Assassin's Creed Drabbles

↳ too late

in which alexios is almost too late admitting some things. 

ALEXIOS DUCKS LOW, watching the glint of iron in the sun pass inches above his head. He's quick to free the broken Spear of Leonidas from his back, striking as he straightens back to full height. The squadron commander stumbles back, watching the front of his white-and-gold armor turn red, then collapses, face down —eyes wide and blood dribbling from his parted lips. The hoplites overseeing the negotiation between their leader and the misthios lower their spears, closing ranks.

Glimpsing the corpse lying between you and Alexios, you quickly unsheathe the blade on your hip and press your back to Alexios's. It's not the first time Alexios has acted rashly and gotten you both into these situations, and with his Spartan temperament, you're certain it won't be the last —so long as you live to fight another day. "What have you done?" You hiss. He says nothing, but you hear him suck in a long breath. You're in the heart of a Korinthian fortress —where you are grossly outnumbered and have no way out but through the main gates or leaping from the walls into the raging sea below.

It passes as a blur of blood and limbs. Hacking and slicing with no discretion, always keeping Alexios in view as he leads the push toward the gates of the fortress. Five hoplites block the gate, lowering their shields in a makeshift barrier to keep the two of you trapped within the stone walls. Alexios looks to you, and somehow, he's still smiling, the rush and thrill of battle coursing through him. Shaking your head, you tighten your grip on the hilt of your blade and push forward, not losing pace with Alexios.

A final glimpse over your shoulder and you can take in the trail of destruction —the barracks in flames, eviscerated and dismembered bodies strewn throughout the fortress. For those who stumble upon the scene, they will say it was the wrath of the gods —that Ares and Eris smote their anger upon these men. "Well," you pant, bending over to catch your breath, half-laughing, "that could've gone better."

Alexios sheaths his kopis at his hip and the broken spear on his back. Hands on his waist, he sucks in a long breath too. "Really?" There's a boyish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I thought things were going great," he remarks, doing his best not to let his exhaustion show.

"You would." It's an offhand comment paired with a quick upward glance that makes Alexios nudge your ribs until your smile widens and your laugh turns genuine. The eagle-bearing misthios from Kephallonia is the only person in all of Hellas who will ever be able to make you smile and laugh as though your blade is not coated in still-drying blood. He nods toward the winding path leading down to the shore and where the Adrestia awaits.

Strangely enough, you don't feel pain when the arrow hits the back of your shoulder —only the warmth sluicing down your chest and then the panicked look in Alexios' tawny-gold eyes when he sees the arrowhead emerge above your breast. "No!" You know he's shouting, but his cries are muffled by the thunderous echo of your racing heart —each beat deafening, and the world begins to slow around you.

Alexios looks to the ramparts, seeing the lone survivor of the massacre standing with a bow in hand. He moves quicker than Hermes heralding the news of the gods when he frees the bow from his back and draws a single arrow from the quiver —nocking and releasing without truly aiming. The arrow hits its mark, of that, he is certain upon hearing the crunch of metal and bone behind him. Alexios catches you as you careen toward the ground, then kneels.

You breathe his name with the bitter tinge of blood on your tongue, eyes unable to focus on him —he blurs into the sky above. "Shh, I'm here," Alexios assures you, stroking back the hair clinging to your forehead. The pounding in your ears quickly subsides, and now everything is muffled, even Alexios's voice when he speaks to you, pleading with you to stay awake —stay focused on him.

He lays a bloody hand on your cheek, drawing your gaze to him. His heart twists and sinks into the depths of his stomach like a lead weight. Should have listened to Barnabas. Alexios curses himself at the thought of not having told you sooner. "Look at me," he chokes, moving the hand on your cheek to press around the shaft of the arrow to stay the bleeding —the inevitable. "I love you," Alexios cries, not hiding the tears falling from his eyes and trailing down his cheeks.

It's hard to breathe, to keep your eyes open, to say anything —to let Alexios know you feel the same about him, had always loved him, but the words are silent as they pass your lips. The taste of salt lingers on your tongue as Alexios places a first and final kiss on your lips, and it is all the comfort you need to slip into darkness.

HE KNEELS AT the stern of the Adrestia. Between Herodotus and Leda, they had done their best to patch you up —now only the gods could bring you back to this world. Your pulse had been faint but still there when Alexios brought you back to the Adrestia, cradled in his arms, unmoving. Orpheus descended into the depths of the Underworld to reclaim his love. Alexios does not doubt that he would do the same. Would face Hades himself in single combat if it could bring you back to him. But no, Alexios must wait, and it is both the easiest and hardest thing he's ever done.

It takes no less than three days and three nights for the gods to make their decision —it would be cruel to take someone such as you from this world so soon, and so with their blessing, you wake. The Sun has yet to rise and the Moon slips behind a cloud, shrouding the deck of the Adrestia and the surrounding sea in darkness. But the glimpse of silver light and the flickering braziers and lanterns strung around the Adrestia is enough to see his outline hunched over near the bench where you lie.

Alexios wakes to the sound of creaking wood and is certain his eyes have played him for a fool. By the silver glow of the stars and Moon, he sees the white of your eyes flash and hears the soft little groan that leaves your parted lips. He's cautious to approach, unwilling to be taunted by another dream in which you could both be together —and be happy. The fears are chased from his mind when your fingers brush against the scar on his forearm, drawing him closer with only a silent command and gentle touch. Alexios kneels in front of you, calloused fingertips brushing across your brow and down across your lips.

Half in shock, he surges forward, wrapping his arms around you, forehead pressed against your chest, listening to the beat of your heart for himself. You are alive and tangible and not just some cruel dream conjured up by Hypnos. Alexios sits back on his haunches, smiling. "Stay a little longer," you breathe, unwilling to be parted from his embrace just yet after experiencing the chill of the River Styx and the icy grip of Charon around your wrist. "Please."

He doesn't have to be asked twice. Alexios settles behind you, pulling you back into his chest, arms settling around your waist. Between him and the summer breeze, any remaining chill is chased away —replaced by safety and love and unparalleled warmth. "I wasn't lying when I said that I loved you," Alexios breathes next to your ear, his lips brushing against the crook of your neck and shoulder, arms tightening around your middle.

"I know," you smile, settling back into the warmth of his arms and chest. The rough pads of his fingertips trail along your jaw, tilting your head back up, and slowly, surely, he places his lips on yours. You meld against him, like wet clay in the hands of a skilled potter, and relish in his wine-tinged kiss, unspoiled by tears of premature farewells. Alexios pulls away, placing another, shorter and sweeter kiss to the corner of your lips before gathering you in his arms again, looking skyward as the night begins to shift to dawn —he knows gods had been good to him, had answered his prayers— and now he would cherish each day with you even more than he had before.