Altaïr x Male!Reader

That Returning Feeling

"You're much better than any novice I know."

"Yeah, I got a natural talent for this thing, Altaïr."

"Don't boast. Ready to go again?"

"Ow! That hurts! Ugh, yeah, I'm ready to go."

"Go collect your throwing knives then." Altaïr ordered, pointing at the circular wood target standing ten feet away. You rubbed the back of your head where Altaïr hit you. Frowning, you shot the older man a look, but complied anyways and retrieved your knives. Setting them back on the table, you sighed. Training was grueling, to say in the least, with this man. He gave you practically no slack at all because, to him, there was always something you could do better. Carefully picking up a blade, you widened your stance, your armed hand raised, ready to strike. Altaïr stood silently, arms crossed, behind you. Taking a deep breath, you began moving. Right leg picking up off the ground as your right hand moved back, paused, then threw itself forward towards the target. Right as your arm was almost level to the ground, you let go of your knife. It spun through the air as it approached the colored rings of the target, finally sticking the blade right to the wood, halting its movement. You grinned, inspecting your work. Bull's eye, exactly in the center. Altaïr gave a silent nod of approval.

"Good. Again." He commanded. You cringed, still no slack at all. Picking up another knife your prepared yourself to throw it.

"I've been wondering for some time now, how do you already know these skills? It's obvious from how your doing right now and your fighting from that day in the training field you do not have the skill set of a novice. And yet, here I am, training you under Al Mualim's orders." Still focused, you flung the small knife, the sharp point finding it's mark once again.

"Although I am ranked slightly above a novice, I have done more training than you think." You explained, taking another knife.

"Not long ago, I was on my way to be like you. A master assassin. But.. for some reason, I started feeling great resentment and fear of going to my lessons." You chucked the blade, another dead center hit. You took another,

"The fear came out of nowhere. Soon, I started avoiding my trainers, to go read our books and scrolls instead. To study and learn all I can." Another throw, another direct hit.

"Slowly, my mentors became stricter and stricter, then my rank started demoting. I was soon almost a novice again, after that... I would have been thrown out." Hurling the last blade, it hit the target by its handle, causing the knife to bounce away into the dirt below. You stood up, straightening your posture. Altaïr remained silent, simply weighing your words.

"Why were you afraid? I can understand hatred at having to preform hard work, but not fear." Altaïr said. You placed a hand on your chin, thinking it over.

"I suppose, I was afraid I would never be good enough, that I would never get better. I was afraid that I might mess up enough to give reason to exile me. I have no home besides the brotherhood, you see?"

"And now? Are you still fearful?"

"I still have many fears, like all humans. But I do not fear not being good enough anymore. I did not read all of those texts in vain. I learned many things I did not know before. Looking back, it seems childish of me to have been afraid." Altaïr hummed, looking towards the sun which was now setting over the mountains. The sky filled with gold and pink hues, creating a warm glow on all the surroundings.

"Get some rest, we will continue tomorrow." He said softly, then left you alone. You watched his back as he strided away. Such a confusing person, he was. Smiling to yourself, you collected your blades, placing them carefully back into their place on your belt. Releasing a yawn, you traveled back to your quarters, undoing any equipment from your clothes, then promptly crashing onto the soft bed and pillows, finally turning in for the night.