A knife poses at his throat, scraping the skin beneath enough for the cut to bleed. His eyes don't open, but the hand around Malik's wrist tightens briefly before loosening. "Do it." Malik scowls, glaring down at the master-turned-novice assassin. He doesn't move the knife away.
Altair opens his eyes, the gold darkening to an almost brown colour in the dark of the Bureau. "Do it. Nothing is easier, you know that." His voice holds a taunting edge to it, but it wavers slightly in anticipation. Malik growls lightly, pressing the blade a fraction deeper.
"Aren't you afraid?" The one-armed Dai feels Altair run a hand down his scarred back, and he resists the urge to shiver at the calloused fingers running over old wounds. The assassin smiles crookedly, digging his short nails into Malik's skin.
"Everyone dies, whether today or fifty years from now." His voice is low and almost hypnotizing to the Dai. He leans forward slightly, eyes focused on Altair's mouth. The dagger moves to the plush rug under the assassin, ruby coloured blood dotting the multi-patterned fabric.
"Your idiotic pride caused a great deal of men to be killed, including my own brother...how many more will die this way?" Malik clentches a fist around the rug, feeling the hand that was previously rubbing circles on his back move the waist of his pants.
Altair turns his gaze away and snatches the fallen dagger from the ground. He holds the hilt almost as if presenting the weapon to the Dai as a token of peace. He runs the tip of the knife down Malik's cheek, a slightly faraway expression falling over his face. "No more."
Lame ending is lame. But...basically the scene was taken from Troy which I was watching at the time. Hahaha Altair as Achilles and Malik as Briseis.