DISCLAIMER!! I do NOT own any part of Assassin's Creed or Altaïr or any other random referances that may come up those belong to Ubisoft and their respective owners.

Altaïr is having well, let's just say he's being Altaïr when he meets a strange girl and recives a proposition he's not expecting.

Also I have no idea what I'm doing with this it's my first fanfic so I'd love some feedback after you folks read the first chapter to let me know what you think. I'm game to hear pretty much anything and would love to know how you think this comes out! Thank you for reading!

Altaïr's Fortune

The man walked quietly and slowly though the street his head bent in thought. To a casual observer he would look like a monk lost in prayer. Look like being the operative statement in that sentence. His mind was racing even as his feet trend softly towards the marketplace. Today was starting to show the first of the coming season. A chill breeze carried the promise of a wintry storm moving slowly towards Acre. As the breeze picked up it's pace it seemed the market was unaffected by the cold air. Merchants stood about hawking their wares to any who would look. Women shifted though the crowd balancing pots of water or other assorted things upon their heads with relative ease. People milled about, some to look at goods, some to gossip, and still others passing though. All told it was a bustling day in the main marketplace of Acre. Not that the robed man lost in thought seemed to care. He seemed to dance and weave around the crowd, his feet moving of their own accord. Of course he didn't warrant taking a second glance at either, and so slid though the hub of activity without much notice...

A young woman, no more then seventeen seasons to her name balanced her own pot of water on her head as she glanced though the crowd. Watching, waiting, for someone or something to move into her vision. She shifted the weight of her pot again, the thing was heavy. Filled almost to the brim with cold water she wasn't fond of having to hold the thing, but she quietly bore her burden as she waited. The wind picked up into a small turret of cold air seemingly from nowhere and everywhere at once. People pulled their scarves and coats a bit tighter. Most were wearing heavy cotton or wool to ward against the chill bite the air carried. One who didn't was the one the woman sought. She reviewed his image in her mind as he weaved slowly though the crowd almost like an unseen ghost or angel. He wore a light robe hardly antique for the wind let alone the storm it was heralding. It seemed a gray under armor was laced throughout the robes. A pair of heavy leather gloves covered his hands and extended up his forearms. The fingers themselves were uncovered. Around his middle a leather waist guard was wrapped tightly, a slight red sash hung in clear view in front of his waist. The man paused, pulled his hood tighter and then continued on his way.

Slowly he made his way closer and closer to the woman's position. She waited until he was no more then five feet away, but before she could act a merchant behind her pushed past her and she lost her balance falling forward toward the robed man. The next thing she new she was on her hands and knees in a cold pool of water. She glanced up to see a very wet and cold angel looking at her from beneath his drenched hood. She hesitated a moment longer and leapt to her feet exclaiming,

"Oh no, I'm so sorry I wasn't paying attention! Are you hurt?" He shook his head and shivered as he turned to leave. She nearly tripped herself again as she lunged after him, "Here sir come with me and I'll get you dried off and warm. Do you live near here?" He shook his head again. "Come on then" she rapidly picked up the pot and started dragging him along. Altaïr was more surprised then anything else when the young woman managed to spill her pot of water on him. He was more puzzled by the fact that he was actually letting her lead him off somewhere. He wasn't on assignment for once and had no where to be, besides he was already freezing. He decided he might as well see what would happen.Less then fifteen minutes later they were in the more shady side of town. Another ten after that the woman turned down a side ally, a key appeared in her hand and she gently pushed the door of a smal house hidden in the shadows open. She gestured for him to follow her as she slipped into the house. It was small and simply. A table with two chairs occupied a corner of the room. A firepit was taking over most of the north wall, assorted cooking ingrediants and small decorations stood in shelves flanking the firepit. Another door was oppositre the one Altaïr entered though.A single window that was closed against the window was sitting next to the entryway. Silently Altaïr closed the door behind him as the woman busied herself with lighting the fire pit. She got it going then turned and looked at him for a moment her gaze actually going over his form with greater notice this time around. She nodded to herself then disappered into the other room, a few moments later she came out holding a heavy blanket which she tossed over Altaïrs shoulders. She pulled a chair close to the fire, now glowing merrily and told him to sit down. After a moments hesitation Altaïr did what he was told. He had been trying not to think of how cold he really was. The water had stopped dripping off him several minutes ago but the wetness of his clothing made it cling to him uncomfortably, he was also acutely aware of parts of his body being numb from the cold. The fire did it's fair share to warm him and he didn't mind the blanket either. Outside the wind picked up to a howl. The young girl pulled the other chair near the fire as well then started speaking softly,

"I am Chloe. Sorry about earlier I hope this will make up for it."

"It's not a problem I wasn't going anywhere anyway."

"Oh that's good, I was wondering if I was keeping you from a rendezous. You seemed pretty lost in thought to me." She giggled slightly and he turned and glanced at her again.

"I was not. My name is Altaïr."

"Altaïr? That's a nice name." He fell silent unsure of what to say in response. He simply turned his attention back to the fire. "There's something I want to ask you Altaïr."

"Hm?"

"Um... Would you, um, would you teach me the art of making love?" Altaïr's jaw almost dropped and the nature of the question took him by complete surprise. So did the attack from behind him. The sudden movement made him start and he collasped to the ground when the blunt hilt of a dagger stuck the back of his neck. Altaïr's world faded into shades of black dancing flames as he slipped into the shadow of unconsisness...