Here is is! My much anticipated Assassin's Creed fic. It took me forever to write! Here is your warning now: There is sexual content. Yes, in this Prologue. I had to and you will see why.

Enjoy, my dears.

Masyaf -1188

"Run Sibylla! Ride to Masyaf!" Altair cried, drawing his sword. His back to was to her and several large Templar Knights were closing in on him, a dozen more or so more were running towards them. If she didn't go now, she would be trapped here. This was her only chance. But how could she leave him?

"I'm not leaving without you," she yelled back at him, moving to dismount from the horse they had been riding.

"No! You go back Masyaf!"

Before she could dismount, Altair smacked the stallion's backside, spooking the already agitated beast. The horse barreled through the on coming Templars, knocking them aside, rider and stallion a blur of white. It was long time before Sibylla was able to regain control of the beast and by the time she got the silly thing to stop running, it was too late to go back for Altair. She hesitated a moment before swearing under her breath. His only hope now was for her to plead with Al Mualim to send help to him. She sent a silent prayer to God for him and turned the horse back towards Masyaf. She rode hard, not bothering to stop at the gates of the village. People cursed her as they leapt out of the way. After what seemed like ages, she rode into the courtyard of the fortress and all activity stopped.

"Sibylla," Malik called. He and Kadar rushed over to her, Malik helping her off the horse. "You are whiter than your robes! What has happened? Where is Altair?"

"Templars," she puffed, trying to break free of his hold. The sooner she got to the Master, the sooner Altair could be helped. "They ambushed us. I came for help."

"Templars," asked Kadar. "Surely a man as great as Altair can handle a few Templars."

Sibylla's eyes pleaded with Malik. How she loved this man. He was a brother to her, a teacher, a friend. If anyone had an intimate knowledge of her, it was Malik. She knew by the dark look that crossed over his chocolate eyes that he understood her haste. She knew that he understood everything. Altair had finally won her heart. It was clear the knowledge hurt him because Kadar had expressed interest in her but Altair had made the move first.

"Go to the Master," he said softly as he released her. Praying for the wings of the peregrine falcon, she ran with all haste to the tower.

Sibylla paced Al Mualim's study. This had to be the hundredth pass of the large window. She looked out hopefully but was only met by the inky darkness. The torches in the courtyard below illuminated the guards standing near them, but they did not light Altair's path to her. She sighed, hands wringing the thin fabric of her sleeping gown and made another pass, the candles casting her shadow eerily on the stone walls. It was too quiet, her bare feet not making a sound on the cold stone floor. The Master was in bed, along with most of the fortress. Still, despite the late hour, she paced silently before the window, praying.

She cursed under her breath. She felt like she had failed him, her lover. She should have turned the horse around. She should have gone back. She should have defied Al Mualim and gathered help herself. But to what end? If the Templars killed Altair, they would have killed her too. And defying the Master, even if it did prove successful, would result in severe punishment. Couldn't he understand, though?

She cursed again. Al Mualim had scolded her about her feelings for Altair. He had no right. He had given her to him as his apprentice. What had he expected to happen? Why could he not understand? Had the Creed really made him so cold to her, his own flesh and blood? Or perhaps it was because he cared. Perhaps the reason he did not send help to Altair was because he was not the Master's only favorite anymore, and thus could be lost.

A rustling of fabric in the shadows caught her attention. A heavy grunt told her who approached and her heart leapt into her throat. She ran to the other side of the table just as he came around the pillar. He was holding his left arm, dried blood staining his white robes from a wound on his shoulder. He also walked with a defined limp that made her worry. No doubt he was sore, tired and hungry.

Sibylla ran to Altair, colliding with him hard enough to make him stumble. Tears that she had held in all day started to spill from the relief of seeing him alive. He fell back against the pillar, allowing it to support their weight as he regained his balance. His arms instinctively curled around her midsection, his larger frame swallowing her smaller one, almost hiding her. This was the most affection he'd showed her and she reveled in it. Of course he knew she loved him and it was obvious he felt the same, but he had kept himself guarded, not allowing himself to fall prey to love. But she felt it now in the way he held her too tight, his face buried in her hair. His heart was thumping a quick but steady rhythm in his chest which spoke of his relief that she had made it unscathed.

"I thought you had been…" she sobbed, cutting off the end of her sentence.

Altair shushed her and if at all possible, held her tighter. A pleasant tingling crept over her body as she felt his lips kiss the top of her head. She tilted her head back to nuzzle under his chin and his lips found her forehead. His hand came up to her cheek, his thumb stroking her jawline, tilting her head back further until his mouth seized her lips. This kiss was timid at first, then came the dominance she was so familiar with. Something so tender and sweet turned heated and passionate as a groan escaped his throat. She clung to him tightly, refusing to let go, needing to be sure that he was really here, safe and that he really held her in his arms.

Without warning, he spun her around so that she was against the pillar that he had been leaning against. There was a sharp intake of breath from him and before she could really comprehend what was happening, she felt herself slide upwards against the pillar, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He broke away from her lips, his mouth finding her throat as she pushed back his hood and ran her fingers through his dark brown hair. When his teeth sank in to her neck, it took all she had not to cry out from both pain and pleasure. She knew he was marking her and that knowledge caused her heart to flutter. A whimper escaped her lips and was met with a groan of his own and rather enthusiastic thrust of his hips. She about melted, the fire within her raging out of control, burning to be one with him.

Altair let her slide back down, her feet firmly on the ground again and pinned her harder against the pillar as he took her mouth again. She allowed it as he parted her lips and slipped his tongue timidly into her mouth. His hands were all over her, touching her with a surprising gentleness that she would never think him capable of, and yet retaining the dominance and force she was familiar with. It was almost too much for her. Her mind was spinning and she thought she would faint if she let this continue. This was, after all, very new to her, as she was still pure, for though he had expressed a liking of her, he had not touched her in such a way before now. Add the excitement of how completely forbidden this was for them to be engaging in such an act, and she was on a complete overload of emotion.

Sibylla broke away from his mouth, resting her head against his shoulder and panting. The world was spinning and she wasn't entirely sure she was actually standing still, pinned to the pillar. Altair's weight against her was the only thing she was actually sure of. To her relief, his hands stopped their exploration of her feminine form. He kissed her neck softly over where he had bit her, sending shivers down her spine.

"Are you alright, little falcon," he asked against her ear, his cold voice was dripping with affection and seduction, a combination that sent another shiver down her spine.

She nodded against his shoulder, reveling in his smell of him, a masculine musk that was tainted by blood and sweat but suited him well. It was oddly comforting to her as it was a scent that she had associated with safety, for no matter the situation or mission, he had kept her completely safe, even while he threatened to kill her himself several times. On the first day of their mission they had been at each other's throats and yet he had protected her when a Templar had made a rather vulgar comment.

"You're hurt," she exclaimed, now remembering his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it," he purred. "It's nothing serious."

"Let me be the judge of that."

She pushed him off of her and pulled him over to the candelabra for a better look at the wound on his shoulder. He was right, of course. It wasn't nearly as bad as the amount of dried blood would suggest, but it still looked painful and it obviously was by the way he hissed as she examined it. Her eyes travelled up to his and she found him watching her intently. She looked away and back to his wound quickly as a smirk danced on his lips.

His right hand came up and stroked her cheek softly, bringing her blue eyes back to his honey brown ones. His finger traced a line from her jaw, down her neck and to her shoulder and she shivered, wanting so badly just to melt into him. This time, it was her who initiated the kiss. It was timid, shy and reserved. He did not protest, nor make a move to deepen the kiss, probably for fear of pushing her too fast. Instead, he simply slipped his left arm around her waist as the fingers of his right hand threaded through her dark curls. Her arms curled around him and she whimpered his name against his lips. He deepened the kiss then, holding her tighter to himself and guided her backwards, to what she didn't know. Nor did she care, for she trusted him.

Her backside bumped the table causing her to gasp. Altair wasted no time in lifting her and setting her on the table as he kissed her, His rough hands brushed along her thighs pushing her sleeping gown up and it was then that she knew his intentions. She tensed against him, biting his lip and his hands were at her face as he purred to her. She knew he wouldn't force her if she didn't really want it, but the problem was that she did want it, she was just scared.

"Trust me, Little Girl," her whispered against her ear, sending a shiver through her. How she loved it when he used that pet name.

One of his hands was travelling back downwards. She whimpered into his neck as he cooed to her words of love and comfort. She about leapt out of her skin when his hand found that forbidden and untouched part of her. Part of her wanted to protest to his exploration of her and the other part wanted to offer up more of her to his rough hands. The side controlled by her lust was winning out and surrendering to him and his questioning touch. He shuddered against her, a gasp escaping him as she felt a finger slip into her. She whimpered in response and his free hand stroked her hair, his lips finding hers.

"Trust me," he whispered again as his wandering hand pulled away from her all together. Sibylla went rigid with the knowledge of what was to come. Her legs tightened around his hips involuntarily, almost pulling him closer.

"Altair," she whimpered, feeling him against her, ready to claim her and make her his. His own whimper answered her, a sound of need and longing, as he kissed her again. Her legs again pulled him closer. This was as ready as she was ever going to be. He pulled away and watched her, his brown eyes searching her blue ones, for a long moment. Again, he kissed her, this time a gentle brush of his lips against hers, something gentle and sweet.

"Sibylla," he whimpered against her lips, and she understood why as she felt him there, begging for entrance to her. She found his right hand and laced her fingers through his and squeezed. He guided her to lie back before he pushed into her gently, a gasp escaping him as he bent over her to kiss her, or silence the noise that was tearing at her throat. He moved slowly within her, keeping a steady and gentle pace, little moans rumbling in his throat.

It hurt, badly, and it was obvious that he knew it did. His hands stroked her hair and face, his mouth over hers, an odd comfort to her as the pain slowly subsided. Her whimpers turned to moans and Altair pressed his mouth to hers harder, urging her to be silent, his own grunts echoing in the stone tower.

He picked up the pace, thrusting a bit faster. Sibylla arched into him, her hands running through his dark hair. The wood table creaked beneath her as Altair lost himself to his passion, breaking away from their kiss and biting into her neck. It was bliss, and yet it made her sick with the thought of how forbidden it was. But she would do anything to be his and keep him happy. How she loved it when he smiled.

Another creak sounded in the darkness and she assumed it was the table. She was enjoying this, loving his weight over her, his grunts, and him. He kissed her, his lips quivering against hers when a shudder passed through him. She heard the desperate moan that he choked down and she knew by the way his entire body tensed over her that he was spent, taking note of the fact that he had not removed himself from her. Both fear and excitement rose up in her at the thought of what that could mean.

"I love you, my little falcon," he said as he kissed her sweetly.

"And I you," she answered breathlessly. There it was; his declaration of love to her.

Altair was panting as he pulled away from her. Even in the darkness she could see the expression in his dark eyes. The cold calculating glare was completely gone and replaced by a loving caress of a stare that she knew was meant only for her. She couldn't help herself as she sat up and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard again, holding him tightly. She felt him surrender to her, but became uneasy when he suddenly tensed and pulled away from the kiss. When she looked at him, his eyes were fixed on something over her shoulder.

"Master," he said in a tone of both fear and respect.

"So you return, unscathed, to deflower my daughter," said Al Mualim.

Sibylla looked over her shoulder. There stood her father, the wise old leader of the Assassin's Guild. She could not read his expression, for he had it trained into a well practiced form that kept her and Altair unsure of his thoughts. She knew he was angry, though. It was obvious. She held on to Altair's arms to keep him from moving away, though he made no attempt to do so. He was clearly speechless, as she was and when neither of them spoke, Al Mualim did.

"I trust you with the care of my daughter," he said with a voice that shook with anger, "Give you an apprentice of your own and this is how you repay me?"

"She is fifteen," Altair snapped suddenly.

"A child!"

"No, a woman! Younger have been made brides and mothers!"

"But not my daughter!"

Altair's entire frame stiffened and he stood up straighter, taking a stance of defiance. She knew he was going to fight her father on this and she found it odd and out of character for him. But then, it was well known that when Altair was passionate about something, he fought tooth and nail no matter the consequences. Malik had told her many stories of growing up with him. She feared the consequences of it for his sake, but found herself almost swooning at the pure romanticism of it.

"She will take the herbs and I will make arrangements for her elsewhere. You are to stay away from her, Altair."

"I will take full responsibility for my actions tonight if she is with child an-"

"No," Al Mualim's tone would not allow argument and Altair's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of his teeth, his jaw firmly set. "She will be given the herbs and she will be taken far from here and far from you."

"Do not speak of me as if I am not present," shouted Sibylla. Altair's honey eyes slid over her, amusement mixing with the anger there. Never in her right mind would she dare to speak to her father so.

"Stay your tongue, girl!"

"I will not, Father!" She slipped off the table and stood defiantly before Al Mualim, her back against Altair's chest. "You'll not command me about like a servant! You'll not tell me who I may and may not love nor when and how!"

"You will not speak to me is such a tone! You are my daughter and you will do as I instruct!"

Sibylla opened her mouth to continue arguing when she felt Altair's rough hand clamp over it. He turned her gently to face him and she looked up at him questioningly. His eyes held a look of defeat that she did not like as his hands came up to hold her face. Her heart sank as she realized what he was about to say to her.

"Sibylla," he said gently, "Do as your father says. Everything will fine, I promise you."

"Altair…"

"Trust me, little falcon. Please? For me."

He kissed her forehead and she thought that he might cry from the way he shook. She bit back her own tears. He couldn't mean this, not after what had just happened. His eyes met hers again before he backed away from her and left the study. She watched him go down the stairs and it wasn't until he stood below where the study looked over the hall did he look at her. She could have sworn she saw tears shimmering on his skin in the candlelight.

"How dare you," she hissed, turning back on Al Mualim and advancing on him. "How could you do this to me!?"

"In the morning you will be sent to Jerusalem and the Rafiq there will train you further," he said in a stern voice. "I will arrange for you to be married to a well-off merchant or, if you are lucky, to one of my men, Malik perhaps, who will teach you how to be a proper woman!"

"You cannot make me!"

Al Mualim struck her for the very first time in her entire life. For an old man, he hit hard. Sibylla felt the bruise forming already and fell silent, glaring at him. It was a battle of wills and one she knew she would lose. It wasn't fair. She did not love Malik as a man that could be her husband. She loved him as a brother and dear friend and was certain he felt the same. But would he turn down the Master? She hoped he would, for she did not want to hate him for aiding her father in this and hate him, she would.

"You will take the herbs and you will go to Jerusalem at dawn. Is that clear?"

"Yes father," she said in defeat.

Dawn came all too quickly for Sibylla. She had packed her few belongings into the saddle bags of the horse she was now sitting upon. She waited for Malik to return from speaking to Al Mualim, his mare was tossing her head impatiently. Kadar was already mounted upon his stallion and was watching her with a look that was bugging her to no end. She knew he loved her and she knew the reason he was staring at her. The entire fortress already knew of the sin that occurred between her and Altair last night.

"You are not supposed to be here," growled Kadar rather suddenly. Sibylla nearly fell from the horse in surprise, especially at the tone in his voice, for she had always known him to be sweet and soft-spoken. She looked over and saw Altair striding purposefully towards her and she understood the edge in Kadar's voice. Altair ignored him and came straight up to the horse.

"They say you are on your way to Jerusalem," he said softly.

"Yes," she replied.

"And that you are getting married?"

"That's what he hopes…"

"Safety and peace, then"

Altair patted her hand and turned away from her, walking back to the fortress. Sibylla bit her lip. If she had to say goodbye to him, it was not going to be like this. It could not be like this. She loved him, for better or worse. She slipped off the horse, ignoring Kadar's protests and ran to Altair, colliding with his back, her arms encircling him from behind.

"I love you," she said through tears. "I don't want to leave or marry someone else. I want to stay here with you! Altair…"

He shifted and turned to face her, his hand cupping her chin and bringing her eyes to his. The sadness she saw there broke her heart. She knew he did not want her to leave either, and that knowledge made it even harder to let go. She held him tighter, her eyes pleading with him.

"Sometimes we must do that which we detest in order to bring about a greater good," he said softly. She didn't want to hear this. Not from him. "The trials we face, the pain we feel, and the things we lose all help to shape who and what we are. They make us stronger and better than what we were before."

"Then what becomes of us," she asked, a sob tearing at her throat.

"The world will decide. The world always decides."

"Altair…"

Sibylla didn't finish her sentence, for he pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. His arms wrapped around her and held her to him tightly. She did not care that the others were around or that they were staring, or even that it was improper for such a display of affection to be made in public. All that mattered was the moment and she wished with all her heart that the moment could last an eternity.

"Altair," Malik's voice cut in, "you should not be here."

Altair pulled away slowly, his eyes finding hers. He said not a word to her and she knew he couldn't even if tried, for her own voice was lost to her as well. But everything he would have said, should have said, was there in those dark eyes of his that dripped with honey. She pressed her forehead to his, taking in his unspoken words. How could she let go when he looked at her like that?

"Altair," said Malik impatiently, warning in his voice.

"Go, little falcon," Altair urged gently.

Sibylla let go of him reluctantly and started towards her waiting horse. She looked back over her shoulder to see Altair watching her and the overwhelming urge to just run back to him broke her. Malik placed a firm hand on her shoulder and continued leading her back to waiting horses. Kadar's hurt glare hardly fazed her as she mounted the horse. He clicked his tongue and the stallion moved away in a trot. Sibylla did nothing except watch Altair as he turned away. She didn't notice when Malik brought his mare up beside her.

"You will meet again, I think," he said in much gentler tone than he had used before. "Allah is not so cruel to give such a gift as love and then take it away."

"And what do you know of love," she growled, turning an icy glare at the man she called brother.

"I know you love him. I know that he must love you as well if he was willing to defy the Master just to see you off. And I know my brother loves you as well."

"And what about you, Malik? Don't think that I am not aware of the true reason my father called you to his tower. Do you love your bride-to-be, though she is no longer the virtuous flower you should have been promised?"

Malik stared at her for a long while as if she had slapped him. Perhaps she had been too bitter towards him, but he was aiding her father after all and she could not and would see Malik as a lover or husband. It was a betrayal in every sense of the word to her. And if Kadar really did love her, then Malik was betraying his own brother as well.

"You are my sister, Sibylla," said Malik. "And I love you as such. No more and no less."

"And what is that supposed to mean," she hissed as he turned his mare and followed after Kadar.

"Altair is not the only one who defied the Master today," he replied cooly over his shoulder.

Sibylla gave her mount a light kick to the sides and urged it to come up alongside Malik. He had a childish smirk on his face and did not acknowledge her. She stared at him, waiting. He simply ignored her, that damned smirk plastered in place. Malik could not have been referring to himself, could he? He never disobeyed Al Mualim, nor questioned him.

"What did you do," she demanded.

"I politely declined his request to take you as my bride and thanked him for deeming me worthy of his most precious treasure."

His tone was far too cocky for her liking. Malik wasn't arrogant and the tone in his voice made her squirm.

"And?"

"And I could not betray my brother nor my sister. That is all"

"Surely you know who my intended is to be then? Malik! Do not keep secrets from me!"

Malik smiled, and his grin was all too teasing and arrogant. She feared for a moment that he would not tell her when he looked ahead to Kadar, riding alone. Her eyes followed his and she thought she knew what he would say.

"You are looking at him, my dear."

Sibylla looked back to Malik with wide eyes. He gave her a smug look before forcing his horse into a gallop and riding ahead. She watched him with an expression that was a mix of both hate and amusement. It was obvious he had asked for her hand on Kadar's behalf and she should have known he would do it. But then, what about what he had said about Altair? She could not argue with being paired off with Kadar, for at least she had the security of knowing the man loved her but…

She shook her head. If Malik was right, then she would be reunited with her Flying Eagle again. All she had to do was be patient and wait for that day. She did not doubt that it would be a very long time before that day came, for there was a very good reason Al Mualim had chosen to send her to Jerusalem, as far away from Masyaf as he could safely have her. Altair would not be given missions that would require his presence there unless absolutely necessary.

Sibylla pushed down the sadness she felt and urged her horse into a canter to catch up with Malik and Kadar. As they rode out of Masyaf, she did not look back. She couldn't. Though she loved Altair, she had to let that chapter of her life come to an end now and focus on the path set before her. Still, she sent a silent prayer up to the heavens for him as the gates of Masyaf shrank into the distance behind her.

NOTES:

This takes place three years before Assassin's Creed and two years before Assassin's Creed: Altair's Chronicles thus making him only 22. Three years younger and three years more naive. Malik is probably about the same age as Altair and Kadar, I assume would probably be a fair bit younger than his two mentors. I am going to say he is probably around 17 years old, as I doubt he is older than 20 or 21 in the game.

Sibylla is 15 at this point and considered a woman. It was rather common back then for women to be married off as soon as they started menstruating to men much older than they were.

The lines "What becomes of us?" and "The world will decide. The world always decides" was originally taken from Kingdom of Heaven. Sibylla of Jerusalem and Balian of Ibelin exchange these words after she has slept with him, thus being unfaithful to her husband, Guy de Lusignan.

In reality, Jerusalem had just fallen to Saladin the previous fall (October of 1187) and thus, was probably not the best place for Al Mualim to send Sibylla. Though at the time, Saladin was besieging Krak des Chevaliers, the fortress of the Knight's Hospitaller (similar to the Knight's Templar).

Author's Comments:

Finally! I got it finished and up. This thing ended up being TEN FUCKING PAGES!

Can you tell I did a lot of research!?

Dear god, this has been a royal pain in my ass, doing all the math for people's ages and the endless researching on stupid tiny details. But it's all worth it. Oh dear lord is it worth it!

And the smut! That is what took me so long. Altair having sex breaks my poor little brain. I hope you all got what you were expecting! I did the best I could!