Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We have a lot of work ahead of us. You better go back into the Animus, my son!”

“That’s right Desmond, Connor is waiting for us.”, Rebecca added.

Desmond sighed. Of course he wasn’t allowed to take a day off. He knew that the world was in danger, but one day wouldn’t hurt especially since he made great progress so far, if he could trust Shaun and his father… But complaining would not bring him anything, he knew that, so he got into the damn machine and let Rebecca do her work.

“Alright Desmond, just relax.” She said while she connected him to the Animus.

He sighed again, before he closed his eyes and soon he felt the familiar feeling of numbness and freedom.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in the system of the Animus. He walked a few steps when something unusual caught his eyes, a red glimmer to his right. He looked more closely and noticed that the glimmer was growing rapidly. Something awful was going to happen, Desmond was sure of that.

“Damn it!”, sounded a voice from above.

“Rebecca, what’s wrong?”, the slight worried voice of his father required.

“I don’t know. The Animus should be alright. I had him checked a few hours prior, but somehow it isn’t loading Connor’s data, but instead… Altair’s!”

“Altair’s data? But how is that possible?”, asked Shaun’s sceptic voice.

“Hey guys! What’s up?”, Desmond asked as a familiar landscape started to form around him.

“Listen, son. The Animus is loading Altair’s memories and we aren’t able to pull you out… In fact we aren’t able to do anything, because – and I don’t want you to freak out – because your body is vanishing as well.”

“What? Are you serious? And how am I supposed to stop myself from not freaking out?”

“We will work this out somehow.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Rebecca.”

“Why not?”

“I bet this is Minerva’s doing.”, Shaun answered.

“It is indeed.”

Desmond jumped at the female voice right behind him. As soon as he had turned around, he found himself face to face with Minerva herself.

“You, Desmond Miles, are sent here for a purpose. Juno has interfered with the time, something forbidden by us long ago, and if she succeeds, you will be no more.”

“What do you mean with ‘I will be no more’? What has she done?”

“She has travelled back to long forgotten times. She changed what happened. She has sent your ancestor, Altair Ibn-La'Ahad, to his death. With his death, Juno destroyed the assassins and you, will never be.”

“Then we have to do something about it!”

“I fear my power is limited, but I will help and guide you as far as I am able to.”

Desmond nodded in agreement and Minerva started to vanish.

“You have to climb the hill behind you. A battle is going on there. Altair will be deadly wounded, for an ally will turn against him.”

“Wait, tell me how I can save him!”

“You will find a way. It is your destiny after all.”

With that Minerva had vanished and the sound of battle slowly caught up to Desmond. He crouched at the edge of the hill he was standing on and he gazed over the battlefield. Desmond was able to make out a few familiar faces from his time in Altair's memory. The assassins were fighting hard against the much bigger army of the templar.

His gaze shifted, he was still looking for Altair. Suddenly he saw that Malik was surrounded by six templars and more were approaching.

Making up his mind, he jumped down, knocking two knights out in the progress and ran as fast as he could to Malik. Malik, only with one arm, he noticed, was now holding his position against three enemies at once, while another one lay dead on the ground and the other two were starting an attack from behind.

This thought disgusted Desmond, he knew the templar were perfidious but he never thought they were such big cowards.

Desmond activated his hidden blades and rammed then into the templars' necks. They went down immediately and Malik turned around, after killing his attackers. His eyes landed on Desmond who just stood up and retracted the hidden blades. Desmond held the gaze for a moment before turning around and running between assassins and templars to find Altair.

He killed a few templars and saved a few assassins while searching. Desmond was deciding if he should return to a higher position again as he finally spotted his ancestor. Altair was fighting like a wild bear but as elegant as a swan. But that didn't change anything of the fact that Altair and another assassin Desmond didn't know, were surrounded. The other assassin suddenly stopped fighting and nodded at one of the higher ranked templar. He then turned around and Desmond immediately knew what he was going to do. Desmond fastened his steps and prayed to god, Minerva and everybody who would listen that he wouldn't be too late.

Altair didn't seem to catch anything from the conspiracy or the traitor behind him; he was too occupied with staying alive. Desmond was almost there, but he knew he would be too late...

“Altair!”, he screamed from the top of his lungs.

Said assassin turned around just in time to block the attack from the traitor. Altair's situation still wasn't better; he stood face to face with his treacherous companion and behind him were the soldiers he was fighting just a second ago.

“This is your end Altair and the end of the brotherhood!”, sneered the traitor.

Altair kept silent and focused on all his enemies instead.

One of the knights choose this exact moment to attack and Altair was forced to block it, before beheading his attacker, but the traitor dashed forward as well.

Desmond threw himself between Altair and the sword. He suddenly felt a lot of pain from his chest, but he forced himself to push his blade between the traitor's shock widened eyes.

The traitor's body landed ungraceful on the ground and Desmond expected to meet the hard stone as well, but he felt strong arms around his waist instead. He was slowly lowered to the ground with Altair looking down at him with curiosity and distrust shining in his eyes.

Desmond looked behind his ancestor and saw Malik and a few other assassins dealing with the templars who had him and Altair surrounded moments before.

Desmond focused back on Altair's face and he realised that his vision became blurry and he could taste blood in his mouth.

His eyes widened in fear. Desmond didn't want to die, who would keep his ancestor save when not him and who would stop the destruction of the world when not him?

He tried to stand up, but a gentle yet firm hand on his stomach stopped him from doing so.

“Stop moving!”, sounded the voice from Altair above him.

Desmond was barely awake now, he couldn’t make out what the voices were saying and to whom they belonged. He was barely aware of Altair's voice and a hand that pressed on his chest, before he succumbed to the darkness.

Chapter Text

The next time he woke, Desmond refused to open his eyes, for he didn't know what would await him if he did. He focused on his other senses instead. He felt warm and Desmond realised he was laying on something soft. His limbs felt heavy and he could make out quiet voices in the distance. He finally decided that it would be better to open his eyes and after a few attempts he succeeded.

Desmond found himself gazing at the yellowish ceiling of a small room. He was lying on a few pillows on the ground, a blanket wrapped around him. As he lifted the blanket he spotted bandages that covered his chest. He tried to get up, but the pain radiating from his chest stopped him and forced him to lie down again. He groaned in pain before sending out a few annoyed curses.

“Desmond, is that you?”, sounded his father's worried voice.

“Dad? But how...?”

“I have no idea, but tell me, are you alright? We didn't hear from you after you screamed you ancestor's name and we became worried...”

“I am fine.”, replied Desmond who was shocked by the tone in his father's voice.

“What happened?”

“I took the sword that was meant for Altair. I got stabbed in the chest as a result...” There was no reply. “Dad?”

“I don't know if I should hit you for being so stupid or if I should hug you for being so brave and saving your ancestor! However, I am proud of you!”

“Thanks I guess... But what now? I have saved him, shouldn't I be returning to you then?”

“I don't know. We are just as clever as you.”, he sounded tired and exhausted.

“Dad, how late is it in your time?”, Desmond inquired.

“Around midnight, why do you ask?”

“Dad, go to bed!”

“But-“

He was cut short by Desmond: “I'll be fine; besides, it won't do you good to overwork yourself.”

A pause, then: “You are right. Are you sure you'll be fine? I could wake up Shaun or Rebecca.”

“They also need their sleep! Good night, Dad!”

“Night Desmond.”

“Thank you for staying with me.”, mumbled Desmond, not sure if his father would even hear it.

“Always!”, came the reply and then silence.

Desmond wondered why he was still in Altair's time. He did save him, didn't he? Maybe he had missed something, or Minerva hadn't enough strength to bring him back now. Or Altair's life was still in danger.

He hadn't more time to think about it, for the wooden door to his room opened and Altair stepped through. He gazed around before closing the door and coming to stand right beside him. Desmond looked into his ancestor's golden eyes, which looked at him with curiosity and suspicion again.

“To whom were you talking?”, he finally inquired, never letting his guard down.

“I talked to myself.”, he lied.

Desmond thought it wouldn't do them any good if he told Altair the truth, he surely wouldn't believe a word Desmond would say. Faster than Desmond could react, Altair kneeled down and grabbed his collar, forcing him to sit up. Desmond closed his eyes in pain but when he opened them again, he found himself face to face with Altair.

He could feel the other's warm breath on his face and the elder's eyes piercing through him.

“Never lie to me ever again! This is the first and only warning you'll get, understood?”, Altair growled dangerously.

Desmond swallowed the lump in his throat before nodding. Altair huffed contently before letting go of his collar. Instead he steadied Desmond and offered him some water, which Desmond gratefully drank.

After Desmond had finished drinking, he was carefully laid back down and Altair began to speak again:

“Let's try this again. Who are you? Where are you from? Why do you look so much like me and why did you save me, let alone now my name? And this time I want the truth!”

“You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you the truth!”

“Try me. I have seen many things so far.”

Desmond was barely able to contain himself from saying: “I know”, instead he answered: “My name is Desmond Miles and as strange as it sounds, I come from the future. I was sent here by Minerva, one of the first civilisations. I was sent in order to save you and the brotherhood of the assassins and since I am your descendantin order to save myself as well.”

“You were right, I don't believe you!”, Desmond's heart stopped beating for a second, “But I don't see any lie in your eyes... You still haven't answered my last question!”

Desmond grimaced, how should he explain that he has access to Altair's memory? He didn't quite understand the concept himself.

“Well, it's hard to explain...”, Altair raised an eyebrow, “in the future we have some kind of machine that allows us to see the memories of our ancestors.”

“How is that possible?”, he asked in disbelieve and wonder.

“I ... I don't understand it either.” Altair huffed in annoyance; Desmond knew that his ancestor hated it to be kept in the dark. “I'm sorry, but I can't tell you more.”

“How can I trust you?”

“I.. I saved your life…”
“Maybe as an attempt to get close to me and the brotherhood so you can destroy us from within.”

“Damn it, I am also part of the assassins, otherwise I would have killed you myself. Can’t you see that without you, the brotherhood would be doomed?”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. Not only started the wound in his chest to throb painfully, but Altair’s eyes narrowed dangerously, a sign for Desmond to be very careful from now on.

“You are not an assassin, you are not one of us!”, Altair all but growled.

“Nothing is true; everything is permitted. This phrase was created by Hassan-I Sabbah and became the primary guideline of the brotherhood. You may not believe a word of what I said earlier, but believe this: this phrase still means a lot to the assassins of my time.” Desmond took a deep breath, before slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I know I have screwed up in my life, but that was before I realized what it really meant to be an assassin. We beware the people and their freedom and if we follow our creed, we will become wise enough to do so. I used to hate being an assassin and part of the brotherhood, but now I know that I have been given the opportunity to change and achieve something I can be proud of.”

Desmond stopped talking and looked up into Altair’s calculating eyes.

“Your body is that of a boy who barely reached adulthood, but your spirit and mind belong to an old and wise man.”

“Boy? I am 26…”, Desmond mumbled.

“And I am 31, but that doesn’t change a fact, that both of us have almost our whole life still before us.”

“Wait, that means we are in the year 1196 and that means that the assassins are trying to annihilate the templar.”

Altair stood up abruptly. “You know more than is healthy for you, Desmond Miles.” Desmond’s name sounded strange from Altair’s mouth. “However, you should lie down again and rest. We will continue our talk another time.”

Altair turned around and marched towards the door.

“So you do believe me now?”, asked Desmond as Altair reached for the doorknob.

The elder assassin stopped in his movement and turned his head. Desmond couldn’t make out the other’s face since he was still wearing his hood.

“For now, let’s just pretend I do!”, he opened the door. “I like your way of thinking Desmond Miles.”

With that Desmond was left alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Almost as soon as Altair had left the room, Desmond sighed and lied back down. He could feel a headache forming and the wound stung from the earlier movements. He was lucky that he survived the attack, but it would take quite some time for him to heal properly.

Desmond’s thoughts turned back to Altair. Somehow it felt almost natural conversing with him. Even though Altair didn’t trust or believe him yet, Desmond could tell that he left quite an impression on his ancestor. He would crack this nut, decided Desmond. He would show Altair from what kind of wood he was carved.

Desmond yawned, closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into his pillows before he fell into a deep and dreamless slumber.

(With Altair)

As soon as he had set foot out of the room of his saviour, Altair was accompanied by Malik, who seemed almost eager to ask after their guest’s wellbeing.

“Well? How is he?”

“He was awake just now and we had a little talk.”

“What did he say?”

Altair looked around, checking for any preying ears or eyes. “Let’s discuss this somewhere more private.” He eventually said and when Malik nodded they made their way towards Altair’s private study.

Altair seated himself at the sturdy wooden desk and after Malik had locked the door, he motioned for his comrade, brother and friend to take a seat across from him.

“Now, what is so important that we have to discuss this here?” Malik finally asked.

“The novice’s name is Desmond Miles.” The name sounded strange coming from his mouth.

“What a weird name… he is not from around here, is he?” Altair shook his head, eyes narrowed in deep thought. “Wait, did you just call him a… novice?”

“Hn. He says he is from the future and that he is my descendant. He also told me that he is an assassin who follows the credo.”

“And you believe him?” Malik asked sceptical.

“That’s the question, Malik.”

“Forgive me, but you cannot truly consider believing him!”

“As unbelievable as his words sound, I couldn’t find any lies in them and believe me, he is a bad liar!”

“Not so good for an assassin.”

“It depends, Malik. But his story is not the only thing that keeps me from killing him.”

“You think you are in debt with him, don’t you?”, asked Malik.

“From what you told me he also saved your life. But no, that’s not it. We spoke about our credo and what he said was… intriguing. I cannot explain it, but everything about him is fascinating me. He is different, yet conversing with him feels somehow familiar. It’s almost as if I am talking to myself. He does not only look like me. He IS like me; the way he sees things, his wisdom, his words, his whole being.”

 “Altair!”, interrupted Malik, “You should hear what you are saying. It’s insane. It’s dangerous!”

“Danger is our daily bread.”
“That’s not the same and you know it!” Malik had risen from his seat and was almost shouting now.

“Keep your voice down, Malik!”, ordered Altair.

Malik took a long and deep breath, before exhaling and seating again.

“I apologize for my outburst.” Altair motioned for him to continue. “Altair, please, over think your decision once more. We cannot afford to have a traitor among our ranks, not now!”

“My decision is final. He will live! But if it eases you, I will test him and his skills.”

“When will you do it, in a few month maybe? Altair, the man is deadly injured. It is a miracle that he is still alive.”

“If he truly is my descendant, he will endure the pain. I will test him tomorrow. Who knows, maybe another miracle will happen.”

“Hopeless!”, grumbled Malik.

“Who is? Me or the novice?”

“Both of you!”, he sighed, “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have other things to attend to and I will make sure that the man is taken care of!”

“No need for the latter.” At Malik’s raised eyebrow, Altair added: “I will take care of him myself. I brought him here and now he is my responsibility.”

Malik nodded in understanding before he left the room. Why does he always feel tired and exhausted after he dealt with Malik?

Altair laid his elbows on the desk and supported his head in his hand.

“What now? Malik is right. This man, Desmond, there is absolutely no way he can fight tomorrow. What did I do?”

(With Desmond)

“Desmond, Desmond Miles, wake up!”

Desmond groaned. It felt as if he had just fallen asleep.

“Desmond Miles, can you hear me?”, the voice of Minerva sounded inside his head.

“Yeah, what is it?”, he mumbled. It wouldn’t do him good if Altair found him talking to somebody who isn’t there again.

“I have bad news. Altair is planning to test you abilities tomorrow, yet you cannot even sit up.”
“I am well aware of that… so what should we do about it?”

“My powers have recovered enough to help your wound heal, at least enough for you to keep up with your ancestor.”

“Great, than what are you waiting for?”, asked Desmond.

“It will hurt.”

“When I get my head cut off tomorrow it will hurt even more.”
“But-“

“Just do it!”, interrupted Desmond.

“As you wish… you are indeed a very strange man, Desmond Miles, but I guess that is what you and Altair Ibn-La’Ahad have in common.”

(With Altair)

Altair was about to pay his guest another visit, for he felt as if something was going on and his instincts rarely let him down.

When he entered the room, the first thing Altair noticed was the heavy breathing of Desmond. His eyes were shut tight and his knuckles were turning white from clawing at his covers. Altair immediately went to his side and pushed his shirt and bandages up to look at Desmond’s wound. He was shocked at the sight before him. The wound was closing on its own. Altair had never seen anything like this before.

When he looked up again, his eyes met Desmond’s. His former dark brown eyes had a tint of gold in them now, not unlike Altair’s.

“Maybe something similar to the eagle vision?”, thought Altair.

“Altair?”, Desmond managed to say between gritted teeth.

“I’m here.”

Altair didn’t know what made him do it, but he carefully lifted Desmond up, so that the younger man could lean into the older man’s chest. Then Altair put his right hand on the other’s stomach and with the left hand he managed to pour some water into a little bowl.

When Desmond groaned in pain from the movement, Altair said: “It’s alright. Just concentrate on my hand and on drinking, on nothing else. Take deep breaths… just like this, and now I want you to relax.”

Altair didn’t know how long he sat there, with Desmond’s back to his chest, his hand still resting on the wounded man’s stomach. But Desmond eventually started to breath more normal and steadily again and when Altair gazed over the man’s shoulder at the wound, it wasn’t as deep, big and life-threatening as it used to be.

“It still would hinder him in fighting, but it was a beginning.”, Altair thought grimly.

Altair finally noticed that his patient was once more asleep. He carefully laid the sleeping man back down, minding the injury and swiftly bandaging the wound again as well as covering the man up.

With that, Altair rose up and looked down at his charge.

“I think I wouldn’t really mind if this man was my descendant. He definitely has a strong will and seems to be quite special. Besides, I somehow liked the thought of having somebody carrying my blood and somebody remembering me.”

Altair quickly shook his head to clear his mind. “This is ridiculous, I don’t even have children yet, and besides, when did I decide to believe him?”

He hurried out of the room.

Chapter Text

Desmond woke up from the same pains he had yesterday, the only difference was that this time, Altair didn’t show up.

“I guess Minerva had tried to close the wound further.”, thought Desmond.

Desmond groaned while sitting up. The night had been too short, at least he thought it was.

“Hey son, are you alright?”

“Dad?”

“Thank god, you are fine. I was worried sick; in fact we all were when you didn’t answer.”

“When-“, Desmond began, but was swiftly interrupted by Shaun.

“A few hours after William went to bed.”

“So Des, what happened to you?”, asked Rebecca.

Desmond grimaced at the nickname, but chose to not dwell on it. “Altair visited me, we had a little chat and I might have told him I am from the future and his descendant.”

“You did what?”, came his father’s reply.

“And you’re still alive? Well done, Desmond!”

“Shaun, that’s no time for jokes!”, scolded Rebecca.

“Well, he seemed pretty decent when he left.”

Desmond suddenly remembered the second time Altair had set foot into the room. He groaned and hid his face in his hands.

“What will he think now? That I am some kind of demon with supernatural power?”

“Awake, I see.”, came a voice from the door.

Desmond looked up and was greeted by the sight of his ancestor. Altair pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning on and approached the younger man. He stood right next to Desmond and sat cross-legged and pretty close. Altair slightly tilted his head, his eyes locked on Desmond’s.

“Your eyes, they have changed.”

“Excuse me?”, Desmond asked dumbfounded.

His mouth lightly twitched upwards, it almost looked like he was suppressing a grin.

“They had been a dark brown when you arrived, but they have a tint of gold in them now, like mine.”

“Eh”, Desmond said dumbly, “I don’t know what to say to this.”

Altair moved even closer, his mouth only inches away from Desmond's ear and he whispered: “This matter will remain between us, got it?” The younger man nodded. “Tell me Desmond, have you ever heard of something called eagle vision?”

“It’s some kind of advanced sight that allows you to see and identify people faster. It also allows the user to detect dangers and certain objects that would be unseen for a normal person.”

“Do you have it?”

“Ehm, no?”

“That is no answer, that was a question.”, he said.

“I guess that I never tried.”, admitted Desmond.

“Do it now!”, he commanded.

“Why all this fuss? Why does he care so much if I am able to use his eagle vision or not? I sighed mentally and tried to clear my thoughts. From my adventures in the animus, I knew that Altair and Ezio always had to clear their minds so they could focus on their vision, so I should try the same.”

Desmond hadn’t even realized that he had closed his eyes until he experienced a strange feeling coming from his eyes. Desmond reopened them and promptly had to blink at the strange sight. Suddenly realization dawned on him and Desmond spun his head around to face Altair, who was truly grinning now.

“Tell me, what can you see? What is different?”

“My surroundings lost all colour and you…”

“Me?”, he encouraged Desmond to continue.

“You are glowing blue.”

Altair suddenly stood up, turning his back to the other, causing Desmond to lose focus on the vision.

“Here you are, a complete stranger with special healing abilities, knowledge of thing no one except me and Malik should know and now you also possess the eagle vision. And I always thought I was the only one capable of using it.”

“You are!”, Altair turned his head enough for Desmond to see his glare, “At least in this time.”

“Does this mean there are more?”, he completely turned around now.

“No, not yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”, he growled, obviously annoyed that the younger man knew something he didn’t.

“There will be more who possess this bloodline… and they are all your descendants.”

“Lies! This cannot be true, you are lying and I know it!”, his glare turned murderous and Desmond had to swallow a big lump in his throat the sight of an infuriated Altair Ibn-La’Ahad.

“I’m not lying!”, Desmond had also gotten up by now.

“Prove it!”, the older male shouted, “Prove to me that you are telling the truth! Prove to me that you really are my descendant! Prove to me that you are not just an enemy spy!”

He had activated his hidden blades and Desmond was promptly cornered between the wall and Altair.

“I don’t know how.”

Altair made an animalistic sound and dashed forward. Desmond half expected to be decapitated right on the spot, but he was surprised, when Altair just slumped forward, head low and arm with the blade dangling on the side.

Desmond didn’t dare to move or make a sound; instead he just stood there, waiting for his ancestor to do something.

“I can’t stand looking at you. As soon as my gaze meets yours, I am not able to hurt or kill you! It’s infuriating, you are infuriating and it’s driving me insane. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I am asking myself if you are truly honest, if you’ve gone completely insane or if you are just a good liar and actor.”

Altair looked up again; his eyes were clouded and slightly unfocused. Desmond immediately knew what was going on. He swiftly grabbed Altair by his elbows and turned them both around, so that Altair was the one trapped against the wall. Desmond pinned his arms above Altair’s head and the master assassin was just too shocked and stunned to do struggle against the iron like grip.

“Altair! Calm down! You are having a mental break down!”

“Even more lies from your mouth, spy!”, the older man shot back.

“I don’t want to harm you, but if you don’t calm down now, I will take more drastic measures!”

Altair didn’t even seem to notice that Desmond was speaking to him. He was trapped in his own world, dangerously close to losing himself.

Desmond couldn’t stand by to watch this happening. So he let go of Altair’s wrists with his right hand and before the older man could react or start to struggle, Desmond boxed him in the face. Altair’s head hit the wall behind him and he was knocked out from the impact. He was quickly caught, before he hit the floor and Desmond immediately winced at the pain that erupted because of the extra weight.

After a few shaky breathes Desmond was finally able to drag his ancestor to the bed and lay him down gently. Then he took a quick look around and found a few small clothes. Desmond wet them with the water that stood beside the bed and laid one under Altair’s head, where his head hat hit the wall, and the other one on his face, were the blow had landed.

The only thing Desmond could do now was to sit down and wait and to hope that Altair wouldn’t be too angry with him…

Chapter Text

Desmond had sat a few minutes in silence until he heard his friends' and father's voice again.

“So, I guess this was your decent behaving ancestor?” said Rebecca.

“He kind of freaked out on me and I had to knock him out. He is unconscious now.”

“Oh Des, somebody will be really pissed when he wakes up. Can I have your mobile phone when you don't survive?”

“Shut up, Shaun!”

“What exactly were you talking about?” interfered Desmond's father.

“I thought you heard us talking…”

“We did, but unfortunately none of us can speak Arabic; unlike you, Des.”

“I can't speak Arabic.”

“Sounded pretty fluid to me!”

“Shaun is right, Desmond. It wouldn't be too far off, because the necessary information to speak and understand it, are located in your DNA. Maybe you little encounter with Altair just triggered the needed information on the chromosomes and activated them. Or in other words, you have learned a language, which you inherited from your unconscious ancestor.”

“I see… maybe.”

“That still does not explain what you two were talking about or why Altair was rampaging.”, reminded William.

“He asked me if I knew what eagle vision was and if I possessed it. After I activated it, don't ask me how, he just freaked out. I am sure he would have killed me, hadn't I knocked him out.”

“At least you are alright. That's the most important now!”, said William.

“Eh, don't get me wrong, but… I need some time alone. I have to think about a few things.”

“That's fine and understandable, my son.”

With that Desmond was left alone once more.

When Altair groaned, Desmond was brought back to reality. The older man was slowly sitting up, his right hand rubbing the back of his head.

“What happened?”

“You don't remember?”, Desmond asked hopefully.

“I remember you hitting me!”, his eyes narrowed in anger.

Desmond could barely stop himself from moving away, but instead he fixed his ancestor with a glare of his own.

“Well, excuse me for helping you!”

“You are calling this helping?”

“Hey! It wasn't my fault that you freaked out… alright it probably was, but that was not my intention. I swear!”

They continued to sit there in silence, staring at each other. Altair eventually gave in by turning his gaze away from Desmond.

He sighed and looked calm and collected when he looked at Desmond again.

Altair motioned for the younger man to come closer, to which Desmond complied.

A big mistake, for Desmond found himself with a bloody nose and probably an eye that was going to turn blue.

“That was for hitting me and that”, Desmond got another blow to his shoulder, “for falling for such an obvious deception. And I probably should thank you too…”

“Finally able to see reason again, huh?”, Desmond had gotten up and to a safe distance.

“Don't make me go after you.”, Altair warned before letting himself fall back into the pillows, arms under his head.

“Oh please, as if this could scare me.” Altair raised an eyebrow. “I could easily kick your arrogant ass!”

“Prove it. I wanted to test you anyway, so I am going to be your opponent!”

“Are you sure that you can handle the shame of losing, oh great Altair?”, Desmond teased.

He had managed to stop his nose from bleeding and he had laid down next to Altair.

“If it were by the hand of my descendant I think I could handle it.”

Desmond pushed himself up so he could look down at Altair. Altair lazily tilted his head and opened one eye.

“Does this mean you believe me?”

“I would like to… you are fascinating, impulsive and incalculably, which are great traits… but it all sounds so unbelievable.”

“If somebody had said that to me, I guess I would have freaked out as well.”

“And earned a headache.”, Altair added.

“I'm sorry?”

“No you are not. I guess you wanted to do that for quite some time now? You did say that you had seen my life, didn't you?”

“I won't deny that I enjoyed it.”

He laughed. “You sound like Malik!”

“In the beginning you and Malik didn't get along well, right?”, asked Desmond.

“Is this a question or do you know the answer?”

“I know about the death of Malik's brother…”

Altair fell into a stoic silence and Desmond immediately felt bad.

He was about to apologise when Altair spoke up again: “Tell me, how much of my blood do you have?”

It took a moment for Desmond to understand the question, but he finally answered: “There are almost 1000 years between you and me.”

Altair's eyes widened in shock and in disbelief.

“Great Allah, it's getting worse and worse!”

Desmond snorted. “Great Allah, huh? Sounds strange.”

“Why is that?”, Altair questioned.

“I am not really religious, but if I were, I would believe in Jesus Christ and his father.”

“You honour the same god as the templars do…”

“You are not mad?”

Altair had sat up, Desmond quickly following him. Altair's gaze turned serious, before he said: “Every human believes in what he was educated in. The templars don't know anything else than what the priests are teaching them. I don't know anything else than the things Al Mualim has taught me. Why should I be mad at something that is not your fault.”

“But I could chose in what I believe.”, Desmond said.

“Maybe, but how much do you know about my religion? Do you know enough to change your confession?”

“I guess not… how about you?”

“Even if I wanted to, it would be hard to change my confession. It would seem as if I am agreeing with the templars and besides, society would look down at me for doing so. It’s not forbidden, but not gladly seen either, if you got my meaning.”

“You speak as if Islamism and Christianity are two completely different things.”, Altair raised an eyebrow, “Both religions are believing in one almighty god, both follow a holy script be it the bible or the Koran. And aren’t both parties fighting for their religion?”

“You mean the holy war? I never quite understood the meaning of it: killing innocents because they believe in something else. The world needs more tolerance and freedom, that’s what I am fighting for!”

“If the world were more tolerant, we wouldn’t be here now! There wouldn’t be any templars or assassins!”

“Maybe…”

Chapter Text

Altair had gotten up to look out of the little window.

“Do you know what is bothering me?”, asked Desmond into the silence.

“Mmh…”

“I wonder that nobody heard us and rushed in here.”

Altair turned around to face Desmond, who now stood across the room, leaning against the wall.

“That's because my room is the only bedroom on this level. Other than that, there are my study, the library and my private storage room.”

“This is your room?”, Desmond asked stunned.

“Yes…”, Altair answered hesitantly.

“But where did you sleep?”, Desmond almost sounded concerned.

“Malik was kind enough to allow me to sleep on his spare couch."

Before either of them could say anything else, it knocked on the door. Altair called out for the person to enter and only a moment later the door opened and a man barely in his teens, stepped in. From his attire and nervous behaviour, Desmond could tell that he was still a novice. The novice's gaze landed on Desmond and he began to talk: “Mentor, master Malik wants me to remind you of your promise.”

From the corner of his eyes Desmond could see Altair pouting and it didn't seem like he was about to answer, so Desmond said in his best Altair voice: "Tell Malik that I haven't forgotten; also tell him that I don't need him to constantly remind me of my duties and promises!"

“Certainly, master Altair.”, the novice bowed and quickly left the room.

“Already impersonating me.”, Altair said teasingly.

“Of course, that’s step one in my master plan to dominate the world through the assassins.”

“And what is step two?”

“Getting rid of all those who stands in my way.”

“And after that?”, asked Altair, who looked rather amused by Desmond’s arrogant and uppish act.

“Conquering the world and reigning over it of course.”, at that point Desmond and Altair had started circling each other. Desmond playing the snooty nobleman and Altair had a twinkle in his eyes and his mouth quirked into a grin a few times.

“Of course. But won’t it be boring once you achieved that?”

“I have already thought of something to make my life more exciting.”

“Oh? Will you enlighten me, oh great leader?”, Desmond had to grin a this remark, but forced himself to stay in his role.

“I am obviously a man.”

“Obviously.”, Altair agreed.

“Men have needs and there are enough father’s with pretty daughters in the world.”, he motioned out of the window.

“Naughty!”

“Am I?”, Desmond raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wall next to the window.

“Definitely…  But you know what? I see a teeny-weeny problem in your plan.”

“What kind of problem?”

Altair came dangerously close and placed his hands on either side of Desmond’s head.

“Unfortunately I would have to kill you, should you ever truly consider using the brotherhood for your own means.”

Desmond let his head fall back against the wall and looked at the ceiling.

“I honestly don’t understand why anybody would want reign over the world. With great power comes great responsibility and you would always have to fear for your life when a group starts rebelling.”

“Most people tend to forget these points. They only see power and might and lust for it.”

“It seems that humanity is cursed…”
“There is always hope to change the world.”

“Right.”, Desmond lowered his gaze again and grinned smugly at Altair, before blowing Altair in the face.

The latter crinkled his eyebrows in surprise and leaned slightly back; enough for Desmond to slip under his ancestor’s arm, successfully freeing himself.

Altair huffed at that and turned around: “I want to see you doing this to a templar.”

Desmond just shrugged and grinned even more. Altair shook his head, clearly in amusing.

“Well, enough played. We need to get ready for your test. We don’t want to be late, right?”, this time it was Altair’s turn to grin wickedly, “Now come on, you need clothes and gear.”

Desmond sighed when Altair had left the room and quickly followed his ancestor. He was lead down the hallway to another locked door. The inside of the room was plastered with shelves, cupboards and showcases. Altair rummaged through some of them pulling out things here and there. Desmond decided it would be for the best to stay out of the assassin’s way and still stood in the doorway when Altair returned with some greyish clothes in his arms.

“These were my robes when I was a novice. They should fit you. However, once you passed the test you will be ranked as an Assassin.”

“Won’t I skip a few ranks then?”

“That’s the other thing I wanted to discuss with you. There will definitely be questions, because normally newly gained assassins have to train for years before being tested and ranked this high. I won’t make you a Master Assassin, but still. Furthermore you look a lot like me, we could be brothers, almost twins even and that’s exactly what we will tell them.”

“That I am your long lost brother?”

“Exactly! But we will also have to change your name for that.”

“Have you thought of something?”, Desmond inquired.

“Your name will be… Khasir Ibn-La’Ahad.”

“Khasir? As in the lost? Isn’t this a little bit too obvious?”

“Every assassin is lost in his own way.”

“Whatever you say big brother.”

Altair almost smiled warmly at that: “I fear I have to get accustomed to be called like this.”

“It’s not normal for me either!”, chuckled Desmond.

“Here,” Altair handed the clothes over to Desmond, “change and I will look for some weapons.”

Desmond nodded and returned to Altair’s room. He quickly changed, minding his wound and the bandages over his chest. Once he was in his new attire, he looked down at himself and figured that he definitely could be a convincing Altair, if he tried at least. He then pulled the hood over his head and went back to Altair.

Altair had looked up from his task once he heard Desmond enter. He immediately stopped in his task and approached Desmond. Altair circled around the younger man, before coming to a stand right in front of him.

“This brings old memories back.”, he said while righting the clothes here and there. “There, now you almost look like a real assassin not like some befuddled and homeless beggar.”

“Excuse me, the clothes I wore, were quite decent back in my time.”

“For me you looked hilarious!”

Desmond crossed his arms over his chest and huffed offended.

“Don’t act like a woman!”, Altair hit him over the head and turned to the thing he had laid out. “This sword has seen many battles and it saved me a lot of times. It may be old, but it will serve you good. And I guess you now how to use the hidden blades.”

Desmond gratefully accepted the weapons handed to him and immediately strapped the sword to his waist. He hesitated with the hidden blade though.

“Is something the matter with it?”, Altair asked.

“Well…”, Desmond held his left hand up to show that he still possessed all his fingers.

“But how did you use yours then?”, Altair asked bewildered.

“Mine is a little more advanced… you don’t need a sacrifice to use it anymore.”

Altair looked thoughtful at Desmond’s left hand and the hidden blade for a moment.

“Wait, you are not planning on cutting off my finger, are you? Because I won’t do it!”

“It is part of our brotherhood.”, Altair countered.

“How unfortunately that your little brother came from another land, in which is a little group of assassins, who have developed the blade.”

“Fine, whatever!”, grumbled the older assassin. “Your blade should be in Malik’s care, so we have to talk to him first. Follow me, brother!”

With that they left the room together.

Chapter Text

Malik was not exactly pleased with seeing Desmond and Altair. As soon as they had entered, Malik had turned his back to them and continued to scribble something down.

“What do you want novice, can't you see I'm busy with not reminding you of your tasks?”

Altair grimaced and then glared at Desmond, who just shrugged in return.

“I just wanted to introduce you to our new guest.”

At this Malik actually turned back around with a raised eyebrow. His eyes landed on Desmond, who instinctively laid his hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Greetings master.”

Malik looked rather pleased: “At least he has better manners than you, novice. And he is better looking as well.”

“Bastard, the boy looks just like me.”

“Oh? I didn't notice.”

Their friendly bickering continued for a few minutes and Desmond watched the whole exchange with great amusement. They eventually stopped and Malik turned, now in a better mood, to Desmond.

“Well, what can I do for you?”

“I wanted to ask after the blade I carried when I arrived here.”

“Ah, yes. Your blade has a familiar design, yet there are certain differences.”

“It had been modified.”, Desmond said while raising his left hand to show Malik what he meant.

“Quite fascinating... Give me a moment to retrieve it.”

With that Malik vanished in the depth of his study and library.

“He likes you.”

“You think?”

“You would have noticed if he didn't.”

Desmond nodded and Malik chose exactly this moment to return.

“Here you are.”, he handed the blade over and turned to Altair, “So, who will his opponent be?”

“Me of course!”, at Malik's raised eyebrow he quickly added: “It's the only way for him, if he was truly and completely honest, to gain the rank of an Assassin. Besides, we are going to pretend that he is my long lost brother Khasir, it would be logically for me to test him.”

“I see… hopefully the boy has some talent. I want to see you getting your ass kicked!”

Desmond raised an eyebrow at that and Altair gave Malik a rude gesture as answer, causing Malik to laugh.

“Come, Khasir, I want to get over with it as soon as possible!”

“Whatever you say brother.”

A few minutes later the three of them, as well as half of the brotherhood, stood outside on the training grounds. Desmond's heart was racing and he was slightly panicking. Just now, shortly before the event, did he realise that he actually had to fight the great Altair Ibn-La'Ahad.

Desmond took a deep and calming breath.

“Here goes nothing.”, he mumbled to himself and got into a fighting stance, not unlike Altair's.

Altair nodded at him, before he unsheathed his sword and started circling. Desmond immediately followed Altair's example and focused solemnly on his ancestor. It wouldn't do him any good if he lost his concentration because of the now cheering audience. Desmond noticed that Altair had sat his right food slightly different on the floor then before, and he immediately knew that the older man was about to attack.

Altair dashed forward, but Desmond was already prepared and blocked the attack with his sword. They exchanged a few more blows; the sound of clashing metal was heard over the whole training grounds. Altair and Desmond almost danced around each other, their movements in perfect synch.

At one of Altair’s more offensive moves, Desmond had to dodge by doing a roll. As soon as his feet had touched the ground again, Desmond already moved forward and jumped easily on the rail. From his higher position, he opened his arms in an inviting manner and grinned sheepishly at Altair.

“Getting to higher grounds and creating an advantage… very good.”, Altair said, “But let’s see if you can keep your balance.”

With that the older assassin also jumped onto the railing and the fight continued. Their swords crossed and both of the men pushed against it, trying to bring their opponent out of balance. Altair eventually leaned forward, Desmond copying the motion. Their swords were still clashed and their faces only inches apart.

“Stop being so damn defensive and take offensive!”, growled Altair.

Desmond huffed annoyed. “What’s wrong with observing your opponent's weakness and searching for a weak spot… oh yeah, it’s Altair who I am fighting!”, he thought bitterly.

“Fine.”, Desmond eventually gritted out and pushed, with all his might against Altair.

Altair was forced to take a few steps backwards, but Desmond didn’t give him enough time to recover.

“That’s the spirit, novice!”, shouted Altair.

Desmond eventually managed to beat the sword out of Altair’s hand. It flew a few metres into the crowd, getting stuck in the ground before somebody’s feet, who immediately scrambled back with a surprised yelp. Altair looked surprised for a second, before he activated his blade and brought a little more distance between them. Desmond put away his sword and also activated the hidden blade, before getting back to the ground and motioning for Altair to come closer. The older man didn’t let himself be told twice and once more were blows exchanged. It was mere luck that Altair had stumbled over the uneven ground and it was even more luck that Desmond had chosen exactly this moment to attack, causing both men to fall to the ground. Altair was lying on his back with Desmond’s blade at his throat. Desmond was straddling Altair’s waist, leaving the older assassin trapped. He did however notice the hidden blade pointed at his abdomen that would have definitely killed him.

Desmond grinned down at his ancestor, because a draw was more than he had hoped for. He sheathed his blade and bowed his head to take a few deep breathes, while Altair did the same. Desmond than stood up and offered his ancestor his hand for assistance.

“Come on, old man. Stand up!”

“I’m not that old, boy!”, Altair countered. He then turned to the silent crowd. “Fellow brothers, welcome our new comrade, my brother by blood, Khasir Ibn-La’Ahad in our ranks. From this day on, he will be the rank of an Assassin. Respect him and follow his lead!”

The crowd cheered and Malik approached them.

“Good job, Khasir!”, he praised.

“Thank you, master.”

“How are you? I saw you flinch when I landed a blow at your chest.”, Altair asked worried.

“I have trouble breathing and the wound hurts.”, Desmond answered truthfully.

“Come then, I will check if your wound has reopened again.”

“Do you require assistance?”, inquired Malik.

“We’ll manage, but I want you to send a novice to bring my belongings back into my room. I intend to sleep there again.”

“With Khasir I assume?”

“He is my brother. Come now.”, the last part was directed at Desmond, who obediently followed his ancestor.

“Malik doesn’t trust me, does he?”, Desmond inquired once they were alone in Altair’s room.

“Malik is a very cautious man. I admit that it did save both our lives in more than one occasion, but he is more concerned about my discernment than anything else.”

“Why is that?”

“He thinks I am too obsessed by the apple.”

“Are you?”

“There are others who agree with Malik.”

“Maria…”, Desmond said more to himself, but Altair caught it nonetheless.

“How do you-“

“I have seen your memories, remember?”

“Ah, yes.”, Altair sighed and sat down on the floor.

Desmond sat down next to him. “They are just concerned about you…”

“I know.”, he said bitterly.
“You know, thanks to your studies, I’m still alive… or have been born in the first place. This knowledge had changed the brotherhood, mostly to the better. That’s why I trust you and your judgement.”

“Sometimes I fear that you are too kind hearted and too naive to be an assassin.”

“Well, I have my big brother to take care of me, so I guess it’s alright…”

Altair actually chuckled at that and ruffled Desmond’s hair. “I have the feeling that we will be a great team.”

Desmond hummed in agreement.

When Malik entered Altair’s room with a novice in tow, who was carrying the mentor’s things, he was greeted by the sight of Altair and Desmond sitting next to each other, elbows and knees touching. They were obviously asleep, with the younger man leaning on the older; who had an arm around the younger’s shoulder. Malik shook his head amused and motioned for the novice to quietly put the things he was carrying in the room.

“Maybe, just maybe this boy is more trustworthy than I thought…”

Chapter Text

Desmond groaned and stretched when he woke up, back stiff from the sitting position he has slept in.

“Finally awake I see.”, greeted a familiar voice.

“Shut up!”

“Is that a way to greet your older brother?”, Altair asked mockingly hurt.

Desmond just glared at him, which caused the older man to laugh. Just now did Desmond notice that Altair was holding something in his hands.

Altair, who had followed Desmond’s line of vision said: “These will be your new robes. I also brought your weapons with me. As a true assassin, you are allowed to carry throwing knives, a dagger and a crossbow alongside your sword and hidden blade.”

He handed them over.

“Thank you.”

“You have earned them… tell me, would you care to join me in a mission. It’s nothing big, so don’t get excited, but I could use some company.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Get ready then. I’ll be awaiting you at the stables.”

With that Desmond was left alone again. He had had a dream last night. Actually it was more like Minerva disturbing his sleep to inform him about her newest doings. She told him, since he would be stuck here for quite a while, that the time in his timeline will flow slower now. She didn’t want him to miss important things or waste time. Desmond had just shrugged at her statement; he couldn’t do anything against it anyway. The only thing that bothered him was that he wouldn’t be able to converse with his father and friends now.

Desmond shook his head to clear his thoughts and left the room. He saw Malik standing on the stairs which lead to the entrance hall. He stopped to greet him when he spotted Altair talking awkwardly to a woman, he immediately identified as Maria.

“Greetings, Malik. What’s going on here?”

“The novice is trying to bid his wife goodbye. Quite pathetic if I might add.”

Desmond, who had watched the spectacle before him, agreed silently. “It’s sad.”

“And amusing to watch.”, added Malik, “The great and wise mentor Altair Ibn-La’Ahad has not enough guts to show his wife his true emotions. At this rate she will leave him for sure.”

“We have to help him.”, Desmond said while watching Altair leave and Maria turning away.

“Good luck with it then. The novice is too proud and stubborn to except your help.”

“I was not going to tell him…”

“What are you planning?”

Desmond just shrugged and winked at Malik, before making his way down the stairs, Malik following close behind. He activated his eagle vision so his eyes would gain Altair’s golden touch. Then he copied Altair’s movements as best as he could.

Desmond took a deep breath and hoped that he had gained Ezio’s talent concerning women and flirting, before he called out: “Maria!”

Said woman turned back around and raised a questioning eyebrow. Malik stayed behind and observed, while Desmond approached her.

“Have you forgotten something, Altair?”, she asked seemingly in a foul mood from Altair’s pathetic goodbye.

“I have indeed forgotten the most important thing.”, Desmond grinned at her questioning gaze, at least he had her full attention now.

“And what would that be?”

“You.”, he said, before laying his hand on her cheek and leaning closer until their lips touched.

Maria stood motionless for a few minutes and Desmond was worried that he had made a big mistake, when she suddenly laid her hands on his chest and returned the kiss. They started moving their lips and Desmond embraced her completely while she grabbed his head in both her hands. They eventually had to part because of lack of oxygen.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“You better do, because it is getting very boring without you. That includes the time you are spending in your study with this cursed apple.”, the last part was said bitterly.

Desmond pushed a strand of dark hair out of her face. “Forgive me, my love. It’s no excuse, but it feels like the apple is enchanting me.”

“Another reason for you to quit your work on it.”, she demanded.

“I can’t…”, her gaze darkened. “Can I ask you for something?”

“What is it?”

“Help me forget about the apple and if it’s only for one day.”, Desmond said.

She grinned: “How about one night?”

“Oh, have you something in mind?”

“Maybe you can show me your hidden blade when we are alone…?”,, she trailed off.

“It would be my pleasure.”, Desmond replied, successfully hiding his shock at such a statement.

“Stay safe.”, Maria finally said and leaned in for another kiss.

“I will.”, promised Desmond.

With that they parted and Desmond returned back to Malik’s side, both of them walking towards the stables, where Altair was undoubtedly waiting impatiently.

“Quite impressive.”, praised Malik, “Altair has no idea what’s awaiting him.”

Desmond chuckled and scratched his neck in embarrassment. “What do you think will happen if he finds out?”

“Either he castrates you personally or he kills you.”

“Great…”, Desmond gulped.

“Don’t worry; the novice is too stupid to figure it out. He will probably think that his precious wife has finally taken the first step.”, Malik tried to soothe the younger man.

“And what about Maria?”

“She had absolutely no idea that it was you and not Altair. Don’t worry about me either, I won’t tell him. You are way to amusing to be killed!”

“Thanks I guess.”

“I was wondering when you would arrive!”, another voice sounded.

“Altair!”, Desmond exclaimed.

“Don’t scold the boy, for it was my fault. I had to discuss something with him.”, Malik interfered.

Altair huffed at that and motioned for Desmond to come closer.

“We will be riding towards an old tower near Jerusalem. It’s an old hideout of our brotherhood and I want to check on the recruits there, because they have reported some abnormalities.”, Altair explained and Desmond nodded, “Well then, take a horse and follow me.”

Desmond hesitated and Altair raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t ride…”

“What?”, exclaimed Malik and Altair simultaneously.

“We don’t have horses where I am from…”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?”, Altair face palmed.

“I’m sorry?”, Desmond apologized quite embarrassed.

Malik chuckled evilly. “Have fun then.”

Altair just glared at Malik’s retreating back and his fingers twitched as if he wanted to throw something after the one-armed man.

“Someday I am going to strangle him…”, he then turned back to Desmond, “I hope you are a quick learner!”

It had been way easier than Desmond had expected.

“Probably thanks to the bleeding effect…”, Desmond thought.

He and Altair were riding side by side while the older man watched out should Desmond need any help. The horses, Desmond’s was a black mare and Altair’s a white stallion, were easily trotting through the dry landscape.

“You are doing well.”

“Only because you are teaching me.”

“You are still a bad liar.”, chuckled Altair.

“It was only half a lie… Well, maybe you can teach me how to do it properly then.”

“I fear that I do not have enough time for that.”, retorted the assassin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Desmond asked confused.

“It means that you are a lost cause!”, he laughed and urged his horse into a fast gallop, “What are you waiting for? Do you need an extra invitation?”

Desmond also urged his horse onward, trying his hardest to catch up to his ancestor and staying in the saddle at the same time.

“You still have a long way to go.”, said Altair once they reached their destination and had dismounted.

“I may not know how to properly ride a horse, but at least I can swim, how about you?”

“Bastard!”

“I love you too, brother!”, mocked Desmond and entered the tower with a grumbling Altair in tow.

Chapter Text

It had been a rather boring visit and Desmond almost wished he had stayed with Malik in Masyaf, if it hadn’t been for the ride back.

“I almost drowned when I was little.”

“Excuse me?”, asked Desmond, confused about what his ancestor was talking.

“Why I am not capable of swimming. When I was a little child, I had just become a novice together with Malik, I always trained near the river. Malik and his little brother would sometimes join me. One day however, Malik’s brother had slipped and fell into the water. I immediately jumped after him and was able to bring him back to the surface so Malik could pull him on shore. I was about to climb out as well, unfortunately it had rained strong the past days and the dam wasn’t build to hold so much water. It broke and the water masses pulled me with them. Luckily Malik and Kadar’s father had just arrived to pick up his sons. He was able to save me…”, Altair trailed off.

“Altair?”

“Pathetic, isn’t it? An assassin who is afraid of water…”

“Every human is afraid of something.”

“But still…”

“Do you regret that you never learned it?”, Desmond interrupted the elder.

“Yes.”

“I could teach you.”, Altair didn’t look too pleased with the idea, so Desmond added, “I am a life guard, that means I was trained to save people from drowning. Besides, if I wanted you dead I wouldn’t have taken the blade that was meant for you.”

“We’ll see.”, it was more than nothing, figured Desmond.

The rest of the ride had been silent. Altair didn’t seem to be in the mood for talking so Desmond had decided to think about his current situation. He came to the result that he should make sure that he always was with Altair when the man was out on missions. He should also make sure that Altair didn’t spend too much time with the apple so he wouldn’t get obsessed by it.

Back in Masyaf they were greeted by Malik and Maria, the latter running and hugging Altair as soon as he had dismounted. Altair however wasn’t prepared for the impact and both of them stumbled to the ground, Maria lying on top of Altair’s chest, kissing him fiercely.

Malik and Desmond chose a tactical retreat.

“It seemed to have worked.”, Desmond said a little proud of himself.

“Indeed. It would seem that you have Altair’s room all for you this night.”

Desmond groaned. “Please, no more details. It’s bad enough that I had to pretend to be him…”

Malik laughed. “You almost had me convinced back there too.”

The continued walking in comforting silence until Desmond came an idea.
“Master-“

“Call me Malik.”

“Alright, eh Malik, I was wondering if you could teach me about your culture and history.”

“You are clearly not Altair, he would never have asked for help, especially not mine. It would be my pleasure to teach you.”

“I’m in your debt then.”

“You saved my life; I think we should be even then.”

It had gotten late and dark when Malik and Desmond parted ways. Malik’s lessons had been tiresome yet very instructive and Desmond felt very exhausted now. Malik had been kind enough to take a look at his wound and he had promised to wake Desmond up the next morning in order to show him Masyaf’s fest properly.

As he laid down onto the cushions in Altair’s room, Desmond couldn’t help himself but wonder how his ancestor was fairing. Maria had seemed very demanding, even when it was him who she had talked to. Desmond almost felt sorry for his ancestor, but only almost. Instead he was reminded of the woman he had loved. Lucy, who had turned her back to the brotherhood and chose to join the templars. She would have betrayed them, Desmond had seen it shortly before he had killed her. He could have stopped it from happening, yet he chose to kill the woman he loved, the woman who had possessed his heart, the woman who hadn’t cared about him at all.

“Kind of ironic. I thought I had fallen in love with a spy that disguised herself as the enemy. Only to figure out that she had changed sides a long time ago. Altair on the other hand felt in love, knowing that the woman belonged to the templars. Yet she changed her path after her encounter with Altair…”, Desmond philosophized.

“It had been the right thing to do. You chose wisely, even though it had been Juno’s idea.”, came the startling voice of Minerva.

Desmond instinctively opened his eyes, only to be met by the silhouette of the goddess herself. She looked paler than normal and her posture showed signs of exhaustion.

“How could it have been right? I saw them putting the apple into the satellite. I saw their plans fail!”

“Their plan would have failed”, Minerva agreed, “but the price for it would have been high.”

“What price?”, he inquired.

“Countless men would have given their lives. But thanks to you Desmond Miles, their lives were spared. You are a hero.”

“I don’t feel like one.”

“And this is good, because as soon as you see yourself as a hero, you will cease to be one.”

“Can’t you give me a straight answer just once?”, Desmond asked annoyed.

Minerva ignored his question. “You seem to be troubled by something, tell me what it is.”

“Can’t you figure it out on your own?”, Desmond snapped but continued nonetheless, “I don’t know what I have to do.”

“You shall save your ancestor from death.”
“You already said as much, but it would be very helpful when you tell me when, where and how exactly.”

“That is something I cannot possible answer you. Time is changing rapidly with every move you make. The outcome is not clear.”
“Great, so there is a possibility that I’ll never exist?”, it was more a fact than an actual question.

“You would already have ceased to exist then. I would not be speaking to now, if you were ceasing to exist.”

Desmond hid his face in his hands and groaned: “This whole time travel thing is so confusing.”

“I agree on that.”, she hesitated for a moment before she continued, “You should lay down and rest. I feel that something is going to happen tomorrow. I cannot detect its source or what will happen, but you should be prepared for the worst outcome.”

“Worst outcome, what are you implying?”

“There is a high possibility that Juno decides to appear like I appear you. She will try to destroy you and your ancestor with her own powers.”

Desmond slightly panicked: “But you surely can stop her, right?”

“Not at this moment, healing your wound and appearing before you like this is draining my power. At a later date I should be able to hold her at bay, at least for buying you and Altair enough time to flee and hide.”

“That is very reassuring.”, Desmond said sarcastically.

“You are angry.”, she said with a monotone voice.
“Of course I am angry! Mine and Altair’s life is in danger and you are no help at all!”, Desmond snapped.

“That is not all.”, it infuriated Desmond even more that she seemed to keep her cool.

“Why does it always have to be me?”, he almost shouted now.

“You are the chosen one. You, Desmond Miles, are the only who has the slightest choice.”

“Great…”, he said sarcastically.

“I trust in you Desmond Miles and so does your ancestor.”, with these words the figure of Minerva became even paler until she completely vanished, leaving Desmond with a huge headache and even more tired than before.

He sighed and let himself fall back into the pillows. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, until his eyes closed on their own and he fell into a deep slumber.

Chapter Text

The next morning had been quite interesting. Malik had kindly woken him up, by letting a novice shout into his ear. The poor novice almost feared for his life, because he had apologised to his 'mentor' countless times, while Malik laughed Desmond had just ordered him to train.

On the little tour through the fest, Malik had admitted that his little prank had actually been a punishment for the novice, he even apologised for using Desmond as bait since Altair had been unavailable. Desmond had just shrugged it off.

After their little bumpy start in the day, Desmond and Malik went to some kind of restroom, where eager novices and recruits brought them food.

It was midday when Altair appeared.

“You look great brother!”, Desmond greeted.

“I feel great Khasir.”, he was grinning unnaturally.

Malik gave Desmond a discrete wink. “Somebody had a good night.”

“You have no idea, Malik.”

“I think I do.”

“Are you married as well?”, questioned Desmond.

“Not yet married, but it can only be a matter of time now.”

Desmond nodded.

“What about you, Khasir?”, asked Altair.

“I am not married nor do I have a lover.”

“No wonder you are acting so stuck up all the time!”, said Malik.

“Hey!”

“Malik is right. But luckily for you, you have inherited my good looks; it shouldn't be too hard for you to find somebody.”

“I'd rather not…”

“Look at this Altair, the young one is shy.”

“Don't worry; you have two masters at your side. We'll get you a girl.”

“Stop it, will you?”, Desmond interfered, but was promptly ignored.

“If you are going to help, the boy will never have a girl!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“When I recall correctly, it was Maria who took the matters into her hands.”

Altair was about to retort, but Desmond abruptly stood up.

“Shut up! Both of you! I am not interested in any relationship right now, so stop tampering with my life. I can handle myself well enough, thank you very much!”

Malik and Altair were speechless at Desmond's outburst. They shared a shocked look and Desmond sighed annoyed. “I'll be training!”

With that Desmond left the two men alone.

“What was that all about?", asked Malik irritated.

“I don't know… maybe I should go and talk to him.”, Altair was about to get up.

“No! Let him be for now.”

“Because I should stop tampering with his life?”, Altair snapped.

“Because the boy needs time alone now. Let him cool down and he'll come to you on his own behalf.”

“He calls me brother, yet he is acting like this and shutting me out. I barely know him, but he knows so much about me.”

“The way I see it, he cares deeply about you, but doesn't know how to properly approach you.”

“He didn't seem to have problems yesterday!”, snapped Altair.

“By Allah, Altair! If the boy is truly your descendant, he definitely has inherited your bad temper!”

Altair glared daggers at Malik, who returned the glare stubbornly. The younger man eventually huffed in great annoyance, before leaving Malik behind without another word.

Malik sighed and supported his head with his hand.

“I an surrounded by novices!”, he grumbled.

After a tiring training with a few fellow assassins, Desmond was sure that they would never want to train with him ever again, he felt guilty. He hadn't meant to snap at his ancestor and said ancestor's oldest friend. That was why Desmond found himself standing before the closed doors of Malik's private study.

He knocked and as Malik called out for him to enter, Desmond braced himself for the worst before finally stepping in. Malik was focused on his work and didn't even look up when Desmond stood directly before him.

“I want to apologise!”, Desmond blurted out, which made Malik look up, “I am sorry for snapping at you and Altair. It was disrespectful and I shouldn't have reacted the way I did!”

“No offence was taken, at least not by me. Still, you better talk to Altair, because I fear the novice hasn't realised that there was a deeper reason for your reaction.”, at Desmond's uncertain look, Malik continued, “Don't worry, I am not going to question you, for it is not my place to ask. And if Altair should ask, tell him when you do not want to answer. I am sure he will understand.”

“Thank you for your forgiveness and advice.”, Desmond slightly bowed his head.

Malik just waved it aside. “No damage was done and it’s always a pleasure to help fellow brothers!”

“Do you know where I can find Altair?”

Malik's expression abruptly darkened: “I would bet my remaining arm that he is sulking in his study and glaring at this cursed apple!”

Desmond chose not to reply to that, but nodded his thanks and swiftly left the room.

Desmond was more than nervous as he stood before the doors of Altair's study. He had barely stopped himself from turning tail and running far away. Of course he knew that this was childish, but Desmond couldn't help himself but to be afraid; not of what Altair might do to him, but of how the elder would react and what he would think about him now.

Somehow Desmond had managed to find the courage to knock.

“Get lost, I am busy!”, came the muffled voice from the other side of the door.

Desmond winced, Altair was obviously not in a good mood and it was probably his fault. Desmond debated a moment with himself, if he should head off and try again tomorrow, but quickly chose against it.

He slowly opened the door and peeked inside. Altair was seated at his desk, hunched over, arms lying on the desk and head lying on his arms.

“Altair?”

“I said I am busy, do you-“, he stopped abruptly when he recognised that it was Desmond standing in his doorway.

“Eh… hey!”, Desmond started lamely, “I wanted to apologise for my behaviour... Are you alright?”

Altair had laid his head back down and groaned. Desmond hesitated for only a moment, before he walked across the room and kneeled down next to Altair. He carefully laid a hand on the older man's back and when Desmond felt his ancestor tense, he started to rub soothing circles.

“Are you feeling alright?”, repeated Desmond his question.

“I feel as if a thousand templars have trampled over me.”

“Shall I go and fetch you something?”, Desmond started to worry, remembering Minerva's words.

“Water?”, Altair asked.

Desmond nodded and quickly brought the requested item. Altair had obviously problems with getting up so Desmond helped him. The sight that awaited him was shocking. Altair had dark circles under his eyes, looked too pale and tired, his eyes were glassy and his forehead sweaty.

“Fuck!”, cursed Desmond, “I am going to fetch Malik!”

He was about to stand up and leave, when a surprisingly strong hand grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t leave!”, Altair sounded lost and it definitely didn’t suit Altair, Desmond thought.

“Altair, you need help!”

“Please!”, Altair begging was enough for Desmond to crouch back down.

“What happened?”, Desmond tried again.

“Poison…”

“But how?”

“One of the recruits had brought me my meal, I fear it was poisoned.”

“What will we do now?”

“I won’t die. The purpose of the poison is probably to make me helpless…”, he grinned, “but thankfully I have my little brother to watch out for me.”

Desmond nodded seriously. “Come on, I need to get you to your room.”

“What about the traitor?”, Altair asked, while he was being pulled up and supported by Desmond.

“If the purpose of this whole thing was to make you vulnerable to any attack than the traitor will return to end his work. How unfortunately that it won’t be you sitting behind the desk.

“I like that plan!”

Together they more or less stumbled back to Altair’s room. They eventually had to stop, because Altair’s body had decided it wanted to get rid of the poison by emptying the content of its stomach into a poor plant.

“There, there”, Desmond said while comfortingly rubbing the back of his ancestor. “better out than in!”

“Not funny!”, Altair weakly retorted while leaning back into Desmond’s chest.

Desmond knew that this was a bad sign, because Altair was hardly somebody for much physically contact. He carefully helped Altair back up and they somehow managed to overcome the last few metres to Altair’s room, where he would be able to rest properly.

Chapter Text

Desmond had made sure that Altair was comfortable and asleep before he left his ancestor's bedroom and entered said man's study. Desmond tried to memorise in what position he had found Altair and decided that it would be best if he hid his face. He may look like Altair, but he missed the symptoms of the poison.

Only when he silently waited, did Desmond realise that he hadn't spotted the apple or any sign of it.

“So Malik had been wrong after all!”, Desmond thought proudly.

He didn't have to wait long for the heavy wooden door to open. Desmond prepared himself mentally.

“Mentor?”, a unknown voice sounded.

Desmond chose not to answer.

“Ha, look at that. The great Altair Ibn-La'Ahad at my mercy. How you were able to kill Al’Mualim is still a mystery to me. You are not fitting to lead the brotherhood; Abbas should be the one leading us. And now I'll make sure he will!”

He unknown person stepped closer to Desmond, but before he could do so much as hurt a hair on Desmond. The latter had jumped up and roughly grabbed the other man's wrist, who in return let the dagger fall. Desmond pinned the man face down and arms held behind his back on the desk. A surprised and pained scream had escaped the man and Desmond was sure the rest of the fest would have heard it.

“That isn't possible, you should have been unable to defend yourself.”, groaned the man.

Desmond just tightened his grip and growled: “Who are you?”

“I am not going to tell you dirty bastard anything!”

Desmond took the man's wrists into his right hand and with the other he grabbed the man's neck. He looked closely at the man lying on the desk. Desmond couldn’t remember ever seeing this man in Altair’s memories.

Right in this moment the door was forcefully pushed open and Malik appeared, followed by a few fellow assassins who all had their sword drawn.

“Altair?”, he asked shocked, “What happened?”

“Leave, I can handle this myself!”, Desmond snapped, not realising how Malik had just called him, but Malik just motioned for the other assassins to leave while he remained. Desmond focused back on his prisoner.

“Last chance, who are you and why did you poison my brother?”, Desmond said in a dangerously low voice that made even Malik flinch.

“Why should I poison your brother? He is obviously another of your failures. I bet the draw in your sorry excuse for a test was planed, I bet that otherwise, he wouldn't have had a chance!”

Desmond huffed: “This ‘failure’ is just holding you captive, so you would do better to watch what you are saying or it might end badly for you!”

The traitor remained silent at that, too shocked to come up with a reply. Even Malik looked as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Any last words?”, Desmond looked into Malik’s eyes for confirmation and the older man immediately nodded his approval.

“Rot in hell!”, the traitor snapped.

“You first!”, and with that Desmond flicked his wrist and his hidden blade snapped out, successfully cutting through the main artery of the man's neck.

Desmond deactivated the blade again and released the dead man, who immediately slipped from the desk to the bottom where already a pool of blood was forming.

“Khasir?”, Malik broke the silence and Desmond looked at him. “So it is really you!”

“Of course it’s me. Who else did you thought it was?”

“It’s just that you were looking and acting so much like Altair back there, it was unnerving… but that doesn’t matter now! What’s with Altair? Is he alright?”

“He is currently resting, but it would be good, if you took a look at him.”

Malik nodded in agreement and together they walked in silence towards Altair’s room. Once inside, they were greeted by the sight of a sitting Altair, who had his face hidden in his hands.

“Novice, what do you think you are doing? You should be resting!”

“It’s kind of hard to rest when people are screaming all the time.”, he looked pointedly at Desmond. He looked a little better than when Desmond found him. His skin had gained a bit of its original colour back, but the circles under his eyes remained.

Desmond grinned sheepishly and Malik sighed. “Lay back down and let me examine you, you look terrible!”, he ordered.

Altair did as he was told and Desmond watched the whole procedure in silence and deep in thoughts. He didn’t even notice Altair calling out for him. Only when a pillow was thrown at his head, which he expertly caught, he was brought out of his musings and blinked confused.

“At least your reflexes are good.”, Altair said.

Desmond’s face got light red in embarrassment. “Sorry, I was just deep in thought.”

“So we have seen.”, Malik retorted clearly amused.

“I trust that you got rid of our little problem?”, Altair inquired.

“Let’s just say that you need a new carpet, unless you like the colour red that is…”, Desmond answered while handing the pillow back.

Altair laughed: “That’s my boy!”

“As I said earlier, I think you should rest and leave your tasks to the boy.”, Malik motioned towards Desmond.

“You think you can handle being me for a little while longer?”, Altair asked warmly.

“Do I have to?”, Desmond grimaced.

“Are you implying that it is bad to be me?”

“Of course there is nothing worse than to be you! Look at yourself!”, Malik interfered.

“I knew it! You two are planning a rebellion against me!”, Altair pouted.

“Not helping Malik”, Desmond said, “especially not after what the man had said…”

Altair suddenly became serious again: “What did he tell you?”

“Not much. He just kept saying that you are unfit to lead the brotherhood and that Abbas should be the one leading us.”

“If they truly consider Abbas as a good leader, then they have completely lost their minds. We might as well ask a templar to be our leader then.”, Malik said irascible.

Altair didn’t look convinced in the slightest: “If the masses truly want him as a leader-“

“Stop this train of thought immediately, Altair! You as well as I know that Abbas would only lead the brotherhood in its doom. You are a great leader, never doubt that!”, Malik said seriously.

“I agree with Malik. You have the trust and admiration of most of your men. Don’t let a few cast doubts!”

“You truly think so high of me?” Malik and Desmond nodded in unison.

“Besides, you have Malik and me now at your side. We make sure that nothing will happen to you and together we shall show them what we are truly capable of! We are assassins!”

“Hear, hear!”, Malik agreed.

Chapter Text

Desmond swore that he would never pretend to be Altair again. Of course it had his quirks being the mentor, but most of the time it was just boring and annoying as hell. Desmond could perfectly understand now why Altair even considered studying the apple.

“At least”, Desmond thought, “Malik is keeping me company.”

Luckily for him, Altair recovered rather quickly and could soon do the tasks as a mentor himself again. Desmond however, decided to not leave his ancestor's side again.

“You don't have to follow me everywhere like a lost puppy!”, Altair explained, but with amusement in his eyes while they were wandering through Masyaf.

“I do, because I am not going to risk you getting hurt!”

“Did Maria say anything?”, Altair changed the topic.

“We didn't really talk much.” Altair raised an eyebrow. “After she tried to kiss and literally jump me, Malik and I decided it would be the best to tell her the truth. She said it was a pleasure to finally meet me and she hoped you would recover soon.”

This truth didn't include the first time she and Desmond met.

“I see.”

“You haven't told me where we are heading.”

“Well, I was going to head for the stables and check the walls and borders of Masyaf. You just invited yourself in!”

“Is that a problem?”, Desmond asked seriously.

“Not at all, I actually enjoy your company!”, Altair grinned and Desmond returned the smile. “Unless you are shouting at Malik and me of course.”

Desmond's smile immediately dropped. He knew that Altair wouldn't have forgotten about the incident.”

“About that…”

“I do remember the apology, but it's fine when you don't want to talk about it.”, Altair said earnestly. “Just know that you can always come to me and Malik if something is troubling you.”

“I will, thank you!”

“That's what big brothers are for!”, he winked and ruffled Desmond's hair.

“Hey!”

“Keep your hood up and I won't be able to do that.”

“You would find a way!”, Desmond glared at his ancestor, who laughed in return.

“Well, everything seems to be in order.”

“Great.”, replied Desmond after hours of riding. “At least now I know why we are doing this. Nobody else would voluntarily do this!”

“You didn't have to come.”, Altair reminded him.

“And you could entertain me.”

“Ask then.”

Desmond didn't have to think long. “What are you going to do about Abbas?”

“I can't do anything about him without him doing anything wrong. He could even insult me and the whole brotherhood and my hands would still be bound. I fear this is going to become ugly. It will be a fight for the dominance and upper hand and whoever makes the first mistake will lose.”

“Then we just have to make sure that you don’t lose.”

“Easier said than done, because-”

Before Altair could finish his sentence, another sneering voice cut in: “Look who we have here; the great mentor and his sweet pet brother.”

Desmond and Altair turned their horses and where greeted by the sight of no other than Abbas himself. Abbas was currently sitting on a black horse, behind him a hand full of men and a wooden cart between them.

“Abbas, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, but don’t you know great mentor? You sent me away to take care of a little templar problem and here I am.”, he sneered and turned to Desmond, “I heard the little one there was poisoned. How fortunately that he survived.”

“It was one of your men, who poisoned him.”, Altair said.

“My men? Are you sure about this, because if you cannot prove it, it could end badly for you, mentor! And we don’t want things to get ugly, do we?”

“Are you threatening me?”, Altair said in a dangerous voice, eyes narrowed in anger and hatred.

“Me threatening you? I would never even dream of it.”

“Liar!”, Desmond interfered.

“Watch your tongue squirt or I’ll cut it out of your mouth!”, Abbas threatened.

“You can try!”, Desmond challenged before Altair could say anything.

“With pleasure!”, Abbas said while unsaddling.

Desmond, Altair and the rest of the men quickly followed his example.

“Do your worst!”

Desmond watched Abbas smirk and taking off his hidden blade as well as his sword, leaving him with a dagger.

“At least he has no throwing knives!”, Desmond thought bitterly.

“What are you doing?”, Altair hissed under his breath.

“Like you said; fighting for dominance.”

“Khasir-“, Altair began.

“Nothing you’ll say will stop me from giving this bastard what he deserves!”

Altair sighed but then nodded. “Give me your blades, only keep your dagger. This will be a fist fight, but should you win, you are allowed to humiliate your opponent by cutting off his hood and cutting your symbol into his skin.”

Desmond nodded in understanding and did what he was told. Altair looked worried for a moment, but Desmond winked at him and gave him an encouraging smile.

“Would you recommend humiliating him?”, asked Desmond while Altair was securing Desmond’s belongings onto his white stallion.

“It would definitely show him his place… but you don’t have a symbol, do you?” Desmond shook his head. “Well, mine is an eagle…”

“Figured as much… is it common for relatives to have the same symbol?”, inquired Desmond.

“Normally the father passes his symbol to his sons. The sons don’t have to except it, but usually they do.”

“I trust you to help me then.”

“And I trust you not to lose!”, Altair had grabbed his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

With that Desmond and Abbas got into position, fists raised. Abbas seemed to study his left arm with what seemed like interest and only then did Desmond remember his tattoo that probably looked strange for people of this time. He quickly focused back on Abbas when the said assassin dashed forward, but Desmond could easily dodge the attacks of the older male.

Abbas fighting style was far from Altair’s, who was strong but precise and graceful at the same time. Abbas’ fighting style was wild, brutal and lacking of Altair’s precision and Desmond could easily make out openings in his opponents defence.

Desmond clearly had the upper hand in this fight and it seemed the other knew that as well, because instead of attacking like before, he slowly took a few steps back, nearing the cliff.

“Come on, what’s the matter? Are you afraid to hurt me?”, provoked Abbas, but Desmond ignored it and kept his focus on the fight. He might have had the upper hand now, but one wrong step and the tide may be turning in Abbas’ favour.

Abbas chose to dash forward again since his provocation attempt didn’t work and somehow they ended up even closer to the edge of the cliff. Desmond didn’t pay it any attention, trusting his ability to not fall down, but he hadn’t expected Abbas’ men to interfere.

Altair shouting for him to watch out was the last thing Desmond realised before he was hit by the cart and thrown over the cliff.

Chapter Text

Somehow Desmond wasn't able to recall what happened after he was hit by the cart. The whole fall was a blur. The next thing he did remember was a loud splash before he found himself surrounded by water. Normally this wouldn't have been a problem, but he was still a little dazed from the fall and the water flow became stronger the further he drifted. When Desmond regained his senses back, the flow was already to strong to swim against and more often then not, he found himself being pushed down by its force.

He didn't know how he did it, but somehow in the blindness of flowing water, Desmond was able to get a hold on some rock. He clasped it tightly and desperately searched for a way out of this mess, because the remains of the cart was quickly coming closer and behind Desmond was only a great waterfall and he wasn't sure if he would survive such a fall.

Luck however, was not on Desmond's side today; because the rock had not been enough protection and Desmond found himself falling once more.

The impact had been very painful and Desmond was sure he had gained a few bruises by it, but thankfully he was still alive. His good mood was quickly dimmed however, when he was partly buried under the cart's remains, unable to move.

Desmond desperately tried to lift the wooden pieces but found that he was not able to do so. He mentally cursed and struggled with all his might against the heavy wood so he would get his leg free, but all efforts were for naught.

He started to slightly panic, because the air was getting thin and no way of escape was in sight. Desmond forced himself not to breath, even though the edge of his vision was blurring and turning black. Suddenly something heavy dived into the water right next to him and Desmond found himself gazing into two golden orbs

Altair was actually swimming towards Desmond's leg and lifted, with Desmond's help, the heavy wooden planks high enough for the latter to pull out his leg from under it. As soon as his leg was out, Altair let go of the planks and slung his arm around Desmond and brought both of them back to the surface where both men took deep breathes. They somehow managed to reach the shore, where both laid down, breathing deeply. Altair still had his arms around the younger male, while Desmond tried to level his breathing.

After a while, they still hadn't moved, Altair took the word: “Are you alright?”

Desmond nodded and carefully sat up; his vision was clear again, but his head still felt dizzy.

“You… you saved me!”, he managed to wheeze out.

Altair suddenly grabbed the back of Desmond's head and rested their foreheads together, closing his eyes.

“When I saw you... when I saw you underwater… I thought I had lost you!”, his grip tightened.

Desmond pulled back and chose to embrace his ancestor, a gesture that Altair immediately returned. Desmond could never imagine what Altair had just witnessed. Altair had almost lost a precious person and had to overcome his probably worst fear.

They continued to just sit there in silence, taking comfort in the presence of each other, until Desmond started to shiver from the cold.

“Come on. It's getting cold and dark, we should head back.”, Altair eventually broke the silence and they stood up.

Altair whistled and his horse approached them in a slow trot. There was no sign of Desmond's horse.

“I fear that I left your horse with Abbas when I swung myself on my horse and rode after you. I guess we have to share.”

“You had to be quite fast.”

“I was about to ride down the path”, he motioned to the path from which his horse had came from, “I am glad that I chose to jump down."

“You jumped from up there?”, Desmond looked at his ancestor in awe.

“I would do anything for my family… even jump into a deep lake.”, he got into his horse and offered Desmond his hand.

Desmond immediately climbed behind him and wrapped his arms around Altair. Desmond was secretly glad to ride right behind Altair. The man's back was warm and Desmond's clothes were damp and he shivered in the wind.

Both men were glad when they saw the walls of Masyaf and Altair even sped up his horse. At the stables they were greeted by the sight of Malik and a few fellow assassins of all ranks. Malik was ordering them around, but once his gaze found them, he came running towards them.

“Thank Allah! Altair, Khasir you are alright! We had been worried when Abbas returned and fold us you two fell down a cliff.”

“Did he now?”, asked Altair his gaze darkening.

Desmond was climbing down the horse's back and Malik immediately took notice of the state he and Altair were in.

“What happened to you?”, Malik asked shocked.

He was taking of his coat and laid it over Desmond’s shoulders, who nodded his thanks. Meanwhile Altair had also climbed down and had handed the reins to one of the novices, while taking Desmond's weapons of the horse.

“Khasir and Abbas were fighting, but Abbas wasn't fighting fair. His men let a cart roll lose and it hit Khasir. He fell over the cliff, but luckily landed in the river.”

“I fell down the waterfall and my leg was stuck under the cart's remains, but Altair saved me.”, Desmond finished.

Malik looked shocked. “You jumped into the lake?”

“I had no other choice, he was drowning…”

“I am proud of you novice!”

“And I can't thank you enough!”, Desmond added.

“No need to. You would have done the same, in a way you already did.”, he thought for a moment, “I swear, the next time I see Abbas I will-“

“You will do nothing!”, Desmond interfered, “Technically he wasn't involved in the incident. You would only be able to punish the man responsible for this… if you saw who it was that is!”

From Altair's sour expression Desmond figured that he didn't know.

“Let us get inside first; you two should get out of these clothes. I will make sure you also get something proper to eat, we don't want you to catch a cold!”, Malik said and turned around.

“Let me tell you from experience, being ill in such temperatures is not pleasant at all!”

Desmond grimaced and they swiftly followed Malik, who was already halfway there.

“Brother?”, Desmond asked hesitantly.

“Mmh.”

“Have I lost to Abbas?”, he asked worried.

Altair turned serious: “He will definitely say so, but I'll be there to interfere then. I will not allow that dirty son of an old hinny to endanger my family anymore!”

Desmond was sure that Altair would have made a rude gesture, if it hadn't been for the weapons he was still carrying, but that didn't stop Altair for finding a few more very creative insults for Abbas. Desmond rolled his eyes at Altair's antics and even Malik gave him a highly amused look. Desmond guessed this behaviour was either to let out his anger or to overplay his concern.

Chapter Text

Desmond's sleep had been restless. Minerva had chosen to contact him in his dreams once more. She had told him more about Juno's plans, who had decides to use the already rebellious Abbas for her cause. As well as the templar, who she seemingly promised the head of the great Altair Ibn-La'Ahad on a silver plate as well as the piece of Eden. It didn’t sound good for them, but then it rarely did and Desmond now at least knew what his true goal and intention was.

First he would get rid of Abbas, then he would take care of every templar that would stay in his and Altair’s way and finally it would be Juno’s turn. The latter seemed to be the biggest problem, because Desmond had absolutely no idea on how to defeat her and even Minerva’s promise of helping him and his ancestor, didn’t ease Desmond’s mind in the slightest.

“What is troubling you?”, Altair asked into the dark that surrounded them.

He and Desmond had been lying back to back on the same mattress and it seemed as if Desmond somehow had managed to wake Altair up.

“I can’t sleep, because my mind is still too active and awake.”, Desmond answered.

He felt the mattress shift behind him and turned around. Altair had turned so that he was facing Desmond, but he was propping himself up on his arm.

“Want to talk about it?”

“I am not quite certain what it is myself… did I wake you?”, he quickly changed the topic.

Altair only shrugged, but didn’t return to his former sleeping position, but stayed like he was, silently observing Desmond.

Suddenly Desmond remembered their earlier chat: “Maria used to be a templar, right?”

Altair raised his eyebrow and frowned: “Yes, but why do you ask? Do you have anything against her?”

“No, of course not… but my last girlfriend, her name was Lucy Stillman, she should have been an assassin disguised as a templar. It turned out that she actually had switched sides and had become a templar and was now spying on us. And I had trusted her, especially since she had helped me get out of the templars’ claws.”

“What happened to her?” Desmond looked into his ancestor’s face, which showed curiosity and maybe even a tint of disgust.

“Lucy, two fellow assassins named Rebecca and Shaun and me were in a temple. We had found one of the apples and where about to retrieve it before the templars did. When I touched it, it showed me Lucy’s betrayal, how she would steal the apple and give it to the templars. The actual plan of them would have failed, but there would have been thousands of dead innocent people. So I decided to kill her.”

“I am truly sorry and I understand now, why you behaved so negative when Malik and I talked about finding you a woman.”, Altair said with sympathy in his eyes.

Desmond just shrugged and closed his eyes again, but Altair wasn’t finished with questioning him: “You said that she saved you from the templars’ claws… what was that supposed to mean?”

“I already told you that I wasn’t an assassin from the beginning and that I screwed up big time, didn’t I?”, Altair nodded, “Well, don’t be mad, but I was captured by the templars and they used me to gain access to your memories.”

Altair looked shocked for a moment. “Why would they do that?”

“The wanted the position of the other pieces of Eden… do you remember the map the apple showed you?”, Altair nodded and Desmond continued, “That was what they were after.”

“I see.”

“I hate to say this, but if it hadn’t been for the templars, I still would work as a bartender and not as an assassin.”, Desmond confessed.

Altair’s gaze softened again. “At least one good thing… we would never have met otherwise!”

Desmond chuckled: “How you just accept this.”

“Do you want me to scream and hit you? Besides, I figured this whole ‘seeing my memory’ thing isn’t worth the headache.”

“True!”, Desmond agreed, “At first I had been afraid of you, you know…”

Altair raised an eyebrow. “And now you aren’t?”

“Of course not.”

Altair smirked evilly, before attacking Desmond. Both men were rolling around the floor, chuckling and laughing. At some point Desmond just gave up and was promptly pinned to the floor.

“We are acting like children!”, he laughed.

“So, had enough already? Still not afraid of me?”

“Totally petrified!”, Desmond lied.

“Still a bad liar!”

“Still an old man!”, this earned him a flick to the forehead.

Altair let go of him and sat back, allowing Desmond to sit up as well.

“I am not sure that I am able to sleep now.”

Altair hummed in agreement, before he looked out of the window for a moment and abruptly stood up, smirking.

“Put on a shirt and your boots and come on.”

“Where are we going?”; Desmond asked but did as he was told.

“You’ll see.”

Together, Altair and Desmond walked through the silent town. The full moon gave enough light to see everything clearly. Desmond looked at the town with awe. Masyaf seemed almost magically at night.

“Care to take a run with me?”, Altair asked and motioned for the tower at the other end of the little town.

“The loser has to do whatever the winner wants from him?”

“Deal!”, they shook hands.

Altair counted to three and both started running in unison. It felt great to be able to climb and run over the roofs of Masyaf, especially when he managed to throw Altair into a haystack, which earned him a few curses and insults. Unfortunately Altair knew Masyaf better than Desmond did and it was only by a few metres that he beat the younger man. Altair looked smug when Desmond reached him and Desmond immediately regretted his little bet.

“This is going to be so much fun, for me that is.”, Altair said, earning him concerned looks from the guards positioned in the tower.

“I suspect terrible…”

“You have no idea, little brother.”, Altair’s eyes gleamed malign and Desmond decided it would be best for a tactical retreat.

“I am out of here!”, he yelled and ran towards the small boardwalk and made a leap of faith.

He landed safe in one of the haystacks, not that Desmond had expected otherwise and looked up to see Altair looking proudly down at him. The guards were sharing a stare and looked surprised and dumbfounded at him. Desmond just waved at them and ran back to the town; he knew that Altair wouldn’t be too far behind him.

He had slowed down along the way and only stopped when he felt two arms wrap around his shoulders.

“Got you! That was quite a jump.”, Altair praised.

They walked together back to Masyaf’s fest. Altair had an arm draped around Desmond’s shoulders and Desmond happily returned the gesture.

“It is a pity that you didn’t arrive sooner, I always wanted a little brother.”, the older assassin eventually said.

“And I always wanted an older brother.”, Desmond added.

As an answer, Desmond was pulled tighter to his ancestor’s body and together they enjoyed the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Malik looked at them with a raised eyebrow and an angry and annoyed look on his face.

“Am I this boring or what did you two idiots do last night?”

Desmond had at least the decency to look embarrassed for falling asleep during Malik’s speech, while Altair just yawned and looked utterly bored.

“Sorry…?”, Desmond tried.

“Sorry?! Is that everything you have to say to this?”, snapped Malik.

“Let the boy out of this. It had been my idea to go free running.”, Altair interfered.

Desmond shot him a thankful look and Altair winked in return, while Malik threw his hand up in frustration. He then turned away from them and mumbled inaudible things to himself.

Altair slightly leaned towards Desmond and whispered: “I dare you to hug him and give him a teary apologize.”

“And I dare you to hit on Maria in front of him and me.”

“Why should I hit my wife?”, Altair asked shocked and confused.

Desmond face palmed: “You are not supposed to hit her! You are supposed to flirt with her or coax her into your bed; however you want to put it.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because it will be terrible amusing for me and Malik to watch you fail terrible!”

Altair looked offended: “Why are you even interested in my love life?”

“I’m your descendant.”

“Fair enough… alright, deal!”

Desmond concentrated and prepared himself for his act. He once more thanked Ezio, who had been a pretty decent actor, especially once he had reached a certain age.

He finally stood up, shoulders hunched and head bowed, so that his hood hid his eyes.

“Ma…Malik?”, he sniffed.

“What do you wa-“, Malik interrupted himself once he had turned fully around and looked at the sniffling man around him.

That Altair made a worried face didn’t help Malik at all to grasp on what exactly was happening just now.

“Surely nobody would cry, because I have snapped at them, especially not a fully grown man.”, Malik thought confused.

“Khasir, are you alright?”, all the anger had drained from Malik’s voice and was instead replaced by worry.

Desmond almost felt sorry, when he rushed forward and embraced the one-armed man. He hid his face in the older man’s neck, so that Malik wouldn’t be able to see his grin. Malik awkwardly patted the younger male’s back in comfort and looked quizzically at Altair when said male started to sob into his neck. Altair just shrugged. Wouldn’t he know that this was all just a charade; Altair would actually believe that Desmond was crying his heart out.

“Hey, it’s alright. There’s nothing for you to cry about!”, Malik tried to soothe the seemingly distraught man, “I am not even mad at you.”

“Really?”, Desmond asked between the sobs.

“Yes.”, Malik replied and nodded his head.

He was slightly overwhelmed by this whole situation.

“What about Altair?”, Desmond inquired further.

“Him neither.”

“But you should!”

“Why is that?”, Malik asked even more confused than before, he had even stopped patting Desmond’s back.

“Because the damn bastard dared me to do this!”, Desmond said with his normal voice.

In the meantime Altair was trying hard to stiffen his laughter. Desmond finally stepped away from Malik, winked and smiled at him and was gone before Malik had figured out what just happened.

Outside Malik’s study, Desmond could hear Altair’s hysterical laughter and a heavy object that was surely thrown at his ancestor. He almost felt pity, but on the other hand he feared more for his own life now, so Desmond decided to go and train the novices instead. A task he had gladly accepted from Altair.

“There you are you damn weasel!”, Altair shouted when Desmond entered the restroom.

“Excuse me?”

“You little rat abandoned me with him.”, he motioned to Malik, who had interrupted his talk with Maria, who looked curiously at him.

“Love you, brother?”, Desmond didn’t sound convinced at all.

Altair just raised an eyebrow and Desmond slightly backed away. “Should I be running?”

“You have five seconds!”

Desmond was gone in a flash. Altair took one last sip of his drink nodded at Malik and hesitantly kissed Maria, he still wasn’t too fond of public affection, and ran after Desmond.

They returned shortly after, Desmond with a black eye and Altair with a bleeding nose, but both looking smug.

“Altair, dear god, what happened?”, Maria exclaimed.

“Guess into who we ran during our little chase.”, Desmond started.

“Literally running into.”, Altair added.

Malik and Maria just shared a confused look and shrug in confusion. Maria then tried to clean up the blood on Altair’s face, but the assassin just pushed her away gently.

“Who are you talking about?”, Malik finally asked.

“Let’s just say that the dear Abbas, won’t bother us anymore.”, Desmond said.

“Actually he won’t bother anybody in a long time.”

“You didn’t…?”, Malik and Maria said in unison.

“Don’t worry, he just has to stay in bed for a couple of week. We might have broken a few ribs and other bones of him.”, Desmond clarified.

“That’s horrible! Tell me that you at least had a good reason!”, Maria demanded.

“That son of a hinny just got what he deserved for trying to kill my little brother!”, Altair said while putting a protective arm around Desmond’s shoulder, who handed him a wet towel for his nose.

“He tried to kill Khasir?”, Maria asked shocked.

“Didn’t I tell you?”, Maria shook her head at Altair’s question and the latter looked sheepishly.

Malik then rejoined the conversation and demanded to know every little detail about their short fight with Abbas and a few of his henchmen. Maria had rolled her eyes at their antics, but eventually joined in as well.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?”, Desmond eventually mumbled to Altair and motioned to Maria, who was once again talking to Malik.

Altair grimaced, but quickly changed his expression into a smile when Maria turned to him.

“Altair, I am almost finished with decorating our shared bedroom. We soon will be able to move in.”

“That’s great, beloved, and I can’t wait to properly inaugurate the bed, if you know what I mean.”

Maria looked stunned for a moment, before smiling sweetly at Altair. Malik looked shocked between Altair and Desmond, who winked at him knowingly.

“Why wait for the room to be finished?”, Maria asked.

“We could go to your room instead.”, Altair suggested.

“I don’t know if Abbas hit your head too hard, or if this is the blood loss speaking, but what the hell is wrong with you?”, Maria laughed.

“Just seeing an angel right before me and taking advantage of it.”

“Taking it’s purity would describe it better.”, Malik mumbled to Desmond, who snorted into his drink.

Maria obviously decided she had had enough and stood up, grabbing Altair by his collar and dragging him out of the room.

“I fear that we won’t seem him for a while.”, Desmond said.

“If he survives that it.”, Malik added and Desmond laughed, “What exactly is going on with you two today?”

“Altair dared me to gave you a teary apologize and to hug you and I dared him to flirt with Maria in front of us.”

“You are incredible.”, Malik shook his head in disbelief.

“Why is that?”

“Altair hadn’t been acting so openly and almost childish since we were little children. I don’t know what you did to gain his trust and to bring back this side of him, but please, don’t stop now.”, Malik looked serious.

“I have no idea what I did… you don’t think such a leader will weaken the brotherhood?”, Desmond asked unsure.

“Are you kidding me? A leader who is acting his age inspires novices. It shows that we are one big family and it’s emphasizing our credo. Nothing is true and everything is permitted. Why shouldn’t our dear mentor act childish sometimes when everything is permitted? It is definitely better than him gazing at this cursed apple for countless hours.”
“You couldn’t stop him from doing so?”

“Not even Maria could. I admit that he found out a lot of information that will be very useful for our fight against the templars, but it is hurting the brotherhood.”

Desmond nodded in understanding.

Malik eventually decided to leave and go back to his work. Desmond pondered for a while if he should continue training the poor novices, but he decided against it rather quickly. He had tortured them enough for one day, he decided.

Instead he went to Altair’s study and did his ancestor a favour by doing his work. A lot of paperwork had worked its way onto Altair’s desk. Desmond sighed; he hated paperwork, but would do it nonetheless. He just hoped Altair would actually appreciate it and maybe even forget about the favour Desmond owed him. Not that Desmond had high hopes for the latter, but he didn’t complain, for it had been his own fault for betting with the greatest assassin the world had ever seen.

Chapter Text

Desmond awoke rather late this morning, for he had been up almost all night to deal with Altair's tasks.

“It sucks to be the mentor!”, Desmond decided.

Desmond quickly washed and ate something, before leaving and stepping into Altair's study without bothering to knock.

“Some people knock before they enter.”, was he greeted.

“Some people wouldn't do your work for you.”, Desmond responded.

Altair finally looked up and when his eyes landed on Desmond, his mouth turned into a light smile. Desmond interpreted this as an invitation and sat down on Altair's left onto the desk.

“I had already been wondering what had happened here… I guess I have to thank you then.”

“My pleasure… OK, not really, but I wanted to be of help!”

“You're helping me and the brotherhood greatly already, even though the novices see this slightly different.”, he laughed, “I couldn't wish for a better little brother!”

Desmond returned the smile and leaned back on the desk, staring at the ceiling and deep in thoughts. Altair and he were getting along a lot better than he ever anticipated; he already dreaded the date he would have to return.

Of course he missed his friends, even his father, who had been surprisingly concerned about Desmond's well-being. Desmond was rather unsure about his father's true feelings. The man had always been a riddle to him. Most of the time he cared more about his work than his son, but even then there were times when he actually behaved like a good father. Like the time he had pretended not to have heard Desmond's attempt at sneaking up to him, after hours of waiting. Back then Desmond actually had the feeling that his father had been proud of him for his patience.

Rebecca and Shaun on the other hand, were probably laughing their asses of, but Desmond was sure that they were also worried. At least he would be, if one of his friends had travelled back in time, especially when the only connection was through some god like being.

Desmond unintentionally sighed aloud, earning him a questioning look from Altair. Desmond just smiled in assurance, before slipping off the desk and stepping behind the older man. He leaned over the golden eyed man's shoulders and, Desmond couldn't explain the certain need to do so, encircled his ancestor's neck with his arms. Altair just huffed in amusement, before reaching up with his left hand and ruffling through Desmond's dark brown hair.

“Cuddly today, aren't you?”

Desmond hummed in agreement and asked: “Is that a problem for you?”

“Not when it is my little brother, who is hugging me.”

“Or Maria.”, Desmond added.

“Or Maria!”, Altair agreed laughing. A short silence followed, which was once more interrupted by Altair. “What's on your mind, little one?”

Desmond hummed in thought and straightened up, but leaving his hands on Altair's shoulders. Altair set down his pen and leaned back in his chair and tilted his head back so he could watch Desmond, causing his hood to slip from his head.

“You are so tense…”

Altair huffed and rolled his eyes. “Don't change the subject!”

That didn't stop Desmond to nudge Altair forward and start massaging his ancestor's shoulders, who let out a satisfied sigh. “I was just thinking about my friends and my father, back where I am from.”

“You're homesick then?”, questioned Altair.

“I didn't really had a home the last few months, it was more like travelling from one place to the next, hoping the templars wouldn't find us.”

“The templars in your time have the upper hand?”, Altair questioned.

“Unfortunately, yes. They may be more advanced and more in number then we are, but at least we are in possession of the apple.”

Altair hummed in thought. “It seems as if the fight between assassins and templars will never end, but let's get back to your problem. You know, home is where the heart lies, it doesn't have to be a place, it can also be a person.”

“I guess that I have Shaun and Rebecca. Lay on the table.”, he ordered the older male.

Altair did as he was told and rested his head sideways onto his arms, so that he could look at Desmond.

“What about your father?”

“Leave it to Altair to read between the lines…”, Desmond thought almost bitterly.

“The relationship between me and my father is complicated.”

“How so?”

“We had an argument.”

“Don't let me question you for every word. What was your argument about?”

Desmond sighed heavily, his gaze saddened: “I accused him of not being a good father and that he is just using me like the templars did. Therefore I insulted him of being like the templars.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much, he only punched me and said I should act my age and stop complaining, because he is doing it for the greater good.”

“He is lucky I wasn't there!”, Altair growled.

“But on the other hand he seemed greatly concerned about me for having travelled through time…”, Desmond mumbled.

“One of those fathers then… you'll learn to get along with each other some way or the other, I just hope for you and your father's sake that it won't be too late then. He seems like the kind of father, who cannot show his true feelings and only sees his own wrongdoings. I don't think that he wants to hurt or harm you in any way. Maybe he is even afraid of doing something wrong and as a consequence he keeps his distance.”

“Maybe you are right… I'll try to remember this the next time I speak to him, but what about you? You didn't have a father, did you?”

“My real father died soon after I was born, but I had Al'Mualim. Granted, most of the time he wasn't a good substitution, but you don't miss what you never had. Besides-“, Altair's answer was interrupted when Desmond found a very tense spot and worked on it, causing Altair to groan in pain.

“Sorry!”, Desmond quickly apologised, “Well I think that you miss things you never had even more.”

“I am in no mood to think this philosophical now.”, said the older man while closing his eyes.

“Too relaxed and calm, eh?”

Altair just hummed in response. “By Allah, where did you learn that?”

Before Desmond could answer, another voice sounded: “Am I interrupting something?”

“In fact you are, Malik, because I am desperately trying to seduce my brother”, the last part was emphasised, “to get him out of Maria's bed into mine. But don't worry, you are welcome to join!”

Malik turned bright red and looked utterly shocked.

“You are sick!”, Malik eventually managed to spit out, but there was no real anger or spite in it.

Desmond just shrugged in return and stepped away from Altair, who looked smugly at Malik.

“Was there anything you wanted?”

“I wanted to discuss these documents with you.”

Altair and Desmond groaned simultaneously at that.

“I wish you a lot of fun with that, because I will go and torture, eh I mean train, the novices.”, Desmond quickly excused himself.

“Don't leave me behind you damn traitor!”, Altair shouted after him and Malik just rolled his eyes.

“See you later.”, Desmond just called and left the room.

Chapter Text

(With Malik and Altair)

„You two…“, Malik started.

“You and Kadar were exactly the same… granted, I thought it annoying back then, but now that I more or less have a little brother as well…”, Altair said while sitting up straight.

“Brothers are a gift, but they can also be a nuisance sometimes. But I would say that you are both doing each other good.”

“How so?”, inquired Altair.

Malik stepped next to him and occupied the spot on Altair's desk, where Desmond had been previously.

“You haven't touched this cursed apple since he is here for an instance. You are in a way better mood in general, you seem more open to others and you are acting more childish.”

“Isn't that bad for the brotherhood then? I mean a childish mentor.”

Malik face palmed. “If he hadn't suddenly appeared and said that he was your descendant, I would have no doubt that he is your real brother. He asked me exactly the same question and I answered him that everything is permitted and that a sometimes childish mentor is an inspiration for the others.”

Altair hummed in thought and Malik let him work this out on his own. Altair eventually broke the silence again: “You said we were both doing each other good.”

“Indeed, when I first met him, he seemed rather distant and with an inner turmoil. He has opened up, the fact that he tells you things that are bothering him is proof enough, even though I have no idea what you were talking about.”

“And I'm not going to tell you without him knowing and approving.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way. However, you should not forget that he doesn't belong in this time and neither you, me nor he can do anything to change this fact.”

“I know!”, Altair snapped and ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed: “I almost fear the day he has to leave…”

Malik’s gaze immediately softened. “Let’s just hope that this day won’t come too soon then.”

Altair nodded in agreement, but his gaze stayed turned onto the desk. Malik sighed, he knew what Altair was going through, it had been the same with him and Kadar and Malik knew it would hurt Altair even more than it did him. It was not that he didn’t love Kadar, but Altair would be reminded of his mistakes, even though Malik had forgiven him long time ago. Furthermore there was no way of telling if they see each other ever again. Nobody knew what awaited them after their death, but there were almost 1000 years between Desmond and Altair.

Malik stepped behind Altair and laid a comforting hand on the other man’s shoulder. Altair gave him a weak smile and Malik was sure the other man’s eyes were glistening from tears.

“Shall I leave you and return another time?”, he asked.

Altair shook his head and took a deep breath: “No. There is no need for me to be upset about something that hasn’t even happened yet. Let’s focus on our tasks.”

Malik was once more surprised by Altair, who was giving him a full smile now. Malik just shook his head in amusement.

(A few days later)

Desmond was once again sitting in Altair’s study, helping said man with his tasks. The only noises that could be heard were the scribbling of feathers on paper and the turning of pages. Neither of the two men in the room was saying anything, but there was no need to. They simply sat in each other’s company and were forgetting about the outside world.

It had been raining for the some days now and Desmond had no interest in training the novices in such weather. Altair had laughed at Desmond’s reasoning but let him stay inside nonetheless, he was doing exactly the same after all.

“I still cannot believe that your handwriting is so much better than mine, even though you have never written Arabic before…”, Altair suddenly broke the silence when he looked at one of Desmond’s written reports.

“It’s funny, because I inherited this ability from you.”

Altair just snorted, shook his head in utter disbelief and put away the paper he had been reading. Instead he stretched in his chair, causing his spine to protest.

Desmond gave him an amused look and was about to comment about Altair getting to old for his job, when the door to the study were opened and Malik, followed by another assassin, entered.

“Greetings mentor.”, Malik and the assassin said simultaneously.

Altair nodded his greetings and motioned for them to step forward and tell their request.

The assassin stepped forward: “I am sorry for intruding, but my informant told me about high templar activities near Acre.”

Altair nodded in thought. “Malik, prepare a group of three assassins, including him.”, he pointed towards the young assassin who had spoken up and then turned towards Desmond, “Khasir, I want you to lead them. You will travel to Acre and examine the situation there.”

Desmond stood up and nodded dutifully, before pulling up his hood. Malik and the other assassin had already left.

“Is there anything else I should mind?”, he questioned.

“Do not engage and report to me as soon as you collected the information.”

“I will!”

Altair stood up as well and positioned himself before Desmond, clasping the younger man’s shoulder. “Safety and peace brother.”

“To you as well.”, Desmond returned the gesture and stepped out to prepare for his journey.

As soon as he was finished and standing in the entrance hall of the fest, he was greeted by Malik: “Are you ready, brother?”

Desmond nodded.

“Good, your recruits are already at the stables. I made sure to pick trustworthy and good assassins, who will follow your command and Altair’s orders… Be careful, I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I will, thank you, brother.”

With that Desmond left Malik behind and headed for the stables.

His group consisted of three young and high ranked assassins. Desmond quickly learned that Adil, the oldest of the three was a sword expert. He was quite a hot-head, but most of the time pretty reasonable. Mus’Ad, the assassin that spoke to Altair, was a master in observation and spying and Desmond had no doubt he would be of great use and help. And finally there was Sabri was the youngest of the three and the only one with the beginning of a beard. He was an expert in using the bow or crossbow and would give them a great advantage should they have to get quickly and silently rid of guards and archers. Despite his age, Sabri was the calmest and most patient of the three.

After their brief introduction, the little group quickly saddled their horses and headed to their destination to complete the mission. But Malik’s parting words were still echoing through Desmond’s mind and he was pretty worried.

Chapter Text

They quickly reached their destination and Desmond made sure that his fellow assassins knew their plan to stay undetected while observing. The cautiously walked through the land near Acre and looked for the reported templar activity.

It didn’t take them long to find what they were looking for. The templar had set up a big camp and they counted at least 400 men.

“What are they doing here?”, Sabri whispered.

“It looks as if they are assembling.”, answered Desmond.

“Assembling for what?”, questioned Mus’Ad.

“This remains to be found out… be quiet, I think the leader is speaking!”

The leader reminded Desmond greatly of Robert de Sable. He was tall with long blond hair and a beard. The way he moved and spoke was similar to Robert and Desmond suspected that he may have been a student of the bold templar. The man had put his helmet aside and was standing on a wooden platform, allowing him to overlook the men.

“Fellow brothers, we have gathered here to prepare for our final attack against those, who decline god. We have gathered to free the world and its creatures from those, who have the audacity to dress like on of us.”, he motioned to the white robes we was wearing over his armor, “We are here to uproot the rats, who call themselves assassins and fighters for the people. They say that they are fighting for peace, but do not let their silver tongues deceive you! They would let chaos reign and the world would fall apart under their rule. They are masters of deception and manipulation, but we have god on our side. With god’s help, we will destroy those pests once and for all!”

The audience was cheering and clapping loudly and it took quite a few minutes for the leader and his personal guards to quieten them.

“Today, my fellow templars, will be the day we set an example!”, he was gesturing towards the sky, “Our dear god and father has send us an opportunity to make our intentions clear. He send a handful of those rats into our midst and we will show them what will happen to those, who stand in our way!”

Turmoil was raging now and Desmond immediately knew that something was greatly wrong. He was about to order his comrades to fall back, when the mysterious man spoke once more: “Brothers, I call upon you, gather your weapons and bring these assassins to us!”

Before either Desmond or one of his comrades could do or say anything else, they found themselves already surrounded. It seemed as if the templars had silently approached their position from behind. Desmond cursed himself for allowing such a stupid mistake to happen. He should have watched their backs, even though he had told Adil to do so. Four eyes were better than two after all.

It was to late now however and Desmond quickly got to his feet, his fellow brothers following right beside him.

“Master, I apologize for not paying enough attention and allowing the templars to approach us.”, Adil said.

“It doesn't matter now, what's done is done!”, Desmond said and unsheathed his sword.

The other three men immediately followed his example and went into a battle position. The templars were quickly engaging and closing up on the cornered assassins.

“Master, what are we going to do?”, asked Mus’Ad

“We will fight and I'll try to come up with a strategy, meanwhile I order you to stand your ground and not to die!”

“Yes master!”, the three men said in unison and then the first blows were exchanged.

Desmond had soon killed about thirty men and his robes were stained with their blood. He desperately tried to keep an eye on his comrades, but he soon figured that the templars were systematically separating them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sabri getting impaled by the swords of two knights and his lifeless body sacked to the ground.

Desmond gritted his teeth while beheading a templar. He would have to come up with a plan quick, or all of them would die soon.

He eventually called out to the remaining two assassins and when he had their attention, he said: “I am going to divert the templars' attention to me and you two have to retreat!”

“We will not leave you master!”, called one of them, but Desmond was not sure who it was, he was too focused on the knights who had formed a circle around him.

“Then I order you to leave! Ride back to Masyaf as soon as possible and report my brother what happened.”, Desmond bellowed.

“But-“

“Go!”, Desmond interrupted.

From the edge of his vision, Desmond could see his two comrades sharing a look and a silent conversation, before they finally left. Desmond was now completely alone with a whole army and no way of escape was in sight, but he decided to take down as many templars as possible. He wouldn’t die without a fight.

He slaughtered at least another two dozen men, before the first enemy landed a hit on him. He cursed when he felt blood pouring out of his side.

He continued to fight nevertheless, but found himself soon at the verge of his strength.

He suddenly lost his footing and slightly slipped, he barely raised his arm in time to block a fatal blow to his head. Desmond experienced a kind of Déjà Vu, because the enemy's blade hit his hidden blade, causing the hidden blade to break, just like Ezio's had.

Another knight kicked him from behind, causing Desmond to stumble into another templar, who sent him to the ground with a punch to his face. Desmond lay helplessly surrounded by enemies on the blood soaked ground. One of the knights was raising his sword to deal out the last fatal blow, when a voice stopped him just in time.

“Wait!”, it was the French speaker from before, “I would recognize his face everywhere.”

The speaker stepped through the crowd and Desmond was grabbed and forced to his knees. The man stood directly before him and roughly grabbed his chin. Desmond's head was turned this way and that way when the French man examined his face.

He huffed: “Look who we caught here. The great Altair Ibn-La'Ahad has honoured us with his presence!”

The crowd laughed and some of them spit onto the ground to show their disgust. Desmond only clenched his teeth.

“Oh, but where are my manners? The name is Dominique de Sable, son of Robert de Sable. His name should ring a bell, assassin.”

“I've never met him.”, Desmond answered.

This earned him a slap to the face, causing his head to violently snap to the right and on top of it all, he could feel blood in his mouth from the impact.

“Who do you think you are? Acting as if you don’t remember the name of the man you met in Solomon’s temple and who you killed in your revenge!”, Dominique said angrily.

“My lord, this isn't the assassins' grand master!”, the knight who was holding Desmond's left arm suddenly spoke up.

“What are you talking about, soldier?”

The knight visible flinched at the harsh tone of the French man, but quickly regained his composure.

“Forgive me for disagreeing, but have a look at his hand.”, Desmond's left arm was forcefully drawn forward, “He still has his ring finger.”

Dominique's eyes narrowed and he looked deep into Desmond's eyes, almost as if he was searching an answer there.

“Who are you?”, the de Sable heir eventually questioned.

Desmond held his head high and his gaze never wavered when he said: “My name is Khasir Ibn-La'Ahad, brother of Altair Ibn-La'Ahad and if you were man enough, you would fight me face to face in a fair battle.”

This earned him a hard kick to the stomach and Desmond hunched over from the pain.

“You should watch your mouth or I will cut out your tongue!”, threatened the French man, he then turned towards his men, “Tie him up and take him to Acre. Make sure he doesn't escape!”

The knights who still had a hold onto Desmond's arms saluted and roughly pulled him up. Another man, he had a nasty looking scar running over his eye, approached and stripped Desmond of his weapons before binding his hands behind his back and gagging him. He effortlessly struggled against the knight's grip on him, but soon stopped, Desmond's muscles simple ached too much and he also was too tired.

Desmond felt another body behind him, but before he could see or do anything else, something collided with the back of his head and his world turned black.

Chapter Text

(With Altair)

It had been a couple of days since Desmond had left for his mission and Altair started to worry slightly. Desmond hadn’t sent a report yet and the fact that he promised to do so as soon as possible made Altair feel uneasy. Of course Desmond was a talented assassin, yet Altair couldn’t help but feel this way, not that he let that show often, especially not when Malik was in the same room, like he was now.

“Altair, are you even listening to me?”, snarled the said man.

“Eh what?”

Malik sighed in annoyance and rubbed his temples. “What is wrong with you? You have been acting strange lately, not paying attention and easily getting distracted… What is on your mind, brother?”

“Maybe I wasn’t as inconspicuous as I originally thought…”, thought Altair bitterly.

“It’s nothing…”, he tried to lie, but Malik’s gaze let him shut up.

Before Malik could comment on Altair’s miserable attempt to lie his way out of this chat, the doors to the study were violently pushed open and slammed against the wall.

Alarmed, both Altair as well as Malik stood up and grabbed for their swords, but soon stopped in their movements when they saw the two assassins standing in the doorway.

“What in Allah’s name is causing you to make such an entrance?”, Altair all but shouted.

The two assassins flinched at his gaze and at his shouts. It was common knowledge that the grandmaster should be avoided when he was angry. Only Malik and Maria were able to deal with him then.

“Forgive us mentor, but we wouldn’t be here without a good reason.”, the younger one said.

“It better is!”, Altair growled dangerously, his eyes narrowed in anger, causing even Malik to take a step back from him.

“It is about your brother, master-“, the second one spoke up, but was quickly interrupted. “Khasir? What is with him? Is he hurt?”, Altair’s panic had changed into worry and a tint of fear.

“We don’t know, we were together on a mission with him to find out more about the templars doings and plans.”

“We soon found their camp and were able to find out useful information; unfortunately we were discovered and engaged in battle.”

“The master told us to run and bring you this message, we think he was captured.”

The room fell silent when the both assassins had finished. They were obviously uncomfortable with bringing their mentor such a message and were avoiding looking directly to Altair. Malik however looked questioningly at Altair, awaiting him to shout or at least say something, but the man stood frozen in place, in complete shock.

“Go…”, Altair eventually managed to spit out.

“Mentor?”, the recruits asked in unison.

“Leave!”, Altair repeated his comment with a little more force.

The recruits didn’t need to be told again, for they all but scrambled out of the room. Altair turned away from then and Malik closed the doors.

“Altair?”, he questioned, but Altair remained silent and let himself fall into the chair behind his desk, hiding his head in his hands.

“Damn it!”, Altair cursed and Malik hesitantly approached the distraught man, “I should have listened to you, when you told me you were feeling uneasy about this mission!”

“It’s not your fault.”, Malik tried to assure the other man.

“Not my fault?”, Altair screamed and faced Malik, “It was me who had sent him on this damn mission, wasn’t it? It was me who thought it wise to only send a group of four. How can you say that this isn’t my fault? What if something happened to him? What if he is…”

“Shut up, will you?”, Malik interrupted the babbling man, “Khasir is strong, he won’t die so easily. Do you really think him so weak?”

Altair shook his head. “No, but…”

“I said shut up! Maybe he was able to flee and is already on his way here. And even if he is capture, the templars have to be more than stupid to kill him! He looks exactly like you, a blind man would see the similarities. They surely wouldn’t kill the leader of the assassins, at least not without questioning him first.”

“Then they will torture him before killing him. If this is supposed to help than I rather renounce your help, thank you very much!”, Altair snapped.

“We are not really arguing if your brother is still alive or not, are we?”, Malik questioned in disbelief, “If you are so scared about his fate, why are you still here? Get up and pull yourself together and call for the recruits you just scared away. We need all the information we can get to save Khasir!”

Altair just looked at Malik with an unreadable expression, before it changed into determination and he got back up. “Let’s get going then!”

Altair put on his robe and was about to leave the room, when he turned around to Malik again: “And thank you… what would I probably do without you, brother?”

“Probably sitting here in self pity instead of doing something, but let us not waste anymore time!”, Malik retorted with a roll of his eyes.

Altair nodded and together they left the study.

(in the templar camp)

“My lord, you called?”, a higher ranked knight entered de Sable’s tent and saluted.

“I have indeed.”, said the blond man and rose from his seat, “I want you to send this message to Masyaf. We have something in our grasp that the grandmaster surely wants to have back and we are going to give it back, as an exchange of course.”

“May I inquire what you want in exchange?”, questioned the knight.

“There is only one thing that I desire and that is the death of Altair Ibn-La’Ahad and of all these godless assassins. And in order to achieve that, we need a powerful weapon, a weapon like the piece of Eden that is currently in the assassins’ possession.”, Dominique explained, “No go and send this message on its way!”

The knight bowed and left again.

“Well, it’s time to visit our little guest…”, he mumbled to himself and left the tent as well.

(with Desmond)

Desmond groaned when he woke up. The back of his head hurt as if something heavy hat hit him and he was laying on the floor, causing his limbs to ache. He tried to open his eyes, but this only resulted in more headache, because the whole world was spinning. Desmond decided it would be best to left his eyes closed for now and instead he tried to remember what had happened.

Suddenly his memories came rushing back to him. He had been on a mission with three other men. They were told to investigate templar activities near Acre and that was surely where he now was. However, they were discovered, one of his men had died, the other two were able to flee and he was being captured by the son of Robert de Sable.

Desmond groaned again and cursed his damn luck. At least his head had stopped spinning and he once more tried to open his eyes. His head didn’t protest, so he tried to get up from the dirty floor, but Desmond found himself unable to do so. His legs were tied together, as well as his hands behind his back. At least they had removed the gag.

Suddenly the door to his little cell was opened and he squinted at the light that shined through. The figure that appeared left the door open and approached Desmond’s cell, unlocking the door and stepping in. He eventually kneeled down to Desmond’s eye level and Desmond was finally able to make out the man’s face.

“De Sable!”, he growled out.

The French man grinned: “So you remember me, good. I feared that the blow to the head might have damaged your memory!”

“What do you want from me?”

“Me? I merely want some information and I am sure you will give them to me.”

“I won’t tell you anything!”, Desmond snapped.

“I blame the blow to your head for that, so I will explain this to you.”, Dominique said with fake sympathy, “We can do this the easy way and you just tell me all you know and we won’t hurt you much, or we will do it the hard way and press the information out of you. I would prefer the easy way, not only would it save me a lot of time, but we wouldn’t need to hurt you. So, what do you say?”

“My answer stays the same!”

Dominique sighed annoyed and got back up. “Alright, it’s your choice.”

He then whistled and immediately two guards appeared who coarse grabbed Desmond and carried him from his cell.

Chapter Text

(with Altair)

Altair and Malik had been planning for the last few days, neither of them taken more than four hours rest per day. Maria had eventually joined them, as eagerly as the two man to bring Desmond back. The other assassins were more than angry about the news, especially the novices, who Desmond had trained. They were all eager to do anything in their power to get their comrade back.

The plan was almost formed, the troops deployed and Altair was determined, when a message arrived. Altair, Malik and Maria were in the study, when a fellow assassin stormed the room and handed Altair the letter.

He read it with furrowed brow, Malik and Maria looking over his shoulders.

“Who does he think he is?”, Altair exclaimed when he finished reading.

“Look at the signature.” Malik said.

“Dominique de Sable” Altair read out aloud, “but how is that possible?”

“Robert had a son, maybe that's him.” Maria suggested.

“And Khasir is in this man's clutches… what do we do now, Altair?”

Malik and Maria were looking expectantly at Altair, who just threw the letter onto his desk and stood up.

“He wants the apple…” mumbled Altair.

“You are not really thinking about keeping the apple and leaving your brother in this man's grip, are you?” Maria began, but Altair waved her to keep quiet.

“He wants the apple and as far as we now this Dominique de Sable,” the name was sad with disgust, “has a whole army behind him.”

“Altair?” Malik hesitantly asked.

“If he thinks we will give up without a fight, then he is wrong! Damn this man, if I get my fingers on him, he will wish that he was never born!” Altair exclaimed, clearly infuriated, “I would never have expected the templars to sink so low. Capturing Khasir and using him as bait…”

“Altair, what are you talking about?” Maria asked.

“Can't you see it? They are planning an attack to exterminate the assassins and to conquer the world, but they cannot do this without the apple.”

“But we have to save Khasir.”

“Of course we are saving Khasir, who do you think I am, Maria?”

“So we give them the apple, then what?” Malik inquired.

“That's the point, I don't know.”

“At least we agree that we have to exchange the apple in order to get Khasir back.” Maria said.

“Keeping the apple is out if the question. We would abandon not only Khasir, but our creed and brotherhood.” Altair stated and Malik and Maria nodded in agreement.

Altair stepped to the window and leaned with an arm against the frame, looking at the cloudy sky.

“We have to rearrange our troops as well as our strategy.” Malik began.

“We also have to consider the possibility of facing the apple.”

“Unlikely,” Altair interfered, “if this Dominique is anything like his father, he will send his men to fight and will hide behind their lines. If I am able to reach him, we have a good chance of winning.”

“Why die it have to be you, beloved? Why does it always have to be you?” Altair immediately knew that Maria was serious and not at all happy with his decision, she only called him beloved when she wanted to get what she wanted.

“It has to be me, because I am the only one who can resist the apple's power to a certain degree.

Malik and Maria both raised their eyebrows at that. Altair clenched his fist that was still leaning against the window.

“Al'Mualim said that he had once tried to control me like the other assassins. You were there Malik, you knew that they were only mindless shells, but somehow the apple didn't affect my mind.”

“Altair…” Maria wasn't sure what to say.

“I just want my brother back.”

Altair looked so miserable when he said that, that Malik and Maria quickly changed the topic.

Soon after, Altair had written his response and gave the templars a date and a place to meet, namely the following day and in the centre of the Kingdom, between all four towns. He also made clear that Dominique should only bring a handful of men with him, as well as Desmond of course. Malik eventually sent the letter on its way, leaving Maria and Altair alone.

“We are going to save Khasir and we will win this war!” Maria tried to comfort Altair.

“I will personally rip that bastard's heart out and crush it between my fingers.”

Altair's ice cold tone and his murderous glare send shivers down Maria's spine.

“I wonder, would you do the same for me or even Malik?”

Altair's head snapped up and he looked angry at his wife: “Of course I would, do you really think so little of me?”

Maria didn't retort, she only huffed and looked away.

“You are jealous.” Altair stated calmly, which infuriated the woman even more.

“Me? Jealous! Why should I be? I only tried for months to get you away from this cursed apple and then he comes and suddenly you are willing to give it to the templars!” She shouted. “He is your brother, yet you are treating him more like a son.”

Altair exhaled slowly and hid his head in his hands. He knew the day would come when he had to tell Maria the truth.

“He is not my brother…” He eventually said.

“What is that supposed to mean? He has to be your brother, I mean, he look exactly like you and he is too old to be your son. Khasir-“

“Desmond.”

“Excuse me?” Maria's anger had vanished, leaving her confused.

“His real name is Desmond Miles and… and he comes from the future, thousand years from now.”

This left Maria speechless for a few moments. She had opened her mouth a few times to say something, but no words escaped her.

“You cannot be serious.” She eventually managed to spit out.

“He said so himself.”

“And you believed him?” Maria asked sceptical.

“Nothing is true and everything is permitted,” Altair said and looked up, “besides, the apple once told me about someone called Desmond who continues my legacy. Not that I knew what that meant back then, but I think I understand now.”

Maria sighed: “This does make him our son, in a strange way.”

“You believe me?” Altair asked hopefully.

“Stranger things have already happened, so yes, I do.”

Altair stood up abruptly and quickly approached Maria. He tightly embraced and kissed her and it took a few moments of shock for Maria to return the gesture.

“Am I interrupting something?” A voice at the door said.

Maria would have turned around to the source, but Altair kept her in place.

“In fact you are, Malik.”

“At least go to your room.” Malik sounded partly disgusted and partly amused.

“Good idea.” Altair mumbled before once again capturing Maria's lips with his own.

Maria was breathless when they parted and Altair pulled her behind him out of the room, but not before grinning at Malik who gave him a thumb up.

“At least the idiot gets distracted and if it is for only one moment… luckily for him I have already a new plan in mind. Well, I guess I have time to visit my own wife then.” Malik mumbled to himself and also left the room.

Chapter Text

(with Desmond)

Everything ached; there was not an inch of his body that didn't hurt. He was currently lying completely motionless and very uncomfortable on the ground. His front was covered in countless cuts and other wounds, his back was covered in wounds from whip lashed and the rest of his body was bruised and Desmond was sure that at least two ribs were cracked.

He had long since lost count on the days he was here and the only thing that made him endure all the pain and that kept him alive, was the thought of Altair. His ancestor would surely think him weak for being captured he didn't want to become a total failure by telling the templars what they want to know. He had done enough harm as it is.

Suddenly the door to his cell was opened and Dominique de Sable, followed by two guards, stepped in.

“Wake up, sleepy head.” Dominique said in a slimy voice. “We are going on a little trip today.”

Without waiting for a response, Dominique motioned his men forwards, who roughly grabbed Desmond and dragged him to his feet. One of them more or less helped him put on his ruined assassin robes and then they literally dragged him out of the building into the burning sun of Acre. Desmond wasn’t even able to stand on his feet, let alone walk and he could do nothing to struggle against them.

Only when he sat in a prison cart that was pulled by two black stallions, did Desmond realize that they were not torturing him, but taking him somewhere. Suddenly he remembered a chat he had had with Dominique, the man had told him about his requirements concerning Desmond’s release. He silently cursed. How could Altair even consider exchanging the apple for his life? He was only one man and Altair would endanger hundred of others once the templars possessed the apple. Desmond hid his head in his hands and it took all of his willpower to not break down completely. He wouldn’t allow Dominique this last victory.

The ride had been too short for Desmond’s likes. They were in the middle of nowhere; at least it seemed so to Desmond, who had been too absorbed in his own mind to follow the road they were taking. The cart came to a halt and the doors to his moving prison were opened and he was once more dragged outside. His head began to spin from the sudden movement and he eventually found himself lying to Dominique’s feet, hands tied tightly behind his back.

The French man chuckled at the half-heartily glare Desmond send his way and put his right foot onto Desmond’s back, who groaned in pain at the contact. Desmond almost felt like some captured pray, with his face in the dirt, unable to really see anything but the form of his captor.

“Your brother should be arriving pretty soon now; I can only imagine how much it must excite you to see him again.” Dominique sneered.

Desmond however didn’t feel happy at all, the only thing he felt was fear. Fear of what was about to happen, fear of Altair’s reaction and he feared what Dominique do once he had the apple.

“So quiet… I had more fun torturing you, Khasir!” The name was said with disgust. “At least you were screaming then. Even though it is a pity that I didn’t get to completely break you, but I think I made quite an impression, don’t you?”

Desmond’s only answer was a pained groan, when Dominique shifted his weight. He didn’t trust his voice to betray him. He just felt weak, exhausted and totally miserable. He hated to admit it, but he had been on the edge of giving up completely. Of course Desmond wouldn’t have told Dominique a single thing about the brotherhood, but his mind as well as his body wouldn’t have lasted for much longer.

Suddenly a man stepped towards Desmond and Dominique’s position.

“My lord, the assassins are approaching.”

“About time. I do not have all day, in fact I have great thing planned I can’t wait to let actions follow.”

“What are you orders, sir?”

“Tell your men to be alert, we are dealing with dangerous and devious people here. A wrong move and show them what we are capable of. Also make sure they have the piece of Eden with them, if the do not, kill them.”
“Yes, sir.” Desmond didn’t need to look, to know the knight was bowing and taking his leave.

In the distant the sound of hooves could be heard and it didn’t take long for Dominique’s men to tense and to be on high alert.

“Ah, greetings grand master Altair Ibn-La’Ahad.” Dominique’s voice sounded over the whole field.

Desmond could hear five or six men dismounting and he could practically feel their eyes on him, which made him tense even more.

“Dominique de Sable I presume?” Desmond’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of Altair’s clearly angry voice.

“That is correct. Maybe you remember my father, Robert de Sable? It is such a pity he cannot be here with us today.”

“He found the end he deserved.” Altair answered.

“I fear that our opinion differs here, but that doesn’t matter now. What really matters is the reason why we are here. So tell me, assassin, do you have what I asked of you?”

“Malik!” Altair bellowed and he could here somebody move forwards. “My brother?”

“Not a man of many words, must run in the family.” Dominique laughed. “Your brother is right here on the dirt beneath my feet, right where he belongs.”

“How dare you!” Altair shouted and stepped forward.

Dominique unsheathed his sword and Desmond could feel cold metal at his neck.

“Another step forward and your brother will die a slow and painful death, assassin!” Dominique threatened and Desmond could practically feel the growing tension and aggression in the air.

For a moment there was only dead silence then Altair spoke again, in a calmer manner: “Give me my brother.”
“The apple first!”

“Both at the same time.” Malik interfered and it seemed to meet approval, for Dominique was lifting his sword and his foot from Desmond.

He motioned for two men to come closer and they roughly forced Desmond to his feet, who had great problems with not collapsing on the spot.

Desmond’s world was spinning again, he blamed the countless blows to the head, Dominique had given him. He groaned in pain and was dragged a few feet away from Dominique, before he was roughly pushed forward. Desmond expected to meet the ground, but found himself embraced by a pair of strong arms. He took a deep and calming breath and the scent of sand, sun and Altair filled his nostrils. Desmond was immediately reminded of the first time he and his ancestor had met.

Altair’s left hand was slowly wandering down his back towards his bounded wrist. A few moments later Desmond was free of the ropes and he tightly held onto Altair’s robes for support, for the older male was the only thing that kept Desmond on his feet.

“I’m sorry Altair!” Desmond sobbed into his ancestor’s chest.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you now.”

Desmond shook his head. “You shouldn’t have exchanged the apple for me.”

Altair’s arms immediately tightened as a response. “Stop talking nonsense. You are far more important to me than this cursed devise.”

Desmond didn’t reply to that, his whole body was shaking from the effort it took to just stand. His legs eventually gave out and Altair followed him onto the ground, never letting go of him.

“How sweet.” sneered Dominique’s voice. “Well, if you excuse me now, I have other things to do. Oh, and thanks for the piece of Eden.”

“Rot in hell!” Altair called after him.

Desmond couldn’t tell if Dominique replied to that, because his world went completely black, now that he was safe with Altair.

Chapter Text

When Desmond awoke, the first thing he notices was that he was lying on a pile of pillows in Altair’s and his shared room and that he was heavily bandaged. He let out a breath he didn’t know he held and closed his eyes again, because for a moment Desmond had thought it had been all just a dream and that he would find himself still in the cell in the clutches of Dominique de Sable. When he reopened his eyes, Desmond finally noticed that he wasn’t alone in the room. Altair was lying directly next to him and his head rested on Desmond’s arm. Desmond observed that Altair looked almost as bad as he had looked after he had been poisoned.

“How long have I been out and what the hell happened since?” Desmond thought to himself when suddenly the door to the room was opened and Malik stepped in.

Malik carefully closed the door, but stopped dead in his tracks when his gaze met Desmond’s.

“Finally back in the world of the living, huh?” Malik eventually said.

“Yeah… how long was I out this time?” Desmond asked.

“About a week… the templars have outdone themselves… but it’s good to have you back!” Malik’s expression had softened at the end.

“It’s good to be back!” Desmond retorted and tried to get up, without stirring Altair, he eventually gave up.

“He stayed at your side the whole time, not even leaving for more than ten minutes at most.” Malik said and gestured to Altair. “He was greatly worried about you. Not even Maria could get him out of here… but I guess the exhaustion finally caught up to him.”

Desmond nodded in understanding: “Why is he lying on my arm and holding onto it?”

“When we finally arrived here, Altair had sat you on his horse with your back to his chest, we immediately brought you to Masyaf. The doctors had literally pushed Altair and me out of the room, we eventually got to know that for a moment, you heart had stopped… I guess the novice just wants to make sure it’s still beating.”

Before Desmond could think of anything in return, Altair’s voice suddenly sounded: “You’re the novice!”

Desmond’s gaze turned back to Altair’s face. The man had his eyes still closed and his hood had slipped from his head because of Desmond’s previous movement.

“Altair…”

Altair immediately opened his eyes when Desmond said his name. He blinked a few times and yawned, before slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Then his gaze landed on Desmond, who tried to get up as well, but failed miserable.

“Easy there. Stay down and let me take a look at you.” Altair said, sleepiness still heavy in the voice.

“Do you need assistance?” Malik asked from the other side of the room, where he was opening the curtains of the window.

“Please.”

After Altair was satisfied with the healing process of the wounds and bruises and after he had put some strange smelling salve on the whip lashes on Desmond’s back, the latter was allowed to properly sit up. Altair had to help him, but they eventually managed.

“Did you need something Malik?” Altair eventually broke the silence.

The addressed shook his head: “I just wanted to check on you and your brother, but now that I see him back with us, there is no need for me to remain. One of us has to do some work after all. And you novice, need you rest as well.”

Altair growled. “Stop calling me that.”

“Not going to happen.” Malik eventually stood up, nodded his head at Desmond, who returned the gesture with a thankful smile and finally left the room and the two men alone.

As soon as the door behind Malik was closed, Altair slung his arms around Desmond and pulled him into his chest, hiding his face in the younger man’s hair. Desmond returned the embrace as soon as he overcame the shook and the slight pain that came from the bruises Altair was touching. As soon as his arms had found the other man, Desmond realized that Altair was slightly shaking.

“Altair?” Desmond asked hesitantly not quite sure what to do in this situation.

“I thought I had lost you.”

“You won’t get rid of me that easily.” It was meant to lighten the tension, but it only made Altair tighten his embrace.

Desmond didn’t know how long they just sat there in utter silence, just taking comfort from each other, but eventually Altair slightly leaned back to look into Desmond’s face. His eyes were a little red, but Desmond didn’t comment on it.

“What happened during the mission?” Altair finally asked.

“Didn’t Adil and Mus’Ad tell you about the mission?”

“They could only provide me with what information you have gathered and that they were discovered and engaged in battle and that you told them to run.”

“There is not much more to tell. I had positioned a guard, but apparently he got distracted and didn’t notice the approaching templars until it was too late. We had to fight and the only solution I saw was sending them away and stopping the templars to follow them.”

“You chose to sacrifice your own life so the others could escape?” Altair asked to make sure he understood correctly.

“As I already said, it was the only right thing that came to my mind.”

Altair’s gaze darkened a little in clear anger. “What happened then?”

“I continued to fight, but slipped and the broke my hidden blade. I was rather defenceless then and they eventually overpowered me… they were just too many men. They were about to kill me, but this Dominique de Sable, the son of Robert, interfered. He thought I was you, but I told him that I was only your brother.”

“He would have let you die a slow and painful death otherwise. He is after revenge and therefore my blood.”

“I figured as much.” Altair just huffed and motioned for him to continue. “The brought me to Acre, were they kept me prisoner in an old abandoned house near the poor district. He wanted information about you and the brotherhood, but I didn’t tell him anything.”

Altair nodded and pulled Desmond’s closer to himself again, resting his chin on the younger man’s head in the process.

“You did not only the brotherhood proud with your strength, but me as well.”

“The physical torture was the lesser problem, even at the point were my whole body ached and when I found myself unable to move. What really hurt was his mental torture.” He instinctively tightened his hold on Altair and the latter started to comfortingly rub Desmond’s back, as mindful of the wounds as possible.

“The mind is more vulnerable to sadness, fear and pain and the templars have perfected this technique of torture.” Altair stated matter of fact.

There was once more silence between them, but this time it was interrupted by Desmond.

“Why did you exchange the apple for me? I am only one person and in the wrong hands the apple can be turned into a powerful and destructive weapon.”

“First of all this Dominique has to figure out how the apple works and I highly doubt that he will discover much. Furthermore you are an assassin and abandoning a fellow assassin is the same as abandoning the brotherhood.”

“You would have done the same for any other fellow brother then?” Desmond asked carefully.

“Of course I would… not for Abbas and his men obviously, but other than them, yes.”

Desmond desperately wanted to believe Altair’s words, but somehow he found himself unable to do so. He didn’t comment on it, nor did he say anything else, too great was the self-blame.

“I just should have let him stay in the belief that I was Altair, at least the templars wouldn’t be in the possession of the apple then!” Desmond thought bitterly.

“Juno would have won, if you had died that day!” sounded Minerva’s voice in his head.

Desmond couldn’t stop himself from flinching violently, causing Altair to focus his attention back on Desmond.

“Khasir, is everything alright?”

“Yeah… you just touched a wound, that’s all.” Desmond lied.

“Sorry.”

“Bad liar, huh? Either I have gotten better, or Altair isn’t fully with me…” Desmond observed.

Eventually Altair moved them in a more comfortable position, leaning against pillows and soon, both men found themselves deep asleep.

Chapter Text

The next days were quite stressful for everybody. The assassins were preparing for battle. Malik and Altair had their hands full of planning and organising, the latter also took care of Desmond's wounds, because he wouldn't trust anybody else with his brother's wellbeing. Desmond meanwhile recovered rather quickly and soon found himself helping whenever and wherever he could. Altair wasn't really happy about it, but was quickly silenced by both Malik and Desmond, who argued that everyone was needed.

The three of them were currently gathered in Altair's study, debating the last remaining questions, when Abbas came rushing into the room.

“The templars have gathered their men and are marching towards Masyaf. We can't allow them to get here, we have to face their army on open ground.”

“As much as I hate to say these words, but Abbas is right!” Altair said and motioned for the other man to come closer. “Show me their location on the map.”

Abbas slightly bowed and came closer. He had been surprisingly quiet since their little encounter. Either he feared for his life, he was planning something, or he thought the attacking templars were currently more important. But at least he hadn’t objected to a single thing Altair had said.

Desmond still felt uneasy about him and continued to keep an eye on him, just in case. There was absolutely no way he would allow Abbas to hurt Altair, especially not during a time like this.

“Abbas, inform the others, we have no choice but to confront them.” Altair eventually said.

“If we are lucky, we have the moment of surprise on our side.” Malik commented. “We could gain an advantage.”

With that Abbas left the study and Altair stood up from the chair, while Malik stepped to his side.

“I am going to prepare myself, you should do as well, Malik. Also make sure that everything is ready for our march. We won’t take the horses, we have not enough for all men anyway and they would arouse too much attention.”

“More than a marching army of white robed and armed men?” Malik asked sarcastically, but ignored the man.

He instead turned towards Desmond, who had been following them out of the study.

“Where do you think you are going?” Altair asked.

“Prepare for the battle…?” Desmond answered hesitantly.

“No way. You are not to take part in the approaching battle.”

“But” Desmond started to protest, but was promptly silenced by Altair, who had fully turned around now.

“No buts, you are not from this time and therefore you shouldn’t fight our fight!”

“That didn’t stop you from sending me on missions.” Desmond argued.

“This is not the same and you know it. Don’t make me lock you away!” Altair sighed, “Listen, I don’t want that anything happens to you.”
“I have the right to fight, especially since I got captured by this Dominique, don’t you think? Damn it Altair, I’ve been running almost my whole life, I am sick of hiding!”

“He was a point there Altair!” Desmond shoot Malik a grateful look, but Altair just shook his head.

“He has no place here.”

“What?” Desmond was too surprised by this statement to form a real reply.

“You heard me. You have no place among us, you don’t belong here. Face it, you’ll only get in our way or yourself killed. I don’t have time to watch out for you and to make sure you aren’t hurt.” Altair said calmly.

It took a moment for Desmond to come up with a reply and even Malik was gaping openly at Altair.

“I already fought with Abbas and with Dominique’s men; don’t you think I have proven myself to be of help?”

“Did you now?” Altair huffed and shook his head. “Then tell me, what good did it do? You weren’t able to defend yourself, were you? You got caught and tortured, nothing else. Face it, you are not made to be a real assassin, you are too naive, too inexperienced. I already said that I won’t be able to watch out for you, so my answer remains the same. You won’t fight!”

“But-”

“Enough!” Altair exclaimed. “You won’t take part in the upcoming battle and that is final!”

Desmond had taken a step back at the angry outburst and was now looking shocked at Altair, whose gaze remained cold and unmoving.

Desmond lowered his head, so that his hood hid his face. He clenched his fists and forced himself to reply emotionless: “Right now, you are just like my father… why don’t you just say it? Just tell me I am weak and that I will never be an assassin. Tell me how useless and incompetent I am. It’s nothing he hadn’t already said countless of times!”

Altair remained silent and after a moment, Desmond just couldn’t take the silence anymore. He eventually turned around without another word and vanished in the room he shared with Altair.

(with Altair and Malik)

Altair wordlessly looked after Desmond’s retreating back and hunched form. He eventually turned his head away and headed towards his storage room. Malik was following him, even when he entered the storage and rummaging through the shelves.

“That was not necessary. You know, right now I am ashamed to call you my brother and mentor!” Malik suddenly said and Altair stopped dead in his tracks.

He turned around and gave Malik a partly shocked and a partly sad gaze.

“Do you really think I enjoyed telling him these lies?”

“Lies? You didn’t even mean what you said? Have you completely lost your mind now?” Malik was almost screaming now.

“Keep your voice down…” Altair tried but was promptly interrupted by Malik.

“I will shout as much as I want! Normally I would say that you spent time with that cursed apple again, but that isn’t possible now, is it? … allow me to beat some sense into this thick skull of yours!”

“Malik, you don’t understand.”
“Then enlighten me.”

Malik had expected some stupid excuse, he didn’t expect Altair to fall to his knees and hide his head in his hands.

The younger man’s voice sounded strained and almost broken, when he replied: “It’s the first time I can really understand you, Malik. When you lost Kadar because of me, your rage, the fear you always had, I am finally able to fully understand you now.”

“It wasn’t your fault, you-“

“Please don’t.” Malik shut his mouth again, “I thought I had lost him and I felt great anger towards this Dominique. I wanted revenge… you have no idea how relieved I was, when he finally woke up. I don’t want to lose him again. I know Khasir is a good fighter, probably even better than I am, but there is a high chance that neither of us will survive. I’d rather have him save here, with the knowledge that he hates me, then dead on the battlefield.”

Altair stopped rambling and his body eventually started to shake violently. No sound escaped him, yet Malik knew he was crying. Malik looked sadly at the younger man, he knew what Altair was going through.

He sighed and carefully stepped next to the younger man. Altair didn’t even move when Malik knelt down beside him and started to rub comforting circles on the other’s back.
“Why didn’t you tell him, what you just told me? Khasir would have understood.”

“It wouldn’t have stopped him from participating.” Altair managed to spit out.

“And you think making him feel this way is better?”

“It will pass. And if not… I think I can manage to live with his hate, as long as I know him save.” Altair had stopped trembling at this point and was straightening up again.

Malik ignored the other’s red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Why do you think he is going to hate you?”

“You heard him… he compared me to his father.”

“I guess he doesn’t like his father then?” Altair only shook his head.

Malik didn’t know what to say to comfort the other man, but Altair beat him to it, when he stood up and wiped away the signs of his breakdown.

“Go and prepare, we don’t have much time left!”

Malik sighed but nodded and eventually stood up as well. Altair was once more searching for something between the chaos.

Before he left, Malik turned around one last time and quietly said: “It’s going to be alright. Brothers can never really hate each other…”

Altair didn’t say anything, but Malik knew that he had heard the words. He then left Altair alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Desmond didn't know how long he had just sat in the room, with his back against the wall under the window. It felt like an eternity to him, that's why he decided to wander around and clear his head.

“At least I don't need Altair's approval for that!” Desmond thought bitterly and got up from the floor.

He headed through the full hallways, always looking out for Altair or Malik. He didn't want to run into either of them, he had enough for one day… or for the rest of his life that is.

Desmond was brought out of his dark thoughts, by a hand that settled on his elbow. He turned around, almost expecting Malik, but was surprised when the person turned out to be Maria. Their gazes met.

“Khasir?” Maria asked hesitantly.

“Yes…”

“With the grim look on your face, you looked exactly like Altair just now… except the golden eyes.”

Desmond remained silent, he didn't want to think about his ancestor just now. Maria gave him a worried look.

“Are you alright? Shouldn't you be preparing for the upcoming battle?”

Desmond grimaced. “Altair thinks it would be unwise for me to take part in it.”

It sounded absurd even to his own ears and Desmond wasn't surprised when Maria's eyebrow shot up. She knew that there was more to it, it couldn't have been more obvious, but apparently she chose not to comment on it.

“Come with me then, for I am not going to participate either. There are too many people I know and I am not sure I would be able to kill them. Besides, I know Altair would worry more about my safety than about his own life and I don't want him to die.”

Desmond nodded in understanding and followed Maria into her private chamber, obviously the one she planned on going to share with Altair. They sat down and played a board game she had to teach him first. Desmond was miserable, but Maria didn't comment on it. They eventually started talking about everything that came to their minds, it didn't surprise Desmond, when she started to ask question about the future. No significant things, only little things and mainly about Desmond's life. He didn't mind sharing his past with her. It had been a shock when Altair had told him, he had confessed everything to Maria, but it turned out to be a wise decision. Maria was a kind and gentle, yet also strong and sometimes even stubborn soul and the knowledge she was given, somehow created a bond between her and Desmond.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Maria interrupted his thoughts with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Desmond blinked and took a moment to process what she had said, before answering: “Sorry, I was distracted.”

She chuckled: “It's your turn by the way.”

Desmond looked down at their current game, which he was once more losing. He mentally sighed and focused on his turn.

“You're getting better, a little more practice and you could actually have a chance against me.” Maria teased.

Before Desmond could reply however, the door to the room was being opened. He didn't have to look up, to know who had entered.

The person obviously hesitated at seeing Maria and Desmond, but Maria broke the awkward silence.

“Altair, what brings you here?”

Desmond inconspicuously pulled his hood further down so it hid more of his face. He could feel Altair's eyes on him and he had no intention of letting the other man see his discomfort.

“I wanted to see you before I depart.” Altair eventually answered.

Maria stood up and from the corner of his eyes, Desmond could see her hugging Altair. They just stood there for a minute in complete silence. It was obvious that Altair didn't want to leave, neither wanted Maria to let him go. They eventually parted and Altair awkwardly stood by Desmond's side.

“Khasir…” He started and it sounded forced to Desmond’s ears.

“Altair…” Desmond retorted and tilted his head just enough to see the other man's face.

Altair looked as if he wanted to be everywhere but here. They would have remained in an uncomfortable and awkward silence for the rest of the day, so Desmond decided to be the greater man for once.

He sighed and then said: “Safety and peace brother.”

Altair looked shocked as well as confused at Desmond's blessing. It took a moment for Altair to collect himself again, but his expression eventually turned more or less neutral and he bowed his head.

“Thank you… brother.” He retorted hesitantly.

Altair was about to leave, but Maria stopped him once more for a last kiss and a promise to return. After that Maria and Desmond were alone once more. Desmond had his gaze fixed on the door with an unreadable expression, while Maria just kept standing in the room, looking him once over.

“What happened between you two?”

Desmond just shrugged: “Nothing important.”

“I am not blind, nor am I stupid Khasir!”

“I know that…”

“Then why are you behaving like I am?”

“Leave it to a woman to make you feel bad for lying to her…” Desmond mentally sighed.

“We had an argument.”

She sat back down, giving him a soft look. “What was it about?”

Desmond didn't answer, he stared down at the table instead.

“Is this why you are not going with him?” Maria eventually asked.

“Yeah… he said I am not fit to be an assassin and that I don't belong here, therefore he forbade me to go with him.”

“Will you do anything about it?”

Desmond shrugged and said: “I actually was planning to follow them, when they are far enough away. I should easily reach them on time when I travel by horse!”

“I see… well, come on, let's wave them good bye and after that I want to show you something.”

Desmond could only follow Maria out iof the room, through the dead like corridors. They walked towards the fest's entrance, where they were greeted by the sight of Malik, who was giving final orders to the few novices that would stand behind. When his gaze landed on them, he waved them away and approached Desmond and Maria.

“Be careful Malik and please watch out for Altair!” Maria said.

“I will Maria, don't worry.” He turned to Desmond. “Do you remember the horse Altair always travelled with, the white stallion?”

“Yes?” answered Desmond confused.

“That’s Altair’s horse and also the fasted and strongest we have. Give us two hours then take the horse and follow us. You should be reaching our destination shortly after we do.”

“How do you know that I’ll follow you?” asked Desmond.

“I have known Altair for all my life and he wouldn’t be staying behind, not even with a life-threatening injury. You and he are much alike, so I figured you would follow us as well.” Malik winked and Desmond grinned in return.

“Thank you Malik!”

Malik returned his grin and laid his hand encouragingly on Desmond’s shoulder, the latter copied the gesture.

“Safety and peace Malik.”

“Safety and peace brother… and behave while we are away!” teased Malik and finally turned to leave.

“My poor husband. Now there are three people working against him.”

“You and Malik won’t let him forget this, will you?”

“Never!” Maria laughed and Desmond couldn’t help himself but join in.

Chapter Text

“Khasir, you have to leave soon,” Maria gently reminded.

“Yeah… I better prepare then.”

“I have something for you. Follow me!” Maria said before Desmond could leave her chamber.

She waved him to follow, to which Desmond immediately complied. Maria lead to into a more secluded area of the fest. The corridors were slightly covered in sand and it was obvious that they weren't used often. Maria however went on, without hesitating once, until they reached a locked and heavy looking wooden door. She quickly unlocked it and stepped in, causing the dust to swirl around them both. Desmond had to cough at that, but Maria seemed unaffected, she just continued towards a covered object at the back of the small storage. With one swift movement, Maria removed the blanket and after the dust had settled, Desmond was greeted with the most beautiful crafted assassin armour he had ever seen.

“It is yours,” Maria mumbled next to him.

Desmond swirled around and fixed his ancestor's wife with a shocked and confused stare, “What?!”

She chuckled, “It is yours! It was supposed to be a gift for Altair, but you need it now more than he does.”

“Maria,  I… I can't take this!”

“You can and you will, because I will be very mad otherwise.”

Desmond gulped and looked back at the armour. Maria beckoned him forwards and the brown haired male hesitantly stepped forward and ran a hand over the cold metal.

“I'll leave you two alone,” Maria winked and left the room.

Desmond ran with his hand one last time over the fine crafted metal and quickly discarded the robes Altair had given him. The new robes and armour suited him perfectly and he silently thought that the black fabric suited him more than the white one. With one last deep breath, he left the room only to be greeted by Maria, who had waited patiently for him. Her eyes roamed his body and Desmond felt slightly uncomfortable under her gaze.

“You look great… like a true assassin.”

“And I didn't look like one before?” Desmond inquired.

“You did, but this is different. I fear that I do not have the words to describe it.”

Desmond smiled reassuringly at her apologising look, “I now what you mean.”

She smiled in return when Desmond hugged her and thanked her for the gift.

“It is my pleasure, but now you better hurry! You don't want to be late, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Thanks again Maria, for everything!”

“Safety and peace Khasir!”

With that Desmond departed, but not before borrowing Altair's horse. The new armour was light, but would defend it's wearer for sharp swords and heavy axes. Desmond could move freely and without any problems, it almost felt like a second skin to him. Way more comfortable than the robes Altair had offered him.

Desmond huffed. He couldn't wait for the stupid look that would surely appear on Altair's face, when his ancestor would spot him. He just hoped Malik would be able to draw it then. Amused the young assassin shook his head and urged his horse onward.

Desmond could make out the sound of marching people a few metres before him and he carefully slowed his horse down until it stood perfectly still. It wouldn’t do Desmond any good, if Altair spotted him before the actual fight, so the young assassin looked for a place where he would be hidden from Altair’s eyes as well as his eagle vision. He had the best chances on success if Desmond were able to hide until the battle raged or until both parties were standing across each other. He could make a great entrance as well then.

Desmond urged the horse on again, much slower this time. He carefully followed the traces of the assassins until he crossed a path that was bordered by rather large cliffs. He doubted he would be spotted there, but Desmond would have to leave the horse behind. The stallion may have been one of the best horses, but he doubted that it could climb steep cliffs. So he quickly unsaddled and made his way up the cliffs, the gloves of his new outfit protected his hands from the ruff rocks.

The further he moved on top of the cliffs, the louder became the voices. Apparently Altair and the assassins had stopped their march and had reached their destination. Desmond wondered if he should try to make contact with at least Malik, but he became the answer, before he could make up his mind. Malik and a few other assassins, whose names Desmond didn’t know, were positioned on the very cliff he was. They stared across the field, clearly trying to locate the enemies, before they were spotted.

If Malik’s robes hadn’t moved in the wind, he could have been a stature, while his companions carefully climbed the cliffs to get to other spots and to have a better view.

“I kind of wonder how you got up here,” Desmond said, causing Malik to spin around.

With ease caught Desmond the thrown knife and he smiled cheekily at Malik.

“By Allah, Khasir! Never sneak up to an assassin!”

Desmond silently laughed at that, “You mean: Never startle an assassin.”

“I wasn’t startled!” Malik protested, causing Desmond to laugh. “You are sooner here than I expected.”

“Is that a problem?” Desmond asked uncertain.

“Definitely not. You can help me look out for enemies with this vision of yours!”

“It would be my pleasure.”

He walked up to Malik, making sure that the older assassin stood in Altair’s line of vision so that his ancestor wouldn’t spot him, and handed him the throwing knife back.

“It is a good thing that you are as talented as Altair, maybe even better,” Malik complimented Malik while he accepted the knife back.

“Altair seems to have another opinion on this matter!” Desmond replied bitterly.

“Altair let’s himself be blinded by fear,” at Desmond’s raised eyebrow he continued, “He fears losing you and therefore he said those things.”

Desmond frowned, “What’s spoken in fear and anger tends to be truer than what is said under normal circumstances.”

Malik hummed, clearly thinking about Desmond had said. “If that’s true, you should show him otherwise… on the other side you already did by saving his life and by fighting him. Well, Altair had always been a little dull…”

“That is why he has you at his side.”

“Probably.”

They continued to watch over the provisionally camp in comforting silence. Desmond would sometimes glance at his ancestor to make sure the man wouldn’t spot him and to look what he was doing. It seemed that everything was in order, yet the tension was clear in the air.

Eventually Malik broke the silence, “Interesting robes you are wearing.”

“They were a parting gift from Maria. She wouldn’t have taken ‘no’ as an answer.”

“Of course she wouldn’t!” Malik chuckled in amusement, “They suit you.”

Desmond gave Malik a small smile, “I definitely stand out.”

“Then you better make sure you are fast enough!”

“Fast enough to dodge attacks?”

“To dodge Altair!” they shared a private laugh at that.

“When I survive this, Altair is going to kill me!”

“Don’t worry, I protect you,” Malik promised.

“Thank you, Malik. I definitely feel better now!” Desmond laughed. Before Malik could reply anything, Desmond said, “They are here!”

“What? Where?” Malik asked, looking around.

“You can’t see them without eagle vision… they should be in your line in sight in about… 10 minutes.”

Malik nodded determined. He clasped one of Desmond’s shoulders tightly, “Stay safe and be careful!”

“You as well!”

“I will!”

With that the one-armed assassin quickly scrambled down the cliff to inform Altair. Meanwhile Desmond hid further in the shadows.

Chapter Text

Desmond nervously played with the hidden blades Minerva had provided him. He was silently watching how the templars marched forward, riders at the front. He couldn’t make out Dominique however and Desmond guessed he would stay behind to use the apple.

The assassins had taken their places as well, he saw countless of them on the cliffs or hidden behind rocks. They would launch an attack from afar, with their crossbows and throwing knives. They probably would take out the enemies archers first, at least that is what Desmond would do. The rest of the assassins were gathered on normal ground in battle position, with Altair and Malik at the front. Their faces looked grim and when the first templar dismounted their horses, Desmond knew the battle would start any minute now.

Eventually the leading templar gave the signal and Desmond saw Altair doing the same and then, the battle began. Sword clashed, metal met and people died. It made Desmond sick to think that this fight between templar and assassins would go on for centuries to come. He sighed and shook his head.

“Humans are violent creatures by nature, Desmond Miles, it was how they were created,” a voice in his head suddenly said.

“But why Minerva? Why not just create them to be peaceful?”

“Because no being is truly peaceful, not animal is peaceful and we are neither.”

Desmond knew she was referring to her and the others of the first civilization. He eventually nodded., “I should join the battle now!”

“I agree, but watch out for Dominique de Sable. If you do not interfere, Desmond, he will kill Altair today. You have to stop him!”

Desmond nodded and finally stepped out of the shadows. He quickly checked the battlefield, but couldn’t make out the all too familiar form of de Sable.

“Go to Altair, Dominique will find you then and now hurry, before it’s too late!”

Desmond decided he did not like the tone of Minerva’s voice at all and he quickly looked out for his ancestor. Thanks to his eagle vision, he soon spotted the figure of Altair, fighting as if he was possessed. All around him laid dead bodies, the earth under his feet was drenched with the blood of his enemies, yet Altair seemed unharmed. Desmond allowed himself to sigh in relief, before stepping closer to the cliff’s edge. He would made sure that Altair stayed save, and if it killed him. And with that, he jumped down and joined his brothers in their fight.

At some point Desmond had stopped counting the men he had killed, while trying to reach Altair. The older assassin seemed to be moving further away with every step Desmond took in his direction, but of course Desmond knew that this was just his imagination.

The other assassins had quickly figured out who he was, he apparently had gained quite the reputation, and the moved aside to let him pass, the templar however, seemed drawn towards him. In groups they would stand in his way and he struck them down without mercy, Desmond’s first priority was Altair.

Eventually Desmond spotted the de Sable heir in the crowd, he was also heading towards Altair’s destination, but his path wasn’t blocked by enemies. The glowing apple in his hand made sure of that.

The light made the French man’s eyes glitter strange and dangerously and a shudder ran down Desmond’s spine at the mad grin he had on his face. The young assassin cursed loudly when yet another templar blocked his path and he decided that he finally had enough.

Instead of meeting their blades with his own, Desmond kept on running towards them. He dodged their attack and jumped rather clumsy on their shoulders and heads and successfully made his way towards the still fighting Altair, whose robes had turned from white to red. The grand master of the assassins was so deep in concentration, so engaged in the movements he made, that he didn’t notice Dominique de Sable approaching from behind him. But luckily Desmond was there to protect his comrade.

He jumped from the shoulder of one of the knights, who crashed to the ground from the shove and he landed right behind the French man, who turned around to look at the intruder.

“Ah, it is the brother,” he greeted Desmond.

“It ends here and now de Sable!”

“Indeed!” the templar confirmed and drew his sword, grinning manically.

Desmond expression turned to determination and in the next moment, the metal of his sword met de Sable’s. Altair had finally noticed the templar leader behind him and almost had attacked him, when he caught sight of the French man’s opponent. At first he did not recognize the man, fighting his enemy, but eventually he identified the movements as these of Desmond’s. He quickly shoved his irritation down and was about to join Desmond in his fight, when more templar stepped forward, right between him and the two opponent.

He cursed his luck, the templar and eventually even Desmond, but then he quickly turned towards his new challenger.

Desmond and Dominique danced around each other, parrying blows and attacking. The French man’s fighting style was graceful and controlled, but Desmond had no problem keeping up with the stronger build man. He was more agile, faster and could use acrobatic manoeuvres to keep his opponent at bay and to eventually force him back, away from Altair.

Dominique gritted his teeth in frustration, “Why do you not just give up, assassin? You and your companions have no chance against me and my templar!”

“We will never surrender!” Desmond replied, while circling his opponent.

“You are all fools!”

“Says the one, who hides behind the apple!”

Dominique bared his teeth at that, “I am not hiding, assassin! I am fighting am I not?”

“Now you are,” Desmond agreed, “But until I approached you, you where making sure that no one even touched you! Face it, you are a coward and a bastard and you will lose!”

“Never! I will never lose! You and your precious brotherhood are going to lose! I am going to send you all to hell, where you belong.”

“So far, you are not doing a good job,” Desmond gave him a provocative smile.

The French man roared and lunged forward, but Desmond had foreseen this move. Dominique was easy to make angry and therefore he was easy to manipulate and to control. He would take advantage of the fact and hope, that this will be enough to beat him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

More blows were exchanged and every time somebody tried to interfere, he was quickly motioned away by either Desmond or the French man. This was a personal fight and neither man would allow another the kill.

“Tell me Dominique, what are you going to do once I send you right to hell.”
“Hell is where you go, assassin. I shall join my brothers in heaven.”

“Please, it must be a really stupid good when he welcomes you with open arms.” Desmond paused to dodge a low swing of his opponent’s sword, “I guess your father must have a good time, sweltering in the heat of the purgatorial fire.”

The French man roared in anger. “You are a dirty and dumb heather, assassin.”

“Which reminds me, Matthew 5,3 ‘Happy are the poor in spirit: for the kingdom of heaven is theirs’. Therefore I shall be in heaven… it will be a pleasure seeing you again when I finally die…” That was one of the few lines he actually knew from the bible, probably thanks to one of his ancestor’s too, for Desmond himself had never read it.

“How dare you to claim to know anything about our holy words?”

At least Desmond had reached his goal, Dominique was beyond furious now, which made his attacks even stronger than they already were. Desmond winced inwardly. On the other side the attacks should also grow more erratic and out of control and if Desmond could spot an opening, he might have had a real good chance.

Just as expected, Dominique de Sable attacked with everything he got, but now his attacks lacked all the elegance and control they had at the beginning of this fight and Desmond saw more and more openings. He already took advantage of some of them and a few scraps and bruises were now covering the French man’s chest and arms, unfortunately it was nothing too severe and life threatening.

Desmond silently wondered if the French man actually noticed that he was wounded or if he was too gone in his mindless rage. Then again, the apple had began to glow again and it was probably influencing and controlling the templar. Desmond could only shake his head. How low he had fallen.

“Calm down, Desmond Miles. It is almost over.” Minerva said inside his head and only then did Desmond notice his wild beating heart and his heavy panting. “Keep calm and remain patient, an opening will reveal itself in due time, but only to those who look and focus.”

Desmond hummed in agreement and concentrated back on his body and on the fight at hand. Dominique was panting at least as heavily as Desmond himself and the man had sweat running down his face. Their gazes met and Dominique’s face turned into a sneer and he gripped the hilt of his sword tightly with both hands before swinging it towards Desmond, who easily dodged the sloppy attack by rolling under it. That was the opening he had been waiting for and in a matter of seconds, Desmond had gotten back on his feet and had embedded the activated hidden blade in the other man’s neck, whose eyes widened in shock and pain.

Both, assassin and templar, stood frozen in place, neither moving a single muscle. But then the French man’s arms started to tremble and his sword fell to the bloody ground with a clang. Slowly Desmond retreated the blade from his opponent’s neck and lowered the man to the ground.

“You have won the fight assassin, but not the war.”

“A war that will go one for centuries to come. A war with no winners, only losers.” Desmond answered.

“Yes, but at least I’ll die knowing, that the assassin lost a valuable thing today.”

Desmond barely had time to react. He blindly grabbed for the templar’s hand, which held a shining and sharp dagger. Barely Desmond pushed the weapon away so that it only scratched at his neck.

Dominique’s eyes shined with fury. “Not this time, templar.” Desmond said and looked down at the pale form of a man who had unknowingly become the pawn in the game of beings greater and bigger than any human and he could only shake his head at that. “Rest in peace,” he eventually said when the templar’s last breath had escaped his lungs and when the blood had stopped to flow.

Slowly the assassin stood up, grabbing the apple which the French man had hastily put into a pouch on his belt. He turned to look around only to see that he was far from the battle field. Apparently they had moved and danced quite a while.

“Minerva,” Desmond mumbled and almost instantly he felt a warm presence surround him.

“Well done, Desmond Miles.”

“What now?” He asked, feeling somehow lightheaded.

“Follow the way the templar have come. You will have to climb one of the cliffs, I will guide you to it. Once you reach it, I will focus all my energy into opening a portal that will transport you back where you belong, but be cautious, Juno will await you.”

“I kind of wondered that she hasn’t attacked until now.”

“She has, her presence was in Dominique de Sable’s spirit. He was a pawn, like you described it and when it became clear to hear that he was no longer of any use, she got rid of him.” Minerva explained.

“You said she will await me…” Desmond hesitated, “Can you protect my family?”

“Most would have asked for protection for themselves, but here you are Desmond, asking me to protect those you live and cherish. These are the true attributes of a leader, a fighter and somebody who earned it to be called the child of prophecy.”

A moment there was silence between them and Desmond ignored the sounds of the raging battle in the background. “How much longer do I have?”

“Not enough to seek out the ones you want to see. I will send them your farewell once I have recharged.”

Desmond inclined his head, his right hand still clutching the shining apple, “Thank you.”

And with that his grip tightened and his gaze turned towards his next goal, before he started running.

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

“What will happen with Altair’s apple? Shouldn’t we leave it behind?” Desmond managed to spit out between his panting. He was hanging from one of the cliffs; he could already see the shimmering portal.

“I will return it, once it fulfilled its purpose in your world. Do not worry, your ancestor can relinquish it for a few days in his time.”

Desmond nodded as good as he was able to and refocused on his task at hand. He didn’t want to fail at the last metres, literally and metaphorically speaking. With a relived sigh he pulled himself over the edge. The sight of Minerva standing next to the greenish portal greeted him. The tall woman smiled warmly at him and gestured for Desmond to enter. He was already stepping closer, when a shout drew his attention away, “Desmond!”

The young man turned around to see Altair and Malik running towards him. With a questioning and pleading look on his features, he turned to Minerva.

“There is no time...” she said ruefully and her words sounded honest.

Desmond nodded in understanding and bowed his head. With a whispered, “I am sorry,” that was probably lost to the wind, he stepped through the portal.

It took Desmond’s eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness that greeted him once he escaped the bright portal. When they did, the young male gasped in surprise. He was back in their hideout in the present and he could see his friends and family from his position. They had not spotted him yet. He was currently standing on something that looked like a balcony and Desmond wondered why Minerva had not just taken him to the ground.

“To make a grand entrance maybe,” he wondered to himself. Eventually the young man just shrugged and jumped from his position, startling the other assassins once he touched the ground.

He was straightening up and with a raised eyebrow, he looked at his father, who pointed a gun at him and then at Shaun who looked ready to throw the book about time travel his way. Rebecca just openly gaped at him.

“Des? Des is that you?”

“Of course it’s me. Who else should I be?” Desmond shrugged.

“Great, had anyone learned Arabic? No? Then I guess we have a big problem!”

Desmond was torn between rolling his eyes at Shaun’s painfully obvious sarcasm and grimacing, because he hadn’t noticed that he was not speaking in English.

“Sorry...” he cleared his throat, “To answer your question, Rebecca: Yes, it’s me.”

A moment in silence went by and suddenly Rebecca had jumped up from her position at the desk and Shaun had dropped the book he was holding. Both of them ran towards Desmond, who returned their almost painful hug.

“It’s good seeing you too,” Desmond laughed.

Shaun was the first to recover. He let go of Desmond and straightened up, “What the hell are you wearing? Have you broken into a museum?”

“No, this would be Altair’s armour. Maria was so kind to give it to so that I could return this,” he held up the apple and three pairs of eyes looked amazed at this.

“Wait a moment... you brought an apple from Altair’s time with you? Have you any idea how much that could alter history?” Shaun was beyond shocked.

“Calm down, Minerval will return it shortly.”

Shaun nodded, “Alright, no need to panic then...” The sarcasm was still evident, “Well, welcome home then.”

Desmond huffed. Eventually Rebecca let go of him too and now it was the older Miles’ turn to step forward.

“Dad,” Desmond greeted.

“Desmond,” the older male retorted awkwardly.

A few moments in uncomfortable silence went by and Desmond was impatiently remembered that there was not much time left, when the older man finally stepped forward and rested both his hands on his sons shoulder.

“It’s good to have you back,” to Desmond’s surprise, he was suddenly pulled into a quick hug, which earned him amused and approving looks from Shaun and Rebecca.

“Yeah, I missed you too, dad… oh and should you ever met Altair, don’t tell him you’re my father.”

Confused the older male pulled back and looked into his son’s serious face, “I think it’s highly unlikely that I’ll ever meet him…. But if the chance arises, why not?”

“I think he wants to punch you…”

The older man actually looked uncertain at that, “You told him about our argument then?”

“Yeah… sorry for that.”

“A luck then, that I will probably never see him.”

“I don’t want to interrupt the merry family reunion,” Shaun interrupted, “but your apple is starting to glow, Desmond.”

Startled both Miles looked down at the round golden object in Desmond’s hand and indeed, the fine lines began to glow softly. When Desmond lifted his hands to allow his comrades a better look, the apple began to slightly levitate and its started to move and transform until it was no longer a round ball, but a strange formed and indefinable object.

“How did you do that?” Shaun asked in bewilderment and cautiously stepped closer, eyes fixed on the piece of Eden.

“I didn’t do anything, it did this on its own!” Desmond protested.

“How interesting.”

“Desmond Miles, the time has come. Do what the prophecy urges you to do.”

“Was that-” Shaun began.

“Minerva?” Rebecca asked.

“Yes, and she wants me to do something against Juno,” Desmond explained and reached for the apple, which let itself be caught by the man’s hand.

“Are you completely sure you know what you are doing?” the worried voice of William Miles sounded behind Desmond.

The younger man turned his head while he walked further into the temple, “Actually, I have not the slightest idea what I am doing… but my body follows the apple right now, so I could not stop even if I wanted to.”

“I do not think that this is a good idea…”

“I am not so sure either, Shaun. But if you do not want to just shoot me down I fear we will have to follow Minerva’s lead now.” Desmond said, strangely confident.

“Nothing will happen to you, Desmond Miles. Neither your death nor you taken an injury was foretold.” Minerva’s voice sounded once more through the whole temple.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Shaun said sarcastically.

Chapter Text

The piece of Eden was leading Desmond, who was followed by his team and comrades, deeper into the temple. It opened all the doors and portals the encountered. Bridges out of pure golden light were created from nothing when gaps formed before the troop. The whole temple was working in one way or another. Strange ancient mechanisms were loudly jumping to work and not once did Desmond have to stop to wait.

“This is all so fascinating,” Shaun commented at one point. Desmond wondered if the man regretted not taking a camera with him. He was sure that Shaun would document as much as possible once they were out of this place.

Rebecca was walking right beside Shaun and had even grabbed the man’s wrist so that he wouldn’t get lost or stay behind, so fascinated was he with the whole construct. Rebecca was obviously fascinated too, with the technique at least, but she would not allow it to distract her. William Miles was quickening his steps to be on the same level as his son, who allowed himself to steal a quick glance at his father.

“How much deeper do you think we have to go?” he asked and Desmond knew that his father was just trying to ease the tension everybody was feeling.

“I doubt that it will be much farther,” Desmond retorted and the glowing object in his hand started to vibrate in approval.

“I am glad when we are finally out of this temple... this whole thing is creeping me out,” Rebecca suddenly said.

“Are you kidding me? This is ancient art. I hope I will be able to study every piece of it after that mission of yours is finished.”

“Somehow I have the feeling that you won’t have time for that Shaun...” Desmond trailed off.
“And why is that?” wanted the British to know.

The younger Miles shook his head and watched how another bright bridge was formed over a huge rift, “It is just a feeling I have.”

Shaun hummed, but he did not reply anything further. That fact alone should have worried the young assassin, but his attention was suddenly caught by a giant door they were approaching.

“Wow,” Rebecca and Shaun stated in unison and the two Miles silently agreed.

The door would have allowed a giant from old story books to pass through. It was covered in strange symbols and lines, not unlike the muster on the apple and on all the other ancient objects of the first civilisation. A small hole appeared in the giant door when Desmond and his companions stepped forward. It had a strange form and was at the perfect height for Desmond to touch and examine.

“Do you think the piece is supposed to be a key?” Desmond asked no one in particular.

“It looks as if it would fit,” Shaun offered.

“Just one way to find out,” the woman in the group tried to sound cheerfully, but the fear and anxiety in her voice was palpable.

Desmond’s gaze turned towards his father, who hesitated before he said, “I fear we have no other option...” and Desmond silently agreed.

He did not hesitate another moment, but stepped forward and pushed the golden piece of Eden into the hole. It fit perfectly and started to glow almost blinding. The light was travelling over the lines and it reminded the present of golden liquid that ran through tubes and pipes. At one point the group had to cover their eyes because of the sudden brightness, but they still heard the sound of mechanics working. A scraping sound was heard when the light finally darkened and the door was finally open. The piece of Eden had returned to its original round form and was hovering where the hole in the door had been. Desmond grabbed it.

“Who goes first?” Shaun asked jokingly. He knew that no one really wanted to continue from now on.

“I will,” the younger Miles retorted braver than he really was.

“We will go together,” William interrupted and stopped his own flesh and blood by his elbow. “We are a team... we are assassins...” he trailed off, but there were no more words needed. They all understood the hidden meaning nevertheless.

Desmond nodded and only then was he released by his father’s death like grip. The four assassins lined up and the sight would have been comical, hadn’t it been for the situation they and the whole world were in. Taking a deep breath, Desmond began to count from three to zero and when they had reached the last number, the four assassins moved as one. They stepped through the large open gate and were greeted by darkness. A moment later the gat snapped shut.

“Oh, isn’t that just great?” Shaun asked sarcastically and usually Desmond would have retorted something, but now he knew that the British male used his sarcasm to hide his true feelings.

“Let’s just go ahead and see what we will find... unless one of you has another idea,” Desmond offered.

His three companions shook their heads and Rebecca took a brave step forward. Almost immediately the three males followed her example. They used the apple’s light as a guide in the darkness, hoping to find anything they could use.

“What’s that?” William suddenly asked.

“What do you mean?” Desmond inquired further.

“Look forward, it looks like some kind of machine, small enough for normal humans to use.”

“I do not see anything,” Shaun said.

“Me neither,” Rebecca added.

“I see it,” Desmond’s eyes were fixed forward and Shaun and Rebecca tried their hardest to see what the two Miles had located. Desmond hurried his steps and so did the others.

“Now I see it as well,” Shaun joked when they were standing directly in front of the machine.

“Maybe it is time for new glasses,” Rebecca nudged him friendly in the side and the British man actually laughed. William and Desmond chuckled too, but their attention was quickly diverted by the machine.

“What in the world is this?” the British male asked aloud.

“This, is the key to your problem,” Minerva’s voice echoed through the large hall. “I modified it, so that you might use it.”

“So, that’s why it is so... small?” the female assassin wanted to know.

“Yes,” Minerva suddenly appeared before them, barely taller than them, “Quickly now Desmond Miles. Put the pieces of Eden in their place.”

“What will happen?” Altair’s descendent needed to know.

“Juno will be fully trapped again and your world will be saved.”
“What will happen to you?” the older Miles asked. It was apparently a family thing to question everything at the worst possible times.

“I will be able to return to my own temple, where I am able to rest and recover,” the glowing woman from the first civilisation answered.

“Dad?” golden eyes met with blue ones, “Would you do us the honour?” Desmond was holding out one of the apples for his father to take. William seemed surprised at the gesture for a moment, but he quickly caught himself, nodded and took the offered item in his hands.

Both Miles were standing before the machine now. They both held one of the pieces of Eden in their hands and were ready to put it where Minerva had shown them. The strange female being was standing with the two remaining assassins, who looked quite uncomfortable next to her.

Desmond took another last breath and with one last nod, he and his father activated the mechanism. Unbeknownst to them, it even effected the battlefield of Altair.

Chapter Text

Epilogue:

Loud and terrified screams came to Altair’s ears when the ground started to shake violently. Only with great effort, pulled the assassin his gaze away from the spot that Khasir – no, Altair reminded himself harshly, his name is Desmond – had vanished from mere moments ago and instead he focused on his surroundings. Large gaps and holes opened in the ground to their feet and the cliffs that surrounded the battlefield started to collapse.

Without wasting another thought on what exactly was happening or how something like this was even possible, he shouted, “Retreat! Bring yourself to safety!” Then and only then did Altair and Malik broke into a full run alongside their countless brothers and comrades.

The mentor of the assassins spared one last lingering glance over his shoulder, only to see nothing, and he silently prayed to Allah and everybody who was out there that Desmond was safe.

It felt like the whole temple was shaking as soon as the machine had sprung to life. Somewhere in the temple’s depths sounded an angry female scream that was soon drowned out by the temple’s awakening. Light appeared everywhere and in every little gap. It seemed to come from thin air, there was no light source, yet it was still present and illuminated the giant hall in a strange golden light.

Desmond allowed himself to take a look at his comrades to make sure they were alright and not too overwhelmed by what was happening. He himself barely knew what was going on and he was not sure how long his calm facade would hold.

Desmond’s father was gripping the machine tightly, his knuckles white from the sheer force of his grip. Shaun and Rebecca were clutching each other and looked around wildly and with wide eyes. The sight would have been comically, hadn’t it been for the current circumstances.

“Your planet and its inhabitants are saved, Desmond Miles. You and your companions should take a leave now, the temple will take care of the rest,” Minerva’s voice sounded hollow and distant, but her words were clear and good to understand. Desmond turned back to his fellow assassins, his family, his comrades, his brothers and sisters and they all regarded him with a look of determination and heartfelt trust. Humbled, Desmond straightened up almost unconsciously and stood proud and sure before his friends. Little did he know that Altair’s spirit, Ezio’s wit and quick thinking and Connor’s braveness shone from within him, but it was palpable in his golden eyes. Without speaking, Rebecca, William and Shaun agreed that there finally truly was someone they could follow, someone they could call mentor.

“We have to leave,” Desmond’s voice broke through their silent thoughts and echoed in the large hall and they nodded in unison. Their mentor turned away from them, his robes swirling with the movement, making him appear mysterious, wise and almost out of this world.

“What are we to do with the pieces of Eden?” Desmond seemed to ask no one in particular, but before one of the assassins could answer, Minerva’s voice echoed from the walls and she sounded exhausted and bone-tired. “Take the one you carried, leave the other one behind.”

“What of Juno?” Shaun eventually joined the conversation a little hesitant and doubting, while Desmond stepped forward and pulled one of the golden objects out of their retainers. The temple’s mechanics still worked, even when the second apple slowly vanished before the assassins’ eyes.

“Juno will be of no threat anymore. But do not underestimate her influence on others. She undoubtedly will find allies who are weak-minded, yet useful to her.”

Minerva’s warning and her parting words remained in the forefront of the assassins’ minds, yet they also tried to focus on what lay ahead of them. They had saved the world – actually Desmond had – but there was no guarantee that Minerva or her comrades would not arise anew. The assassins were victorious this time, but there could always be a next time, which meant that they had to prepare themselves, make improvements, win ground and followers and what else was on the agenda. One thing was absolutely certain for Shaun, Rebecca and William however. With Desmond’s help, they could actually do this and win this cursed and wretched war.