BROMANCE, MAN! NO-ONE GIVES KADAR AND MALIK'S RELATIONSHIP ANY LOVE.

Do not own Assassin's Creed. If I did, Kadar would still be alive. D8 -sadface-

Moths.

Kadar swung his sword at his brother with a wide grin, his blue eyes sparking. Sparring with his brother was always fun to do. Despite being younger, Kadar was much bigger than his brother, having taken after their English father. Malik took more after their mother, small, ample and agile. He swung again. Malik laughed, dodging and knocking the wooden sword out of his baby brother's hand, smirking.

"You lose, baby brother," he crowed, tossing his head back with a laugh. Kadar snorted, picking his sword back up. He rolled his shoulders, smiling with adoration at his brother. The best brother a boy could have.

"I am in the game, brother."

Malik threw up his hand, his grin wider.

"So c'mon, lets go! Ready or not!"

Kadar swung, his smile wide.

Out of Control

Malik was actually glad when Kadar had persuaded him to go to the festival. The music was enticing, doing things to his body that made him sway and move fluidly and gracefully, a smile on his face. Kadar was dancing with a young woman, his lips spread wide in an overjoyed smile, their bodies moving insync with each-other. Malik smiled again, twisting away from his brother closing his eyes in bliss. Many bodies moved with him, dancing happily beside him.

They had nowhere to go. So why not just have a little fun?

These Exiled Years

Malik held onto his baby brother, pressing a cool rag to his forehead. The poor fool had been splashing around in the town's fountain, and hadn't changed out his clothes. Malik had warned him, but the younger boy refused to listen. Now look what had happened. Malik tapped Kadar on the cheek, smiling warmly when his baby blue eyes popped open.

"Don't you put me through this again, Kadar," he chuckled, sweeping his thumb across Kadar's cheek with a sigh. Kadar blinked and coughed, a shaky smile coming to his lips.

"Of course not, brother, never again."

Lullaby

The oldest Al-Sayf brother shuddered, laying on his side, his arms curled around his stomach in fear. He had his eyes shut tight, trying to persuade himself that he wasn't surrounded by complete darkness.

He had the nightmare again. The one where they took Kadar away from where Malik cradled him in his arms. The Templar took his brother forcibly, holding him by the leg, letting him dangle. Malik had screamed at them, tried to make the man fall and let Kadar go, but he was kicked away with a harsh laugh. He could sit and watch in horror as the Templar took Kadar away, shaking his bawling brother and laughing. Malik would wake up with tears streaming down his face then, gasping for breath. His body would be cold and covered in a sheen of sweat.

Malik looked to his brother, who slept peacefully, arms curled under his head. He shifted closer to him, gently folding an arm around his waist.

Pyramid of Tears.

Kadar stared at his brother morosely, rubbing his brother's back as he shuddered and sobbed. The poor boy's heart had been broken again, another woman heartlessly tossing his feelings aside like trash.

The younger man wished he could take all the tears away from Malik's eyes, mend his broken heart, but he couldn't. He could only stand by and watch his brother be thrown about relentlessly by various people, his heart pounded again and again by pain. Kadar wished he could tell all those people off, tell them how idiotic they were for hurting his brother and shoving him away.

But all he could do was watch Malik cry.

How Am I Different?

Kadar tilted his head to the side, watching his brother and another Novice spar, the wooden swords held tightly as they swiped and swung at each other. He noticed a difference in the other boy's stance from Malik's. His legs spread wider apart, shoulders squared, arms held loosely at his sides. Malik had his feet lightly spaced, shoulder's relaxed, head high and arms far from his body.

Kadar winced when the wooden sword cracked harshly into Malik's side, driving all the breath from his body. The older brother fell with a small noise of pain, clutching at his side. The Teacher picked the boy up by his upper arm, dragging him out of the small ring. The other Novice grinned roguishly, rolling his shoulders and jogging on place. Kadar scowled, picking up his own wooden sword and stepping languidly into the ring, his blue eyes blaring into the other boy's golden ones. The boy smirked again, sword up and ready. Kadar mimicked the motion, waiting for the Teacher's signal.

When the Teacher's hand fell, the other boy lunged, driving Kadar to the side with a harsh swipe. Kadar dodged, his eyes looking for a little misplacement of stance to drive the other boy to the ground. His sights zeroed in on the way the other Novice had his ankle twisted into the ground. Kadar grinned, avoiding another swing of the dull wood and sweeping his foot into the other boy's legs, making him fall with a yelp. Kadar pressed the tip of his sword against the boy's collar-bone, his face passive.

He held his hand out to the other boy, a smile spreading on his lips.

Nowhere Fast

Kadar stared down at the hidden blade his Master handed to him, his face passive. Malik and Altair had received one as well, their faces equally emotionless. The Master rambled on and on about how it was the greatest Honor one in the Brotherhood could receive, how it proved to the people of Masayf that they were truly men. Kadar felt a small prickle of doubt in the back of his mind.

He thought becoming a man was where one did what one was proud of, and made those around him proud as well. He had believed becoming a man was where one would put aside all wants of themselves to help the needs of thought that a blade shouldn't tell what he was. Why shouldn't he himself let people know who he was?

But Kadar didn't voice these doubts, standing beside his brother as they cut away his left ring finger, trying all the while to keep his face blank.

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