AN; So i have not written anything outside of a roleplay in legit, years and this just vomited out of my brain while I have nothing better to do. I took a few artistic liberties with the ages of their kids and i probably wasn't historically accurate in a lot of ways but this is boredom vomit. and holy shit it's so long. was longer because i had the sex scene written out but ffnets big red lettering that says no every where scared me into summarizing that into three? paragraphs. but yeah, read, enjoy if you can and take it easy home bodies.
Disclaimer (is this really needed?) I do not own assassins creed. for real bro.
You are a Fool
The summers at Masyaf were hotter than he remembered, though he easily surmised that it was the first sign of age seeping into his skin that had once felt so much like steel he often believed it was. He was still strong, he would die strong, this he knew, and thus he did not grieve as his body began to weaken for his strength grew in other ways. He was hard pressed to dislike getting old, even on a day such as this where unfamiliar aches were stoked by the sun's heat and his lips easily cracked in the dry desert air. There was something beautiful about it, perhaps like the grace of a tree as its leaves began to change and to fall. Or perhaps he just took joy in watching his children in their youth, enjoying a rare day where the master of Masyaf had time to be a father to his children and not their mentor. For him the day was hot and made him less than amiable, but for his sons the heat was an obstacle to climb and they gladly accepted the challenge.
There was an oasis behind the Masyaf fortress; it supplied much of their water, irrigation for their food, a place of respite and peace. It was rare to find it so uninhabited and whether it be out of respect or out of a desire to escape the mid day heat, the oasis had been found empty and Altaïr took advantage. It was good for all of them, his sons would know their father as more than the master assassin, Altaïr took a welcome chance to cool off, though only minimally and Malik well, even to this day he could not presume to know the other man's thoughts. Yet if he would not have benefited from the occasion or enjoyed it, he would not have come.
He watched Darim and Sef swim in the depths of the pool along with Malik's son, Tazim, wrestling and laughing and threatening each other like only brothers could. He had left the heat of his robes hanging from the branch of a tree where all their discarded clothing hung, left only in his tunic and trousers that were rolled up to his knee, feet sunk into the water and cool mud at the base of the small lake. The delight his sons took in swimming deterred his distaste of water just enough.
"There was once a time where you thought too little, Altaïr. If I had known during my youth that I could not get you to stop twenty years later I would have silenced the fool who said it." Malik's voice rung from the right side of him, and with a blink of golden eyes he turned to look at the Dai, smallest of smiles on his face. Malik was a tireless friend yet never short on insults or brutal slaps with reality and what once was. Altaïr had come to appreciate this alleged bitterness as a form of affection rather than the rivalry and confused, frustrated hatred that once danced behind his words. He knew Malik too well and at the same time, not well enough. "I am merely thinking on how to repay a debt you still owe me but that you think I have forgotten." Altaïr chided, looking back to the water, the very same water where he had both learned how to swim and learned to fear the water and its depths.
Malik laughed a low, harsh chuckle that still made his skin raise even all these years later, even after both of them had taken wives and fathered children and had laid their sinful past to rest. "Ah, I remember, I think it is you who have forgotten brother. It is you who owe me." Bristling at the particularly poignant memory that had since plagued him for years, Altaïr's spine straightened as the eagle's eyes became hard, the smile gone from his face. "You nearly drowned me." Malik leaned close and it only made an old anger flare in his belly. An old fire, one he knew better than to simply call anger.
"Yes, but then I saved you."
Swimming was perhaps the only skill which did not come to Altaïr with great ease. The day's lessons had been more than humiliating for him and where the other novices took to the water as easily as fish, the skilled and arrogant seventeen year old had been reduced to sputtering and flailing in the shallows. Although Altaïr considered himself to be shielded against the taunts of his fellow novices, at seventeen he was not as invulnerable as he liked to think. A point had to be made. Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad failed at nothing.
In the dark of the night Altaïr came alone to the oasis, too shamed, furious and determined to realize he had been followed. He saw no stupidity in his plan, if he must learn to swim than he would, he was far too skilled to be overtaken by something so base as drowning and thus he could not see the harm in attempting to learn to swim alone and far from where anyone might hear his cries.
The water was much colder at night and Altaïr felt the chill seep into his nearly naked body as he waded into the water. Fearless and brash he pushed himself farther and farther, staring ahead, thinking only of his goal. He did not notice the rustle of leaves or the soft sound of something gently gliding into the water turned black by the night sky. He saw only the faces of his brothers when he showed them in tomorrow's lesson that like all things, he would surpass them all.
Confident step after another soon Altaïr was up to his chin in the small lake and that was where he paused. Instinct took hold of his self confidence, a nervousness he rarely knew creeping across his chest and throat. While contemplating taking the final plunge on his own the decision was made for him by an unseen force that wrapped around his ankle and dragged him down. Like a fool he gasped and inhaled water rather than air, struggling, flailing in the dark water, kicking against what had a hold of him so tightly and continued to drag him, deeper and deeper. Eyes open beneath the surface he tried to see his attacker or whatever it was he was caught on but he saw nothing but the bare skin of his own chest growing darker and darker still as he was pulled away from the moonlight and further down.
He struggled, fought, but this weightlessness was a creature he could not understand and soon his struggles played against him. His chest ached with such an unbearable pain, his limbs felt boneless and his mind began to haze so rapidly he barely had time to think that he was dying. And he was scared. So scared that it chilled his very bones and made his heart race; a last flailing attempt to stay alive. He was dead, surely—
He didn't feel the body against his until he broke the surface and was sucking in mouthfuls of delicious air, arms thrown around his savior as that same person pulled him to shore. Once they were sitting in the shallows and Altaïr had exhaled nearly all the water that had been bottled in his lungs did he then register whose arms he was wrapped in, clutching to their chest and shoulders as he coughed and wheezed. Malik was grinning, he could feel it as soon as he knew the other novice and there was no need to look.
"What an arrogant fool you are Altaïr, you cannot swim yet you chose to do so alone?"
Altaïr fumed at the remark yet did so in silence, even in the dark his golden eyes could flash with all his rage and malice. Malik saw this and smiled, staring into those eyes intently, passively, daring the eaglet to strike at him after he had just saved his life. Unhappy and frustrated with his rescue, when he met Malik's gaze in the low haze of darkness and scattered moonlight he knew his bluff had been called. Altaïr who had the most promise and the most talent had been bested by a swimming hole and Malik both bore witness and saved him from his self imposed fate. He felt as though his hands had been tied behind his back and bent to the other man's will against his own. He also felt the joy Malik indulged in because of it.
"I was trying—" Altaïr began, only to be cut off by Malik's reprimands. "Oh yes trying, trying to gather more wood for your arrogance's fire. You are a fool, Altaïr." It was not hard to know Altaïr's motives after that day's lessons. Malik's however were much more shrouded, as well as his reasons for having been here to save him at all. Altaïr grit his teeth behind his lips and shoved the older boy away, sitting on the shoreline dripping and bitter, fighting the restraint of the debt he owed him. "Then you are the even bigger fool for saving me. Why are you even here?" The youth seethed, glaring at the other boy in the dark before looking away, gathering his knees loosely into his arms and looking up at the moon above hatefully for lack of being able to do so at Malik's smiling face.
"I followed you." Malik answered simply, pulling Altaïr's gaze back to him as quick as a cobra could coil to strike. Normally articulate and punctual, Altaïr made his point known in as few words as he could and as strongly as he could. Yet Malik's simple statement reduced him to nothing, to the fool the other novice always accused him of being, vague questions falling from his mouth just as soon as he thought of them with no restraint. "Why?" In shock Altaïr said even less than he usually did. Malik smiled and let the silence hang for a moment that felt longer than it should before he was turning towards the other boy, creeping in closer to him. "Because without me you will always be a novice."
Malik's words humbled the fickle rage of a seventeen year old novice, who once again looked away, pushing his heel into the clay of the shore. Ashamed, perhaps. "Because of you I will always be a novice." Altaïr countered, a bit petulantly yet in his goal oriented mind it rang true. What master assassin could not swim? Malik gave him little time to wonder before the older boy had broke the shield of knees and arms with one strong hand upon his shoulder, pushing him back just enough and making Altaïr face him. "You are a fool Altaïr." Malik said, and then lips were upon his.
The novice did not struggle, did not attempt to push him away. At seventeen his youth and his desires were hard to bottle. Women interested him, sex itself interested him, but to be a master required diligence and gave little time for such interests. He was vulnerable, young; he wanted something yet was too naïve to say if he did or didn't want what Malik was doing. And although he was not a woman Malik was… beautiful in his own way. He was frozen between his choices and in that moment Malik's hands wrapped around his biceps tightly, holding him in place. But Malik was certainly less skilled than Altaïr in many ways and resistance was in his nature, his very blood. A knee found Malik's gut and the other was forced back to gasp for air that had been stolen.
Thought was beyond him as he moved and he was on top of Malik, pressing his shoulders into the ground, keeping him at arm's length with the intent to wonder what to do, to find the appropriate course of action. Yet the heat between them was unbearable, it made him ache so powerfully in a way he had truly never experienced. He gave in. He crushed his lips to his fellow novice's and tried to breathe all his anger and frustration down his throat. In the shallows and the mud they fought for dominance, brothers at each other's throats and fighting yet moaning for the feel of it. Sloppy, hard kisses and inexperienced touches on inexperienced bodies.
Altaïr did not remember or even care how he had ended up on his belly in the clay, fingers digging in to the pliant yet tough surface as Malik dug into him as well. But with each thrust forward his vision dappled with white and such feeling lit through his veins that he could not think, would not. It burned inside him, turned him into nothing more than an animal and indeed, they rutted like beasts beneath the moonlight, clawing and biting, leaving bruises to be covered by robes. He was on fire and could do nothing but desire the flames, demanding more yet not knowing what that was. It ached and drove him to oblivion, obliteration, nothing that felt this good could come without a price yet he would pay it even if it was destruction. Once it began, there was no stopping.
Hurried and harsh sex seemed to last forever yet was over too soon. Malik struck that spot within him and Altaïr hugged him in a tight embrace as his body tipped over the edge. The warmth, the heat, that grip. Malik could not help but follow suit, biting Altaïr's shoulder to keep himself from calling out the younger's name. His body sagged over the other boy, holding him, remaining buried inside of him until he went soft and could no longer bear to support his own weight. He dropped to Altaïr's side, wrapping an arm around him to pull the warmth of his body close to bask in the pleasured haze of their sinful act. Altaïr was more than willing to remain in silence beside his brother, to not think, to simply feel what had become of them on this night.
It was Malik who broke the silence, his tone teasing, complacent. "I hope you did not submit to me merely because I saved you. After all, I am what you needed saving from." For a moment Altaïr resisted the break from what they had just done. It had been so peaceful in that thoughtless body, the feel of a warm body beside him and a satiation he had never known, with his hand or otherwise. Yet resistance was broken with understanding and he shot up, ignoring the hot spike of pain that followed as only an assassin could. "You did this?" Once again, thoughtlessly to the point. He hated what Malik did to him, what he had done to him. It would have been enough to stoke Altaïr's anger to say that he had submitted to him, despite his truth, but to learn the man had manipulated him and nearly drowned him in the same act?
Moonlight caught a flash of gold like a lightning strike. Still smiling, Malik raced to his feet and was out into the water before Altaïr could even rise. The pain took him by surprise, if nothing else. Yet he had no time to think, he had to pursue Malik and cut off the serpent's head. Nothing good could come of this, of what he had allowed to happen. Thoughtless and full of rage Altaïr dove after Malik, more literally than he even had enough concentration to understand. Farther and farther into the water Malik swam and farther still Altaïr followed, his mind on nothing but the revenge he would take and the silence he would make. Malik had been backed up against the diving rock that was both at the end of the pool and at its deepest part, treading water as the water washed stone reflected moonlight upon him. Altaïr was there, with his hand around his throat, holding onto a crevice in the stone to keep his body still in the weightlessness.
Malik's chin rose from the force of Altaïr's hand, wheezing around the grip and looking down his jaw at the other novice, golden eyes so full of rage. "Altaïr, you are swimming." He gasped out around the hold before grinning and letting his eyes roll back to the sky.
The small smile returned to the Grandmaster's face. "It's been such a long time, I had forgotten." He said, though none of the rage he had once felt then remained. It was easy to separate the memory into two events, easy for his mind to spread them apart and fool him in the years. The rage, ache and fear of nearly drowning. The pleasure and warmth and raw energy of the first time he had ever laid with Malik, with anyone. Days long past. Malik shook him strongly by the shoulder. "Sometimes I wish our lives had not changed so much after those days brother." He said, and Altaïr agreed. "Yes, but I would not change it." He said as he gazed fondly upon the children playing in the pond.
"Perhaps we will have days like those again in our lives." Malik said, such a statement was rare, intimate and personal. Altaïr looked to his friend who had changed so much just as he had and nodded for lack of being able to lie to Malik out loud. Malik had his wife, his son, and Altaïr had Maria and his two sons. Their time had long passed.
Their wistfulness was interrupted as eight year old Sef's rang through the air, forcing them both to give him their attention. The boy was wearing his father's robes, stolen from the tree branch and climbing to the top of the diving rock. The hood engulfed his small head and the robes hung well beyond his feet, stepping on them as he proclaimed his importance. "I am the Eagle of Masyaf, Grandmaster of all assasins!" He shouted just before he took a leap of faith from the rock into the pool and unfortunately, directly onto Tazim who had been placidly enjoying a swim across the pond when Sef came crashing down upon him, forcing him to flounder.
Altaïr barked a laugh that he could not restrain where as Malik stared wide eyed and shocked as his only son, two years Sef's senior, struggled around the water, assassin robes, and eight year old who was everything that his father had been at that age. Altaïr turned; grinning at Malik who continued to stare dumbfounded and seemed to have lost control of the hinge to his jaw.
"Much is passed from father to son, isn't it?"