The Right Side

War Brings Love

"You're still with me, right?" Haytham asks as he kicks the door to his bedroom closed, Clarke in his arms. He can feel her shaken breathing, most likely from the shock of being hung. While it was merely for a minute, it felt like an eternity for the both of them. "Say something, please."

"Haytham, I'm alright," she reassures, feeling the blankets as she is placed on a rather large bed. She's never been in his room before, noticing it looks hardly touched. A neat bookshelf, desk and chair by the window are all that he seems to own. A fireplace across from the bed sits, lighted by a small fire crackling from that morning. "You didn't need to carry me."

"You were almost killed, you needed rest," the man stands next to the bed where the blonde lays, not looking her in the eyes. She can see on his face that he feels guilty, and she knows why.

Reaching over to take his hand in hers, she gives a gentle smile. "It's not your fault, Haytham. If anything, you saved me. I was there on my own doing."

"I let him bring you." Anger seeps into his words. "I let him watch over you. I made him promise not to touch you and yet- he's hurt you. I take full responsibility."

"Don't you dare. What Charles did has nothing to do with you, it isn't your fault. He's your right hand man, you had every right to trust him! I remembered, that's why I left. Not because of him. I would've come back."

"Why? We have nothing for you here. You shouldn't even know how to use a pistol, you're a lady. Not a soldier."

"You're here," Clarke gently squeezes his hand. "You've always been here. And I need you."

"No you don't," the Grand Master shakes his head, eyes fixed on the fireplace. "What you need is a safe home. Achilles and Connor can give you that, I cannot."

"I want to fight!" She protests, sitting up carefully. While she isn't hurt severely, her body is still in shock. "If I have to kill someone to be here with you, I'll kill George Washington himself!"

"Don't say that, Clarke." When he says her name, it makes her heart throb. Damn this man, and screw him for making her feel this way. "The Templar Order has burdened you enough, you should leave."

"But I don't want to!"

"And why not?!"

The blonde - now on her knees - moves forward and presses her lips against the Grand Masters'. She had no idea what she was doing, she just knew that she wanted to be with him no matter what might happen. The thought of leaving broke her heart.

Haytham doesn't react automatically, waiting for Clarke to pull away and sit down slowly. Her blue eyes are on her hands that sit on her lap, refusing to speak.

"I'm an old man, Clarke," he says in a sad voice. "You can do much better than this. There are young men that-"

"I don't want other young men!" She cried, feeling tears beginning to form in her eyes. Her voice strained, cracking every few words. "I've cared about you for years! I defended you, I fought for you! My first kill was defending you! I don't care how old you are, dammit!" She looks up at him, tears now streaming down her pink cheeks. "I want you!"

Seeing her cry like this, for him, made everything so much harder. Haytham knew how he felt about her, and he knew he didn't even feel this way towards Ziio. He's nearly twice her age and had a son who's older than her. What was he to do?

But the Grand Master pushed everything to the back of his head the moment Clarke had begun crying. She was covering her face with her hands, now. Her shoulders shaking as she tried to calm herself down.

Haytham gently took her hands in his, pulling them away from her face as he looked at her. "My dear," he says gently. "Words cannot describe the way I feel towards you. You must understand that my life is coming to an end, and that I cannot protect you forever. Knowing all of the things I have done, and all the things I can't do, are you sure that you still feel the same?"