AN: A friend suggested a Dragon Age AU with Malik and Altair but instead of the one drabble I was supposed to do, I went and did, like, four of them- somewhat connected scenes, but not meant to be entirely cohesive. Lots of fast-forwarding in between chapters, basically. This takes place during the Dragon Age 2 era, but I'm calling it an AU rather than a crossover since none of the DA characters are in it. The title comes from one of the blood mage's upgrade abilities, Grave Robber. Hee.

Also, Endy wrote a couple of brilliant and wonderful follow-ups as well! I will link the appropriate ones after my parts. (Or try to, since likes being a pain with these things.) Anyway, these were tons of fun to do! Hope you enjoy!


Altair was not surprised to find himself eventually surrounded by men with their swords pointed at him. He was, after all, a lone traveler in Lowtown at night with nothing more than two small blades strapped to his back and a sizable pack at his hip. He would have been disappointed if no one at least triedto approach him, though it was still a bother that the would-be thieves chose to strike at the docks while the rain made the wooden planks slick under their heels, but beggars couldn't be choosers and Altair had been itching for a fight since fleeing the Bone Pit days ago.

Shifting his stance, he drew his blades, flicking droplets into the face of the nearest thief with a challenging smirk. The fact that he was that confident gave the thieves pause, but that was all; they dove at Altair without giving him another moment.

Soon it became apparent that the battle was almost not worth his time, not even worth killing for.The thieves had numbers, yes, but it was an unsteady wave of ill-timed attacks and allies tripping over each other. Altair's blades took advantage of every weakness, singing out each time the shining steel sliced through air and flesh alike. Not even a minute had gone by and there were already four bodies on the ground. He gritted his teeth, looking up in time to see a pinprick point of light, wavering from faraway. Instinctively, he dropped to his knees, a dark-feathered shaft flying over him and disappearing into the darkness.

Cursing, he stood up, impatiently pushing away the warrior bearing down on him. When he could not, Altair held his breath, focused at the spot behind the warrior, and winked out of existence for a split second before reappearing to plunge his knife into the enemy's back. Kicking the corpse away, Altair started to turn towards the archer but stumbled as the ground suddenly shook, loud and hard enough to match the rumbling sky.

The moment he regained his footing, he tried to locate the archer, surprised to find a boulder in her place instead and a cloaked mage standing next to it, if the staff was anything to go by. Altair didn't even have time to register wherethe mage had come from before a hand was raised and the blood pooling beneath the boulder gave off a soft glow. The mage glanced at Altair, and though the cowl obscured any expression, there was a note of recognition and contempt. Looking past Altair, the mage lifted his hand again, waving it as if he was brushing away an annoying insect.

Altair tensed, willing himself to stand steady as his enemies exploded all around him, sending a shower of blood and gore that fell just as heavily as the rain. Despite that the same could have been done to him, Altair did not waste time reappearing behind the mage, bringing up his dagger to rest against the spellcaster's neck, but the mage did not seem to careand immediately slammed Altair against one of Lowtown's decrepit buildings.

The mage's hand found its way to Altair's throat, slippery with blood and water. Altair struggled against him, using every trick at his disposal, but the mage seemed to know what to expect and pressed harder, the blood around his fingers flickering with an eerie light until Altair was conscious of the energy draining from him.

"That was not even a fraction of what you took from me," the mage hissed, his grip slackening.

"You're-" Altair began, still trying to twist away and growled in frustration when the mage did not left off.

"Alive? Yes," Malik said, struggling just the same, though only in holding back the things he was trying not to say. Finally, he seemed to give up and raised his voice, shouting at Altair. "How could you do this? You left us to die!"

It had been days since the Bone Pit, but Altair had no trouble recalling it clearly because there wasn't much to remember.

"There was a barrier! Magic. I couldn't get through," he shot back, grabbing Malik's wrist, and reached for the other one, but his hand grasped nothing but air, fingers brushing against the empty left sleeve of Malik's robe. He froze, realization dawning on him.

"The barrier," the mage repeated bitterly. "We had to fight through the undead you left behind, all the traps you set off while running away. You did not even wait."

"Blood magic," Altair muttered and winced when Malik's fingers tightened around his neck in warning; he had no problem with renewing the draining spell on Altair, despite his obvious reluctance to use it at all.

"Oh, so you've just noticed? Kadar is dead, in case you were wondering that as well."

Altair stared, long enough for Malik to read the weight of his silence. The mage stepped back, letting go in disgust.

"Is your opinion of me so low that you think I would take my brother's life to replenish my own? That I would become a Blood Mage just to open a simple barrier?" Malik snarled. "Or is it something that you would have done, had you been in my place?"

Altair pushed off the wall, gathering his daggers from where he had dropped them, and left Malik's staff to lie in a red-tinted puddle of water. He did not say anything, knowing that he wasn't obligated to answer; Malik and his brother were well aware of the risks, but repeating them now would only anger the mage even further. Altair sheathed his weapons, watching Malik carefully as he did. "We had a client."

At first, he thought Malik was going to storm off, but the mage threw him a hateful look. "Tell the client we failed."

"We need that Apple."

Malik regarded Altair in mute disbelief. He picked up his staff, letting the end of it scrap against the ground. "Perhaps I was not clear enough. Because of you, I have lost my brother and my arm. Because of you, I am now a blood mage," he said, every word thrumming with barely repressed fury. "No, Altair. I will not help you any longer. Find another apostate."

He left, then, without another word and with the rain washing away all traces of the blood he had spilt on the streets. Altair watched him disappear, putting a hand to his bruised neck, and stared when his fingers came away red for a moment before that, too, was lost in the rain.