assassin's creed imagines

Beautiful | Altair Ibn-La'Ahad

SONG RECOMMENDATION: Beautiful by Bazzi

WARNING: This story contains subjects that may be depressing in some ways. Please do not read if you are affected/triggered by this kind of thing. Also, this is only MY OPINION of how some things in this chapter will go down. This chapter is about the reader feeling inferior and not being happy with her body. I, myself, struggle with my body image and thought of writing this chapter for myself and anyone else who is struggling. You are all beautiful in your own way, and never forget that Nathan Drake loves you! (If you can name the game he comes from, I will love you forever.)

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The dirt and sand of the training ground stained your face as you swung at the hay dummy again. Training as an assassin had its ups and downs, the heat coupled with the sweat accumulating on your brow was definitely a major downside to the job. You tried to strip off as many layers of clothes as possible without being in your undergarments, but even your short sleeve shirt tucked into your black trousers wasn't enough to keep the humid heat of Masyaf away. Your grunts bounced off the walls and resonated throughout the courtyard, you had been out here for hours and it was starting to take a toll on your arms and legs. While most of the other assassin's were off on missions you had decided to stay back, to train harder and hopefully have some muscle replace your 'fat'. Even growing up, people always made fun of you because when you would lean over while sitting down, they would point out your stomach rolls and laugh cruelly. You always tried to do the right thing, to ignore and brush the crude comments off, but they always got to you and added to the already sleepless nights.

"Still training, I see?" A voice called to you from the entrance of the courtyard, you were breathing heavily from the hard work but turned to see who called out anyway. Yana, a new recruit and a beautiful young woman, waltzed into and across the courtyard towards your sweaty form. You huffed upon seeing her, trying to get some oxygen into your starved lungs from the training exercise. "Yes, I am. Altaïr hates slow-moving assassins, so I thought I'd try to train more." You informed her reluctantly, twirling the sword around in your hands by the hilt and trying not to roll your eyes at her obvious attitude. Yana scoffed obnoxiously, crossing her arms over her chest to accentuate her breasts. "Well, it won't pay off." She spat at you as if you were a small child, it took you a moment to process her rude comment and it caught you off guard. "I'm sorry?" You asked, your head snapping to meet her gaze, she had always been rude but she had never actually said anything like this before.

"You heard me, Y/N. You will never be one of us." With every word she stepped towards you until she was inches from your face, internally thinking how much you wanted to comment on how she had no concept of personal space. Your wide eyes stared into hers, not wanting to show how much her words were getting to you but your eyes betrayed you. You could feel the tears as they built up and your resolve crumbled under her harsh words, no matter how hard you tried. "And this thing you have for Altaïr, he will never want you. I mean look at you! You look like you've spent too much time in the kitchen and not enough time on the training grounds. He will never love you." The words cut deeper than any knife ever could and before you could even think of a response, she shoved you back by your shoulders. Catching you off guard, you couldn't catch your balance in time. Your body hit the hard ground of the courtyard, the feeling of gravel and rocks digging into your back through your shirt making you wince in pain.

Yana appeared in your vision as she hovered over you, squinting down at you as she scoffed. You could tell she was enjoying seeing you so broken, it was written all over her face. After sitting up and holding your weight on your hands, your gaze remained on the dirt in front of you in fear of bursting out crying when you made eye contact. "Stay down, novice. You are where you belong." You figured she was finished when she glared daggers down at you, watching as she turned and waltzed off to probably boast about how she 'put you in your place'. The courtyard returned to the silence it was bathed in before Yana came, save for the breeze that rustles through the training grounds. Yana's words echoed through your mind and didn't stop, not even after you heaved yourself off the ground and got back up on your feet. You didn't bother putting the sword back onto the stand, too busy with the negative thoughts swirling around your mind. Grabbing your robes from under the shade overhead, you turned and made your way across the training ground towards the castle and towards your room, where you would take a long bath and fall asleep for the rest of your life. Your eyes were fixed on nothing as you walked, making it look like you were staring into an abyss as you shuffled slowly through the castle, up the stairs, across the veranda that overlooked the foyer, and down the hall towards your room. "Y/N!" A voice called, reserved and monotone, it had to be Altaïr. You really weren't in the mood for his arrogance so you didn't even turn around even though you heard his fast approaching footsteps from behind you.