Hawks and Eagles

The Soaring Ones

You stepped out of the hot bath, arm curled around the excessively large stomach as you reached for your towel. You asked the servants to prepare the bath just before the harsh chill of night settled through Masyaf's halls. You tried to dry off as fast as possible, water cooling quicker than you could brush the towel across it.

You dressed absentmindedly, running your hand down across you oversized bulge while you crawled awkwardly into bed. You were exhausted, a good kind of exhausted that came with being productive and helpful. You spent most of the day assisting the village with the odd job and then later with training some of the newer recruits.

If Altaïr knew how busy you were, he'd have thrown a fit. He was in Damascus, however, handling a few matters for the Order. You hadn't asked him about the mission. You had been more eager to enjoy having him hold you than talk about work. But now that he was gone for the sixth day, you regretted not asking him the details.

You must have dozed off or fallen asleep, the sound of the bedroom door barely catching your attention. It wasn't until the bed shifted and his heat curled into your back that you realized someone had entered the room. You knew it was Altaïr, his refreshing scent enveloping your senses. Although, the strong musk of sweat seemed to overpower the more delightful notes of mint.

You chuckled, feeling his hand caress soothingly across your stomach. "You smell awful, you know."

He moaned sleepily, not budging at all.

"I have a bath already drawn..." You settled your hand on top of his, feeling the smoothness of his skin. "I could help wash you off."

He pressed his growing smile into your neck, a breathy laugh fluttering across. But then he groaned and gave a sigh, pressing his eyes into your shoulder. "I have to leave for Jerusalem in the morning."

"What?" The words jolted off your tongue before your mind registered them, "You just got back."

"I know, hayati. I was supposed to leave Damascus and go straight to Jerusalem but..." He shifted against you, tried to curl himself tighter into your back. "I needed to see you. I missed you."

You leaned backwards into the firmness of his chest, felt his heart hammering against your spine. It was rare to hear him speak so openly about his feelings, a hesitation that must have been instilled in him when he was younger. But over the past month, after nearly having lost you, he was determined to be more openly affectionate. His affection also came with equal amounts of protectiveness, a vigilance caused by Abbas.

"How long will you be in Jerusalem?"

His fingers on your stomach reached up and laced with yours, fiddling with them as he tried to make a reply. "I can not be certain... It's a five day ride there and back if I do not stop and rest."

You tried not to sigh, to not let the sickness in your heart affect you outwardly. He was Mentor and with that title came various obligations. You couldn't expect him to stay with you in Masyaf when the Order needed him elsewhere. But you missed him, longed for him. So when you asked it came out sounding more desperate than you planned, "Almost a month then."

"You could come with me."

You laughed, turning your body until you could see his expression. "You're the one who told me I had to stay here because it was better for me and the baby."

"I changed my mind." The corners of his features softened, revealing how much grief he was bearing. His hand gently moved down across your side, soothing the muscles in a tender massage. "I can not do this without you. I hate being without you."

You pressed fingertips along his jaw, sweeping them across his cheek. "I hate it, too. I hate watching you leave and not knowing when or if you'll return... I'm not used to just... sitting around."