#darim

from files from game Magical Deathpair

Codextober Day 18: Novice

Type: Series

Requester: None

Warnings: Fear of Abuse

Note: This pretty man does NOT get the attention he deserves. I swear. So, here we go on this trainwreck of a series with Darim Ibn-La’Ahad. Many of the instruments in this are from the band The HU. Look them up. They’re friggin awesome. I apologize for any incorrect mistranslations of Arabic to English. Google Translate was used. The Assassin’s Creed franchise is not mine, and rights to it go to Ubisoft. You are your own person. The only thing that is mine is the fanfiction itself. Enjoy! -Livie

Laughter echoed through the halls of the inn. Drunkards and simply merry men joked with each other, clinking their tankards together as barmaids floated around the room, offering drinks. It was muffled from Altaïr and Maria’s room, where they were getting ready for bed. The family, along with their son, were on their way back to Masyaf. Maria had noticed that their son had not come to bed. She looked a little concerned, looking to her husband. 

“Altaïr, where’s Darim? He said he’d let us know when he returned from outside,” Maria asked, inquisitive. 

Altaïr considered her question. Darim had wanted a breath of fresh air, feeling that the inn was much too stuffy. So, what was taking him so long? “I do not know, Maria. Should I go to look for him?” 

“Not yet. I’m sure he’s just a bit troubled by all that’s happened as of late.” Maria knew all too well that Altaïr knew what she spoke of. The assassination of Genghis Kahn. Though Darim hid it well, Maria suspected that her son was haunted by Kahn’s last words. She had been the same way when she first took a life. 

In fact, Darim was quite unbothered by it. He knew Kahn was a horrible man - no, he wasn’t even that - that needed to be put down. The young man was just watching a feminine figure move around the dancers outside. Someone was playing a merry tune on a Morin Khuur, which was a two-stringed instrument that sounded like a violin or a cello from Northern, Western, and Central Europe. 

This young woman looked so out of her element. She was wearing thin clothing that was more attuned to the Middle East than the cold, rolling hills of Western Mongolia. She only had a short curved blade on her hip, and a satchel of various items, but her boots were dusty and well-worn. She’d traveled far and on-foot. 

There was a haunted look in her eyes. She was scared even though her outer demeanor was a kind but weary traveler. Why was she scared, Darim wondered. She intrigued the young Assassin as he watched her with inquisitive eyes. 

Normally, he would’ve sat somewhere or followed her, but he actually wanted to speak to this beautiful creature and get to know her better. He stood up from where he’d been leaning on a tree. Keeping his eyes on her, he carefully maneuvered himself through the merry throng of people. He was a big man, so the crowd easily parted for him. 

The woman wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. She kept looking over her shoulder warily, her eyes wide and attentive despite their exhaustion. Darim averted his eyes, watching as a few children ran around his legs. Their giggling and quick actions distracted him. He watched as they ran off. He smiled gently. 

Darim grunted a little, feeling someone collide with his side. He nearly stumbled but caught himself. The woman had picked up the pace, feeling exposed in the open air, and had broken through the group of people only to slam into Darim’s side and get knocked back onto her bottom. 

The assassin looked surprised. He crouched down next to her, frowning now. He hadn’t meant to do such a thing. The woman looked up at Darim, her beautiful e/c irises shimmering. 

Darim was quiet as he asked, “Are you alright, aleaziz? (dear?)” 

The woman was about to answer, her body recovering from the fall. But she was captivated by Darim’s bright blue-green eyes. They were like the Red Sea on a bright, sunny day. How ironic. But those pools of shining blue-green, filled with concern and curiosity at the same time made her pause. 

How? 

The woman then realized that this man was patiently waiting for an answer. She swallowed the lump in her throat, shaking her head and averting her gaze from those beautiful blue-green hues. Her heart clenched in her chest. “Yes… Yes, I’m quite alright.” 

Darim could tell that she was lying. As an assassin, he’d been trained to read people. So he could tell from the way she looked away and shook her head as she spoke those words that this poor woman was not alright. She was scared and in trouble. But from what? 

Darim gave her a sympathetic smile and offered his hand to help her up. The woman flinched at the approach of his hand, clenching her eyes shut. The assassin froze, his eyes widening. Had she been afraid that he’d hit her? If so, what had happened to this woman that she’d been afraid of someone hitting her? 

Darim’s face softened again before saying, “Here, let me help you up.” 

The woman opened her eyes, looking up at the assassin before her. He hadn’t hit her. But she still didn’t trust him. Gingerly, she slid her hand into his gloved grasp. His grip was benign but firm as he stood up straight, pulling her up with him. 

The woman brushed herself off, letting go of Darim’s hand. “Thanks,” she said as she swept away the dirt on her behind. She then looked at Darim, his kind blue-green eyes still filled with concern. She went on the defensive, seeing his look. 

“What? Why’re you looking at me like that?” She snapped, frowning deeply at him. She didn’t want to be mean or rude. But she didn’t want to form any bonds, especially considering her last connection with anyone. 

Darim flinched a little at her sharp tone. But he stood his ground, not willing to be so easily put off. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look scared of something, and you just ran into me.” 

The woman looked away, biting her lip and closing her eyes for a second before opening her eyes. “Yes, I’m fine.” 

Darim knew she was lying again but didn’t press it. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. The assassin nodded. He suddenly felt the exhaustion throbbing in his calves, thighs, and biceps. “Alright… Well, I’m going to bed. Good night, sayidati. (madam.)” 

The woman blinked, looking at him. Darim gave her a kind smile before stepping around her and beginning to walk back towards the inn. The woman then realized why she was so entranced by those beautiful pools of blue-green. She found that she felt she could trust him. Eyes were the one thing that didn’t lie. A sense of smell may pick up the scent of something sweet only for the smell to be poisonous. Soft, coarse fur could very well belong to a gentle herd dog. Or a starving tiger. Soft singing could belong to ravenous sirens or succubi. The taste of tender, succulent food could very well be dangerous, toxic food. 

But eyes… They didn’t lie. At least not to a perfectly sane person. And this woman was mostly sane.

She might get killed for this decision later on, but she quickly followed Darim, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Wait!”

Darim was surprised, looking back at her. He turned towards her, seeing the sudden nervousness scrawled onto her face. She swallowed hard before saying, “I… I’m sorry. I was rude to you and that was entirely uncalled for. Please, forgive me.” 

The assassin smiled gently at her, a look that the woman couldn’t decipher dancing in his understanding orbs. “There’s nothing to forgive. Yes, you were rude, but it doesn’t really matter much if I wasn’t offended in the first place.” 

Darim chuckled softly as the woman’s face twisted into one of pleasant surprise. She couldn’t trust anyone, nor rely on anyone’s kindness, but this man in front of her… He had a sense of peace and safety around him. She liked it. A tiny bit of trust slipped into her mind and heart.

“What’s your name?” The woman asked inquisitively, thinking it wise to know his name. 

“I am Darim Ibn-La’Ahad,” Darim said and offered a sweet smile. 

The woman cocked her head to the side, studying his face. “Darim,” she murmured, putting a name to a face. A wonderful name for a handsome face, she thought. But almost instantly, she mentally slapped herself out of such a line of thought. He probably wasn’t even interested in her anyway. Not only that, but it’d be hard to earn her trust completely. She knew all too well that the kindest of people could be snakes in disguise.

“My name’s Y/N,” the woman said, her e/c pools shimmering in the faint light from the hanging lantern jutting out from the inn wall.