AN: So, I've been reading a couple of AU's where Altair and Malik are princes and one of them is a suitor and all that junk…no offense to the writers (the stories are really good) but I find that just a little bothersome when a prince is being courted by another prince and no one is saying anything and even encouraging it. Personally, I think it would be much more exciting if one of them was a servant and the other a prince being married off to a princess. So, I'm going to try my hand at that. Here goes nothing…

(and to my loyal readers of Behind Closed Doors, don't worry. I know it's been awhile since I last updated it but I promise it will be good. I'm working on the next chapter write now. I just needed a little break.) :D

The young prince of Masyaf sat at the far end of a long table, hardly listening to the discussion at hand between the current ruler of his kingdom and the visitors from some foreign country he couldn't be bothered to remember the name of. His head rested against the open palm of his left hand and his eyes were looking far off into an imaginary land. If he were king, he would never call a single one of these boring meetings to negotiate peace and just wipe out the threatening kingdom. But, alas, he was too young for now. His father had died of disease before he was born and his mother perished shortly after giving birth to him. That left his uncle, Al Mualim, to look after the kingdom. Only until he could come of age or prove that he was mature enough otherwise. Altair respected his uncle. However, his six-year-old ego still told him he could run this land better than even Al Mualim.

"Altair? Altair, are you listening?" his uncle's old, gravelly voice barked at the six-year-old.

Altair jump at Al Mualim's tone and quickly responded, "Yes, sir."

"Then what did I just say to the king of England?" Al Mualim asked with a skeptical tone.

"I…uh…you were saying…" Altair's voice trailed off, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"That's what I thought." Al Mualim said with disapproval, "We were discussing your arrangement with the king's daughter. Maria was it?" the older man looked to the foreign king for confirmation. He nodded and Al Mualim continued, "Masyaf and England will be joined in a peace treaty, so long as you are to be wedded to their princess."

"But I don't even know her! And besides, girls are gross!" Altair protested. Al Mualim gave him a chilling glare and the youth sank low in his seat.

Fortunately, the king of England found this little outburst amusing, "My Maria said the same thing when I told her she would be marrying him! Of course, I told her it was important for our kingdom to have allies. I said, 'It is your duty as future queen.' She straightened up after that. She takes her duties very seriously. Very mature for her age, I must say."

"That is most amusing, King Robert. However, for my nephew, things are very different. These protests are more common than I would like."

The two older men went on with their discussion about each other's child and how stubborn they could be. This conversation didn't seem to be at all important and Altair droned off again. Every now and then, he would be sure to catch a few words, just in case his uncle called him out again. He did not, however, and the painfully boring meeting was over once a date for the two children to meet had been set. He scurried off as quickly as he could, off to the stables. A servant was waiting for him there with Altair's favorite horse, a solid black stallion he had dubbed Anas, saddled and eager for his daily run.

"Go and get a horse for yourself, Malik. You can come with me. I'll wait." The prince said to his servant with a welcoming grin. Though Malik was only slightly younger than the prince, a difference of about six months, he still felt he was the more mature one that had to constantly look out for the prince. Naturally, he would not deny the offer, nor could he unless he was willing to risk a beating from his father for refusing the prince.

Malik rolled his eyes and saddled his favorite horse, and older mare with soft, brown eyes and a coat to match. Altair leaped up onto his stead with no need of assistance and Malik did the same. The prince led in the fast-paced ride through the outskirts of the city, laughing when he looked to see Malik trailing behind him. It wasn't long before they had reached Altair's destination far outside the city gates; a slow moving river, wide and deep and perfect for swimming on hot days like this one. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be outside of the city at all, but no one was going to tell the prince of Masyaf where he could and couldn't go, especially a lowly guard, or a servant for that matter.

Altair and Malik slowed their horses to a stop and dismounted. Altair started striping right away, but Malik paused to loosen the saddles of both horses and bring them to the river for a drink. The young prince splashed around in the river, having the time of his life and attempting to get Malik to join him. However, Malik was more concerned with matters other than personal enjoyment, "Come on in, Malik! Why worry about the horses? They will be fine for an hour or so." The older boy called from the water.

"I'm the one responsible for the horses. If one gets sick or dies from this heat, it will be I who pays the price, prince Altiar; not you." Malik responded coolly.

Altair rolled his eyes and went under water. Malik allowed the horses to finish drinking before tying them in the sparse shade of a nearby try. He noticed the silence first. Up until now, Altair had been making as much noise as possible, whether it be splashing or shouting. Malik turned quickly and saw nothing. He looked up and down the river frantically for the price but saw nothing, "Prince Altair!" he yelled and rushed into the murky river with his clothes still on. He was only in about waste deep before the young prince sprang up from behind him and tackled Malik, effectively scary the holy piss out of the younger boy, "What the hell are you doing?" he yelled, trying to keep Altair from dunking his head under water.

"Scared ya, didn't I?" Altair said, giggling.

Malik pouted for a moment before laughing himself, mostly with relief that the prince had not drowned, partly at himself for falling for the prank. Then he remembered his now sopping wet clothes, "Great, now I have to let these dry out before the sun goes down."

"What for? Just get some new ones." Altair said like it was nothing.

Malik should have expected that from a prince. The boy never had to worry about anything. Servants brought him food when he was hungry, water when he was thirsty, and clothes whenever he got board of the ones he already had, "I don't get new clothes just because they get wet, prince Altair. I do not have that luxury."

Altair seemed to consider this for a moment before speaking up, "Then I'll get you some." He stated.

"I still need to dry them out. If I where wet clothes all the way back to the city, I could get sick."

"Fine." Altair conceded before swimming off to the deeper part of the river.

Malik waded through the water until he reached the bank. He stripped and hung his clothes in the same tree the horses were tied to before running back into the water. It quickly became clear that Altair enjoyed sneaking up on Malik as he repeated the same trick multiple times, though not to make Malik think he had drown. It was still fun to let him think there was a snake swimming by his leg.

When it was nearly sunset, they got out to air dry in the last warm rays of the sun. Altair turned his head to look at Malik, "Do you really not have any other clothes?"

"I have other clothes but not many. I have to make these last. Why, if you don't mind my asking, is that so hard for you to believe, prince Altair?"

"I've always got clothes." The older boy shrugged.

Malik was quiet for a moment. There were quite a few things he would like to say to the young prince, but he was taught to never speak to a member of the royal family unless spoken to first. If he insulted the king, price, or anyone else higher up on the political food chain than him, he could very easily be sentenced to death. Altair didn't seem to understand this, however. It seemed waiting to be spoken to only irritated him, "Why are you being so quiet? It's creepy."

"My apologies, prince. What is it you would like to discuss."

Altair frowned, slightly and shrugged, "I am getting married." He said casually.

"And who is it you will be marrying, if I may ask?"

"I do not know. Some girl." Altair spoke to show his obvious disapproval.

Malik fought down a smile, "Girls are ridiculous."

"I know! Why can't I just be king on my own? Why do I need a wife?"

"May I ask you something, prince Altair?" the older nodded, "Did they simply just decide this? Or is there a reason behind your arrangement?"

Altair thought long and hard, struggling to drag up the memories of such a boring discussion, "Mmmm…I think it's part of a treaty between Masyaf and England."

"Then perhaps it is for the best. I believe our relationship with the Kingdom in England has been strained. I hear my father talk about it with the other servants. They think that war may breakout if something is not done."

"So what? We could simply conquer them and make our kingdom that much stronger. We could do that with any country, actually."

Malik frowned, "There is no guarantee that we would win the war and even if we did, we would be vulnerable for a sometime while our forces recover. Besides, it does not matter how strong your kingdom is if the world hates you."

Altair frowned and for a second, Malik thought he would be getting in trouble later with his elders, but then the older boy gave a short laugh and patted Malik on the back, "You know, that is actually very smart. I am impressed a servant would have such knowledge in politics. Marrying you would be endlessly more useful than marrying some foreign girl I don't even know!"

Malik laughed, shyly. He got up to check his clothes which had been dry for some time now. He redressed himself and Altair followed his lead. They readied the horses and road back toward the kingdom. Altair waited for Malik to finish tending to the horses, once they were back in the stables. Malik was one of his more personal servants that he kept around more often than others. He told people, both noble and peasant, that it was simply to have an extra pair of hands around, just in case. But, secretly, Altair was lonely. He enjoyed the company of the slightly younger boy. Most of the boys were told that they had to play with him or talk to him or pay him any attention at all or they would be punished. Altair had personally sought out Malik in the hopes of finding a real friend. It took a while for the younger to relax around him but, eventually, he did for the most part. Now, Altair had someone he could call a friend; someone he felt he could trust to stay by him because he wanted too and not because he feared being beaten or exiled. When Malik was finished with the horses, they walked back to the palace together chatting about nothing in particular.

Malik escorted Altair to his chambers before turning to head back to the servants' quarters. He was always careful to avoid the guards when coming back from Altair's room. He wasn't really allowed to go that far into the palace without one of his parents with him. He had told Altair that once before, but the other boy just said that if anybody got onto him then he would have them sent to the dungeon. Did they even have a dungeon? Altair's words didn't exactly comfort Malik, seeing as how he would have already received his punishment by the time Altair had his way with whoever had carried it out.

The young servant reached his home quickly. He entered the tiny, single roomed apartment that he shared with his parents and three-year-old brother, Kadar. His mother was busy with dinner while his father kept Kadar from getting under foot. His mother greeted him with a smile as Kadar screamed with excitement and rushed up to wrap his small arms around Malik's waist.

"You were gone a long while, Malik." His father said in a deep voice.

"I was with the prince."

"He seems to like you quite a bit." His mother spoke softly, looking back at the pot of stew she was stirring.

Malik shrugged, "He keeps me around in case he needs me to hold something or whatever."

"Watch your tone when you speak about the royal family, Malik." His father said in a mild warning.

Malik nodded and went to sit on the floor at the low table and waited to be served his dinner.

Altair flopped on his luxurious bed and sighed as the fluffy blankets and pillows swallowed him whole. Malik had said he didn't have that many clothes. Why was that? He couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. Why wouldn't he have any clothes? Servants made clothes. Why couldn't he just make some for himself? It well still early in the evening, but Altair had planned to go to bed once he arrived home. But, despite how heavy his body felt from swimming most of the day, his mind was too active to allow him to sleep.

He sprang up from his bed, suddenly, and crossed his room in several long strides. He approached his dresser and looked at all the clothes he never really wore anymore. If Malik didn't have any clothes, Altair would just give him some. That's what he had told him at the river. He had never lied to Malik; never wanted too. Now, he didn't want to start lying to Malik. From now on, when he told Malik he was going to do something, he was going to do it. He gathered up all the clothes he didn't want and carried them down the vast halls of the palace. A few servants stopped to either bow or smile at him, thinking he couldn't see them over the huge pile of laundry he was carrying (not that he could, but still). He was halfway to the servants' quarters before a guardsman finally stopped to ask if he needed assistants. Altair scowled at him when he showed his surprise at the young prince's destination and reason for going. The guard straightened up after that.

Malik was utterly shocked when he answered the knock at his door to find Altair smiling wide with a guard holding a gross amount of clothes, "Told you I would get you some clothes." The prince said cheerfully. The guard walked in and asked where he should put his load. Malik's mother jumped up and said she would take them. Malik looked at the prince with disbelief. He didn't really see a need for so many fancy outfits but there was no denying royalty. Malik's family thanked him immensely as he left to return to his own chambers. Malik couldn't help but think that he must be careful of what he tells Altair from now on, less he be given the entire palace…and the hatred of every servant in Masyaf.

AN: Welp, there it is. I think this is a wonderful starting point for this story. Start them out young, get them use to thinking little things that don't really mean anything until puberty hits and then BAM! Instant inner conflict! Then when Maria comes into the picture…oooooh! I have soooo many ideas right now! I'm actually excited about this! XD Hope you guys liked it and will continue to like it!

P.S: My creative writing teacher here in college has mixed feelings about fanfiction. He thinks its nice that it gets people to write but isn't all that great considering you have to build of someone else's ideas. Maybe I should show him some of my stuff 'cause, really, the only thing I'm taking from Ubisoft are names, right? Great, now I feel the need to through in a disclaimer. I own nothing! There, I did it. :P