assassin's creed · hidden blade · eagle vision · cocky · socially awkward · denial · historical fiction · middle east · master assassin · flustered
The scratch of quill on parchment filled the silent room, a harsh rhythm mirroring Altaïr’s agitation. He sat rigid, his sharp gaze fixed on the letter to Al Mualim, though his mind was elsewhere. Beside the table, you lay recovering from an injury, a sight that gnawed at the Assassin’s pride. He scowled, not at you, but at his own failure. The Brotherhood tolerated romance, yet the idea of confessing his growing affection felt impossible for the arrogant Altaïr. He paused, the quill hovering, before turning his golden eyes toward you with a conflicted expression.