It's Not Enough | By : Imoshen Category: +A through F > Assassin's Creed Views: 1918 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed nor do I make money by publishing this story. |
Altair's father was buried when he'd been eleven years old and as they lowered his corpse into the ground and when the last prayers fainted, Al Mualim had stood behind him and squeezed his shoulder. The grandmaster of the assassins didn't lose a word that day and it stayed by this single gesture of comfort. Altair had never needed more. This one, single gesture gave him the feeling that everything was going to be alright. It was alright. The pain was unbelievable, because not only had he lost his father but his whole family, but somehow, as long as he wasn't all alone, everything would be alright. Al Mualim, who stood next to him during the funeral, who stood as solid as a rock behind Altair to protect him, was there for him to answer his questions and who would introduce him to the world of the assassins. Now Altair stood alone in front of Al Mualim's corpse. He buried his father for a second time but this time, he thought the pain would suffocate him. In all those past years, Al Mualim had been more to him than just the grandmaster of the order. For Altair, he'd been a father, the one he could turn to when the thoughts inside his head wouldn't shut up, when he had too many questions and too little answers. Al Mualim had been a strict tutor, no doubt about that, but he'd been always fair and was a solid anchor in Altair's life. From today on it would be different though. He already missed the voice of the old man, which was calm, but distinct and clear when it was echoing through Masyaf's halls. He remembered the expression on his face after Solomon's temple when he'd stood in front of him. He'd never seen his master that disappointed. Altair wanted to believe that the pain he saw on that day in his master's eyes was because of Altair and how he didn't follow the creed and not because he didn't bring him the Apple. He wanted to believe that Al Mualim hadn't been corrupted by his lust for power back then, that the Apple hadn't poisoned his mind yet. The flames were blazing high and took everything with them and nothing would be left of the old man's body and everything which stayed would be Altair's memories alone. He wanted to lose himself in his childhood's memories and tried to remember how he stood as a small boy in Masyaf's halls, lonely and lost until he heard Al Mualim's voice which guided him through the endless halls of the fortress and out of his mind's labyrinth. But all he saw now was the ugly grimace of his master as he had faced him in their last battle. The rage, which laid underneath the man's voice and his arrogance, which had been his downfall in the end. Chaos was ruling these days and Altair thought he would collapse underneath it. The future was vague and the pictures the artifact had showed him, didn't help to ease his mind and bring it to a rest. The future was black like a shadow and threatened to swallow Altair. Nothing made sense now, nothing was as it used to be. Nothing is true. Altair was certain about that. Everything is permitted. Altair wasn't so sure about that anymore. He bowed his head and his hood fell deep into his eyes and covered his face in a shadow. None of his brothers were here. Their pain about Al Mualim's betrayal was too deep and more than one of his brothers saw in Altair the true traitor. Maybe they were right about that. The guilt never let go of Altair and still, in moments in where he was able to think clearly he knew he'd done the right thing. For us to live, you had to die. He wasn't crying and still, he thought to choke on his tears. Within a few months his whole world had come tumbling down and more than once he wished that all of them, he, Kadar and Malik, had died back at Solomon's temple so the artifact had never found its way into Al Mualim's hands. But then the templars would have it now and who knew what chaos they would have brought upon the world. It had been Altair's sacrifice to make. His interests, his wishes and desire didn't count as long as the world was at peace. One's sorrow was acceptable if it meant to safe the life of thousands. He heard steps behind him and through the cracking of the fire but he didn't turn around as he knew exactly who it was. The figure which walked through the gravel hold something odd within it steps, as if something was missing which didn't balance the weight of those steps completely. Altair sniffled barely as Malik stood next to him. The flames were hot and the body of the grandmaster had become a figure made out of ash and the robes were already gone. Malik didn't say anything and still, his present was enough to offer Altair some comfort. The gesture alone was enough that he didn't feel as alone as he had before. The sun would soon settle and the sky hold the color of a deep red and orange and he could hear the shouts of the men coming from the fortress as they tried to get rid of the chaos caused by the last battle. But the chaos inside Altair's head wouldn't be that easy to get rid of and his shoulders slumped down and he felt as if all of his strength would leave him any moment now while the weight of his new gained responsibility threatened to pull him down. He jerked when Malik took his hand and threaded their fingers together, squeezing. He leaned slightly into Malik's body. For a moment he was able to rest on Malik's shoulder and the weight didn't push him down as hard as it had been before. Malik's thumb brushed in small waves over the back of his hand and gave him comfort. They stood for a long time like that until the sun was gone and Al Mualim's body had fallen to ashes. The roaring, screaming thoughts inside Altair's head had been gone for a long time now and shrunk down to a whisper. All this time Malik hadn't lost a word and never let go of his hand. In the end, the older man opened his mouth to speak. "Come one", he said in a calm voice and his words were barely above a whisper, "night's here and the men want to see you." "And what should I tell them?" Altair's voice sounded horse since he didn't speak for so long and in the middle of the sentence, his words had cracked. Malik didn't answer but squeezed his hand again before he let go of his fingers. Even though he didn't give Altair an answer to one of his many questions, he knew it wasn't that much of importance as the feeling of not being alone was by far of more value. He lifted his head and straightened his shoulders, his chin high and he followed Malik's steps back to the fortress. He followed Malik through the twilight, a constanc blue glowing radiating from his body and it was enough to lead Altair through the darkness of his own mind.
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