Title: Nahnu. (Us.)
Fandom: Assassins Creed
AN: Okay so here is that damn bunny i couldn't get rid of, i had two people look it over and tell me if it was too ridiculous, so if it's too lame, blame them :P Anywho this is a Altaïr/OC pairring, so i don't think it will fly anywhere, so i am still not sure if i will post this anywhere than here on my lj. To my defence and for those who didn't play the game, you get a shitload of 'save citizen' quest type things, it's just nameless citizens that will say stuff like 'if you hadn't helped me, they (soldiers) would have made off with me', and/or 'i have no money, but i will find a way to repay you'. Okay so sue me for not recalling the correct lines! And so i actually just pick up on this. I did do an excessive amount of legwork, reading up of culture stuff to write this.
I seriously don't know if i will do part two, the plan is to write it, can't promise it tho.
Fareed knew the assassins routine by heart. He watched for him, and couldn't help but to smile as he saw the well known white clad figure saunter down the narrow street, his expression somewhere between mischievous and unyielding.
Fareed rested his chin on his knee, his eyes following the assassin as he passed by. He turned his head to keep him in view, even though he knew exactly where the man was heading. The assassin would always come walking from the same direction, always with a sort of languid arrogance, slipping gracefully between people who were in his path. He would aim directly for the brothel, where Fareed even knew he would pick a specific girl. He couldn't help but to wonder if the assassin maybe had fallen for the girl. Or maybe, he just that had some very particular tastes.
Letting orange peels drop to the ground, Fareed slowly ate the juicy fruit while he watched the agile man greeting the girls at the brothel. They all swarmed around him, their tingling laughter carried by the wind to the shadows where Fareed sat.
Today was slow, in every sense, like the air itself stood still. Fareed mused that it seemed to be waiting breathlessly for something to happen, not that he had a clue what that thing might be. He moved further into the shadows, to avoid the hot midday sun. He stared at the brothel's columns daydreaming that he was also standing under the cool shadow of the half roof, like the girls did. That had to be a life worth your right arm! He knew some of them by name, all sweet girls, sometimes they would slip him a coin, mostly out of pity he supposed. He didn't mind, it was more than what others did. Normally he would just get hard words, sometimes even kicks, and things thrown at him. All of which made him work harder to be invisible.
What he wouldn't give for the beautiful assassin's grace and good looks. He had seen him climb a building that seemed completely impossible to scale. If he only had that ability, he wouldn't get caught stealing from the stalls at the market, and the angry merchants wouldn't reach him with their sticks, fists or rocks. And with his looks, he could get whatever he wanted with a little smile alone. Once, the assassin had looked at him when he passed by, he had seen the amber colored eyes that were normally obscured by shadow, and he had seen those perfect, soft looking lips twist into a little smile. No wonder he was this popular with the girls at the brothel.
Fareed closed his eyes and daydreamed for a moment what it would be like if the handsome assassin had stopped in front of him, instead of walking past. If he had held out his hand and beckoned Fareed to come with him. What if he had taken him up into the tower where the birds would nest? Would it be as delirious as he thought to be kissed by those lips, with only they blue sky as a witness?
He woke abruptly as a sharp pain erupted on his shoulder, Fareed's eyes snapped open. As he turned his head, he rubbed his abused shoulder, stopping as soon as he found himself staring straight into a city guard's angry frown. "The Merchant Ali claims that you have stolen from him."
Fareed looked discretely over the guards shoulder to see if there was a possible escape route. There was no way the guard could miss the orange peels on the ground, so instead of answering the guard, Fareed made a sudden, mad dash. He was hoping to duck under the guards arm, into the market place, and with a little streetwise luck, get lost in the shoppers and shadows. But he had no such luck, the guard caught him.
No matter how hard he struggled, the guards grasp was unrelenting. And Fareed's horror grew beyond the crushing grip on his arm, as he saw the guard nod to his squad. He then then hauled Fareed into the alley, followed by four other guards. Fareed thought about screaming for help, but he knew that no one would come to his aid. Not just because he was lowly, poor thief, but also because everyone feared the guards' wrath. Even if they should pity him for being their target, none would interfere for fear that they too would be attacked. So, he opted for pleading in the most pitiful manner he could. It earned him nothing but a hard slap across his face.
"Silence, and you might live," The guard huffed in broken Arabic.
"Please, I have wife and child..." Fareed cried, hoping his lie would lessen their anger.
"I said, silence!" The guard growled, and slapped Fareed once more.
The wall tore up his skin as thick muscular arm pressed him against the raw plaster, keeping him down as it's owner pounded inside him. And when he finished, there would be another arm, another guard and another to fill him with their seed, huffing their loathing as they claimed his body as theirs to dominate. Fareed didn't listen to the words he understood, and ignored the ones he did.
He did not see the white fabric flow gracefully in the wind as death came to the guards from above. He heard the strangled cries, but when the arm that held him down finally lifted off, he just slid down the wall, staying still, hoping they would let him live if he was silent.
"How do you fare?" A deep, soft voice asked.
Fareed opened his eyes, and to his horror, looked straight into the assassin's beautiful face, the golden eyes looked worried, but the lips smiled. The figure was squatting between trash and crates, offering him a cloth that looked cleaner than a princess' sheets.
"Take it, friend," the assassin said, with a small encouraging nod. "You are bleeding."
Fareed took the cloth from the assassin with a shaking hand. "Th-thank you," he croaked, without ever taking his eyes off the assassin's hand, or rather the four fingered hand. What a terrible sacrifice to make, he mused.
The assassin flexed his fingers when he realised the beggar was studying them. "Can you stand?" he asked.
This seemed to shake Fareed from his dreamlike state, and he nodded slowly, reaching for his pants around his feet, to pull them up. The assassin stood, and extended his hand to him, offering to help. For a moment he thought of not taking the hand, mostly because he felt filthy, contagious. But afraid to offend the assassin, Fareed took the outstretched hand, letting the other man pull him to his feet. The assassin opened his pouch while Fareed fastened his pants again.
"Here," The assassin said, holding out some coins for Fareed to take. "Take them."
Fareed held out his hand, it made him feel terribly humble to receive coins from the man that saved him. "Allah be with you, stranger," he said, not sure if he could ever express his gratitude. The assassin placed the small pile of coins in Fareed's palm, before he swiftly turned around, leaving Fareed standing there with the pile of coins still neatly stacked in his palm. He continued to stare at the back of the other man, until he turned the corner and disappeared out of Fareed's sight. Not until then did he look down at the coins, it was a lot of coins! He was close to calling after the assassin to tell him he must have made a mistake, but he realised that he didn't know the strangers name. Instead he promised to himself he would pay the assassin's kindness back. Someday, somehow, he would find a way.
Two days later Fareed was back at his usual spot overlooking the market place. He had been to a bath house, blissfully ridding himself of dirt, parasites and the guards touch, all seemed to wash off in the warm water. It was not the first time some guards had roughed him up, his trade was a dangerous one, should you be caught. He had bought a new pair of pants, and to Ali the merchant's suspiciousness, went and bought some fruit, smiling widely as he had paid the angry old man with the assassin's coin. If nothing else, he had loved the baffled expression on Ali's face.
Today he had not seen the assassin cross the market place. Maybe he had already left Jerusalem again? Even if it saddened him a little, he looked over at the brothel's columns, promising himself that when the kind assassin returned to Jerusalem, he would have enough coin to pay him back.