The Cross of Blades
*Disclaimer* This is indeed a Yaoi. I apologize in advance for this is my first Assassin's Creed story and my very first yaoi. I want to try to stay true to the story of both Altair Ibn-La'Ahad and Malik Al-Sayf and to Ubisoft's original story, however some things will indeed be changed, such as the sexuality of Malik and Altair. I am an avid lover of the Assassin's Creed series and will try to be respectful to my favorite game series while writing this story, and if I insulted anyone I ask for forgiveness from my fellow assassins. Remember; Nothing is true, everything is permitted.
Malik Al-Sayf's knife hit its target with perfect precision. His throwing knife made a soft thunk as it imbedded itself into the wall right in the middle of the Brotherhood's enigma. He smirks softly and strokes his prominent stubble. A dull pain throbs in his left shoulder and he feels his bandages loosen. He takes a deep breath and rubs it with his intact hand. This always happens when he practices his throwing skills, but he could not get rusty. The other assassins could lose respect for him.
He goes to retrieve his knife, the sunlight gleaming in between the bureau roof. He was never really good at throwing knives, but he was glad that he could practice some of his skills with just one hand. His brow furrowed as he thought of his lost arm, and his lost brother; all because of the young and foolish Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. He let out an angry roar as he slams his right hand into the wall.
Altair and Malik were always trying to best each other in every way. They were both great assassins and both skilled, and soon the two became rivals. They fought to outwit and out train each other. Malik had growing resentment of his fellow student because of his quick grasp of the craft of the assassin. Altair was younger than Malik, but also slightly better.
"Now I shall not be able to best him at anything…" he growled lowly as he rubbed his left stump. He resented and hated the young assassin, for it was his fault that he had lost his left arm, and his fault that his younger brother Kadar was dead. He closed his eyes fighting back the memory of his heart break when he remembered his brother. If Altair would have constructed a better plan, if only he would have followed the tenants!
That was another thing that Malik hated about Altair. Altair was notorious to all the mentors as having a rebellious streak. He always questioned the reason for the tenants and would always play by his own rules. This was looked upon as very disrespectful, but considering that he was a prodigy, many of the mentors, including Al Mualim, overlooked this in Altair. He grew more self-confident and eventually abandoned all three tenants when they were sent on the mission to the Temple of Solomon.
Malik let out a yelp of rage and slammed his fist in the wall. He pressed his hand against his forehead and took a deep breath. What a fool he was! To let his little brother come along with them to the Temple, he was not yet a true assassin, but Kadar was so insistent. Malik scowled in hatred. Kadar worshipped Altair as if he was Allah. Altair didn't even know Kadar existed until the trip to the Temple. Kadar would go on about Altair's great skill, his quick wit, his leaned body and his sharp eyes. Such a very nice, toned body…
Malik blinked and pressed his palm against his eye. His heart ached when he thought about his brother's death, and his body ached when he thought about Altair. Not just his left stump either. These feelings were not foreign. It was simple respect for a handsome body of a fellow assassin; at least that was what Malik assured himself. He had to respect such a physique, for it was perfect for stealth and living in the shadows. Despite this, the man was absolutely horrid, and Malik doubted he could ever stand to be near Altair for a long amount of time. Not after so much pain he had caused.
Malik returned to his inner chamber and went behind his counter. His black djellaba flowed behind him as he reached up and got one of the maps of Jerusalem. His eyes trailed over the map, but his mind wandered to the once again novice Altair. It was almost funny how Altair, a well-respected Assassin Master became a novice once more. Malik suppressed an amused laugh. To see Altair stripped of his rank was humorous, but what if he stripped away his assassin robes to reveal a body that Allah himself must have created? Malik drew back in shock of his own thoughts. He pressed his palm against his forehead and thought to himself, What is wrong with me? When he looked down, a smooth voice broke the silence "Safety and peace, Malik…"