Altaïr had hoped that tonight would prove to be peaceful. He had hoped that he and Maria would be able to sleep without any disturbances.

He was wrong.

It was night when he awoke. That is, when his eyes had snapped open from the reverie of some dream. Whatever it was, he had no recollection of it now. All he knew was that in the adjoining room, one of his sons was throwing a fit.

"Altaïr…" A drowsy voice slurred in front of him. A brief glance downward showed that the sluggishly writhing figure that was his wife was now awake. Ah, yes – his wife. Since their marriage in Limassol, the two had been inseparable, not merely as husband and wife, but as partners within the Brotherhood. He found her beautiful, even now. It was nearly two months after the birth of their second son, and she had still retained her beauty. If her body had changed, it had changed for the better.

"Who is it this time?"

"Sef. Darim does not scream this much."

"Anta. You. Sef appreciates your face more."

A scoff. Maria rolled over on the bed, her green eyes boring into Altair's golden ones. "Altaïr. Sef is too young to realize that your face is a friendly one."

"I am still surprised that Darim takes my face to be friendly."

Maria's hand moved upwards, gently cupping Altaïr's face, her features growing soft.

"Please. Do this for me."

Altaïr let out a brief sigh at this. It took merely a second of contemplation before he reached out. Gently gripping Maria's shoulder, he pulled her close, placing a tender kiss upon her lips. A hum of pleasure came from Maria's lips, sending a shudder of excitement through Altair. He pulled away with regret, but kept close to Maria, not daring to break eye contact.

"Very well. For you, my love."

He swung his tired form out of the bed, lacing his fingers together and stretching out his arms. Hearing the joints pop in his arms, he relaxed, letting out a sigh of contentment. He slung a spare robe around his body for the warmth he had lost from the bed and from Maria before trudging off to the other room.

As he opened the door, the wails of his son seemed to increase twofold. Wincing slightly at the noise, he walked over to the crib and peered down into it. It was amazing that Darim could sleep through this noise – it seemed as if Sef's face had transformed into one big maw. His eyes were scrunched shut and his face was red. Sighing to himself, Altaïr bent down and picked up his son. Crooking his arm slightly, he rested Sef's neck upon his arm, tilting it slightly so that Sef's face was towards him. A miniscule smile broke through Altair's face, causing the scar on his lip. He seemed so miniscule to him. Was he like this when he had been as young as Sef was? Had the great Umar smiled down upon him with such fondness?

"Hush now," he began in a soft tone. "You wouldn't want to wake your older brother, would you? He wouldn't be very happy about it."

Sef had quieted – somewhat. He was now sobbing, which was often interrupted by small gasps for breath.

"Do you know what your name means, Sef? 'Yesterday'. For it seemed only yesterday when you had come into the life of Maria and I. And we could not be any more grateful for a child such as you."

Sef was now slightly whimpering. His eyes were now not as scrunched up as they were before. They were open slightly, revealing those bright eyes which he had come to receive from his mother.

"You see? It is not that hard to soothe him."

Altair started for a moment, surprised at the cool voice that had broken the silence. He turned to see Maria standing before, leaning on the doorway, a smile on his face. He could not help but return the smile himself.

"A shame that he will have to grow, though." He replied as Maria walked towards him. "One grows all too attached to such a face as his."

"I suppose so," Maria remarked, looking down at their child, who had now let out a small yawn. "But they will have to, whether they enjoy it or not."

"Of course." Altair returned Sef to the crib and merely stood there, watching as his son's eyes shut. "At least we shall have these memories of them."

"Of course." Maria echoed, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder as she watched. Silence settled into the room once more as Maria took Altair by his four-fingered hand, leading him out of the door that divided their room from that of their sons.

"Altaïr?"

"Yes?"

"What of the later years? Shall we tell them about the Brotherhood?"

"If we do not, they shall learn of it from one of the others. Perhaps Rauf, Abbas...even Malik would tell them?"

"Malik?" Maria chuckled. "Out of all the others, you say that Malik would tell them?"

"Yes. Just as soon as he finishes telling them just how much of a novice their father is."

Maria laughed, pressing her free hand into Altair's, allowing their fingers to intertwine as she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Altair released her hands, wrapping them around Maria's waist and bringing her closer to her.

Even with such a hectic life as he had, he was glad he had found some comfort within his family.