I groan softly as I walk out into the bureau's main room. I didn't sleep well last night, and it's apparent in my gait as I walk toward my mission partner and the Dai to break my fast.

I sluggishly pick up a handful of grapes and a slice of khubuz; lifting the bread to my mouth, my eyes flicker over to Altair, noticing that he's avoiding my gaze as best as he can. Emre greets me with a smile and pushes more food into my hands; he winks and says that we'll both be needing our strength today. I nod, stuffing my mouth full of feta and grapes, gulping down the food as quickly as I can in order to get this mission over with.

Emre stands, wiping his hands on his robes and walks over to the bureau's counter, rummaging behind it until he lets out a small 'ah!' He turns back to us, holding lavish robes in his stained hands. Glancing from Altair to myself, Emre whistles through his remaining teeth.

My mind comes to a sudden halt as he fully explains the mssion and exactly whatwe must do. He takes a lengthy drag on his pipe and lets the smoke tumble from his lips. Altair stares blankly at the Dai, scarred mouth thinning in annoyance.

I lift a cup of wine to my mouth, sipping at the liquid to try and calm my jumping nerves. I remember my nightmares from the night previous and take a too large gulp of wine, nearly choking myself on the ruby liquid. I cough lightly, mentally sighing in thanks that neither of the two other assassin's noticed my distress.

Emre claps his hands, giving us a large grin and cocking his head to the side like a cat. "Do you understand little brothers?" Altair makes a small noise in the back of his throat which the Turkish Dai takes as an affirmative. His glassy eyes swivel to me, watching as I shift uncomfortably on the plush cushions. Emre lifts a brow, lips working around his pipe. "Something wrong?"

I look down at my hands, fingers tightening on my lap. Damn Al Mualim, he knew exactly what he was getting me into! "Nothing at all." My voice sounds horse, so I take another large swig of wine.

Emre nods to himself and swiftly stands. He motions for us to follow, grinning over his shoulder. "Come then, we must get your disguises."

My hand goes up to claw at the leather collar clamped around my neck. My eyes are lined by kohl and the shear wrap around my nether regions causes me to shift awkwardly; this only causes the bangles on my arms to tingle merrily. I glare down at my feet, hating the thin leather sandals strapped to them; they won't help with running, the bottoms are too soft to even withstand walking to the market.

Altair looks uncomfortable in his crimson and gold robes. He glares lightly at the turban resting in his hands, and shoves the wrap of fabric over his light brown hair with a grimace. I roll my eyes at his childishness and watch as Emre walks back behind the counter, resting his elbows on the wood ruined by knives and boots.

Emre turns his gaze from my companion to me; The Turkish Dai taps one finger against his chin and peers at me more intensely. His hand rummages around in his robes until he plucks a small packet out of them; he throws it to me and I catch it, giving him a small suprised glare. "Your objective is to slip the drugs into your target's wine and lure him from the other guests." He gives a pointed glance toward Altair. "This is so youcan complete the mission." One clay and glaze speckled hand shoots under the bureau's desk, and he lifts out a pristine white feather. Altair takes it, tucking it into the small plume of multi-coloured feathers decorating his turban. "You know what you must do little brothers." We nod once and he scratches a scarred cheek. "Excellent! A carriage will waiting outside of the city gates to take you to your host's home outside of Adana." Another gap-toothed smile is thrown our way. "Safety and peace, little brothers. Good luck!"

I sigh, sitting on one of the plush pillows littering the interior of the carriage. "I hope this goes well..." I mutter, once more adjusting the strip of leather winding around my neck.

Altair remains silent, running his fingers over the bracer containing his hidden blade. I watch him for a moment, the silence pushing at my eardrums until I want gasp in pain. My teeth worry the inside of my mouth until gold yes flicker to meet mine. "What's that brand on your back?"

Ah yes Altair, you are always so eloquent with your words.

I blanch before turning my face from him; I try to cover myself with my arms, and hold them tightly over my chest. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I feel him move closer, and I almost yelp with rough fingers prod at the old brand. "Really?" He growls, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

I shudder slightly but push him away, a deep scowl on my mouth. "Drop it, Altair." I hiss, glaring at him with all the force of my being.

The other assassin's mouth thins and his eyelids narrow to a piercing glare; thankfully he remains quiet for the rest of our journey.

Our host is a young man, nearly our age. He is a good looking black haired man standing taller than both Altair and myself. He is dressed in midnight blue robes and offers us both a deep bow of respect, knowing who we are and what we came here to do. Asim leads us into his home, and I fall a step behind our host and my pseudo-master; I eye the marble floor and high-vaulted ceilings. My nose catches on the smell of roses and sandalwood and I look up to see a beautiful young woman of my own age come toward us.

Asim lights up at the sight of the very pregnant woman; he turns to both of us, though addresses only Altair to keep up appearances. "My wife, Alimah." Asim places a hand on her swollen stomach and gives Altair a wide grin. "And our son, Taabish." I lower my gaze to the ground when Alimah's dark eyes fall to rest on me. I study my hastily cleaned feet while Altair gives the expecting couple a warm wish of happiness, and a long life for their son.

I glance up to the noble people; Alimah has turned to her husband and places a hand on his blue shrouded shoulder. "Your guests will be arriving soon." Her delicate hands adjust his robes, small fingers sweep away any wrinkles in the fine silk. Asim nods and leans down to kiss his wife's forehead.

The informer straightens and gestures for us to follow him. "I hope you both will find your accommodations to your liking..." Asim seems to be unsure of himself; his hands constantly fiddle with his large sleeves, and his eyes dart from side to side. Altair hums, his own eyes flickering about the hallway to map out an easy escape rout; I do the same, my own gaze scanning over our dear host to see if his meekness is merely an act.

Asim leads us to a grand room. Pillars gracefully curve upwards into an arch; the almost grecian openings are covered in translucent silver, purple and turquoise tapestries. Plush rugs, carefully stitched and woven criss-cross over the marble floors. A shallow pool filled with eerily white fish is in the middle of the room, and fresh greenery fill my nose with their sweet smell.

The design of this room reminds me of Acheron's fine harem. This remembrance of the man who filled my first few years of life with pain causes a shudder to run through my body; Altair glances over at me, but I shoot a glare back at him and straighten my spine.

Asim fidgets nervously with his robe and asks if we find the room appealing; he's like a small child begging for his father's approval, and I can't help but feel superior to this nobleman who is so humbled in the presence of two budding Master Assassins. Altair gives our host a short nod, asking in a bored tone when the guests will be arriving. Asim blinks and looks down to the ground in order to think. "It is almost three...I asked for them to be here before nightfall." He looks back up at us, a wide smile reminding me of Kadar's exuberance. "They should be arriving in another hour, young Masters." Our host bows lowly and backs out of the room, telling us that a servant will come get us when the other guests start arriving.

Altair checks around the room, posture not relaxing as he searches for any hidden threats. I roll my eyes and sink onto a soft pile of pillows; I've already come to the conclusion that Asim is harmless and meek in the face of danger. My eyes flutter closed, tired from my lack of any decent sleep the night before. I allow a loud yawn to tear past my lips as I settle into a comfortable position to wait until Altair is done with his fruitless searching.

A sharp prod on my forehead causes me to jerk awake. My eyes pop open, and my hand gropes for a blade I know not to be there. Altair snorts, standing before me in his rich red robes; a servant boy, dressed similarly to me, stands timidly in the doorway. "Come, I do not want to wait any longer." I resist the urge to roll my eyes at my companion's impatience, but I stand and stretch languidly, watching the irritation bloom on Altair's face. This time, I do roll my eyes, dropping my arms to my sides and give my 'master' a pleasant smile. He growls lowly and turns, robes billowing out around his feet as he stalks from the room and down the hall.

The servant boy walks beside me, glancing up at me with curious dark eyes. "I can't believe you act that way toward your master..." I do not glace down at the shorter boy, but I do offer a slight curling of my lip. The boy looks down at our sandal clad feet, the bangles around his wrists tingling softly as he fidgets with his hands. "My old master would have never let me get away with such behaviour..."

"It was the same with my own old master." I blink as I realise that I had let those words tumble gracelessly out of my mouth. My mind gropes for solid ground, and I quickly follow my foolish statement with a lie. "However, his nephew is kind enough."

The boy flickers his gaze shyly to Altair who stands waiting for us to catch up to him. A frown drags down the scarred side of his mouth, and he fixes an impatient glare on me. "He seems very...coarse."

I snort softly as we walk closer to my 'master'. "He's harmless."

Our target is disgusting; he chews his lamb loudly, showing the dinner party his fat tongue inside his mouth. I'm glad I'm sitting behind Altair so it shields my sickened expression. Balding, pock-marked, skinny as a twig, sun burnt, this makes up our target as he laughs while holding up a cup for more wine. I stand tiredly, grabbing the stone jug holding the alcohol and gracefully move over to him. I notice he eyes my swaying hips, leaning forward while grabbing a large slice of lamb between his fingers.

I pour the wine without an expression on my face; I strive to keep my eyes pointedly fixed on the cup, but apparently the target will be having nothing of that. With his oily hands, the target graps my unoccupied arm and presses my sword roughed fingertips to his greasy mouth. He kisses the digits, holding tightly as I tried to move away. I want to let the stone pitcher I'm holding collide with his head, but I calm my anger, forcing a small 'shy' smile to curl my mouth upward. Remember the mission. You are a tool to complete the...Allah please give me strength to do this.

Altair loudly clears his throat and holds up his own cup for me to fill. I sigh in thanks when the brute releases my arm and allows me to go back to my 'master'. "Thank you..." I breathe lowly, filling Altair's cup with the ruby red wine, sitting back down behind him to let myself glare over my companion's shoulder.

I can't relax at all; the heated room causes small flashbacks to flicker in my mind. I shudder as I remember invading fingers and furious blows...a shriek flys out of my mouth when I feel a four-fingered hand grip my wrist. Altair's brows furrow in confusion, but gold eyes flicker down to my state of undress in mild surprise as I stand from kneeling on the heated tile. "What's wrong?" He murmurs, gaze flickering around the room to check if the other tellaks are listening.

I guide him over to a marble slab-the goebektasI correct myself, pushing my companion to sit on the cool stone. Altair quietly waits for my answer, though I know his patience is only held by a thread; I retrieve a small vial of olive oil and lily, popping open the containers in order to let the oil breathe. "It's nothing." We hear the chattering of the other guests filing into the heated room. I glance from behind Altair, and drop my gaze onto our target.

I gulp down my disgust as he spots us and grins lecherously. I quickly snatch the oils up and pour a small amount into my hands, setting my fingertips onto the top of Altair's thigh. My companion blinks and then hisses as I rub at a small knot of muscle in his leg. "Be quiet." I growl, sliding my hands up to the swatch of silk covering the other assassin's more private area. I keep my eyes fixed on the massage, but the hairs on the back of my neck rise when our target sits beside Altair on the marble.

He tries to start a conversation with my normally silent companion, but Altair keeps his gaze fixed on me as I begin to rub the lily oil down his leg. The target also watches my movements, though his gaze is far more probing, moist, thieving. I gulp and gnaw at the inside of my cheek. "...your father must have fine tastes." I feel a hand caress my face, and I resist the urge to shudder; with a weak smile, I flicker my gaze 'shyly' at the target.

"Of course." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Altair incline his head barley a fraction of an inch. Our mark looms above me, his hand running down the length of my throat, pausing over the brand on my shoulder.

"This is familiar..." He murmurs, motioning for me to stand and turn my body so my back faces him. "Where did you say your father got this specimen?" I stiffen, knowing that if this man recognized Acheron's brand, then he may figure his life was for ours.

Altair's eyes flicker toward me in confusion, and I can see the worry seep into his golden eyes. "I...never asked." The target's hand stills its petting, and a smirk slowly makes its way over his mouth.

"I see."

"He seemed to recognize that mark on your shoulder." I glared into the darkness of the room, pulling on my hidden blade, not changing into my assassin's robes like my annoying companion.

"It was merely a coincidence, now silence." A low growl leaves my mouth when Altair pushes me.

"No. I'm tired of you hiding things from me, brother. Tell me why there is a brand on you, why you seem to know how to be a servant so well. Tell me." His voice is rumbling in my ear, and I try to swat him away, but a quick movement from the other assassin causes my arm to be lifted above my head.

I grit my teeth, mind juggling with telling him and not telling him. What choice would be better suited for me, for our mission? I didn't want something like my past to distract the oaf during the most crucial moments of our mission, however, gold glared down at me, telling me I was not going to get out of this unscathed. "Fine," I growl, "If you must know, before I came to Masayf, I was sold by my mother. I was bought by a man name Acheron who raped me and then made me a tellak. Hassan and Azim eventually rescued me." His hand has gone slack so I rip my arm from his grip. I backed away from him. "Now you know."

Beginning to shove away from him, I groan when Altair grips my shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?" He hisses lowly; I almost hear the hurt behind his words, but I choose to ignore it.

"I didn't think it was any of your business."

"None of my business? After all we've done I-"

"'After all we've done'? Ha! You arrogent bastard! You left me alone!"

"I thought that's what you would have wanted!"

I stare at him, and blink. I huff lightly and turn, shoving my way past my companion to begin the actual mission. "I don't have time for this..."

I-I am so sorry for such a long wait. Really I am! This took so long, and sat in my computer for months, and when I went to work on it, I didn't have any inspiration. -sigh- But enough of my excuses, please please enjoy!