Yeah, so I did one where I tortured Malik so I kinda felt obligated to torture Altair so he didn't feel left out. Also I was getting bored of Malik's pit party and decided Altair deserved one instead :D
Altair swayed on the spot, reaching out with his right hand to steady himself on the wall. His stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him of the fact that he hadn't eaten in days. When he put his free hand to his gut he could feel ribs and muscle sticking out under his flesh. Altair was so hungry he felt like he could swallow three cows whole.
"Are you going to come in or just sit out there?" Malik's sharp voice came from the inner confines of the bureau.
The master assassin groaned, he was hungry and tired and didn't want to deal with Malik right now. He wished for once the rafiq would just lay off. Reluctantly he pushed off from the wall and properly entered the bureau. Malik was sitting, as always, behind the counter, his back arched as he carelessly flipped through the pages of a book. He barely glanced up at Altair's arrival.
"Novice," he regarded the highly ranked man, earning him a growl.
"Don't call me that." Altair snapped, but the bark was missing some of its usual menace. Malik cocked his head to the side slightly, noticing this.
"Have you gathered the necessary information?"
Altair nodded. "My target will be in the poor district tomorrow morning visiting one of his spies. He will be undercover and have only a few guards. I will strike then." he relayed his plan to the rafiq.
The Dai nodded and turned his gaze back to his book. "You may rest here until then."
The brunette bit back a retort, he really didn't feel like fighting right now, and nodded gratefully, knowing Malik wouldn't see the motion, and turned back to the courtyard. Before he had even reached the doorway a loud growl ripped through the air, emanating from Altair's gut. Malik lifted his head, his eyebrows raised. Altair felt weak at the knees and his hands shook. His head felt awfully light and the room appeared to be swimming slightly.
"Altair!" Malik shouted in surprised when Altair keeled forward, barely catching himself on the doorway. The rafiq slid over his counter and was by the assassin's side in an instant.
"Altair, what's wrong? Are you injured?"
Altair couldn't (or was it more of wouldn't?) answer. His stomach gave another angry gurgle and it was hard for him to think straight. He was mildly aware of Malik guiding him outside and gently setting him down on the pile of pillows. He pushed Altair's hood back to better see his face.
"Malik..." Altair began in a mumble, keeping his gaze cast firmly to the side. A blush crept across his cheeks and he twisted the material of his uniform between his hands. "May..." God, he felt so weak to be reduced to this. "May I have some..." He felt so dirty and low for begging like this. "Food please?" Altair barely managed to utter the sentence.
Malik looked stricken by the quiet words muttered half heartedly.
"O-of course, Altair."
He stood and quickly vanished into the Bureau, leaving Altair in an embarrassed state. He felt so fucking humiliated. It reminded him of when he was younger, living off the streets in Masyaf after his father had died. Al Mualim had always been there but he wasn't loving and certainly didn't baby Altair, no, he was strict and cruel, so the young boy had quickly learned to fend for himself. Even now, as a master assassin, Altair often went hungry and sometimes didn't even have a proper place to sleep. He refused to have to depend on someone else for these basic needs. Always bouncing from city to city on various contracts, he often didn't have time to hunt for such things anyway.
It wasn't long before Malik reappeared with a bowl of fruit and a loaf of bread. He sat cross legged beside Altair and set the bowl down, ripping the bread in half before offering a piece over to Altair. The assassin hesitated briefly before slowly taking the food.
"Thank you." he said softly.
"I can't very well let you starve, now can I?" Malik said, forcing his familiar dry humor into the words, but Altair could tell the rafiq was still anxious about Altair's condition.
The master assassin hardly faltered before digging into the provided food. The bread was probably only a few hours old and tasted like heaven given physical form. So fresh and buttery, the flaky material was quickly devoured. The fruits were sweet and a gift to Altair's mouth. He hungrily ravaged the food, stuffing as much as he could into his face. It had been a long time since Altaïr had a proper meal and that fact was not lost on his stomach that greedily begged for more. When he finally finished, he sat back feeling good and full. Only now did Altaïr notice that Malik had hardly even started on his own bread. He blushed and looked away. Malik noticed his almost ashamed expression and gave him a soft smile, something not often received from the rafiq.
"Enjoy the meal?" he inquired gently.
"Uh, yes. Thank you." he muttered, rubbing his arm. Altaïr flicked up his hood, enjoying the safety and security it provided. Malik sighed and rolled his eyes.
"I can't recall the last time you were timid."
Altaïr didn't reply.
"Altaïr, when was the last time you ate?" Malik asked sternly.
"That's none of your concern." Altaïr snapped.
He should be grateful, he knew, and he was, but he didn't care to discuss this with Malik, or anyone else for that matter. It was embarrassing.
Malik gave a frown at his answer.
"Fine. Don't tell me." The rafiq stood, taking the empty bowl with him. "Try to keep the noise down while you're here." he ordered, then returned inside.
Altair was glad to have Malik out of his hair. He began taking off his weapons and carefully setting them aside. When that was done he curled up on the pillows and fell asleep. He hadn't slept so well in years.
The bells rang loudly as Altair nimbly made his way across rooftops and between buildings. Luckily his kill had been clean and efficient, but still a few guards followed him. They yelled curses at him as they struggled to keep up on the uncertain terrain.
Just ahead Altair spotted the bureau's roof and knew he wouldn't be let in with these buffoons on his tail. So he planted his foot firmly and spun around, drawing his sword and slicing open the nearest guard's chest in a single graceful movement. The guard shouted and stumbled off the roof, landing with a thud many feet down. One down two to go.
The next guard charged Altair head on. Wrong move. Altair easily parried, directing the other man's sword into the ground, and planted his hidden blade in the guard's side, pushing him aside to quickly bleed out.
The final guard was a bit more wary of engaging the enemy and hung back. Altair instead struck first, going for a mid-rift hit. The guard was quick though and blocked, quickly followed it up with a jab. Altair was able to dodge most of the blow but still received a long but thin cut on his side. He clenched his hand tighter around his sword and pressed on, ignoring the pain. The assassin dropped to avoid another swipe and knocked the man's legs out of under him. With him on the ground, Altair slammed his sword down straight through the man's chest. He wrenched his blade free of the corpse and straightened.
With the enemies now taken care of, Altair was able to return to the bureau. His side stung from the cut, but it was nothing Altair couldn't handle. He landed in the bureau with a thud and went straight inside.
"The deed is done." he announced, brandishing the feather to Malik.
"Very well. You may rest until the city has calmed." Malik replied, just now looking up from his work.
"Altair, you're bleeding." he noticed.
"It's a small cut. Nothing to be so concerned about." Altair smirked in return.
"You should be worried about it," Malik snapped with a frown. "Because if it doesn't get treated it will get infected."
"I'll be fine." Altair assured.
"Go sit on the cushions and wait for me to bring the bandages." Malik ordered, turning his back.
Altair let out a small huff to show his indignation but did as he was told. Before his reformation, Altair would have never taken or followed any orders from Malik, but he had changed much and learned from his mistakes, especially now that Malik and he had finally returned to being friends. So he made his way outside and dropped onto the pillows, waiting for the Dai.
Malik emerged not long after, bearing bandages and salve. He sat before Altair and started undoing the assassin's weapons and robes, quickly revealing the dark skin of his torso. When his upper body was exposed, Malik sucked in a breath.
"Altair..."
The rafiq ran his fingertips lightly over Altair's ribs that poked out unhealthily against his skin, revealing how little he actually ate. The flesh molded around his bones and muscles, though Malik noted that the latter weren't so prominent. Malik brought his worried gaze up to Altair's face, that was firmly cast to the side, his hood hiding his expression.
"How often do you eat?" he inquired in a distressed tone.
Altair shifted away from Malik's hand, fidgeting uncomfortably.
"Often enough." he mumbled the answer.
"Altair!" Malik said firmly, forcing the golden eyed man to look at him. "I won't ask you again. How often do you eat?"
"Every few days or so."
Malik gaped at the master assassin. Every few days? Why was Altair starving himself like this? No wonder he was so thin.
"Altair, that's hardly enough to keep you alive, why don't you eat more?"
"Malik, I'd really rather no-"
"No. Answer. Me."
Altair hunched his shoulders and gathered himself closer to his middle, cheeks coloring slightly.
"I can't afford to." the words were barely audible and Malik would have missed them had he not been paying attention. Altair could feel a hot knot of humiliation build up in his gut and he wished he could be anywhere but there, having this conversation with Malik.
"Well, why didn't you say so, I'll give you so-"
"No." Altair snapped, his eyes flashing. "I'm not going to grovel for money or food like some sort of low-life beggar." he spat the last word.
"Altair, don't be stupid. If you don't start eating right, you'll starve within the week."
But Altair couldn't do it-No, he wouldn't do it. No way would he push aside his pride and beg for food. His pride wouldn't allow it. He turned his face away again, squirming in his spot, wishing Malik would just drop the subject.
"You're part of a brotherhood, Altair, a creed. All of your brothers are here to help you when you're in need and that includes when you're hungry. Don't be ashamed to ask for something to eat." Malik told him, his voice unexpectedly kind and gentle.
Maybe...Maybe Malik was right, Altair mused. The brotherhood did take care of their own, looking out for fellow brothers. Why should Altair be ashamed to ask for help from his own family? After all, what had his pride ever gotten him? Nothing but a missing brother and an injured friend. Altair sighed deeply and raised his head to Malik, feeling extremely humbled.
"Okay." he said softly, testing the word on his tongue. "You're right."
Malik smiled, clearly pleased by Altair admission. He patted Altair's shoulder.
"Good. I'm glad you've come to your senses. Now, about that cut."
The master assassin had completely forgotten his minor wound by now, but apparently the Dai had not. Malik went back to work, cleaning the wound and bandaging it. As Altair watched his friend work, he felt so grateful. If Malik hadn't made Altair come to his senses, he didn't know where he would be. Probably starving out within a few days as Malik had suggested.
"Thank you, Malik."