Author's notes: Okay, I'm a little shakey on the details because I haven't gotten far in the game, and I'm pretty sure Altair doesn't have a potential love interest. Meh, not really a Mary-Sue, but you can think what ever the hell you want. I'm just here to write.
YES, the robed man IS Altair, in case people don't really pick up on that. Rated M for sexual scenes and a slight bit of Non/Con, but no actual sex.
Please don't hate me if I kinda made Altair seem like a bit of an asshole, but in case most of you haven't noticed, he's pretty much an arrogant, self absorbed prick for most of the game, oooh don't you just love him!!
Set in Jerusalem at night, and follow the story of my own, now nameless character.
Stab in the Dark
I should have known better than to walk the streets of Jerusalem at night. The warm air was playing at my face, whipping dust at my feet, but I wasn't focused on such trivial things, I was trying to walk the streets without coming to harm.
Foolish woman, I cursed myself, how dare I defy my husband's wishes of staying at home.
The narrow, dark streets were near deserted aside from the shapeless, eerie shadows casting themselves upon my sight, rushing up the hairs on the back of my neck. I brushed past an empty food stand, closed for the night, hearing the murmur of men's voices just ahead.
Plastering myself against the wall, I prayed for a Templar, a guard, anything just to feel safe. Peeking around the corner, a group of men stood, arguing amongst themselves, and I vaguely thought of passing them before one of the broader ones drew his blade, and the rest of them began to draw weapons.
I flinched and ran to the right side, down a dark, vague alley way, my jaw tightened in fear when I heard the pained howls of men.
My husband warned me of this. He said the streets of the common people were far too dangerous for a woman like me, his dainty little flower. But I thought I was strong, I was an independent woman, who could walk the streets with her head held high, but it appears I was sorely mistaken.
No! I must not be swayed by brawling men! I will be strong!
I slowed down, walking again, no longer hearing the sounds of gasping and pained groans, and turning down another, longer alley littered with old baskets and paper and discarded lumber. My stomach churned, but I paid it no heed, reminding myself to be strong.
But how could I? I was lost, the streets were full of danger, my husband would surely berate me for venturing outside, and the seedy men peering out from behind the buildings did nothing for my confidence.
I swore under my breath, hoping, praying to God for some sort of help. My hand reached up to pull at my crop of mousy hair, it was unkempt, and I'm sure my husband would have something to say about that as well.
My foot glanced off a wooden plank, I tripped and stumbled, dislodging it from the wall and it came down with a clatter, jolting the night's silence. My heart leapt into my throat when a dog's annoyed bark echoed through the alley, I braced myself, but then nothing. God, what a fool of a woman I am to have left home. Damn this night time. Damn these streets.
My mouth was dry as I walked quickly down another alley, endless corridors of stone and decay. It was empty, thank God, and I glanced around, seeing no one behind, and only a wandering scholar in front.
That struck me as rather odd, a scholar out this late at night, and down a deserted alleyway no less. Then again this was the lesser part of the city, I supposed even the rich scholars did as they wished. I walked on, watching him with interest. Perhaps he could give me directions?
I could almost… feel the eyes peering at me from beneath the white hood. It was calculating, cold, studying me and my threat value. As his footsteps drew nearer, I cocked my head to the side, unable to look away as he unclasped the armoured belt and red material from his waist and set it behind a rotting wooden crate.
It was rude to stare, even if this behaviour was odd and obviously suspicious, so I tore my eyes from the scholar and continued walking, peering with interest at the wall on my right side, dirty and old and ooh look, blood stains, how interesting! God help me.
More shouts echoed through the alleyways, further away, they were guard's commands and I began to feel at ease. Thank the Lord for guards!
But it obviously wasn't relief for the scholar, who looked quickly over his shoulder at the sounds of the guard's shouts, then growled in annoyance.
He lowered his hood and quickly removed the white robe, revealing ordinary, dark brown clothes underneath. I, a mere three feet away, gasped at his actions. Disrobing in public?
Were scholars supposed to be so… broad? Were they allowed keep their hair that short and cropped? So tanned and dark? So young for that matter? Why was he removing his robes-
But my train of thought was cut short when his eyes locked with mine and his quick, armoured hand darted out in front of me. Armoured?
"Stay there." Commanding. His voice was very cold, and commanding too. And I felt confused, and yet compelled to obey. My blood ran cold, feet ceasing movement and my eyes taking in the confusing sight of the scholar, no, the man removing several hidden weapons from his self, hiding them behind the crate and then turning to face me.
And for the love of God, I couldn't move.
That glare. That intense, dark eyed, honey brown glare couldn't have been any colder, any more determined looking. It was as though he was picking me apart piece by piece and rebuilding me in his own way. It was terrifying. Those were the haunted, dead eyes of a cold blooded murderer.
And as I backed away as he swiftly approached me, I thought vaguely if these were the sort of stares a lust-filled rapist has before he takes his victim? A battle hardened hunter has, before he lands the striking blow on his prey? An assassin, gazing down on the kill before they sink their blade into the unbeknown neck?
My back found the wall, heart forcing it's way up my neck as his hard frame sandwiched mine, a roughly cut brick digging painfully into my spine. There was a quiet shink noise, and then I felt the cold, hard steel pressed along my left side. A petrified gasp choked out of me, my small hands reaching up to push him away, but it was obvious I had no chance in throwing him off.
His eyes still sizzled holes into mine, expression so hard to read, mouth set into a hard, determined line until he spoke, a deep growl of a voice. "Play along, or die. Make no mistake, I won't hesitate to kill you."
God knows I didn't understand, I was still too panic stricken to even register what he was talking about before the guard's voices grew so near. I heard kill, that was all the information I needed. He looked left, then his eyes swivelled right, just catching sight of a guard about to turn down the alleyway.
His rough, dry hand cupped my chin, and before I could even contemplate protesting he pulled my face upwards, and pressed his mouth to mine.
I made a shocked noise in the back of my throat and struggled hard, my hands scrabbling at his darkly robed chest, trying to move my mouth away. He rolled his shoulders forward, lips breaking against mine, his hand forcing my chin to stay with his and the blade digging threateningly into my side, and what could I do but allow him to continue, or die?
I immediately stopped fighting, instead exchanging to staying stock still, and shiver in fear. The hand previously on my chin went down to grasp my waist, none to gently, and a tongue forcing it's way past my lips and teeth into my mouth.
My wide, fear stricken eyes looked right, catching two guards walking briskly towards us, and he was watching them too, despite my current situation he was, in his own way, not even paying attention to me. It was then I understood. He was hiding. Hiding in plain sight.
They eyed us suspiciously, I myself was trying to ignore the rough pace of the tongue curling in my mouth, coaxing mine into replying.
"You there!" One of the men drew his sword, pointing it at us. "Cease this despicable behaviour at once!"
The man broke away from me, shooting me a threatening look before turning to look over his shoulder at the guards, a sly grin sliding over his face.
"Oh, but good sirs, it is our wedding night." He said, no hint of the previous cold in his voice. "We were eager to get home you see, but in our haste… I'm sure you understand."
The guard sneered. Lowering his sword, he shook his head. The other was eyeing my terrified expression, his hand curling around the hilt of his sword.
"Isn't that right," he continued, the hidden knife against me cutting through the flimsy material of my dress into my skin, his eyes met mine, cold again and even more threatening than before, "darling?"
I gulped, my gaze on the guards near me. Hazarding a thought of pleading for help, or snarling in indignation, I cringed when he gripped my side painfully and I tried to smile at them, my eyebrows twitching in pain.
"Y-yes," my voice was shaking horribly, "I'm s-so sorry, sirs. We were… excited to get home."
The grip relaxed on my side. Then surprisingly a thumb massaged, soothing the throbbing pain. Though it could have been because of the guard's critical scrutiny.
Both guards looked to each other, then turned back to the man pressed against me. "Be sure to move on. Such behaviour!"
They walked off, joking to one another, occasionally glancing back and shaking their heads. What went on in Jerusalem at night to make the guards just ignore situations like this, I didn't want to know.
His mouth was beside my ear, hand pulling my hips forward into his. "Not a sound. Look left."
I did as asked without even thinking, and looked left. A group of men talked in hushed voices at the end of the alley, one of them glanced back at us, but paid no attention. I gulped, logic proving that they would ignore us if we stayed, but if we moved they may cause a dangerous situation. The best way to stay alive, would be to pretend that we couldn't see them.
So I had to stay put, and keep up this pretending game. I gulped again.
"That's right." He growled, low and dangerous. "So no struggling. Or I'll leave you to them. And believe me," his eyes met mine again, making the breath catch painfully in my chest, "they'll do much worse to you than I will."
And so it continued, and I only realised how cold it felt until his mouth was against mine again, and it was warm. I whimpered, thinking of my husband, and how horrible this whole situation was, how foolish I was to leave and venture into town without my dotting partner. I must have the worst luck in the Holy Land, and now what's worse is that I'm sinning, without my consent. Even as it continued, mouth against mine, a tongue rolling against mine, I was already praying for forgiveness. Would my husband… beat me, if he saw me like this? Yes, he would, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.
He tilted his head, for a better angle, I could feel his fingers curling in the material of my dress, the deep breaths he took through his nose brushed lightly against my cheeks and he stopped being so rough. Suddenly, it seemed to change. The lips against mine were no longer hard, but soft and decidedly masculine. The tongue in my mouth slowed, and curled softly, yet still managed to maintain it's surge of domination.
And without even thinking I… replied. By breathing sharply in, and curling my tongue with his.
God, how could this have happened? What was I feeling? First terrified and indignant, now… I didn't even know.
Was it him? Was it that air of command and authority that surrounded him, that now surrounded me? I couldn't think.
But then, I didn't even want to think.
God, my husband never kissed me like this before, with force and a dominating, warm lead. My husband wasn't as tall, as easy to cling to, being quite small myself. My husband didn't hold me like this, with sure strength and near… urgency. My husband didn't smell so… so sharp. Like sweat and work and sand and earth and blood and that wonderfully subtle smell that could only be described as man. My husband wasn't so broad, so utterly masculine…
Did I… want this? Was I really thinking of committing adultery on my husband? My husband that warned me, that dotted on me, that was arranged to be married to me? This was the first time I ever thought I might just hate him.
Maybe I did hate him, but I digress.
The hand on my waist gripped tighter, but not painfully so, pulling my hips against his. The knife was still against my side, I could feel the slight trickle of blood rolling down my hip, but the pain was long since forgotten. He pushed me further against the wall, with a quick glance, I could see the men still talking in hushed voices at the end of the alley, but it didn't even register. I looked at him, his eyes closed in the darkness, eyelashes brushing against my cheeks.
God, my husband wasn't so handsome either. He wasn't so rugged, so…
Lord forgive me. I ran my hands across a muscled neck, feeling the skin twitch under my fingers, my nails running through messy, dark brown hair. It was short, but incredibly soft, and I loved the feeling of it flicking back upwards between my fingers.
But it wasn't… I was just a distraction, a means of hiding from guards and the people of Jerusalem. I was nothing but a tool, a tool for this man to escape.
And as I felt the anger rise up in my stomach and rush to quell in the top of my head, he broke away, lips barely glancing off mine, and opened his eyes, fixing me in his gaze. The recent bloodthirsty stare was gone, replaced with something different, something warmer, and darker at the same time.
He didn't… he couldn't… want this, could he?
Honey brown eyes darted left as a wizened old scholar walked slowly, his head bowed down towards us. I think, just for a second, he flashed a devilish grin, and hooked his hands around my waist, his usual serious facial grace back in place as usual but lacking it's coldness.
"Make it believable, or so help me I will kill you before you get a chance to run." He growled hotly in my ear before his hands clamped on my legs and pulled me upwards against the wall, hooking my knees around his waist, hips pressed tightly against mine. And as ever, before I could protest he swallowed my noise with another one of those kisses.
My hands scrunched in the canvas material of his robes, a blush settled darkly on my cheeks when I remembered this was not only happening with a man I barely knew, but it was outside, in public!
He must have wanted this. Considering the tongue curling eagerly with mine, the hands bracing me against the wall, and the rushed breaths he took through his nose there had to be some sort of want in there. Though I couldn't think, I couldn't move, I could barely breathe with the man pressed so tightly against me we might as well have been one person.
The Devil must be tempting me. He must be testing me, and surely, surely I was failing. This man, I didn't even know his name, and yet now I was clinging to him like I would my husband, a gasp passing from my lips when he broke the kiss away, deeply kissing down my jaw, to my heaving throat, that skilled tongue running along one of the twin muscles of my neck.
I wondered if his lips could feel my heartbeat as they kissed deep and hard all the way down to the juncture of my neck and shoulder, teeth occasionally biting, but not hard enough to leave marks, thank God. Through my heavily lidded eyes, I could see the old scholar glance upwards at us, a light blush staining his cheeks.
Even if The Devil was tempting me, there was no way I could escape, there was no way I could break free of this man's grip. He shifted his weight on his feet, I had to choke the sound back behind my teeth when his hips also shifted, but he felt the rumble in my throat and began to make small circles, the closeness of him made sure I could feel the heat, the pressure. I struggled to hide the noise, my head falling helplessly to his shoulder, hands running down a pair of broadly muscled arms. My hand wasn't even large enough to encircle his bicep, and it was flexing with every movement, something I found particularly exciting.
The poor old scholar was blushing vividly, and the man against me seemed to enjoy the fact that there was someone watching, but it was still continuing. I shut my eyes, not helping the slur of a moan escape completely without my consent as each rotation of his hips became harder, longer.
Not even sex with my husband was this good. And this wasn't even sex. My husband was so… selfish and pretended to be gentle, but I found it annoying and pretentious.
I tilted my head back, baring more of my neck to his eager mouth, hearing his bitten-off growls and hisses, his low murmured curses dissipating into harsh, quiet breaths. The scholar rounded the corner finally, but I couldn't help but feel I wanted him to stay, terrified the man against me would leave me here in the night, lost and alone.
His hand left my waist and clapped on my backside, hitching me upwards again until he was pressed so hard against me he might has well have been inside me. Then the grinding turned into something different. Hard, steady thrusting, my back still against the wall. I bit into the material of his robes, trying my best to stay silent. It was hard and desperate, an act that only pointed towards and leaded to one thing.
I whimpered as it got more and more intense. In all my life, nothing had ever felt so good. If God was testing me, the Devil was tempting me, then may I rot in hell for this.
But then, I supposed I was beginning to grasp the bigger picture. I had a husband, I had a life, and everything that was happening now would never be worth everything that I could loose because of it.
"N-no." I managed to hiss, digging my nails into his shoulder at a particularly firm rub. "Stop this!"
"They're not gone." He hissed back, his voice strangely controlled compared to his rough breath. "So you're not going yet."
"Please!" I gasped out as his hand pushed up the cloth of my dress, teeth scraping off my jaw, then a tongue travelling up to my ear and heatedly tonguing the shell. I shuddered hard. "I'm m-married!"
But he didn't seem to care. He simply continued, his free hand grasping my outer thigh, rough hands rasping against my skin in a way that wasn't gentle, but neither painful.
I was shaking, and when I struggled the familiar, and painful threat of the knife against my side forced me to stop. What could I do but give in, even as his free hand travelled up my ribs, his lips still running along the rim of my ear, hips still moving hard against mine?
Part of me longed to know his name, so I could say it.
The travelling hand none-too-gently cupped my breast, and I finally moaned in earnest, jostling the group of men at the end of the alley, but they went back to their conversations, the man against me urging me to be silent.
He was… listening to their conversation?
Oh God, what have I gotten myself into? Smite me, strike me down now, don't let me continue…
I felt the rush of heat pooling in my lower stomach when he pressed his thumb into my nipple, encircling it, pinching it between his skilful, deft hands. And I, shamefully, arching into every touch, biting down into the material of his robes.
I could feel it, the icy cold, unbearably hot feeling of my climax curling down my spine, causing my hips to arch from the wall against his. Suddenly the sound of his hissing and growling seemed to be the most beautiful sounds I ever heard, despite how much he sounds like an animal.
I rarely climaxed with my own husband, and when I did, it was never from the sex. And they were never good either.
But this was raw, and it was coming on strong.
He kept up his pace, fingers massaging my breast, hips grinding mine and teeth and tongue teasing the skin of my neck. I clung to him, arching hard, my legs clasping around his waist as I was pushed hard over that well sought after edge, and hissed in relief as I climaxed.
He knew, I knew he could feel as my whole body tensed for several seconds, then slumped against him, utterly spent.
Nothing had ever felt so good.
And he kept going, his honey brown eyes on the men at the end of the alley, but after my orgasm, my over-sensitised body still felt the pleasure of the hips. I continued panting, gasping as he still moved, feeling my eyelids droop as my energy wavered. The fact that he was still moving prolonged my climax, and I couldn't help but twitch in satisfaction as it ended.
The men finished talking, and he slowed down to a stop, pulling his hand from underneath my dress.
I slowly lowered my legs from his waist, but he must have sensed my hesitance to let him go. He took his mouth from my neck, breathing still a little laboured, but he soon controlled it.
I knew how easy it was to throw men into a whirl of lustful passion. My friends and I would often gossip about how easy it was to tease our husbands, so for this man to go from frantic, desperate lust to nothing in no time at all was inhuman.
Bastard, no one should have that much control.
He was simply using me to spy, to avoid guards. I just… committed adultery on my husband for the mere fact that I was a convenience.
And that stung my pride.
He walked to retrieve his clothes from behind the crate, I saw with a quick glance that the knife pressed against my side slid back into his left wrist, concealed by a brown leather brace and armour. His ring finger was missing. Who… what was this man?
I watched, dazed, my anger growing, my legs wobbling, as he re-adjusted himself into his clothes, once again taking on the guise of some sort of sword wielding scholar, but I knew better than that.
His back was to me, and I marched over, raising my hand, spreading my fingers, and as he turned I slapped him viciously with the back of my hand across the side of his face. He flinched, but did not stumble or fall. He simply glared at me, but I was much too angry to be afraid of that cold stare any longer.
"I'm married." I spat at him. "How dare you! How dare-"
"Keep your voice down." He growled quietly, cutting me off. "Hold your tongue!"
"I will not hold my tongue, I am bound to speak!" I snarled. (1)
His movements were swift, calculated, and I was once again pushed against the wall with his hand covering my mouth.
"I will leave you to those men. And after that demonstration you just gave them, I'm sure they could think of plenty of ways to keep you quiet."
I stiffened. His threat was not an idle one, but I couldn't help the anger bubbling up inside me.
His eyes were cold again, but they seemed a little more lenient now, dazed. He was still full of lust, but he had control over it, unlike me. I huffed and he let go. Me, a stupid woman, falling so easily for him it was almost sickening.
He looked down at me from beneath the hood, examining me, then tried to walk away as if it was nothing.
But I, far too needy, too much of a woman refused to let him leave.
"You bastard!" I whispered, still taking heed of his threat. "My soul will rot in hell for this, for you!"
"And I will join you." He retorted. "There is no place in heaven for assassins."
His pace was quick, and in my fatigued state I had trouble keeping up.
I stopped him with a hand on his robes, and he grumbled. "What is it?"
How could anyone be so heartless after that? Be so… cold? Murderer indeed!
"Please!" I begged, mindless of my own stupidity, of my own selfishness, of my hatred of my husband and my life and stupid, fanciful emotions towards this dangerous man. "Can I at least know your name, assassin?"
He stilled, eyes calculating from the darkened hood, a shadow cast eerily over his face in the night-time. He simply shook his head, a light smile flashing over his features before running and jumping onto a ledge, those skilled hands easily pulling him up the side of the building until he disappeared over the top, leaving me to the horrors that awaited me in the night.
I was still lost, I was still angry, I was still frightened and completely alone, and now I was cold too. I wandered, my footsteps angrily carrying me away from the scene, my heart and head wistfully thinking back to him, and them hating myself for being so stupid, such a typical woman.
I thought I was strong, independent until tonight. I thought I could take care of myself, but I guess…
I guess I was sorely mistaken.
Now, I hate my husband, and I'm falling for a nameless assassin who molested me in the dark.
And I wished I could have gone further, gone to an Inn with him and just let him take me, but he was too focused on his task, and I was just a tool to help him complete it.
Though, that may not have been the case. As a man approached me, eyes glinting and intent as he stared me down, whispering words so seedy I dare not repeat them, he was taken down swiftly by a white robed man. Stabbed in the neck, and I almost missed it as I turned away in fear, turning back and he was gone again. But I knew, I knew it was him.
I knew it was him, he was watching me until I found somewhere familiar. I looked up, the stars scattered across the sky, and I could see, or at least I hoped I could see the swish of a robe from a roof top, and then it was gone.
Curse me, for being such a wistful, stupid woman.
Author's Notes: (1) Yes, I know, blatant line from Othello, but I loved Emilia and I thought it fit rather well.
I dunno, if I have time I might make this into a short chaptered fic. In the meantime though, it will stay as a one-shot.