Hawks and Eagles

The Story of a Hawk

You waited for Altaïr to return, each second elongating into hours and your stomach tightening until you found yourself clenching hold of it. When the door finally opened and you jumped up onto your feet, Rauf stepped in with a timid but joyful smile. He lifted up a plate of food, softly mumbling, "Altaïr asked that I bring you this."

You looked to the empty doorway behind him as he walked further into the room, expecting to see the Assassin following grudgingly behind but he was nowhere to be found. "Where is Altaïr now?"

He set down the plate of food, rolling eyes his downwards to focus on anything but the question. "You should eat before your meal gets too cold."

"Rauf." You took hold of his wrist which drew his gaze. "Where is he?"

"He said he wanted to be alone--"

You darkened your tone, seriousness gripping hold of you, "Where, Rauf?"

He straightened up and walked away, hands fumbling before him. "In the foremost tower. He goes there sometimes to clear his thoughts." He blurted when he saw you rush for the door, "Please, don't go. He'll be furious to know I told you."

You weren't strong enough to go looking for Altaïr, you knew that already. You were feeling ill again, the clammy touch of a sickness settling into your bones, but you had to find Altaïr and speak with him. You had waited for him, waited to explain your feelings to him. He needed to know that you felt the same way. Perhaps it wasn't sickness but anxiety, a deep unsettling fear that Altaïr would misunderstand your feelings towards him.

You had to walk through the gardens and into the training grounds to reach the base of the tower. It was the same tower where you had to persuad Nizar you were capable of performing the leap of faith. He started you small, unconvinced, working your way higher until you reached the apex post. You remembered it had been a difficult climb even without being wounded or ill.

"You should not be walking about." Abbas was at your side, hooking your arm around his neck before you even had the chance to utter a single sound.

You tried to pull your arm away but his grip was stronger than yours. "Thank you, Abbas, but I'm fine. Really." You proved yourself wrong not being able to fight against him, to not stand on your own.

"Altaïr!" Abbas nearly growled the name and you jolted your attention towards the cautiously moving Assassin. "You would allow her to roam so freely in this state? A mere look at her and you can tell she is too sick."

"I am not..." You took down a slow breath. Your fluttering heartbeat and swooning stomach told you otherwise. You weren't just ill from the remnants of a fever, and anxiety, but you were suffering the effects of realization. You were in love with Altaïr. You loved him. "I'm fine. Really."

Altaïr's steps were slow and his eyes were locked on Abbas, watching him as he spoke coldly, "I shall take her from here. She was ordered to remain in her room."

"She is stubborn," spat Abbas as if he dared to pretend to know you so well.

"I am aware." Altaïr stepped forward, almost challenging Abbas with the stance. "I shall take her back to her room to rest."

You felt a shiver slip down your spine. They were staring at each other, bodies tense and fists curling at their side. They were two predators, two hunters, preparing for the strike.. You would have to think quickly, diffuse the both of them before they became out of hand. "Nizar!" you shouted towards the sparring ring, twisting your way out of Abbas' distracted grasp and weakly shuffling over to him.

"If it isn't my favorite student!" Nizar lifted his arms, approaching you and grappling you into a brotherly hug. "I heard you were wounded in your last scrap. I thought you were better than that."