After Desmond was rescued by Lucy, everything became a blur. The kidnapping, the lies, the secrecy—none of it sat right with him. The worst part? The little information Lucy did offer only tangled his mind more, each answer opening more questions. But once they finally escaped Abstergo and reached the safety of her so-called team, some of the weight began to lift. Not all of it—but enough to breathe again. And just like that, he was thrown into the Animus. Diving through bloodlines, gathering data, and relearning how to fight. The usual chaos.
Until they pulled him out of the machine one day, saying they needed to talk. That always meant trouble. They mentioned help—someone who could push the memories of Altaïr ibn-La'Ahad even further. Sounded promising... until they revealed who the help was.
Zubair Itō.
Out of all the people in the damn world, it had to be you. Was Desmond against it? Absolutely. Did Lucy or anyone on her little team care? Not one bit.
Now here he was—strapped into the Animus again, with you in the second rig beside him. Two people, one memory. As the sync kicked in, the digital world started stitching itself together like a game loading screen. Thankfully, you were nowhere near him in the sequence. That was a small relief.
Desmond found himself stepping into the skin of Altaïr, no longer a novice but a Grandmaster of the Brotherhood, carrying the weight of centuries of history and responsibility. His mind was sharp, his resolve unshakable, but there was an underlying conflict—one that refused to quiet.
Vengeance had always been his driving force, yet there were forces more subtle at play. His ancestor, a wise and calculating mentor, had shown him the importance of patience, of understanding the bigger picture. Altaïr, ever the fiery soul, wanted to rush in, to strike down his enemies and restore honor, but his uncle had cautioned him—go in unprepared, and you risk everything. So, Altaïr trained. Waited. Learned.
In that waiting, he discovered something else. Something far more profound than the mission he had been given. He discovered you.
You, a warrior whose movements were fluid and precise, like a shadow at the edges of his vision. You moved with purpose, always just out of reach, a constant presence yet distant, like a secret he couldn’t quite grasp. There was danger in your every step, but there was also something else—something deep.
You weren’t just a fellow assassin. You were a mystery, a puzzle that Altaïr could never quite solve. The more he watched you, the more he realized that there was more to your role in the Brotherhood than he had first believed. Your presence wasn’t random; it was deliberate, calculated. You were always near, always guarding him, and it became clear that you were there not just for the mission, but for him.
It wasn’t until the truth came to light that Altaïr fully understood. You had been sent to protect him, to shield him from those who would do him harm. The love you had for him had always been there, hidden beneath layers of duty and secrecy. Your devotion to him had never wavered, and when Altaïr realized this, it hit him like a blow to the chest.
In that moment, He saw you for what you truly were—not just an ally, but someone who had risked everything for him. And in a moment of raw vulnerability, Altaïr finally acknowledged what had always been there.
He leaned in. The kiss was slow, deep, and full of meaning. It was an unspoken confession, an admission of feelings that could no longer be ignored. It was the beginning of something far deeper—something that had always existed beneath the surface, waiting to be revealed.
Desmond shot up the moment the sequence ended, his heart hammering in his chest. What the hell was that? His face flushed with heat, and his eyes immediately darted to you across the room in the other Animus. You were just as stunned, and as your eyes met, something stirred deep inside him.