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There was a very specific sort of pain that stemmed from situations like these. It was an ache that started in your chest, somewhere around your heart if you were forced to wager a guess, and quickly spread so it felt as if there was a whole in your chest cavity where your heart had once been. Part of your mind likened it to the pain of a broken heart, and the rest of you had to agree that it was sort of like that. A very specific variation on a broken heart, but that was the root of it all the same.
It was the pain of watching someone you loved with all of that now-broken, suffering heart fail.
That feeling had been gnawing at your ribs like a dog on a bone ever since Altair had been stripped of his rank and weapons. He’d worked so hard for so long to push himself to become better, and where had it gotten him? Right back at the bottom. A lowly apprentice once again.
The compliment to your pain was Altair’s own when he arrived in the small home you shared. Though his pain seemed to be centered in his head instead of his heart. A snarl pulled at those scarred lips as he paced the perimeter of the house’s main room. “A demotion?” he growled. “What am I supposed to do about this? I’ve already gained the skills from the higher ranks, does he expect me to simply forget those?”
You sighed. Yes, you’d watched the man you loved fall further and further into his own arrogance, but you agreed that this whole punishment was extreme. Terror had joined pain in your chest for those precious few moments when you were forced to watch your husband be stabbed through the chest; that terror had only been slightly abated when it was revealed to be an illusion. “Altair,” you called quietly.
As if by magic, Altair immediately froze mid-step in his aggravated march, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say among the litany of other complaints he had about the whole situation.
“Please …” Please what? It was him that was suffering, after all, not you. “Please come here,” you settled on finally.
For a moment you thought he would deny your request.
Then the golden-eyed assassin crossed the room in one step and allowed himself to be pulled into your arms.
Your fingers curled tightly into the coarse, white fabric of his robes. “It doesn’t matter,” you assured him quietly. “We’ll get through this test no matter what. You’ll get through it.”
His arms tightened around you. For all his arrogance, he’d fortunately never forgotten his feelings about you. You felt his lips press into the crown of your head. Not a single word crossed Altair’s lips.
“Just … Do as he asks. Finish this trial, and I’m sure everything will return to the way it was.”
Little did you know how wrong you were.