Summary: After defeating Al Mualim, Altair thinks that there is nothing much left for him to do. Without as so much as telling anyone, he sets out on a secret mission of his own. One that he that regrets, but feels as if it was the only choice he had left: erase his existence forever. What would Malik have to say? Future yaoi.

Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed © Ubisoft

Eagle's Depature

The full moon shone brightly in the pitch black sky; a dazzling array of stars twinkled silently above. The cool wind blew with ease as the trees rustled and leaves scuttled across the ground. Such a marvelous night.

Altair stood in the deserted garden of the Fortress, head tilted downward with his hands firmly gripping the railing. He did it. It was over, all finally over. The Brotherhood had finally been rid of the tainted soul that once ruled over the land of Masyaf. They were saved apart from those who were less fortunate or injured. The dispute was done, but the war was far from over, that he knew. The Assassins drove the Templars back with their tails between their legs and was able to retrieve what was rightfully theirs. But in his opinion, that was nothing to be so joyous over.

His lips parted slightly to let out a deep sigh. With Al Mualim gone, he feared he was at a lost. He was like a fatherly figure to him considering he was the one who took him into warm open arms when he was still a small street orphan. He still has not forgotten that and the memories that followed. Ever since he was but a mere child, when he was introduced to the brothers that resided within the vicinity, when others rarely talked to him because he was always quiet and seemed like an outcast to some, when he was given a name. Al Mualim knew he would grow up with the others to become like one of them, a highly-skilled Assassin. Not just some ordinary Assassin, but the Eagle, and not to mention, the Angel of Death. But was that all he saw in him?

Altair's body tensed as his gripped tightened subconsciously, jaw clenched. He did not want to admit, but through all that has recently happened, he missed him. His heart wrenched painfully at the thought. The man held a strong connection, or bond, with the old Grandmaster unlike he did with anybody else. Although, it was not the first time he was in so much grief, mainly able to not let show unnoticed. Over the time that Malik and he would have petty arguments about his arrogance, ego, and the loss of Kadar, Altair was thankful that his friend forgave him after he apologized, not for his sake, but from the very core of his being. He understood the hatred and frustration the Dai had for what happened at Solomon's Temple, even if he tried to say an apology countless of times. It may have taken some time before the two could let it pass over, but it taught him an important lesson, nevertheless.

The Syrian Assassin recomposed himself for a moment, straightening his stance and slowly tilting his head upward to the sky, not bothered by the breeze pushing the cowl back to reveal his face. What would a man like me do next? With Al Mualim disposed of after he was given the privilege to give the old one a proper burial, resulting in the town folks as well as his brothers suggesting that the man had no right to cremate, the Order would soon call a meeting to discuss over the issues of who would become the new Grandmaster of the Assassins. Who would they pick? Who would be next in line to be given the robe of the Master and to run the organization? Hopefully it would someone with common knowledge and skill. Maybe Rauf. The trainer would be a suitable choice. He would do great, but what if he rejects the offer? Who would they select then?

Hazel orbs gleamed under the moonlight in wonder, a small scowl forming. What is the possibility of selecting me? Would the others agree or pick out the flaws of my person? Knowing the other Dais within Acre, Arsuf, Damascus and Jerusalem, as well as others outside, they would never think to have him to lead the Assassins. They obviously feared for the worse that could happen if the Eagle of Masyaf was to take charge. All of them were skeptical, except Malik. Being a dear friend and brother, he would surely put into good word that he was not the bad man everyone thought. He had changed and slowly progressed to what he has become now. If they only understood and avoid his past failures, that would make him more than relieved.

Wait. What of Abbas? What would become of him? Most likely, he would want to have a say in the matter. Altair's hands balled into tight fists. That insolent fool was so full of himself, always gloating and putting down others beneath him. No. The Order better not think he deserves every right to be the one because he will be damned if he was. Even if he was one of the nominees, he only crossed his fingers and pray to Allah. But who knew? It was their decision, not his. He, also, knew Malik would not the let others make foolish decisions, so all was well.

Closing his eyes, the Eagle inhaled the refreshing air through his nose before exhaling out his mouth. Cautiously, he placed a boot onto the marble handrail then waited for a second before finally planting the other on so that he was now standing up on top. Taking his time while making sure to keep balance, his eyes opened as they averted downward, gazing past the mountainous cliff to the waters below. Both hands clenched together. Why was he doing this? It was as if he was being suicidal. He understood that he had plenty of enough time to turn back from doing something as atrocious as this, but his mind was already made up. It felt as if he had to. Someone did not deserve to be ranked as Master Assassin such as him. Not even Maria would understand what he had been through, let alone what he had in his past life. She was Templar, the enemy. Yet, he had spared her, claimed her innocent, and never bothered to explain why. What would happen if she hears of his disappearance? Would she go into mourning and grieve over the lost of him? Maybe, maybe not. Who would know?

I must do what must be done. Said Assassin calmly lifted his head back up and deeply exhaled, his hot breath turning into fog in the cold night air. He raised both of his arms to his sides like an Eagle spreading out its wings. The Syrian prepared himself, heart thumping hard in his chest as he was about to make the ultimate jump, the ultimate Leap of Faith. Was this how it all was to end? Drown to his death, knowing fully well that he had the inability to swim? It could have been worse; however, this made him, for the first time in his life, extremely nervous and having second thoughts. Yet, it was too late.

Altair, with little force, pushed his feet off the handrail, casting himself over the cliff of the garden. His eyes scrunched into slits as the wind went rushing through his face, blurring his vision from seeing where he would land. Memories, images, and voices of familiar faces flashed mentally.

"I should kill you for the pain you came upon us. Malik thinks it only fair your life in exchange for his brother's. But this would be a waste of my time and your talents. You'll see that you've been stripped of your positions. Your rank as well. You are a novice, a child once more. As you were on the day you first joined our order. I am offering you a chance at redemption... you'll earn your way back into the Brotherhood."

Master.

"An excellent kill. Fortune favors your blade."

Kadar.

"No, but it will have to do." He places the feather on the desk. "Rest, prepare, cry in the corner... do whatever it is you do before a mission. But make sure you do it quietly."

Malik…

Altair plunged headfirst into the depths of the freezing water, holding his breath for as long as he could. Within around forty seconds or less, he grunted as a sudden pain shot his chest, lungs aching. Bubbles spewed from his mouth opening while his face cringed in agony and swallowing a little bit of the water. With the only light source coming from the moon, he twisted and tried to reach with both hands towards the surface. The harder he tried, the more the world around him darkened. Soon, his eyelids drooped as a groan rumbled in his throat and sight faded off into the black unknown.

Safety and peace, brother...

*Vyxen's Note*
Eh. I know it seems sad or tragic and unlike something Altair would do. Yet, this is something I wanted to try out. Next chapter will be up soon.