly when Malik's sense of spatial awareness failed him, given the steady thrum of pain behind his eyes, and grabbed the cup before he could knock it all over his work. Not even a single drop fell upon Malik's pages, which the younger man was entirely thankful for. This time Malik took the cup directly from Faheem and settled himself back in his chair, away from his work, to take a sip. "I am putting this away," Faheem said once Malik had his drink in hand. "You have worked more than enough for today."

"So, you have decided you know what is best," Malik said, words bitter on his tongue as he took a sip of the tea.

"No," Faheem countered sharply. "I do know what is best, Malik. There is no deciding in that." Malik scoffed and looked away, but he did not stop Faheem from gathering up his papers and the book that Maria had asked him to translate--the strange book that held secrets that Malik knew the Brotherhood would covet, secrets that could be dangerous in Templar hands and that Malik worked hard to misdirect in what he gave to Maria. "I am your father, Malik, even if you sometimes do not wish it so."

Malik sneered into his cup with a petulant, "I always do not wish it so," which Malik knew even Faheem could read for the lie it was. Faheem merely sighed and shuffled around Malik's workspace. He picked up papers and maps and organized things while Malik sipped on his tea and felt the edge of the pain in his head ease just a little. Eventually Faheem spoke up again, words slow and deliberate as Malik tried to let himself relax.

"The guard passed last night," Faheem did not glance to Malik as he spoke. "I was unsure if the Novices had brought you such news."

"The Novices were given strict orders to avoid any such information after you brought me the man's cock," Malik said dryly, and watched as Faheem shrugged unrepentant.

"Castration seemed like the far more prudent option at the time," Faheem said blandly. "It is less likely to draw attention given our prior altercation...and given what had happened with that Templar woman and your temperament--"

"My temperament?" Malik snapped, hand tight on his tea. "I was not the one who stood there and boldly, loudly, acclaimed myself an Assassin for all and sundry to hear!"

"Well, if you had not brought a Templar into an Assassins' Den--" the snarled words were only halted by Malik throwing his cup in Faheem's face, enough to startle the man backward with a yell. The tea hit Faheem's face and arms, stained the white of his robes, and the cup clattered to the ground with a small chip in the rim.

"This is what I mean!" Faheem snapped as he shook out his arms, eyes furious as he looked to Malik. "This temperament! This end toward immediate violence! This response!"

"You have no right to talk about my temperament," Malik snarled, "when you are far worse than me! How many times have you stood there and demanded blood for the slightest of offenses?!"

"Just because you fucked this woman--"

"EXCUSE ME?!" Malik reared back, eyes wide and mouth agape as his father continued, voice louder over the shrillness of Malik's own.

"I HAVE BEEN THERE, MALIK!" Faheem shouted. "She is pretty and clever and witty and ultimately she will fuck you over. She is a temptation, and one that is not going to end well--"

"Is that what you think of Mother?" Malik interrupted, sudden and quiet as he stared at Faheem who paused, and then scowled.

"I love Ketifah," Faheem said sharply, then breathed through his nose and said, softer, "Loved. I loved Ketifah," as if to remind himself that she was still gone. All the fight left him the next second, and Faheem slumped down against one of the bookshelves as he ran a hand over his face. "I have made many mistakes, Malik, the least of which are with you." Malik likewise slumped down, against his desk, and mirrored Faheem in the way he ran his hand over his face with a heavy breath.

"I do not like to see what is mine hurt, Father," Malik said. He was tired in that scraped out and raw way, burnt through like a husk so much it hurt.

Faheem sighed heavily. He said a short, "I know," as he closed his eyes. Quietly Malik watched him, watched the way his father curled slightly over himself as he spoke softly for the moment. "I have done you no favors in taming this rage of yours."

"Is it truly such a horrible thing?" Malik questioned. "I am furious at those who hurt that which is mine, is that wrong?"

Faheem snorted and leaned back, turned his eyes toward the ceiling as he said bluntly, "If you truly think it will only remain focused outside of your House, Malik, then you are more of a fool than I thought." Malik pressed his lips together, hand clenched to a fist at Faheem's words. "You may be able to curb the edge with that blasted Eagle of Al Mualim's, and do not think I have not seen that boy let you beat upon him," here Malik was treated to a narrow-eyed glare from his father that made his gut curdle. "You are lucky that boy is soft on you. He'd do anything if you gave him so much as a look."

"Do not say such things," Malik said softly, cheeks flushed as he refused to look anywhere at Faheem with the comment. To hear Faheem admit to it, admit to the feelings that Malik had not seen as if it were a forgone conclusion that Altair was--that Altair had--Malik closed his eyes and tried to push past the way his stomach fluttered or how his face felt aflame.

"You know it is true," Faheem waved his hand, but likewise did not look at his son because that--that was embarrassment. He did not want to know if his own boy was, in his own way, soft upon Al Mualim's blasted pet of an Assassin--upon Umar's boy, who was so unlike his father that sometimes it chafed. "Just as you know if he were any less soft on you, he would not dare let you injure him so."

"We spar," Malik pointed out.

"You beat him back and blue," Faheem countered, words sharper. "That is not sparring, Malik, and you know it." He ignored the mumbled, "But he likes it," because he did not need to know those intricate details of Malik's life. He did wonder if for a moment he had gotten some things wrong and that it was Altair who sought out the relationship with the Templar woman and bore a son that Malik claimed his own--before Faheem shuttered those thoughts behind doors. "Umar would be ashamed to see how his son has been handled by you."

Malik refused to look to Faheem, undoubtedly very clearly hearing the fact that Faheem was ashamed of how Malik conducted himself with Altair.

"This," Faheem eventually breathed, "this is why I did not think you fit to be Dai. Not yet." Faheem pushed himself away from the shelf as Malik returned his gaze toward his father, eyes a bit wider at the words. "You do well with the children, I won't lie, but you are too...emotional, Malik. You always have been." Unsaid was that statement that Malik was too much like Faheem, and Malik knew it. He had a lot of his father in him, and he spent a lot of time trying to stomp that out of him. "I will spend the next few days out of the Bureau. We...need space."

Faheem turned toward the garden, and Malik pushed away from the counter and walked quickly across the space to stand at the man's back. He reached out, to do what he didn't know, but Faheem paused, nonetheless. Malik dithered for a moment, and then he said quietly, "I have not touched Maria in that way."

"Yet you want to," Faheem said.

"....perhaps, yes."

"Think carefully before you make that leap, boy. It is not one you want to make without a clear head. Or....agreement...from all parties."

Malik watched his father step over the threshold to the garden, and then clamber his way out of the Bureau in silence. He stood there for a moment longer, contemplative, when a soft, "Papa?" drew him from his thoughts and toward the door to the rest of the Bureau.

"Desmond!" Malik strode quickly over to the child, chest tight. "What are you doing up? You should be in bed."

"I heard shouting," Desmond mumbled as Malik lifted him up to settle on one hip. He rubbed at his eye with his uninjured arm as he blinked blearily at Malik.

"It was nothing, habibi," Malik said softly. "Come. All young boys should be in bed right now."

"Seriously? Seriously? That's what you're going for, Seventeen? Ugh," Clay grumbled as he stared off into the middle distance. He yelped a second later in surprise as Layla's hand lightly tapped him upside the head. "Hey!"

"I need you to focus," Layla said as she stared down at the glowing branch in front of her. "Instead of getting distracted by whatever Desmond is doing this exact second."

Clay dropped back down to the ground and crossed his legs with a hissed, "Fucking shit up, obviously." He raised his hands a second later with Layla looked at him. "Okay, okay! I'll get back to the Apple, but you gotta see it from my perspective memory stick."

Layla complained with a tired, "That name again?"

"Shut it," Clay waved a hand. "I'm not the one who decided to be a reservoir for all things Assassin. Anyway, there's only so much we can do, my dear USB drive, before we will inevitably attract the attention of those fucking assholes." By that Clay meant Juno, Jupiter, and Minerva but he was half afraid just saying their names would call their attention to him. "Give how much meddling Seventeen is doing we're fucking lucky they haven't picked up on the ripples in their precious time monitoring bullshit."

"You're welcome," Layla replied blandly, and Clay shot her a baleful glare in response. "If we remove their connections to the Apple they won't notice the changes, you half-clocked RAM."

Clay mumbled a short, "Harsh," and then sighed heavily. "You know what he's doing is going to end up with new family members that we can't account for?"

Layla paused; fingers brushed against the edge of a fruit that hung from the small branch in her hand. She asked, softly, "Is that such a bad thing?"

"Consider that we need to make sure Seventeen is born?" Clay pointed out.

There was a moments pause, and then Layla said, "You let me worry about how the Calculations will change with Desmond's actions. Focus in breaking through the rest of the protections on that Apple." She went back to focusing on her branch, and Clay narrowed his eyes at her for half-a-moment before he decided that no, he did not want to know what was going on in the brain of Seventeen's local thumb drive. Besides, Layla would just spill the beans later when they weren't supposed to be working, Clay was sure.

After all, Clay was a very good listener, as Seventeen could clearly attest to. He'd gotten the boy's whole life story out of him without so much as a by-your-leave. To be fair Seventeen had been comatose and Clay had been his last line of defense against the risk of his mind's eventual turn into mush but those were semantics and Clay did not want to think about the semantics. If he thought of the semantics he would think of his own fragmentation, and then his own fear of permanently dying even though technically he was already dead by his own hand twice over. No, best leave those thoughts in their respective boxes for now with the caveat of to be reviewed never. Meanwhile Clay had work to do, which included the problematic bit of Isu code that protected a stupid pretty bauble designed to enslave the human race. Now if only Seventeen would stop being so distracting and let Clay focus it would be perfect.

#fic: run it again #fic: the heir the reader and clay #malik al sayf #faheem al sayf #desmond miles #altair ibn la'ahad #clay kaczmarek #layla hassan #fanfic #wip #altmal #altmal raises baby desmond #time travel #desmond miles lives au

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tinkerbelldetective · 10 months

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For the fic asks: 3 :)

Oh this is hard!!

A lot of my fanfics have never been finished, most hardly begun, if not just in my head or in small oneshots laying around in random notebooks.

I'm really looking forward to writing and planning more of my House of Anubis fanfiction called A Paragon's Guide to Ghosts and Mystery. It focuses on Nina Martin and her powers as the Paragon and a new mystery and will later expand.

I once wrote an OC story that I never posted anywhere. I'm kind of proud of how well I seemed to handle one of the characters and his character/personality.

My Assassin's Creed fanfic The Informant is probably one of my longest published works ( 12 chapters so far), it's barely begun, but it shows a lot of my growth as a writer in comparison to some of my other works.

I'm also kind of proud of my James Norrington x oc work.

One of my fanfics from when I was very young gained some traction, I was young when I wrote it, but I'm proud it got so many positive reviews, haha!

As for imagines and ficlets, I really like some of the ones I wrote for Ben Stone (Blue Sweater and On the Steps). For a Brief Moment (Michael Cutter x Reader). An excerpt from a Dean Winchester x oc fic. A Lucifer x reader imagine that is strong worded. Several of my Malik Al-Sayf x readers. The Senses series of drabbles has been a great exercise and excuse to write a lot of imagery and very little dialogue.

I once wrote a parody (now probably more classifiable as crackfic) for Kingdom Hearts on a forum website. I was young. It made no sense, but it was funny and made a lot of people laugh.

Honorable mentions for my HP and Yugioh and Gotham fanfics from my younger days.

Thank you!!

#the mutuals tm #this got away from me #thank you

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yasashii-leaf · 4 months

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oh… malik is so cute in your art style—and it’s also funny contrasting his grumpy personality!! it could be fun to draw him having a crush on an oblivious friend y/n, but struggle to confess or act impressive 💖

#my art #y/n #reader #assassin's creed #malik al sayf #malik al sayf x reader

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elsdaydreams · 2 years

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Valentine's Day/Romantic Tropes headcanon

Altair Ibn La'ahad, Malik Al-Sayf, Ezio Auditore, Yusuf Tazim, Edward Kenway, James Kidd/Mary Read, Haytham Kenway, Shay Patrick Cormac, Connor Kenway, Arno Dorian, Elise de la Serre, Jacob Frye, Evie Frye, Shaun Hastings, Desmond Miles

Warnings - canon typical mentions of death and violence, cliché romance tropes, angst with a side of fluff, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of paranormal, some are happy endings and some are sad, implied mentions of intimacy

Word Count - 5550 words.

Description - A collective, detailed headcanon on which tropes fit the assassin's creed characters best.

Authors Note - What's this?? A surprise early valentine's day post?? Okay, so I realized directly after posting the assassin's and templar's love languages that it would've been the most perfect Valentine's post. Too little, too late I guess, so I decided to do something along the lines of romance - and the idea of what tropes the assassin's (and templars) would fit best? I tried to make it canon-based, so I picked solely on if it fits the characters in their original storyline. It made more sense in my head, to be honest with you, but I hope you enjoy this anyways. And have a happy (early) valentine's day, if you celebrate! (also if you've read all of these and there's a character you'd like to be talked about more, maybe you should shoot me an ask?)

Now listen okay, enemies to lovers seems like the obvious choice for Altair, right? I'm well aware of this, but you have to admit that the trope fits well for a reason. Especially canonically, you get your typical Altair arrogant attitude, and a redemption arc, and with fanfic, a love story? It's everything a person could need. So - with that being said, as we well know at the beginning of his story, Altair is a bit arrogant. And it seems like he always goes out of his way to be even more so when you're involved. You were supposed to go on the mission with him, Kadar, and Malik, but he'd made sure that you weren't there. Not out of concern, more so just because he could. The loss of Kadar is great, and you wished that Altair being knocked down a peg didn't cost someone else's life. It's so typical of his personality, at least to you - to act as though he'd done nothing wrong, that it makes you physically ill to look at him. Not much changes between the two of you for a while, not until Al Mualim is dead and Altair is at the base more frequently. Meanwhile, you continue to avoid him like the plague. You're not entirely unconvinced he's not the same person he was before. It's something of a slow process, and not even one either of you attempts to make, just something that inevitably happens. Maybe it's the way he genuinely speaks to you, not at you while giving a mission, or the way his eyes seem softer than they did before. Or is that he says something so dry and deadpan it makes you laugh before you can even consider if you should - and instead of a scolding look or reprimand, there's a hint of a smile on his lips. Before you can even process it, you're his first choice on a risky mission. Without a thought, you instinctively look towards him to see his reaction first. You can't recall when it happened, but it hits out of the blue, with him across the courtyard and your eyes glued to him. The person you dreaded seeing the most was suddenly the person you cared most for.

Malik is most definitely coworkers to lovers. Honestly, before he lost his arm and brother, you didn't know much about him. He was pretty high up there in terms of status in the Brotherhood, so you knew of him, just not him personally. Malik was always pretty stoic, at least in comparison with Kadar, who you did know somewhat. It was always a little unnerving, but now there was a certain feeling of sympathy attached to it. When you were placed on an assignment and had to report to his bureau you were less than enthusiastic, simply because you didn't know what to say. This was all well and good, as Malik was straight to the point and, for the most part, acted his normal self. You were stationed near there for the remainder of Altair's visits there, simply to avoid any conflict between the two with a mediator. For the most part, you commended Malik's resilience, you doubted you would have the restraint he did with the man who was partly responsible for Kadar's death. You told him so one night when you perhaps should've kept your mouth shut. Instead of a reprimand, you got a quiet nod, and not much else was said on the matter. From then on though, Malik spoke up more to you, discussed things that he thought were interesting around the city and you would check them out. You suggested once, that he come with you, and despite the Brotherhood having stationed him doing paperwork, he followed you. Luckily it was nothing major, but the trip was a fond memory. You talked, for the most part, about the city you had come to know as a home for the past few months. You knew you'd be leaving soon though, to go back to Masyaf soon. By the time you were back in the Assassin state, there was something unsaid between the two of you. Luckily, it wouldn't be long before he would find you again, unbeknownst to either of you at the time. It would be then that your feelings would be realized and acknowledged, and a real relationship would start around then.

Love at first sight? Absolutely. Ezio falls in love with people at first sight. I think especially when he was younger - his heart is something he gives freely when he feels something. For most people he's with, it's not even necessarily love that he feels, just infatuation or lust. When he first sees you, he's a younger man. He knows you're something, someone special. It's not something he can quite put a name on, it feels like it could be love someday, except your eyes never find him and you never have that special love at first sight moment. You play on his mind for weeks, but truly you were just passing through Florence, and Ezio slowly accepts that maybe it wasn't meant to be. The love at first sight moment happens after the fall of Monteriggioni after Ezio finds himself in Rome. The young boy who gave his heart to you without your knowledge, that knew you'd be important without knowing when finds himself again as he stares at you wide-eyed and in disbelief. That same feeling takes over him, though he's not sure he believes it fully yet. The loss of his Uncle, of his father and brothers, of a city he cared deeply for, changed him deeply. Ezio feels that overwhelming love, your importance to him in whatever form it may be - and knows that he can't, won't let you go. Not again, and as he moved against the crowds, he tries to catch your eye. It's there, that your eyes finally find his that he knows he's come to the when of it, that the feeling that didn't totally make sense now completely finally does. And within that few seconds, he becomes entranced, addicted to basking in your gaze after only a few moments. And you, the moment leaves you feeling like he's someone you knew maybe, or that you should've known. Ezio smiles at you, one that you easily return though you half wonder why, though there's an undeniable connection. It feels easy and familiar, like deja vu almost, and as he comes nearer to you, the feeling doesn't go away.

Yusuf most definitely has a shared past with you. I feel like it could almost be considered right person wrong time, but it's more so that at the time you were together neither of you was the person you should've been together. It wasn't anything awful really, just that even though Yusuf is older than you, he was never meeting your emotional needs, always acting immature. That's how you always remembered him, though not with malice or anger, but with a fondness. Part of you now looking back wished he kept just a little bit of that childishness and wondered what he was doing now. It was one of those weird moments, there was always plenty of opportunities to run into each other, the city wasn't that big and yet - it wasn't until a couple of years later that you saw him again. A pleasant surprise for both of you, neither can help but want to catch up with each other. The hours you spend talking, filling the spaces of your lives that were separate from each other leave you wondering why you'd ever left each other to begin with. It stays mostly friendly between the two of you until Yusuf asks if you'd ever married. His eyes are too hopeful, warm brown eyes of the person you cared for the most when you were younger that still held a mischievous glint. No, you'd never married, for one reason or another - you don't miss the grin that takes over his face easily. You return the question, hopeful that he hadn't either. The grin softens, and he tells you that he hadn't. It surprises you that he hadn't teased you about it, or made a joke of some sort as he was apt to do. It shocks you, even more, when he says something along the lines of always having loved you, and not wanting that connection with another person - at least not the way yours was. Your cheeks heat up, but you don't deny him the reassurance that you felt the same.

With Edward, I feel like the trope that fits best would be learning to love again. His first marriage obviously dealt some damage, and post that fallout, he really doesn't do the romance part of relationships. When you come into his life, even though there is a physical relationship, there's not much outside of that. It takes months before an actual relationship begins to develop, although Edward convinces himself that it's a friendship before anything else. It's something of an eventuality, where it kind of hits him out of the blue that you're much more than a friend. Maybe you're side by side on the Jackdaw, or walking down the streets of Nassau. Maybe you're unaware of the moment or have been yearning for him to feel the same as you do, but he's looking at you like he's not quite there. More than anything it's startling for him - feeling something like the beginnings of love makes him nervous, the fear of getting hurt again and losing you completely is not something he's willing to do. So, he does what he does best and pulls away. Which is dumb, but he can't help himself. Edward's not the type to talk unless you make him, which is hard to do when he has an actual ship that he can leave on at any given moment. If you give him space, he'll take it with no hesitation. Out of sight out of mind is the creed he follows in this situation, but he can't deny that he misses you. Or that he looks for you perched on some crates in the ship, and that he misses your teasing tone directed at him. It isn't until something happens where your life is in danger, rumors of a life-threatening injury, possibly even death, make their way across the Caribbean to him that he realizes how stupid it was to just leave. There's a new fear, an ache deep in his gut that because of the physical distance he put between the two of you, there was no way he would ever see you again, that it was too late. When he storms the beaches of Nassau looking for you, or even some of your shared acquaintances, it's not the actions of a bloodthirsty lunatic looking to avenge you, it's a desperate man looking for another chance. It isn't until he sees you, in the pub you both used to frequent sipping an ale that he slows, though his heartbeat doesn't. When his fingers meet your wrist, tugging you close, he doesn't quite believe you're really here in front of him. He questions you momentarily, asking if you're alright - and you're quick to return the question because of the two of you, Edward's the one who looks like he's lost his mind. It matters little that you're surrounded by colleagues and friends, he's quick to tell you how much you matter to him, and there's something of a promise that leaving you is something he'd never do willingly again.

It was always forbidden, between you and Mary. Although that's not her trope, no, it's something more paranormal than anything. Even when you knew her as James Kidd, it was never something you could have. Was that what attracted you to it in the first place? Maybe, at the beginning at least. How it evolved, however, the two of you became so deeply entangled, it could be called love in another life. When she died, it felt like part of you died with her. For months you lived in your grief, knowing nothing else besides it. All-consuming as it was, what was worse was the what-ifs. What if you'd been bolder with your love, with your affection? What if you hadn't had to hide it? What if you'd asked her not to follow Rackham with Anne? What if, what if, what if? Memories of quiet mornings, her sharing secrets with you that she never shared with anyone else, passionate nights spent hidden away from prying eyes. Each remembrance started bleeding into your dreams, though it wasn't the memory exactly. They were new, fresh ones as if Mary were still living and breathing right beside you. You'd stayed in bed for weeks, not wanting to wake from the false reality you'd created for yourself - one where she was still there with you. There, her fingers were softer than they ever were here. If the two of you ever were drinking there, her face remained the same muted skin tone, not the warm flush of pink that donned her nose and cheeks. On nights you felt more aware of the fact that it wasn't quite real, but not necessarily a dream, you'd ask her who she was. It was a question you never quite got an answer to, just a smirk that felt misplaced from her, or a chuckle that was a note deeper than it should've been. Quick to brush it off though, and remiss to leave the world and your person behind, you cherished the moments that you'd never gotten to have with her there.

It's not necessarily shocking that Haytham is absolutely the forbidden trope. There's something about him where it fits too perfectly, I think. For most things, he's always been the type to earn what he wanted, to take it if need be. But there's something about the things he simply cannot have that makes him want it more. You were raised in Boston, working at the pub your family had owned for quite some time. Growing up you were unaware of the clientele that frequented, though you were quickly learning the types that came into the bar, and the groups they were a part of. Your family favored some over others, agreed with their belief systems, and liked the business they brought. When Haytham came over to America, establishing his presence there became in part, coming to your tavern. It wasn't the one he preferred to work at, but there were rumors of Assassin's frequenting it, so it was simply a point of intrigue. What was preferable, however, was you, behind the bar - a warm smile directed at him, thinly covering a layer of distrust. To be fair, there was a sneaking suspicion of him - you'd known most of the local Assassin's, and not one of them ever mentioned another that was supposed to be here. But the familiar insignia and gauntlet on his forearm confused you further, though you said little of it. When he spoke to you, there was a want to believe him - his tone light, yet authoritative that was quick to send shivers down your spine. To be near him was somewhat intoxicating, the type of infatuated that only drunks seemed to be, and in the pit of your stomach you knew you couldn't trust him. He's never been one to give up, and he's certainly got you in his sights.

This is entirely not shocking, but I believe Shay's trope would be a marriage of convenience. And it's not because he doesn't have a lot of love to give, he absolutely does, and it's also not for lack of trying, because have you seen that man? He could hold the door open one time with a smile and have you swooning for him. (also is this biased because I've kind of written something along the lines of Shay marrying for convenience? yes mind your business!!!) Okay, the way I see it, you're engaged to him before you've even met him. Let's say your parents are trying to climb their way up the Templar ranks, and his status and closeness with Haytham are desirable. Not only because they want to succeed, but they also want you to succeed. And you're nervous beyond anything because you know how Charles Lee is and the thought of marrying anyone in the least bit similar is reprehensible to you. There's not much you can do with your parent's strong will - and if you'd up and left the repercussions would be dangerous for them - and yourself as well. For the months in which he remains away, you can't sleep. Tossing and turning all night long becomes routine, and the bags under your eyes begin to peek through. Your parents notice, more so when the looming threat of him coming to meet you appears and the plans become solid - each day your anxieties get worse and worse. They swear to you to give him a chance, they knew him once before he'd left America to complete Templar business worldwide. And you do, but not for yourself as much as it is for them. When you first lay eyes on him the most shocking thing is that he's attractive. You'd been expecting a Lee type, but his eyes are warm and there's a constant smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. More than anything he seems happy to be here, though you're not sure if the promise of a younger fiancé is the cause. You are awkward at best, unsure of your place in things. Little moments in which he locks eyes with you and gives you a reassuring smile calm the anxieties that overwhelmed you completely. and though it's not a grand sweeping romance you may have dreamed of, it seems that there is more than enough room for love between the two of you.

I had a thought right, where Connor meets one of Haytham's accomplices during the missions where they work together, right? It's a very Romeo and Juliet situation. So, you're one of the Templars, and while you don't understand the Grand Master's thought process of working with Connor, you're not going to say anything about it. You simply do as told, and you find that you don't mind working with the Assassin all that much. Besides your extreme differences in beliefs, the two of you work well together. Sure, in the beginning, it's awkward, and there's a lot of distrust between the two of you. But eventually, the more you work together, the better the two of you function together. And there's a thought, a what-if, one night when he's tending to you with a small battle wound, that leaves you reeling for weeks, doubting everything you've ever known. But it's not something that's ever really expounded on, and certainly not something you'd bring up with the group you'd surrounded yourself with. And Haytham had trusted you, with the secret of his son, and with you being on the missions even alone sometimes - the thought of accidentally falling in love with his son left you feeling like you'd betrayed the order. And whether you're acting odd - skittish even - or seemingly distancing yourself from the Order, your Grand Master is quick to notice. But he notices even more on a mission he's joined you on, the way the two of you work in tandem, the way Connor freezes when you're knocked on the ground and only resumes when you're up again, and the way you smile at him, even though the threat of death lurked in the shadows. You know he knows, without even a word shared between the two of you, that you're in love with his son, and he with you, despite all odds. It's a mercy, that he gives you an option (perhaps the man has become sentimental in his old age) that you can fake your death, cutting all contact with Connor, or Haytham can kill you himself. You take the first option begrudgingly, and for months you live under the radar. It's not till the old man's death that you find him in a tavern next to Charles Lee, completely frozen in your spot, unable to breathe. When his eyes find you, his expression matches yours, and he's reluctant to touch you. There's an undeniable hurt laced in his tone as he utters your name. There's a lot of explaining to do on your end, but the fact that you're here, alive and in front of him? He'll be by your side regardless.

You're gonna tell me Arno Dorian isn't the King of a good, old-fashioned love triangle? To start with the basics, of him already loving Elise, and having loved her since childhood, he's not expecting to fall in love with anyone new anytime soon. Even when they're on opposite sides, he's still without a doubt in love with her. Especially when he's exiled, living in Versailles, which is where you meet him. His reputation precedes him there, but you recall the boy you vaguely knew many years ago. Something about his situation breaks your heart whenever you see him. It really takes a few simple acts of kindness to earn his trust, which is shocking to you. Perhaps because you knew him, though not well, before everything in his life turned upside down, but he clung to you once you proved your worth. In drunken stupors he would confess his love to you, forgetting everything he said come morning. And still, you found yourself caring for him anyway. The words he whispered when drunk, though not to be believed, held your heart in a chokehold. It hurt more than it helped, that you wished he would remember how he felt, that he would look at you and think of someone worthy of love. And while Arno does love you, in a sort of twisted way, he also loves Elise. He loved you when you read to him, your voice melodically reading the words as he nursed a hangover. He loved the way you looked at him, with hope in your eyes and bated breath. He loved to come from the pubs and kiss you because it felt right and eased the abonnement he'd felt better than booze. If it were a contest of who held Arno's heart more, it was clear you weren't the winner. Some days you were okay with the love you did receive, and others, not so much. When Elise finally made her way to collect him, there was no doubt she thought you enabled the behavior. If only she'd seen him at the beginning of his exile - you were slowly drawing him out of the hole she'd dug him in - or at least that's how you viewed it. It wasn't shocking when he'd followed her to Paris, though it hurt more than you cared to admit. Still, part of you hoped he'd make his way back to you someday.

Clearly, I'm a sucker for tragedy. And, true to form, Elise is no different settling entirely on the right person, no time. It was something undeniable from the moment you laid eyes on her. You didn't know how, or why, you just knew that you would love her for all of your days. It took a moment, for you to convince her that it was something along the lines of meant to be. In between the two of you, she is more of a realist, guiding you back to the ground with a gentle reminder. The beginning was all passion, every shared moment spent with the intent to have more tomorrow's. It was a breath of a fresh air, being with Elise. You couldn't deny that you'd follow her to the ends of the earth, so long as her eyes twinkled with the promise of adventure. There was something to be said of the way she could convince you to do anything without her even asking you to. But regardless of what you'd hoped for, the plans you'd whisper to each other over pillows and under sheets, your world would stop spinning not long after she took her last breath. It was something you'd only just begun to be aware of, her life's work involved with the Templars. To come out of the world the two of you painstakingly built for yourselves was beyond impossible - only to face the reality that your person that you'd loved so much was nothing more than a memory.

I firmly believe Jacob needs a partner in crime. To be fair, you were in the London crime scene long before Jacob ever made his way to the city. He's an opportunist at best, and he couldn't deny he envied your power and authority. The first option was to take it from you and try as he did, you were not relinquishing it to some boy from the country. No, instead you took the opportunity to teach him, show him the ropes. Which was fairly generous of you considering where he started. It didn't take long for him to catch on, and he gained popularity with a group he began calling the blighters. You didn't mind, not really, he wasn't a threat to you. In fact, you didn't mind reminding him that you could take whatever power he had away whenever he got too cocky. As his own group grew, an alliance formed. It was working out fairly well for the two of you, and meetings between both of you turned into drinks at the pub turned into nights shared. From the first night spent together, your dynamic shifted. You tried to reason that it was a one-time occasion and avoided being alone with him as much as possible for weeks afterward. It was harder to deal with him than you usually would. When it happened again, there was no denying that there was something between you two, and while you figured the new relationship out, things were especially strained. Jacob had a difficult time learning that while you were together, it didn't earn him a right to go about demanding things of you. It wasn't fair to you, you had a lot more people to keep happy and alive than Jacob's ever-changing will. After a while, the learning process weaned and your groups flourished once more. There were rumors of the two of you being together intimately, which you didn't bother dignifying, though Jacob couldn't help but let onto it. Which was fine by you, for the most part, it didn't gain or lose respect amongst your group, and you cared little what Jacob's Blighters thought of it. Eventually, though, his group got used to it too.

Evie is the type to sort of ease into a relationship like it's definitely a friends-to-lovers scenario. It's not something she seeks out. No, it's sort of a surprise. Like one day, she'll look at you, her friend, and realize she doesn't want to spend another moment pretending she doesn't love you. I think she's sort of intense, the way she loves, and innocent too? Since it's so unexpected for her, she never thought of a romantic attraction the way she has with you. In becoming an Assassin, she figured it wasn't in the cards for her. Almost resigning herself to the fact that she would likely live alone for the rest of her life. When she met you, she was grateful for your friendship - already feeling less alone than she did previously. You became routine in the best way possible, in that seeing you was something she looked forward to every week, and then every other day, and then every day. It happened so gradually, you almost didn't see it either, though you felt it. You felt it in the way you wished she was there on an especially long trip away, you felt it when she'd told you the truth about her life and her work and her beliefs, you felt it in the way you'd find yourself standing close to her, arms brushing in a way that felt more than friendly though without a name. And while you might expect a big scene immediately (a proposal of feelings maybe?) that seems more Jacob's route. No, Evie doubts every interaction, wonders constantly if you feel the same as she does. Outwardly, some may never know the thoughts that ran rampant through her mind, acting normal as ever. You though, who has spent countless hours and time together can see clearly that something is off, though she's trying to deny it. It's subtle instead, flowers gifted between the pages in your book, all deliberately picked and placed - each flower with meaning she hopes you'll understand. Meanwhile, you're thinking how you're overthinking it, that, of course, she didn't pick a rose because she loves me, we're friends?? It's not until the two of you are alone, in private, that she kisses you, soft and gentle and romantically sweet, that you two finally and completely understand.

Shaun is absolutely a teacher at heart. So it's not far off that his trope would be learning to love. It's always been a passion of his, learning things and storing the knowledge up. Not many want to hear what he has to say, and that's alright only because he's used to it. Then you, a hopeful recruit come along. At first, you're nothing more than a nuisance. He's not used to the attention you're willing to give him, the way your eyes gleam at him when he mentions something about the history of the Brotherhood has him rolling his eyes before he can stop himself. At first, he doesn't want to stop himself, especially when he can't ignore you entirely. But you wear him down, after all, you're nothing if not persistent, and he's not going to ignore the fact that he likes when you ask a question he can answer easily. Rebecca is the first to notice - maybe even before either one of you does. That you linger for a moment, despite having asked all possible questions, and that the second your back is turned towards him, he's looking to where you were as if waiting for one more question. It becomes entirely too apparent when you're on a mission, captured by Abstergo long enough that they're not sure if they can get you back - and if they do, who you'll be after. The next time he sees you, you're a shell of the person you used to be. The light you had in your eyes was dim, almost nonexistent. For weeks, Shaun makes it his mission to come to you. Your positions reversed, it would've been sweet if it weren't so painful. Instead, he asks you questions, quiet ones, about your life before you became an assassin, and when you became more cognizant and more willing, he asks questions about what happened to you there. The day he feels true hope, is when you overhear a conversation between him and William Miles outside your room. He fully expects to begin asking you questions but you stop him before he sets foot in the door. Out of the blue, in a quiet voice he's still not used to, he hears your inflection and a question fall from your lips.

Desmond Miles is the first love trope. It's a relationship that you don't choose, it chooses you. You meet him in New York City, not long after he first moves there. There's something about the way he seems so unsure of himself, he's not even fresh out of high school and he seems so incredibly lost. More than anything it's endearing, and you find yourself drawn to him. The first day you met him, you skipped an entire day of classes just to show him around the city. Your heart breaks when you hear that he doesn't have a place to go - and you find yourself begging your parents before you can help yourself. They agree, though it's only a temporary solution, and they ask more questions than Desmond can take - he doesn't stay long there. To be fair, he doesn't tell you much either about his past, his childhood. It's not until he's older, twenty or so before he makes jokes about it, never serious enough for you to fully understand the depth of the situation. Still, you two stick by each other. He gets an apartment by himself and to your parent's dismay, your college choice is based on wherever Desmond was going to be. It's not even that they didn't like him, because they did, it's just the mysterious aura you found to be alluring was concerning to them. When Abstergo kidnapped him, you assumed he left in the dead of night. For too long, you waited for him to come back, though he never would. Your parents figured that this would happen, honestly more shocked it took him so long to. It would've been without a trace, his life in New York if it weren't for the baby.

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