Assassin's Creed X Reader One-shots

I should've...(Altaïr x Reader)

Dedicated to thedragonscats.

I went for something a tad different this time, and it's my shortest story to date. I hope you're not disappointed.

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You should have told him you loved him when the chance had first been given.

“Do you, Altaïr, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

But that's the silly thing about humans, isn't it? We spend our entire lives naively convincing ourselves that time is eternal.

“I do.”

Truth is, time is more valuable than we can possibly comprehend, and when it is gone, it is gone. It can never be replaced, no matter how much we desire.

“And do you, Maria, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

It was only now, seeing the man you came to love but never told, standing tall and happy at the altar with the woman he'll forever call ‘soul mate', does the sheer preciousness of time make itself understandable.

“I do.”

And it's the most excruciating reality to accept.

“It is at this time that I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

How did it ever come to this? The pair of you standing on opposite ends of a chapel, acquaintances instead of the lovers you once were. Where did it go so wrong? To go from doting murmurs to ignoring one another's existence completely? Sleepless nights of passion to uncomfortable eye contact whenever you stumble across one another's path?

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

It seems like an eternity now but you still remember. You still remember the first time you truly saw one another, like it was the very first time rather than the hundredth; he was just as beautiful then as he is now. You remember the first kiss you shared; tentative yet probing, as though testing the boundaries of newly realised affections. You remember being thrown unceremoniously upon a haystack and shown the true definition of ecstasy; the memories of calloused palms gliding across the skin of your thighs continues to keep you up at night.

The bride and groom bring their lips together as an unspoken declaration of love. The audience that had gathered, friends and family, croon over the sight of these two souls uniting to become one.

You don't mean to avert your gaze, but...you cannot bare the sight of adoration glimmering within those mesmerizing golden orbs, especially when they will never again hold such emotion for you.

You remember the taste of his mouth. Does he remember the taste of yours?

Altaïr turns to Malik – who else would he choose to be his best man? – and shakes his hand, the pair of them smiling brighter than the uncaring stars that shone brilliantly in a cloudless sky the night you came to realise how much you loved him.

Thinking of the future, you never once imagined it being anything quite like this. But then again, life never turns out how we plan, does it? For some fortunate individuals, maybe. But not for you. No. You were doomed from the very beginning. Forced to suffer the universe's machinations spun eons before you even blipped into existence.

The newly wedded couple descends the steps, excitement coursing through their veins as they now know that they'll be starting a brand new life together.

A shame he doesn't realise how often you've suffered, how many sleepless nights you've endured, obsessing over the consequences born from the tiniest of mistakes; how you'd hand over your very soul in order to go back and utter the words ‘I love you', rather than allowing pride keep the words imprisoned. No doubt life would be different had you both chosen a different path. Would you be different? Would you still be together? Still happy?

Time seems suspended as your fingers curl around Altaïr’s bicep, preventing him from moving any further down the aisle and out of your life forever. You stare deep into the golden gems which were his eyes, watching as a long since forgotten emotion floods them, drowning you in the process. He rasps your name, voice thick with something you hadn't heard in years, so heavy you could touch it. But you resist. You resist the urge to reach out and run the pads of your fingertips along his perfectly angled cheeks. Why? He was no longer yours to touch.

“Altaïr, I...”

Sorry...for breaking your heart.

Sorry...for what you've been through.

Sorry...for not saying what you truly felt.

But it's far too late for apologies. Perhaps before, when wounds were still fresh, and misunderstanding were still new, the two of you could have worked things out. To come to a compromise. But you stand athwart two worlds now – one in which he was forever moving forward onto greener pastures, and the other in the gruelling process of decay after having lost its way one too many times, taking you along with it.
Truth was, you and him were far too stubborn and prideful to ever admit your true feelings. He, being a man of action rather than words, believing in the ideal that you should have automatically known how he felt and accepted it, never having to hear him say the words. And you, knowing deep down how he felt but not truly believing unless hearing him vocally express how much you meant to him, spitefully biting back the temptation to say those three little words that would have changed everything – after all, if he didn't say it, why should you?

Your expression softens as well as your grip. “Congratulations, Altaïr.”

Love of your life.

The other half of your ugly, withering soul.

Let him be happy. Let him live the life he deserved and was never going to be given had he stayed yours. Let him for once find eternal content in another's embrace. Let him leave and not regret having moved on without you.

Let him go. 

Warmth spreads across your cheek, but you haven't the time to relish the feeling, for it was gone just as quickly as he was. “Goodbye...Altaïr.”

How you wish you could have told him you loved him. Just once.