Beginning
It all started when he was a young boy. He honestly couldn't remember what had happened to his parents or how he ended up where he did. Had they taken him by force? Or had he been left there as a new born? All he could ever remember was being a part of the Brotherhood.
They would teach him the history of their land, the ways of the Brotherhood, how to steal, how to fight and kill. They were all taught the ways of the assassins. When it came to his studies he often found himself staring out the castle window absent-minded. It was too hard to focus on boring facts and figures and philosophy when he could be outside learning how to fight, to survive. To him, there was nothing better than a weapon in hand.
Rauf, who had to be at least 10 years older than himself, was often training just outside the castle with one of the older assassin's. Either that or he was helping to train the younger ones, he really had a talent for that it seemed. He didn't really know the other assassin's in training, not being one much for socializing. On occasion he would talk to a dark haired boy, about his age, named Malik. He had a younger brother, Kadar. Malik was a tad bit hot tempered and also didn't seem to really like anyone except for his brother, whom he protected like a hawk.
They would often fight about the smallest things, other times nothing at all. Over time they became as close as brothers and Malik would help teach him his studies and how to write properly. If it weren't for him his writing would be completely illegible instead of just barely readable. As they grew older they only became closer. They were able to tell what the other was thinking just by how they looked.
He had quickly climbed the ranks, Malik close behind, Kadar a novice. Even though Malik was close, he was the favorite of their Grand Master, Al-Mualim. The Master meant a great deal to him. He was almost like a father.
But everything changed after he, Malik, and Kadar went to Solomon's Temple. He had killed an innocent man, attacked Robert de Sablé without a thought of the consequences that could happen, and because of that, he had caused much pain, Malik had lost his arm defending himself and Kadar had died, all because of him. But what may have been worse of all was that he could not even see his ignorance at the time and he had thought he was right in all his ways. He still remembered that day. After he had gotten out of the temple, not even with the treasure he had come for, he returned to Masyaf to see Al-Mualim. The Master had been greatly disappointed in him, especially when Malik had appeared, bloody armed and treasure in hand. He will never forget seeing his brother injured.
Their friendship was never the same after that. Malik was no longer fit to be an assassin and was trained to become a bureau leader. He was later sent to Jerusalem. He refused to forgive him, but he did not want to be forgiven. Why should he be? He owed Malik so much and had taken everything important away from him, being hated and unwanted was suitable punishment, though not harsh enough.
That was not the only result of his brash actions however. Because of his lack of judgment he was deemed a novice once more. At the time it had been humiliating. No one really wanted to be around him after what he did. Rauf was still there for him though. He honestly didn't think the man wasn't ever unkind. He would often ask if he could help show his students to properly wield a blade. He would generally accept the task to take a break from the missions he was sent on, fighting was the best way to take a break.
So much had happened over the years, things used to be much more simple. He hoped that one day, perhaps, things would change again. A day where he killed Robert, was no longer considered a novice, and to where Malik could find it in his heart to forgive him. He feared that day may never come, even if he had been closer to finding Robert. There were odd things going on, unexplained words of which he wasn't sure to believe. He could not tell anyone unless he was absolutely certain. Until then he would continue to do as he was told for he knew no better.
He opened his eyes slowly, greeted by the now dark walls inside of the Jerusalem bureau. Malik had just finished re-organizing the bookshelf and was working on a map of the city. It took much precision to ink out the map the way he did, and a steady hand. He couldn't help but think that Malik was a bit restless though, being inside almost all day, but maybe he liked it. He was lucky he was even let in this late at night. Malik had told him to get out of his bureau, and he almost had, but the day had made him tired and he needed to rest, so he had told Malik he would leave before he was up in the morning. He agreed to it so long as he would be quiet.
He let out a soft weary sigh and lay down so he could finally get some rest instead of reminiscing about the past and how it no longer was.
"Altaïr, I told you to be quiet, if you cannot do so, get out." Malik scolded him with a glare from behind the counter.
"Yes, Malik." He closed his eyes. His heart was aching, but he would never let that show. He would keep his emotions tied down and in control. Not even Malik could know what he was thinking anymore.
I never meant to hurt you like this, to take everything you had...
Please forgive me Malik...