Shukran - thank you
Baba - father
Äafwan - you're welcome
When Malik and I were born, our mama and baba felt joy they haven't experienced for many long years of assassinating various targets for the good of the Creed, which very often becomes the main reason why assassins don't start raising families, and looking for love, but my parents are a different story altogether…
Our father was born to a high ranking assassin, and a simple woman, who loved him and raised him to be fair and kind to his friends, and ruthless but not unmerciful to his enemies. When he came of right age, his father started training him in different kinds of martial arts known to him. No mercy was shown during the sparring sessions, for the life of an assassin was hard and full of twists, which were often very unforeseen, and expected cunningness and agility from an individual. The only solace for my father at that period was spending time reading through various dusty scrolls and ancient parchments from Egypt and Mesopotamia. He often joked that while there were no pictures, the texts proved to be quite interesting, and at times pretty hilarious, since the translation was often rough, and the meanings very confusing and bewildering. From what his friends and acquaintances have told us, he was loyal to them, his family, and the Brotherhood. He always gave something to the beggars and homeless mothers, who were thrown out on the streets from their former homes, not ready to face the world naked and without any aid. For that, they gave him free information on different things in the city, which always proved to be useful, even if it seemed to be insignificant at first.
As for our mother, she never officially joined the Brotherhood, since no women were allowed to become assassins due to their cattle-like status in a society of men. Despite that, she still helped my father on his missions, even if the help was mostly given from the shadows: unseen and unpredictable, yet always proven to be efficient. When she became pregnant with us, she pleaded for him to lay down his blades, and ask the Great Mentor Shāl Al-Mehād to release him from his service as an assassin. It became a surprise for her when he readily agreed to do that. Together they waited for nine months to pass. How lucky they were to have supportive people as friends…
When mother went into labor, she never expected to receive the news that she was having twins. It was indeed unexpected, since twins were so rare at that time, and in the Middle East no less, but that only strengthened her resolve to bring us into the world. When she finally pushed me outside her womb, our father started crying tears of joy. He never expected to have any children, but was still excited to be their father, friend, and confidant.
The only thing I clearly remember is that I was holding Malik's hand when she pushed me out. Our bond was forged inside her womb, strong and withstanding to everything thrown in our way. From that day forward, we were inseparable. Wherever he went, I went too, and vice versa. We were, and still are, very considerate of each other. We very rarely argue, due to the respect of each other's opinions, wants, and desires, but when arguments do happen, they last a very short time before they dissolve into nothingness.
Our favourite pastime was watching assassins train and perform leaps of faith, which seemed exciting and dangerous at the same time. I imagined myself standing on top of the highest tower, and looking down on the ground like an eagle does. I even fell down daydreaming like that once! Malik, on the other hand, preferred to read various maps and copy them on other paper. He seemed quite good at it too, since he could copy every small detail there ever was. I sensed that our parents watched us closely, observing our developing skills and interests.
One night, our father decided to start with our training, so that one day, we could join the Brotherhood and keep the world at peace. I found that with a good training I had a chance to enter the Creed without disguising myself as a man. Frankly, it would have been tedious and hard to always keep my voice low, hair cropped, and act like a man. Since that day, we have trained hard. We - or rather I- kept pushing my body to its limits to find my strengths and weaknesses, and at the same time familiarize it with such situations, which were very likely to happen in the future. Malik decided to just follow my lead, and listen to every advice and command I have given him. I invented some techniques on how to fight with only one hand or no hands at all, and he took it all in stride. Even our superiors seemed impressed by it. On one warm evening, a letter came by from Shād Al-Mehād, telling us that we were to be brought into the Masyaf fortress for further training under veteran assassins. We were both shell-shocked by those news. Our parents looked at us with love and pride, happy to learn that we were deemed skilled enough to become assassins.
Between those years of training, our little brother, Kadar, was born. I was so happy to have a younger sibling, and Malik seemed happy too. The moment we saw his eyes were blue, we thought of him as someone special. I was special too, since my eyes were green and not the usual golden-brown my parents and Malik had. I tended to him when mother was busy, and I believe we formed the same bond Malik and I had. We became the three Al-Sayf siblings.
I have always considered myself a quiet and a very observant person, and I wasn't the only one in Masyaf. Altaïr Ibn'La-Ahad. A boy, whose mother died in childbirth, and father executed by the Saracens during the First siege of Masyaf 15 years ago. His father, Umar, made a sacrifice to ensure peace between Syrians and the invaders.
From the moment his father died, he was taken in by Al-Mualim, who proceeded to explain him why Umar died the way he did. Little did the Grand Master know I was watching them from behind the corner of a small barn. I noticed that while Altaïr was standing still and being very quiet, his face didn't betray even a little of emotion. He seemed neither sad nor angered by the news he had just received from Al-Mualim but I knew, that deep down he was devastated and couldn't even begin to process everything he was being told. I decided to approach him later, to offer him a shoulder to cry on, and an ear to listen, for I wasn't the one to leave a person alone to suffer from grief and sadness - two things that could easily cripple even the strongest of people. Later on, I told Malik about what happened that day, and he seemed to like the idea of me helping Altaïr, even though he has never met him before.
When sunset was approaching, I stepped out of our house and decided that the best place to start looking for him was the big garden inside the castle. Older assassins, who were wandering about and completing some various tasks, stared at me with confused and curious eyes. I knew they were wondering about my presence there, but instead of telling them what my purpose inside the castle was, I ignored them and went on with my business. Soon enough, I was approaching the beautiful garden, where everything seemed so wonderful and otherworldly. I willed myself not to stop and sniff the flowers.
"Who is there?!" said a small voice ahead of me. I recognized it as Altaïr's.
"Only me," I answered calmly. He was sitting on a broad stone bench, looking in front him. When he finally noticed me, he stared at me coldly.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" he asked.
"My name is Y/N Al-Sayf, and I wanted to offer my shoulder for comfort. The news you had to hear from Al-Mualim today…" I said gently said, so as not to upset him but he cut me off.
"Do not talk about it! I don't want or need anyone's shoulder for comfort!"
"Please, do not become so angry! I just wanted to be there for you, even though I cannot even begin to understand what it is like to lose family…" I told him while sitting next to him. He seemed to ponder on my words for a moment and then he looked at me.
"My name is Altaïr Ibn'La-Ahad."
"I know," I said back to him. I noticed that his eyes were beginning to fill with tears, and spread my small arms wide open. He immediately hugged me, so tightly as if his life depended on it.
"Shukran." I heard him whispering against my shoulder.
"Äafwan," I told him.
I don't know how long we sat there while embracing each other but one thing I knew for sure: This was a start of a very unlikely friendship.