Author's note:

Yes! New chapter after I lied and said I would update more frequently! But first, before you read I need to say something. So while it may sometimes seem like I've given up on the story, that's definitely not the case! But I'm going to be super honest here. This story... I have a love-hate relationship with. When I first started writing it I feel like I approached it really loosely with no care on whether something or someone made sense. I was just writing shit. But that stopped being the case toward the later chapters and it was like the first 25+ chapter and the last 10 were written by two different people.

I grew as a writer during this story and I need the story to reflect that. I want it to be cohesive from start to finish. So I spent that last two weeks editing(AGAIN) the entire story and I have to say, it's a lot different. I chopped tons of shit out that had no place in it, and added a bunch of stuff as well. I don't think I'll ever truly be happy with this story. There's still some editing to be done, but I'm happy with where it's at right now after I swept through it.

It's like a piece of shit. No matter how much I polish it, it's always going to be a piece of shit. BUT I VOW TO MAKE IT THE SHINIEST PIECE OF SHIT YOU EVER DID READ!

That brings me to Savra. Savra, in the beginning, was a Mary-Sue. I never would have admitted it before, but now I can say that since I view this story with a more "mature" eye than when I did back when I started. But after this huge sweep of editing, I feel I've made her less Sue-ish as I can and more flawed because I personally love characters with flaws. And I did my best to make sure her flaws make sense and also to keep some of her spunk and stubbornness that is really the core of her.

I do hope some of you who would want to see the differences re-read the story because I feel like it's all around better and makes a lot more sense. I'm not saying the entire story is completely different, but I am saying it's completely better. but it's up to you guys on whether or not you want to re-read And to the new readers who just found the story? You are luck AF that you skipped on that cesspool that's all I gotta say. Also, I changed the summary! I feel it really boils down to what this story is truly about better than the old one, yeah?

And thank you to anyone who still, reads, reviews, faves and follows. I truly enjoy hearing your thoughts.

Taming a Huntress

Chapter XXXVII

Unity

Haydar woke with a start, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he looked around the room to try and establish where he was. The tan clay walls and various colorful fabrics lying on the furniture told him he was in the small Hovel. These days he started spending more time in the village and waking up sometimes confused him as he would expect to see the grey stone walls of his castle room. His room in the castle was bigger, but colder and less personal than the village home his wife lived in

He didn't mind the size but he knew Ru'yah was starting to, more so now that the child was soon on its way. His cheek twitched at the thought of the little life that made her belly grow so big. His little life.

He never thought to be where he was; with a wife and soon a child. A family of his own. His mind wandered to what it would be like. To wake up, walk into the kitchen and see Ru'yah tending to something or another, and see small children laughing and playing. To see them all look to him as the head of the family. Like he would do to Nasir. Like his mother and sister used to. To put all their faith in one person to care for them. That's what his role was now. He had a wife. He was about to have a child. And they were going to look to him to make all the decisions. To make sure everything is cared for and everyone safe and protected. Fed and clothed. Him.

Uneasiness squeezed his chest at the thought of all that responsibility. He wouldn't deny that if he could do it over again, he would have made sure to be more careful with his coupling with Ru'yah. A child just wasn't what he wanted right now, in the future yes, but not now. However, Haydar would do what was right, for Ru'yah and for the child. He loved her. He knew she sometimes thought otherwise, especially with his elusive behavior the past couple of months. But he did. She made him happy. He was glad he found her. Without her he was sure he'd be living in his head. Living in the past. Living in Jerusalem, picking apart his memories to try and see if there was a way that any of what had happened could have been avoided. To see if he could have changed something, anything, to make it so his Father would still be alive. Be with him. To help him with this next stage of his life he felt so daunting, felt so much uncertainty over.

Nasir would have given him the courage and strength and wisdom. It's something he missed the most. The certainty his father had about everything. He wished he possessed that trait. But he didn't. But such thoughts were pointless since the situation couldn't be changed. He could only move forward.

Haydar wished his sister would do the same. He glanced at the window, at the dust motes lazily floating in the beam of orange light that poured in across the room. He could hear noises coming from the other rooms and soft voices speaking that he recognized as Ru'ya's and his sister's.

It had been two months since Savra returned. And her return had lifted such a weight on his heart. In the beginning, she spent most of her time healing the harsh wounds her travels had left her with. Haydar was pleased when she started moving freely between the castle and village. And it made his heart swell when he saw her slowly come to seek out Ru'yah's company. He was a bit apprehensive at first, worried his brash sister would sooner or later offend his wife with her blunt humor and personality. But he noticed when he would sometimes overhear their conversations, that Savra was more subdued than before, more… humbled. He was never told the full story of what happened in Jerusalem. He had only bits and pieces but she wasn't too forthcoming and neither was anyone else who knew, which was only Malik and Altair. And neither of them would tell him much, especially the latter.

Savra didn't speak of what happened to their mother. And when Zaim was brought up, he'd see a strange look pass over her eyes and a hardness would set in her jaw. He would probably never know. But what he did know was that while she was still slowly healing from the physical wounds, the mental ones plagued her thoughts. Often these days he would find her sitting in the Watchtower up at the castle staring off into the jagged cliffs, her eyes always far away, living firmly in her mind. She dwelled on something. And she refused to tell him. Whether it was about their Father, about the events of the past year, or whether it was about Altair, he couldn't say. If it was about his 'Mentor' he could only snort and roll his eyes. That pairing rubbed him the wrong way.

Savra with Altair. Haydar couldn't even begin to guess how or why it happened. All he knew is he didn't like it. He didn't like the way Altair looked at Savra. And the way Savra looked at Altair. He simply couldn't come to terms with Altair, his mentor, as a suitable option for his sister. They didn't match. Altair was the Brotherhood's leader. And Savra was… Savra. It was as if a King suddenly took to courting his Jester. Ridiculous.

Haydar wasn't sure what would come of those two being together and he did his best not to think about it because it made his stomach queasy. He'd made the mistake of revealing such thoughts to Ru'yah who looked at him as though he personally insulted her. She had slapped him and told him to be happy for Savra.

Haydar could only grimace at the thought of her being happy with Altair. He could get behind anyone else. Even Malik. In fact, he would prefer she be with Malik. Haydar liked Malik. Even though Altair was his leader, and he respected him in that sense, he didn't like him as a person. The arrogance and coldness he had shown to him while Savra was missing left too much of an impact and Haydar just couldn't come around to look past it. But Malik… he could come to terms with her being with Malik.

Unfortunately, the Dai didn't like Savra. At all.

Haydar rubbed his face roughly, the sounds from the kitchen bringing him to the present. He got up and stretched before he walked out into the other room, seeing Ru'yah bent down by the fireplace, stoking the flames for her father who sat in an old armchair. His white, unfocused eyes staring at nothing in particular.

Haydar glanced down the hall where he could see Savra in the sitting room that doubled as Ru'yahs sewing room, perched on the windowsill with a sketchbook resting on her bent legs, charcoal loose in her fingers as she stared out of the window at the goings on of the village. She had the faraway look she tended to have these days. But Haydar shook his head at her strangeness and moved toward his wife. Ruy'yah straightened as he neared, a small smile on her soft lips.

Haydar touched her rounded belly, then leaned in and kissed his wife gently. Her calm brown eyes looked at him in such adoration his heart squeezed. He knew she was delighted that he was spending more time in the village and in the hovel with her than in the castle. It took some shouting on her part, some teasing on Savra's, and some stern words from Ru'yah's father, Samir, before he realized he was acting like a coward by using the castle and training as an excuse to hide away from his responsibilities.

Ru'yah moved off to start serving breakfast and Haydar made for the table, giving Akim's shoulder a pat and said a quiet good morning as he passed. As he sat, his sister wandered into the kitchen, no doubt following the smell of the food and took a seat next to him.

"I'm surprised you are here this early," Haydar told her after a plate of eggs, potatoes and fried meat was deposited in front of him. Ru'yah served herself and Savra next, taking a seat on Haydar's other side.

Savra took a bite of her potatoes, chewed before answering. "The cooks are only serving milk and bread for the next few weeks."

Haydar knew this. Altair and Malik were coming up with new ways to train the members of the brotherhood and the latest one was to have them train and fight through hunger while also trying to perform at their best. It might have been another reason he was spending more time in the village, but he wouldn't say that to Ru'yah…

"So what?" he said, happily shoving down a forkful of meat.

Savra scoffed, "They refuse to cook anything else even for the servants. Everyone there is supposed to have only milk and bread. 'To stop temptation'," she said in a deeper voice and Haydar knew she was quoting Altair. "Last I checked, I'm not training for anything. Why should I starve?"

"Because you live there by the graciousness of Altair," he teased, "You could at least act like you belong."

Something about the way she reacted to his statement gave Haydar pause. Her cheeks flushed, out of anger he could tell what with the way her sharp brows slanted down into a frown. Haydar peered at his sister, opening his mouth to ask what her problem was when Ru'yah who had been silently watching the two spoke instead.

"She can come here any time of day or night she wants, Haydar. Savra needs no excuse."

Ru'yah's firm words caught him by surprise and he hurried to answer. "Of course she can. Of course you can, Savra. I didn't mean that you shouldn't be here—"

"I know what you meant," Savra replied, annoyance in her tone and written on her face. She huffed and rose to her feet, walking into the sewing room to grab her things before making for the door.

Ru'yah, realizing Savra was readying to leave, hit his arm. "Haydar! Stop her."

Haydar was surprised by his sister's abruptness and got up to follow her. She avoided his arm when he reached out to grab hers and spoke to Ru'yah as she went through the front door.

"Thank you for the food, but I'm going to take a walk."

Haydar watched the door close, perplexed at Savra's attitude. She was never so quick to take offense to his teasing.

"Something has been bothering her," he heard Ru'yah say as she gathered Savra's plate of discarded food. "I can't bring her to say what though."

Haydar shook his head and sat back down, continuing his meal. "It's probably Altair. He bothers me too."

Ru'yah hit his shoulder again, admonishing him but he could see her curl her lips in a smile as she caught his jesting tone. Haydar was so glad she was past her dramatic emotional phase the pregnancy brought on. He much preferred this Ru'yah. But he didn't dare voice that to her.

Savra walked through Masyaf, mindless of the people milling about around her. The day was especially dusty, something she quite disliked about the village. How easily the dust hung and stayed in the air. It wouldn't hurt if the people cobbled or laid stone to the roads, but that wasn't a priority it seamed. She felt she'd go to the watchtower. As she'd done day after day the past few weeks, she'd find her feet taking her straight to the castle after Ru'yah's. It seemed that was all she did lately. Wake, go to Ru'yah's, go back to the castle. That was what her days consisted of, and the monotony of it was beginning to weigh down on her.

"You live there by the graciousness of Altair. You could at least act like you belong." Haydar's earlier words rang through her head again, making her frown. But she didn't belong. There was no place, no role for her there. Life in Maysaf went on with or without her. Probably better without her in some people's minds. She still caught the stares and whispers of others. She still brought suspicion. She was not welcomed. She was tolerated. And only by Altair. And only because he was their leader. And that made it worse, to her. Why would their leader, mentor, keep someone like her by his side? She didn't belong. And the thought was familiar.

It was as before, when she had still been in Masyaf while Al Mualim had been in charge. Before everything...

She'd thought it was Al Mualim that made the place seem heavy to her, with his oppressive air that coated the whole cliff city. She'd thought it would be different with him gone, lighter with Altair as the new leader. And it was, it was in a lot of ways. But in a lot of ways, it still wasn't. It wasn't, because it wasn't her home. And she didn't know if it ever would feel like it.

Her eyes looked up, at the cliff and the familiar imposing structure of the Castle. It loomed. It simply did to her. She saw no beauty in the place. Maybe it was because of the memories she had of it, mostly bad and few good. It was not home. The Vineyard... that was her home. What she longed for. To wake up to the familiar birdsong, to see the vibrancy of the rolling green grapevine. And the cyprus that lined them, tall and strong, their shadows proving chill from the sun.

Often she sat in her room, staring at the painting she'd done of her home that her father had kept. How she wished she could enter the painting, to be there and see it one more time. To breathe in the freshness, hear the laughter of workers, feel the wind wash over the hills and shiver through the vines. What she wouldn't give...

Savra glanced at the castle again. Harsh lines of stone, dust and dust and dust. They could not be compared. The place held too many bad memories. No matter how much good Altair was doing, it would never be enough. But she had to deal with it. And she had slowly started coming to terms with the thought that home isn't a place, but a feeling.

And so, she would wait until that feeling found her again, and settled in her heart.

Altair was down at the sparring ring, overlooking as Rauf trained a handful of novice men on the ways of duel-wielding. Malik was by his side, scribbling his thoughts on something on a piece of parchment that lay on a crate.

"The men are... frustrated," Altair mused, scanning the front courtyard and seeing fatigue and irritation in most of the faces there.

Malik 'hmphed' next to him, kept his quill moving for another moment, before answering. "They are starving. They are not used to being deprived food and being forced to train."

"That is the very reason we do it," Altair said. "You agreed."

"I did. But just because it is for the best, doesn't mean we have to like it, no?"

Altair nodded with a wry smirk. "Perhaps another week, then a break, then we start again."

His eyes were drawn to the figure walking in through the gates from the village. It was Savra. Her silver eyes met his for a second before she looked away and continued her treck up the path. He'd assume she was heading to lock herself in her room, as she tended to do these days, but then she turned onto the path to her right and continued on toward the Watchtower. He watched as she climbed the ladder before disappearing through the door.

"She's been quiet as of late," Malik commented then. Altair glanced at him from the corner of his eye but noticed he'd not look up from the parchment. He wondered at what the former Dai was so consumed in. "I've not seen much of her around."

"She spends her time with her brother's wife."

"Hmm. I still have yet to meet the woman. Is she pleasant to look at?"

Altair snorted softly and shook his head. "I've only seen her a handful of times. But yes she is... pleasant. Both in appearance and nature."

When Malik kept silent, and Altair heard only his quill scrape along, he looked over at the parchment. On it, he saw a diagram of a bracer, quite well done as Malik had a steady hand when it came to drafting. Notes surrounded the image, and on closer look Altair realized it was a diagram of the hidden blade.

"What is it you work on?" Altair asked him, and after a few more scribbles, Malik looked over, handing him the parchment.

"I cannot be certain how yet, but an idea has been floating around in my mind for some weeks now. Right now, in order for the blade to be successful, we must cut the ring finger off, yes? If not we will impale the finger once releasing the blade."

Altair nodded, eyes scanning over the diagram with interest.

"But what if there was a way to alter the bracer so the blade released differently, ridding the need to amputate the finger at all?"

Altair looked over him, thoughtful as he mulled over his words. "I would say that it is something worth looking at." His mind flashed to the time when he was younger, when he'd finally reached the rank to earn the hidden blade. He'd remember feeling such anticipation for the long-awaited weapon. And he remembered his nerves at the cost he would have to pay in order to use it.

The removal of the left ring finger. Many before him had done it, and many after. But the act of amputation was not just a necessity, it also became a rite of passage. It symbolized their devotion to the order. How far they would go, how much they would lose for the weapon that would aid them so greatly in their trade.

"I think we could stand to move from such barbaric tactics if there is a better alternative. Do you not agree?" Malik asked, bringing him out of his memories.

He could not deny Malik was correct. And already the both of them worked to undo some of the lesser teachings Al Mualim had posed on them in an effort to move their brotherhood forward.

"I agree," Altair finally said. "Although I'll leave the drafting to you."

Malik snorted, "Good, it needs to make sense to more eyes than your own."

Their attention was suddenly drawn to a guard who was jogging up to them from the front gates. It was Kymal.

"Altair!" he exclaimed, then bent over to catch his breath. "Altair, you must come."

"What is it?" Altair asked, eyes narrowing in concern

"There is a gathering outside of the gates. Of our men and some of the villagers. It is Abbas and his fellows. They have been riling them up, speaking falsely of you to spread dissension."

Altair growled and started to push past the guard, Malik and Kymal moving to trail after.

"Why does he do this now?"

"It is the food restriction that has them incensed," Kymal said, struggling to keep up. "They are saying you starve them while you do not pose the same constraints against yourself."

"That is not true!" he snapped over his shoulder, "I've eaten as little as they have and yet you do not see me starting a riot because of it. If a lack of food has them this upset, how can they expect to do well when they truly starve and must fight for their lives out there? Do they not realize that is what we are trying to teach? For will to overcome body."

"It is not simply that, only what has sent them over the edge. Abbas says you use the Apple to weaken them so you stay strong and in charge of us. And now, with lack of food, they not only think it, but feel it."

"Ridiculous!"

When Altair went out past the front gates, he saw indeed a gathering. Why the villagers were there, he didn't know. But people loved to feel outrage when there was no need of it.

He saw Abbas surrounded by a few of his faithful men who often spat out the same grievances as he did.

"What is this, Abbas? What are you doing?" he asked, voice loud and angered.

Abbas turned to him, the man's eyes lit with a challenge.

"What am I doing? I do nothing, Altair. It is what you are doing that has us here now. I will no longer suffer under you! I can no longer watch as you break down what was once a strong brotherhood, to suit your needs! To suit your thirst for power!"

"Power!" Altair scoffed, golden eyes narrowed. "What power!"

"The Apple! Do not deny it! Ever since it's come to your hands, you shield it from all but your eyes! You claim it as your own when you had no right to! Just as you had no right to murder Al Maulim! And you have the nerve to appoint yourself as our leader? Impose these outrages "teachings" on us when we did not ask for it?"

"I did not murder him! The Apple corrupted him! You know this, he had to be ended!"

"Just as he had to be burned by pyre? Ludicrous!"

Altair growled in frustration. It was always circles with Abbas. Nothing he ever told him was enough for the man.

"I had to burn him. I had to be certain he could not return!"

Abbas let out an incredulous scoff. "But that is not our way! To burn a man's body is forbidden!"

"Defiler!" someone shouted from the crowd that had formed around them.

"No!" Altair yelled, looking around him to speak to the others, "Hear me out! That body could have been another one of Al Mualim's phantoms! I had to be certain!"

Abbas pointed a sharp, accusatory finger at Altair. "Lies! All your life you have made a mockery of our Creed! You bend the rules to suit your whims, while belittling and humiliating those around you!"

"Restrain him!" one of Abbas' men yelled out. Altair took a stance to protect himself, looking for Malik and Kymal, but they were lost in the crowd that had encircled him.

"I will show you!" Abbas yelled to everyone. "I will show you, he does not deserve to wield any power over us!"

Altair glared at him and moved to hit the man, but Abbas lurched forward and shoved Altair into the people behind him. Hands immediate grabbed him to hold him still and Altair watched as Abbas ran from him and toward the castle.

He snarled and fought to free himself.

Savra was napping in the Watchtower. She'd brought a few pillows and a rug a few weeks before to make it more comfortable. No one really used it, only occasionally a guard would be stationed up there. But mostly it was just her. She preferred it sometimes to her room, as it gave the best view of Masyaf and the ravine that surrounded it. It really showed how high up the cliff they were. It could be breathtaking at times. But she mostly cared for the cool air and solitude.

She was woken by the sound of shouting. And she tiredly rubbed her eyes, listening closer. She at first thought it was simply the men in the sparring ring as they usually shouted and jeered when they fought. But it was different. She heard anger and accusations, and more voices than normal. She stood, and made to climb down the ladder to see what was causing the noise when she realized it was coming from another direction. It was coming from the front of the fortress, outside the castle.

Savra's brows furrowed and she walked to the open archway of the tower. Careful of the edge, she looked down. At the bottom, in front of the fortress gates she saw a huge crowd of people. And they were yelling at someone. She could see small fights amongst the people, brotherhood members it looked like. And they were fighting with each other.

Her eyes narrowed in on the one person people seemed to crowd the most around. And with unease, she realized it was Altair. They were trying to attack him. Brotherhood men were actively trying to attack him.

What was going on?

A few of the members were fighting with him, trying to help him, but many more were not. Savra straightened and turned to make her way down the towers, to see better and understand. But as she got to the ladder, she saw someone was climbing up.

Savra backed away when she realized it was Abbas after he pulled himself up. And her eyes were drawn to the orb in his hand. The Apple.

"Get out of my way, stupid girl," he sneered at her, and shoved her down so she fell on the rug behind him.

"What are you doing!" Savra exclaimed, and she gasped when the orb he held started to glow so brightly she had to shield her eyes. She had never seen such a light before. And the air between them, in the tower, was so thick, she couldn't even try to get up. There was so much weight. So much power.

Abbas ignored her and walked over to the archway that overlooked the front gates. He looked down, held the orb high above him.

Savra could only watch.

"What did I tell you, Altaïr?" he shouted, raising his hand.

"Abbas, stop!" she heard someone say. And it was Altair's voice. He sounded panicked.

"What did you think would happen when you murdered our beloved Mentor?"

"You loved Al Mualim less than anyone! You blamed him for all your misfortune, even your father's suicide!" Altair shouted back.

"My father was a hero!" Abbas screamed at him. And at that moment the orb grew brighter than she thought possible. Savra could only just make out Abbas' silhouette against it.

"This is not the time to quarrel over the past. We must decide what to do with that weapon!"

"Whatever this artifact is capable of, you are not worthy to wield it," Abbas sneered, his eyes leaving the grounds and turning to the orb.

"No man is!"

"Ah, it is beautiful, is it not?" the man murmured, eyeing the orb in reverence. Savra gasped when the orb exploded in light and was thrown back further when a wave of pressure flew out of The Apple. Abbas cried out, falling to his knees. He dropped the orb and clutched his hand, casting himself on the ground to cry out in agony.

Savra's eyes were wide in fright as she watched him. And they snapped to the orb as it began rolling across the floor, toward her. The brilliant glow had dimmed, but the runes on it still the seeped light. The orb came to a stop as it hit her boot, looking small and innocent.

Savra was drawn to the way the runes illuminated, to the perfectly smooth gold of the orb. The hairs on the back of her neck raised the more she stared. She was distantly aware of the wailing of Abbas, and the muted sound of someone racing up the ladder next to her.

How could such a small thing exude such a feeling? It had such a presence.

"Savra!" she thought she heard Altair, but her focus could not be swayed. "Savra, don't touch it!"

She wanted to touch it. To hold it.

"Savra, don't touch it!" the voice was panicked and frenzied.

"Why not," she whispered, mostly to herself. Her hand reached.

"No!"

Heat. That's all she felt. That's all she breathed. All around and closing in. Images raced before her eyes, some so fast she could hardly make sense of it. She couldn't make sense of any of it. Of the massive structures made of glass. Of the giant birds made of metal. Of the wagons that moved without a horse at speeds that seemed impossible. Of the masses of people that numbered beyond what she thought possible. Of men wielding weapons, she couldn't understand. Of explosions so large, they touched the very sky.

What were these things?

"They are the future," a voice answered. "A version of it, at least."

Savra blinked and the images were gone, and so was the tower. All she saw was black and small lights that floated around her like dust motes.

"I don't understand," she said, and her voice sounded so small. Like a child.

"Of course you don't. They are not meant for you. Many things are not meant for you. He is not meant for you."

"Who?" Savra asked as she looked around the dark. The voice sounded female but disembodied and strange.

"You know who. The only one who is right to command the pieces of Eden."

Altair. She spoke of Altair.

"... What do you mean he is not meant for me?"

"You are not enough," the voice said. "Not now. Not soon. Not in any future, I have seen. It is simply that way."

"What are you saying? I don't understand. Who are you?"

"Who I am is of no concern to you. You will not support, nor strengthen him. You will not bolster, nor enhance him. You will only hinder. He will not thrive. Because you are not enough. It is not within your ability to be."

Savra felt heaviness in her chest. Who was this person and why were they saying these things? Where was she and where was the tower?

"Who are you to say that!" Savra said, and she felt ire bubble over the hurt the words the woman said.

A laugh, low and gentle blew around her. "I am the only one, for he will not. Take heart, young girl. Rarely is truth kind. But always is it illuminating."

"Harken to me."

"Savra?"

She felt weight against her again but different. Still heat only not as heavy and not as thick. A crackle popped somewhere, like a fire. Savra opened her eyes not realizing they'd been closed. Instead of the strange darkness she'd just seen, she saw stone and orange light. And a face, familiar and filled with concern.

"Savra?" he said again, and the weight she'd felt were his hands gripping her shoulder, holding her up. She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. They were no longer in the tower. They were in a large room. It was not hers nor his. It was the Grand Master's study. She was in front of a huge fireplace on a rug. The windows, large and arched showed it was nightfall. She didn't remember being carried here, nor did she remember the large passage of time between mid-morning to evening.

Savra's gaze fell on the desk that sat under a window across from her, and on it she saw the orb. The Apple.

The weight of it she still felt as though it were still in her hand.

Altair gripped her chin between his fingers, drawing her gaze back to him. His golden eyes darted between her own, penetrating.

"Say something," he spoke, low, and she could hear the worry.

Savra swallowed thickly and answered, "How did I get here?"

"I carried you."

"I don't remember," she said, trying to recall anything. The tower felt like only moments ago.

"You would not wake. I could not take it from you either. Only just now was I able to pry it from your fingers."

"Take what from me?"

"The Apple," he replied, he scanned her face carefully.

Savra's eyes darted back to the desk, to the innocent orb resting atop it. Bitterness welled inside.

"Tell me what it showed you," Altair said, bringing her back to him. His golden eyes were seeking. "Tell me what you saw."

Savra thought of the strange images and shook her head, frowning to herself. "What I saw? What I saw didn't make sense to me. I... don't know how to say."

"Try, Savra."

"No," Savra said, pulling away from him and turning toward the fire, silver eyes watching the flames snap and pop. "It's not important."

"Everything the apple shows is important. Tell me what you saw."

Savra stood up. She wobbled as she did and grabbed a chair to steady herself. "I can't tell you because I don't understand."

Altair stood up as well and went over to her, gripping her elbow to keep her in front of him. At his piercing gaze, Savra frowned at looked away, "Glass buildings, metal wagons, great fires. I saw those things. But what they mean? How am I to know?"

He gazed down and studied her face for too long before he sighed and nodded. "Sights not meant for your eyes, I imagine."

Savra's eyes lowered at that, thinking back to the words the voice had laid over her.

Altair walked away from her and toward the desk. Savra watched as he picked up the Apple, as he turned it this way and that before his eyes. He then opened the drawer and placed it inside.

He shed the dark robes as he took to wearing once he became mentor, similar to the ones Al Mualim wore, leaving him only in a thin white tunic and brown trousers. He placed his hands on the desk and slouched, letting out a tired sigh.

'You will not support, nor strengthen him. You will not bolster, nor enhance him. You will only hinder. He will not thrive. Because you are not enough.'

"Am I enough?" she heard herself saying, and it was quiet and small. But he heard, because he straightened and turned to her, his face curious.

"What do you mean?" he asked, head slightly tilted.

"I mean... do you think I am enough?" Savra said, and she couldn't look at him anymore but took to staring off to the side. They'd had this conversation once before, back in Jerusalem. And the truth then had left her hurting.

'Rarely is truth kind'

He walked over and touched her chin with his fingers, bringing her face to his.

"Enough of what?" he asked, and she could read the confusion in his golden eyes as they traveled over her face.

Savra thought he looked so... much more different than in Jerusalem. So much more experienced and burdened. But no less handsome to her. No less familiar. And no less Altair.

It was there, with him holding her chin, with his calm golden eyes, patient face, and gentle presence, that Savra realized she loved him. Wholly and with everything. She'd never loved a man before to compare the feeling. But there was no comparison. She just knew.

And yet still, Savra asked, "...Enough for you?"

Altair's brow rose again in surprise and then he frowned. Her question caught him off guard. She could tell. His eyes searched between her own, trying to find the reason for her question.

Savra felt her stomach drop when he didn't answer and started to pull back from him. He saw it and gripped her chin tighter, keeping her there. She found it hard to hold his gaze right then, for it was piercing and too intrusive.

"I do," he said at last. His answer simple and tone sincere. "But why do you ask this now?"

Savra could only shake her head, not wanting to reveal the conversation she had with... that being. "I don't know..." she said softly.

His expression showed doubt. "I do. It is what the Apple showed you, yes?" When she didn't answer, he sighed impatiently, "Savra, tell me."

Savra pulled away from him sharply, shaking her head again. "No. I don't want to repeat it."

Altair followed her, not letting her move from him and cupped her neck with his warm hand, using his thumb to tilt her face to him again. "What could it have shown you to make you doubt yourself?"

"Everything," Savra whispered.

He took in her troubled expression with furrowed brows. "Illusions. Don't take them to heart. We cannot know if what it shows us is real yet. What any of it means."

His words did little to change how she felt, to simply brush off what she had heard. The surety of the voice. It plagued her.

"Promise me," he said, bringing her back to him. "Promise you won't touch it again. No matter how tempting."

"I won't," Savra answered immediately. She had no want for the thing. No desire to put herself in the place again.

"Good," Altair said, and then his lips quirked as he looked down to her. "Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. It is not you."

Savra gave a small smile back, though it didn't reach her eyes. He 'tsked', making her look up at him in question. And he surprised her by swooping down to capture her mouth. Savra's hands immediately came to rest on the side of his face, her palms scraping against the stubble at his jaw. The hand at her neck tilted her head back, lips moving easily over hers.

Altair's hands moved up her sides, the fabric of her green tunic pulling in their wake. Savra could only sigh as he tilted her head back further, his mouth on her neck, wet and his hot breath making her spine shiver at the contact.

"Let me show you," he hummed against her skin, "Let me show you, that you are enough."

Savra's heart jumped when his warm hand slipped under her tunic, sliding over the skin of her ribs, her back. She pulled back to look at his face, to see in it the desire he'd shown her before but she'd been too timid to accept. Altair lifted his eyes to hers, bold and knowing.

She could deny him again and he'd accept it. But it would always lead to this point. This point that she had been too scared to push herself past but that they kept coming back to.

Altair watched her face carefully, watched the indecision he'd seen too many times. Savra needed to be pushed. And he would be the one to do it. No other.

He gripped her hips between his hands and yanked against him, letting her feel just how much he wanted to show her.

"Tell me to stop," he said when his mouth found her neck again. Savra trembled against his lips and her hands come to grip his arms. She did not push him, nor did she pull away. "Tell me,"

But she didn't and Savra drew in a deep breath, grabbing his face and bringing it to her own. "No," she said, voice anxious yet resolute.

He sighed against her, and then his fingers tugged at her tunic and had it off of her before she could react, leaving her in just her breast bind. Savra couldn't help the reflex that had her trying to cross her arms over herself, but he grabbed her wrist and pushed them down to her sides firmly.

"No," he said.

She felt so exposed and already she felt out of her depth. It wasn't too late, they could stop. But he seemed to read her thoughts and he grabbed her hands again and put them on the edge of his tunic.

"Show me that I am enough for you," he told her, giving her a pointed look with his golden eyes. Those golden eyes that she got lost in, that could see right through her, that once looked at her with haughty arrogance. That once looked at her as though she were just a silly girl, and not worth much more than that. But now looked at her with desire, with passion and endearment. And she had never realized it was something she wanted, or needed. But now that it was there, she feared what it would be like if he ever stopped looking at her like that. As though she mattered.

He was enough for her. More than enough. He had always been. He would always be. There could be no other. Always.

While her fingers trembled only slightly, she lifted his white tunic up and he helped her rid of it the rest of the way, tossing it somewhere off to the side. Altair grabbed her again, his hands burning on her skin, and she felt him run his calloused fingers over the brutal scar she had that encompassed her whole back. It was still tender, but he didn't hurt her. He'd never hurt her.

Savra gasped when he lifted her and walked them over to the fire, going down on his knee and laying her on top the rug. She fought against feeling so open and laid bare before him as his eyes roamed over her. She'd get through it. She wanted to get through it.

She took in a breath and felt around her breast bind, searching for the end to start unraveling it. Altair watched her, gaze following her hands, but darting back to her face. She realized he was waiting for her to change her mind.

But Savra wouldn't. Not now.

Not with the way he was looking at her, as though she were everything to him in that moment. The only thing.

The breast bind slipped free and Savra swallowed as his eyes went to her chest and he came down to her, resting on his elbow at her side. His hand laid against her stomach, slid over her ribs and cupped the soft mound of her breast. The heat of his hand made her sigh, and his gaze snapped to hers when she did.

The lust she saw there, it was almost too much but the tenderness as well made her heart flutter.

"I love you," she blurted out, and she hadn't meant to say it aloud. But she had felt it so strongly at that moment, it spilled from her lips almost as soon as she thought it.

Altair's golden eyes found hers, and they were not surprised, nor wary. They were relaxed and content.

He leaned over her, his chest brushing over hers and making her shiver at the feeling. Feelings she'd not known before.

"I know," he said against her lips.

Savra couldn't help the wry laugh that she let free. "Oh, you do?"

His golden eyes caught her silver and he gave her an easy smile. "I do. You do not hide your feelings well."

Savra shook her head with a smile of her own, and lifted her head to capture his lips, sighing into him when his tongue slipped between her own.

She felt his hands at the front of her trousers, fingers tugging at the ties. Her heart skipped when he started pulling them down her hips. And then he ran his hands up her bare calves, her thighs, pulling her leg against his hip, and she felt the hardness of his desire against her.

"It will hurt," he said, pulling back to look at her, his eyes serious but gentle.

Savra nodded stiffly, unable to keep the apprehension from showing.

"But I will try to make it bearable," he spoke as he lowered his mouth to her chest and his lips found her breast. Savra whimpered and arched at the feeling, her hands coming to grip his shoulders. His mouth was hot and wet as it moved over the peak. And Savra could only dig her fingers into his skin.

His hand moved down her belly, and further, over her mound and lower still.

Savra jumped when she felt his fingers touch her where she'd never been touched before. And he drew a whine from her when those fingers brushed over a nub there. Her thighs gripped his hips as he stroked her in that spot. That spot that was causing her to pant and twist under him. That spot that was causing such an ache and pressure that bunched her muscled and squeezed her thighs and dug her nails into his shoulders, until it was almost too much, and she was going to make him stop, and then pleasure, pleasure so blinding bloomed from that spot. And she cried out, her back surging from the ground and her legs quaking at his sides as the feeling of it washed over her, seeping into every muscle and bone.

And then she collapsed back into the rug, her body spent.

Altair caught her eyes, watching her catch her breath and he leaned down and drew her lips against his again.

"One quick moment of pain, Savra," he whispered. And she felt him shifting as he rid himself of his trousers.

Savra swallowed when she felt his hardness at her entrance, and she couldn't help it when her breathing came faster, couldn't help keep the anxious look she shot him. She opened her mouth to halt him, to give her a moment to ready herself, but he snapped his hips against hers too quickly and Savra could only suck in a pained cry.

It wasn't the worst hurt she felt, but it was a new pain and it was sharp. And she kept deathly still.

Altair had buried his face in her neck as he released a long groan, one hand holding him above her, the other digging into her hip. She didn't want him to move, she didn't want to feel it again. But he lifted his head and grabbed her face to look at him.

"You're alright," he said, his golden eyes darting between her pained silver. "You're alright."

"No," Savra whispered, her voice shaking.

"Shh," he murmured against her lips, and he let her face go to bring his hand between them, his thumb finding that spot again.

Savra whined at the feeling, arching against him. Altair drew his hips out before sinking back into her slowly. The pain didn't leave, it was still sharp and uncomfortable. But she could tolerate it. She would tolerate it as she felt him shaking against her, at the restraint he was holding.

Savra pressed her lips against his shoulder. And Altair sighed into her neck at the gesture, his hips quickening their pace. His thumb brushed against that spot again and Savra wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing herself into his hand, needing to be closer, wanting to meld every inch of herself to him.

"You are enough for me," he whispered fervently in her ear, his thrusts becoming wild and less controlled. Savra hissed, their movements making the rug beneath her chafe against her scar, causing it to burn.

"My back," she gasped. Altair hauled them up so he was on his knees and Savra's legs draped at his hips. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders while he held her thighs, his hips snapping up and jolting her in their force and speed. The pressure from before was building again and she could only hang on to him while their panting breaths mixed with the sound of skin slapping skin.

Her muscles tightened each time he hit that spot and then it built, more and more, higher and higher, until she burst and Savra cried out at the intensity of it, grinding herself down onto him and his thrusts faltered when she squeezed him and Altair groaned lowly into her neck, snapping his hips up hard one last time as he held her still. Savra's arms tightened around his shoulders when she felt heat spill inside her, and his hot breath sighed over her skin.

And then he was laying her down gently on the rug before he collapsed on his back at her side.

Savra turned over a few moments after she gathered herself, watching his chest rise and fall as he caught his breath, the firelight making the sweat on his skin glisten and shine.

She reached over, her finger brushing down the line of his sharp nose. His hand came up, grasping her fingers and pressing them to his lips. He looked over at her, his golden eyes languid but bright.

"Did I show you?" he asked her, voice deep and lazy. "Was that enough?"

Her hand flattened against his cheek, staring at him before she shifted so she could lay over him, chin on her chest as she gazed up at with silver eyes that shimmered with mirth.

"I'm not sure,' Savra hummed, a crooked smile came over her at his raised brow, "You might have to show me again."

Altair chuckled and threw his arm over his eyes, while he rubbed the other down her back. "I suppose I can force myself to show you again."

He flinched when she pinched his side, And Savra let out a surprised laugh when he flipped them over, and she took his face in her hands again.

"If that is what it will take," he whispered to her before catching her lips in a deep kiss.

Author's Note: I didn't rate this story M just for shits and giggles.

YOU THOUGHT

Also, I want to say the timing of game events are always going to be different and sometimes out of order for me. It's just the way I want to do things. I draw from both AC1 and Revelations.

Please let me know you guys are still reading and if it's worth me continuing!

Somebrette