deimos realizes what he's done only after it is too late.
TEARS SLIP DOWN your cheeks. Kassandra was right, the Cult's hold on her brother had not loosened. It doesn't matter, you love him, and he said he loved you too. You throw up a spear and his blade strikes on the wooden shaft. Another blow and the spear breaks in two. The edge of his sword scrapes down your forearm. It's but another wound inflicted by his hand. Even if you did put up a fight, you couldn't win, not against Deimos.
"You don't have to do this!" You tell him —hoping to breakthrough whatever dark trance the Cult had put him under. You know Deimos and this is not him. Sidestepping a wide swing, you drop both halves of the cleaved spear —refusing to withdraw the sword on your hip. "I won't fight you!" You cry.
"Then you'll die," he spits and the blade bites deep into your side. By the gods, the pain is white-hot and blinding. You scream, face twisted in agony. His arm is the only thing you find to grip onto, but stumble when he pulls the sword back. It's painted with blood, your blood. His face shifts to recognition then revulsion —at his own actions.
You fall to your knees before him, looking down at the bright red blood coating your hands and sliding down the front of your worn linothorax armor. "Deimos," you whimper, unable to bring yourself to stand. Everything hurts. He looks like a harbinger of death standing over you —gleaming in unmarred golden armor, but his sword clatters against the floor of the temple. He's there when you collapse, pulling you to him and pressing his hand against your side. There's so much blood.
Deimos can see it in your eyes —death. He's seen it in many men's eyes before. You're looking up at him, but it's like your eyes cannot focus. "I'm sorry," he chokes, glancing down at the blood seeping betwixt his fingers. This is all my fault he curses himself and the gods. He'd promised he'd never hurt you and to always protect you, but he couldn't protect you from himself. "Stay with me," Deimos pleads, brushing aside the hair clinging to your forehead.
The color of your skin begins going pallid, and your heavy eyes begin shutting. "No," he cries, pressing his face into your neck —you're not sure if it's his tears or your blood that you feel. "No, no, ela," he whispers in shaky breathes, but you cannot go on, not like this. It's a tranquil moment when darkness takes you.
You don't expect to wake again, but you do and all you can feel is a dull throbbing pain encompassing your entire body. A layer of thick linen bandages is bound around your middle —one spot has a red tinge seeping through. There are dressings wrapped around your forearm and thigh, too.
Scattered about the room are bloody rags, cautery irons, and the remains of your ruined armor. Your throat is dry and the groan that passes through your lips is rough and barely audible. Kassandra hears it though and brings a cup of water. Hippokrates had said gut wounds were difficult to pull through. The physician patched you up the best he could, but you had to decide whether to take Charon's outstretched hand. A fever had taken you soon after and kept you bedridden for over a fortnight.
You want to down the water in a single gulp, but Kass advises you to drink slowly elsewise you wind up sick. "Where is he?" You ask. The Eagle Bearer frowns, her brother had almost killed you. She doesn't understand how anyone can be so forgiving —but then again, she hasn't been in love.
"I'll be back," she tells you, rising from the low bed and moving toward the door.
You can hear yelling from outside, though you can't make out the words being spoken. There's a reprieve of silence and when the wooden door creaks open it is not Kassandra. Deimos moves to your bedside, though he will not look at you. "I'm sorry," is all he can say over-and-over but then his shoulders start shaking —wracked by soft cries. I don't deserve you is what he means.
"Deimos," you murmur, reaching for his hand. When his dark, tired eyes finally meet yours it's too much for him to bear. He falls forward, gently wrapping his arms around you —pressing his face into your chest. You drape an arm around his shoulders and start running your fingers through his hair. "I'm here," you tell him softly. And maybe right now that's all that matters. You have one another and hope for the future.

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Assassin's Creed Drabbles
FanfictionA collection of one-shots and drabbles focusing on Alexios, Deimos, Brasidas, Eivor, Ivarr, and Edward. [requests are currently: CLOSED] Note that this book contains some stories rated 18+; such stories will be identified with a warning before the m...