Assassin's Creed Drabbles

↳ battlefield

you almost do not see until it is too late. 

YOU COLLIDE WITH the Eagle Bearer on the Boeotian field of battle —face twisted and full of rage. He throws up his sword and spear in time to fend off the blow but then he steps back, lowering both weapons. His tawny-gold eyes are wide in disbelief —he is fighting a ghost.

He'd seen you fall with his own eyes —his sister had driven a spear into your side. Hippokrates, Sokrates, and Barnabas all had to help drag him away from your cold body atop the Athenian acropolis. But then the Cult took you —healed you, and poisoned your mind against him. Deimos was one weapon they could use against Alexios, but using the one he loved was more potent.

You come at him again, thrusting the point of your sword at his torso —he deflects it, taking a step back. "I won't fight you!" Alexios shouts. Dark circles ring your eyes, it's like you're a hollow shell of the person he'd known. "It's me!" He calls over the roar of battle, but the edge of your blade sinks into his bicep. He grimaces the stinging cut and spares a glance at the blood running down his arm. The distraction earns him another cut on the thigh. "You know me!" I know you. I love you.

Alexios drops his spear and sword, catching your blade mid-swing. The edge bites into both his palms. Blood sluices down the iron fuller and drips onto the ground. He is my mission. You gnash your teeth in frustration and press into the sword's hilt. He grimaces and rips the sword from your grasp, tossing it aside. Before you can draw the dagger on your hip, his lips are upon yours —bloody hands holding tight to your arms.

You struggle against the embrace, but Alexios does not relent —he needs you to remember because he can't bear the thought of losing you again. And by the gods you do. Everything rushes back with startling clarity. Playing as children on Kephallonia. Fighting together. All the nights spent gazing up at the heavens, wondering if people would sing songs about you and him one day. Alexios can taste the salt of your tears. Your knees go weak and he eases you to the ground —still holding you in his arms despite the battle raging on.

"Alexios?" Your voice cracks —frightened and uncertain. He brushes over your cheek with his knuckles and you see the blood coating his hands —the bloody handprints on your arms. He's hurt, and it's my fault you think, tears springing up in your eyes at the realization. "I-" you start, unable to be meet his soft, forgiving gaze.

These wounds will heal —all the matters to Alexios is that he has you back in his arms, where you belong. "I know," he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours, "I know." And still, the battle rages on to beat of your thundering heart.