The Target of His Heart (An Assassin's Creed Fanfic)

Ch. 16: Reminiscence and Contemplation

Two Days Later...



June 12, 1191



Two long and anxious days went by since Alexandra, Ada, Diana, and I arrived in Damascus with the help of Amal. Since then, we were able to get a new set of clothing, made specially by a good friend of Amal just down the street. The attire was not much, but it was better than nothing. Not wanting to wear dresses any longer as I had done when visiting my father, I decided to wear faded grey pants with a white, short sleeved blouse and a crimson red sash that wrapped around my stomach and a little bit of my hips. A pair of knee-high boots adorned my feet, and I decided to pull my hair back in a ponytail with only my bangs and other strands of hair falling out. From behind, according to Alexandra, I appeared to be a man, to which I did not know if it was good since no one would recognize me; or bad since I was referred to as a man. Despite that, our time here had been rather enjoyable.

I spent a lot of my time talking to Amal about anything and everything I could think of off the top of my head, from the past to our daily life. When I had the chance, I had asked a lot of questions about Bernard, since I desperately wanted to know how she met him. She explained to me about his life, born and raised in France, and his childhood. He too, was born in a life of royalty, but never really acted like a noble. He was very rebellious and always wanted to travel the world, but his parents never allowed him to do so. Then, a few years later, when he was around the age of sixteen, he met Amal and my mother. Falling for my aunt almost immediately, he decided to go with her back to Damascus, wanting to live out his life with her. He treated Amal with as much respect as he could muster, and always wanted her to be happy, to be smiling every day whenever she was with him. He knew about her marital ties with the King, as my mother married a year after he arrived at Damascus, but he did not care.

I quietly leaned against the railing of my balcony, staring out at the beauty of the city. Although I stared out at it, my mind had wandered to other, more important things. My mind still wandered to Altaïr, who had not come to Damascus in two days. I feared he still remained with the Templars, and he was to be tortured, if not killed, if he did not speak about what his plans were. However, I knew he was strong and would not speak of anything, no matter how much they tortured him. From my knowledge, he would never do something like that at the cost of losing our chance at freedom. My eyes lowered to the streets below. Still; worry consumed my body and plagued my mind. As much as I did not wish to think negatively about the situation, I could not help it. He may have been strong enough to hold his own, but for how long? How long would he last until he broke under the pressure? He may have been an Assassin; one who has seen death much longer than I, but everyone, no matter how strong, has a breaking point.

Altaïr, I thought as I placed my chin on my hand. Please be safe.

"Cynthia?" I did not look over my shoulder at the new voice, knowing full well who it was by now. "Are you alright, dear?"

I sighed.

"Not really," I muttered, glancing over my shoulder to spot Amal closing the balcony door behind her.

She sighed and walk towards me, standing at my side as we had done two days ago.

"You have been out here for some time.” She stated. “What is on your mind?”

I pursed my lips for a moment, trying to find the right words to say.

“Well,” I started. “I am...starting to worry about Altaïr.” She raised a curious eyebrow as I lifted my head off my hand, allowing it to droop over the side of the railing. "I cannot help it; the last time I saw him was when he was held captive by the Templars. He said nothing would happen and that he would return, but he has not been around in two days, and there have not been any signs of him."

"Do not worry so much about it, Cynthia." Amal smiled warmly, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "He will be perfectly fine. After the things you have said to me about him, I am sure of it. He sounds like the type of person who could survive against the Templars. Any Assassin would be."

I wanted to return the smile; I wanted to assure her that her words did not go unheard, unnoticed, but it would not come to me. It would not grace my lips as it had done in the past when I saw her for the first time in ten years. A strong sense of déjà vu began to consume my body, as I had recalled feeling this way two weeks before the wedding; with Altaïr. I remembered feeling worried about the outcome of the plan, and trying to smile when assured by Altaïr that everything would be fine. Why, I wondered, do I always find something that reminds of him? I had not even been in Damascus a week, and already I seemed to find things that reminded me of him. No matter how hard I tried, I could not shake the feeling that everything little detail that surrounded me made me see him, making me even more worried. For example, Amal and Bernard's relationship with one another greatly reminds me of the odd connection between Altaïr and I. Although it was in no way romantic, there was a strong bond between us that made it seem that way. It still felt like we were lovers, when in reality, I believed it was no where near that.

I turned my head to look up at Amal. She had put on a reassuring smile to go with her reassuring words, yet my smile would not arise. Instead, I slowly looked back at the street, watching the civilians walk by, and sighed.

"I know he will be alright," I said, "but I am still worried." Amal sighed before chuckling lightly, making me look back at her with confusion written in my eyes. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing is funny," she said, shaking her head. "I am simply recalling what you told me the other night, when you and Altair first met." She looked out at the city, "You said he was there to kill you, right?"

I nodded.

"Yes."

"And you became the target of his mission when you met him," she stated. I nodded again, only she continued with, “I do not think it is that way now." A brief pause for thought as I raised an eyebrow. "You did became the target of his mission when he was ordered by his Master. However, with time, I believe you became the target of his heart."

"The target of his heart?" I inquired, earning a nod. “That is ridiculous. You are still on the idea that we are lovers?”

“Of course I am.” She smiled. “He cares about you very much from my understanding."

I looked away.

“It's possible, but it does not mean we are in love with one another.”

She laughed lightly.

“Whatever the case may be, I am sure your mother would be very proud of you nonetheless."

Blinking, I looked at her.

"You think so?"

Amal nodded.

"Of course," she said. "Before you were born, she would go on and on about how she wanted to have a beautiful daughter." She looked at me "She got that down."

I laughed.

"Go on, I want to know more," I pressed, leaning against the railing once more, only this time I was giving her my full attention.

She giggled before continuing.

"She always wanted to have a daughter of her own, and teach her things a father could never do," she explained. "She wanted to teach you...to be your own person, and to not let anyone, not even your father, persuade you otherwise." She looked back out at the city "You have the power; the ability, to do whatever it is you see fit, no matter if it goes against the teachings of the Templars. Another thing" She looked back at me "is that she wanted you to find someone who would see you for who are. She wanted to have compassion toward all who respected you, who loved you, who would do anything to protect you. And the last and most important aspect, ” Her smile grew, "is to have faith and bring peace in all things."

I smiled warmly at her words, taking in all the advice my mother had told to Amal, which she then passed unto me. Those words ran through my mind several times, knowing they had come straight from the lips of my beloved mother. I may not have met her formally and knew her as well as her sister, but I knew; since the day I was born, she was truly a kind, strong young woman, who wanted nothing else but bring happiness and have the ability to teach her daughter the things she was taught to be as a child. I felt this teaching was passed on through many different generations, each and everyone; my mother included, had put to good use in some way, shape, or form. I felt honored to know I had lived up this never-ending tradition despite not learning of it until now, so many years later. Still, it made me feel happy, to know I was living up to my mother's expectations, since they were the only things that felt important to me. It was the only thing I had in my life that would forever remind me of her.

I sighed with content before looking out at the city again.

"If only I had gotten to know my mother as well as you did," I spoke out loud.

Amal giggled again.

"Yes, Jamila was quite an interesting, yet beautiful young woman back then."

I blinked at her words before turning my head toward her.

"Jamila was my mother's name?" I questioned.

She looked back at me, raising an eyebrow with confusion written on her face.

"You mean you did not know?" She questioned. I shook my head before she groaned, running a hand over her face. "Damn Richard! How could he not tell you your own mother's name?"

"I guess he never got around to it," I replied sullenly.

She shook her head.

"I could have sworn I told you before, though..."

I shrugged.

"If you did, I must not remember that well." I sighed. "Well, no matter. At least I know now."

Amal put on a smile.

"I suppose so," she said, looking back at me.

I returned the smile before we both looked back out at the city, staring at it for a long moment.

"Do you...think my mother would be happy," I questioned, "if I thought about defecting from the Templars?"

I felt her green eyes fall upon me for a moment, before looking back out at the city.

"It is just as I said before," she spoke. "She wants you to live out your life the way you wish to live it. However," She looked back at me, "if I had my opinion in it, I would say do it."

I looked back at her.

"You...think so?"

She nodded and said, "Of course! You, Alexandra, Ada, and Diana all should defect from the Templars! It would be for the best, especially if you really want to protect your people and get away from Abel and the wedding."

"But if I do that, I will not be able to go back," I stated, looking down toward the streets and watching civilians walk by, going about their daily business. "Leaving everything I once knew, the people I grew up with had always been with the Templars. It feels...difficult...to know I may never be able to go back."

"Why would you want to?" I remained silent at her words, not really sure what to say to that, before she continued, "You know exactly what they are like by now, so overpowering and enforcing. They are hurting the people; your people, simply because they could be doing something wrong, when in reality they are not. The Templars show no mercy to anyone, not even you." She paused. "They want people like you, people like me, and anyone else who questions the Templar way of life to conform to one way: their way." She smiled. "But I know you all too well, Cynthia, and I know for a fact you do not want to do that."

I laughed a bit.

"You are right about that...but...but what about the people? I care about them so much. I want to protect them all, and defecting like this, so suddenly...will make me feel like a traitor to them."

"You are not abandoning them," Amal assured me. "You will still be able to protect them, but with a bit of a different method."

I blinked as I looked up at her.

"What do you mean?" She looked at me with a mischievous look in her eyes. Her next words nearly took my breath away:

"Join the Assassins."

My eyes widened as I gasped at her words, my jaw dropping slightly at her suggestion. Join the Assassins? I thought. Was that even an option? There was no possible way I could ever join the Assassins, especially after defecting from the Templars so soon and so suddenly. The people would immediately assume I was trying to abandon them for the enemy and ruin everything, when it was nothing like that. However, when I thought long and hard about it, Amal was right. I would be doing something good for the people, and that was to actually protect them from those that did them harm. I would be able to put an end to the evil that has been inflicted against my people for many years. Still, the fact remained clear: Would they be able to accept the fact that Cynthia Richard, the daughter of Richard the Lionheart, had defected to the Assassins? Would they still respect me despite joining the other side, the side which the people had been warned were evil, corrupting; a menace?

My face lowered slightly, pondering the thoughts intently.

"I...I do not know..."

Amal watched me for a long moment before placing a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it a bit to grab my attention.

"I know it sounds like a big decision, Cynthia," she said as I looked up to her, "but I think it would be perfect for you."

"How do you know that?" I questioned. "How do you know joining the Assassins will be good for me and my friends?" She silently stared into my eyes with her own, sending me a message through her head. Then, she smirked mischievously. After a long moment, my eyes widened slightly, realizing was she was trying to get at. "You...you are one of them...?"

She laughed a hearty laugh and said, "Guilty."

I felt a smile grace my lips, yet it disappeared as soon as it came.

"So...what the Templars said was true?"

She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"Yes...and no," she laughed, placing her hands on the railing of the balcony. "Yes, because I was actually undercover for the Assassins at first, but not actually one of them. It was not until Richard banished me after obviously being brainwashed by those bastard Templars that I decided to become a full-time Assassin."

I blinked once, a smile gracing my lips.

"That is...incredible. So, you must know the Assassins that Altaïr is associated with?"

She shook her head.

"No, not the Levantine Assassins." She glanced at me, "I am with the Assassins that occupy Egypt."

"There are Assassins in Egypt?" I questioned, tilting my head to one side with curious expression on my face.

"That was exactly what I said when I was introduced to them by Bernard. According to him, wherever the Templars are, Assassins are always right there with them, watching over them and waiting for the right time to strike. It is kind of like a game of cat and mouse, only the cat waits not just for any kind of mouse, but the right one, before striking."

My eyes widened slightly.

"Wait. Bernard is an Assassin, too?" She nodded "But...I thought he was born a Frenchman?"

"He is French," she stated. "He's a French Assassin, but the Assassins that occupy it are associated with the Egyptians through his parents. His mother was French, and his father was Egyptian."

"That is a strange combination."

The blonde woman chuckled at my statement and said, "As strange as it sounds, it happened. I am not sure how it happened, though, but it did." I looked back out at the city and sighed, a small smile gracing my lips. "So, what do you say?"

I looked back at her, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

She looked me straight in the eye, her expression now completely serious, which greatly contrasted her exuberant and carefree attitude.

"Become an Assassin," she simply stated.

I stared at her for a long moment before looking out at the city once more, my mind contemplating the situation that was presented to me. The thought of becoming one, an Assassin, sounded like an interesting idea. However, my mind still lingered on the aftermath of my defection as well as the others. The Templars would be pretty upset. My father would be too, although he was not informed all that much of what the Templars were up to these days last time I had spoken to him, which was about a month or two ago. Still, to know I was abandoning him was hard, even for me. I could not lie to myself forever; I loved him very much. He was my father after all, but he seemed much too demanding of having me be the daughter he pictured me to be. Not only that, but since I was a woman, I would need to have a husband, namely Abel despite my distaste for him, to become the King after my father passed on. Now, though, all the things he wanted for me were to be thrown away if I left to join the Assassins. He may not have known much about them, but he would get the idea that I was leaving him and everything I once knew behind. But...is it really worth it, I wondered. Was it really worth joining the Assassins at the expense of my father's unhappiness?

"Cynthia? Cynthia." The sound of Amal's voice grabbed my attention fairly quickly. Blinking, I slowly looked back at her, noticing her assuring gaze. "You do not have to decide now, my dear. I can see you are thinking this through a little too much right now."

I glanced over her shoulder and stared at a spot on the nearby building before looking back at her.

"You seem to read minds all too well."

She laughed.

"You could say that." I smiled as she continued, "But in all honesty, take some time to think about it during the week. Then, when you have a set in stone answer, just let me know, and I will help you."

I nodded before embracing her in a warm hug, "Thank you, Amal. This...means so much to me."

"Anytime, darling," she responded, patting my back a bit.

"Hey, you two up there! On the balcony!" We released one another before looking over the railing, spotting the familiar faces of Alexandra, Ada, and Diana. Each had a different set of clothing on, and I almost did not recognize them. They seemed to have the same idea as I did, since they refused to wear dresses like other people had done. "Come on down! You have been there for at least an hour!" Alexandra called out, placing her black gloved hands around her lips so she could call out to us.

"We were going to travel around Damascus for a while and explore! Come join us!" Ada said, placing her hand above her eyes to block out the sunlight.

I giggled a bit in response.

"Alright. We will be right out."

With that, Amal and I turned toward the balcony doors and re-entered our room. Before we left, I looked back at my aunt and smiled up at her, to which she returned with a friendly grin of her own. I felt so proud to have someone like Amal, so kind, so confident, and so willing to help me in my time of need. Who knew what would have happened if I never saw her two nights ago? In fact, who knew what it would be like without her in my life? To be honest, I could not imagine a world without her.