Author's note: This is just my interpretation of what might have happened. I haven't played the actual game (so tragic) so do forgive me if some details about the Solomon's Temple are wrong. I do not own Assassin's Creed
The soft breeze of dawn rippled the dark robe of the bureau master. He stood still and forlorn, looking down upon a small rock plaque with a single white flower placed in front. As his dark eyes read the name engraved into the plaque - Kadar Al-Sayf - his right hand unconsciously travelled to the last reminder of his left arm. His fingers gingerly rubbed the spot of the stump, feeling the grotesque and matted tissue under the thin cloth.
The man felt the whisper of boots on the soil ground of the cemetery but didn't look around. He felt a second body stand to his left and also look down at the grave.
'Forgive my lateness, Malik,' Altair Ibn-La'Ahad murmured. 'The streets were-'
Malik Al-Sayf shook his right hand in a quietening gesture. It was exactly one year since the death of his younger brother and for that moment he wanted nothing but silence.
Kadar was a light spirited young man. He was the type of brother who would always try to cheer you up yet also the type to easily cry. But Malik loved him as much as a brother could and strove to teach him the best he could. He knew Kadar was quite skilled in his own right and as a brother he was always there to help and set him back on his feet.
Except in the Solomon's Temple.
Malik's lips tightened as for the first time in the months he felt his mental strength weaken. Ever since the horror of watching his brother get killed, he had been trying to tame the memory. He never forgot it - how could he? - but he never wished to see it inside his mind all over again. Yet now, standing over the grave, he felt that protective wall shatter as the memory played once more in front of his eyes.
The two brothers watched as their leader, the Master Assassin Altair, walked up to their target, Robert de Sable. De Sable was surrounded by four men, each in armour and equipped with large swords. Even De Sable himself was armed as he watched Altair stand in front of him.
Malik could see Altair's right hand hovering over his sword. Such an obvious feint Malik scowled to himself. A mere child could see it was a fake move! But he knew Altair didn't think that. No, he arrogantly thought he was the smart one and that he was more stronger. For the first time, Malik began really worrying whether this mission was going to turn in their favour.
'What do you want?' De Sable had asked Altair.
The assassin had answered simply. 'Blood,' he said before whipping out his hidden blade and lunging at the Templar.
It could have worked and might have worked if De Sable was stupid and ignorant but he wasn't and within a second Altair was getting choked. Malik could see Altair straining against the hand on his throat and saw sweat slide down his cheek. What a fool!
'You know not the things you meddle into, assassin,' De Sable growled as he pushed his face close to the struggling Altair. 'I spare you only that you return to your Master and deliver a message; the Holy Land is lost to him and his. He should flee now, while he has the chance. Stay and all of you will die.'
And then De Sable tossed the semi-conscious Altair away like a mere rag doll. Malik had watched in horror and yet with a touch of malice as Altair crashed down the back wall of the chamber and fell underneath the floor. Rocks fell on top and then Malik realised that Altair couldn't come back anymore. He and Kadar were now alone.
Just as Malik let his hidden blade slide out, De Sable turned to his men.
'To arms!' he yelled. 'Kill the assassins!'
While De Sable ran out of the room, Malik and Kadar split the enemies without a single word, each beginning to fight two. Malik was easily able to slit the throat of one of them but the other proved more of a challenge. Bear like in body structure and angry as a bull, the man roared with every strike he swung upon Malik. The dodges and twists only half worked and Malik screamed when the sword buried itself deep into his left arm.
Feeling the blood dripping from the treacherously deep wound, he desperately tried to fend off the attacks but obviously noticing his own weakening. His enemy wasn't a feeble man either and it took many cuts and swings to make the man even stagger. But soon Malik thrust his sword deep into the white man's heart, silencing the man forever.
Feeling darkness begin to cloud his eyes from the pain in his arm, Malik turned to his brother to see both of the enemies still alive. Staggering, he once more drew his blade with his right hand and went to aid the assassin.
Grabbing the attention of one of the enemies, Malik sluggishly blocked a couple of sword strikes. His left arm was limp and hanging useless at his side. His still operating arm though felt heavy and stricken with fatigue. He doubted whether he could keep up the fight much longer much less survive the five day travel back to Masyaf.
Just as his sword finely found its mark and decapitated the man, Malik's blood ran cold when he heard his brother give a bloodcurdling scream. Twisting on his heels he saw as the sword tumbled from his brother's fingers which rushed to his abdomen that was stained red within a second.
'Brother-' the scream was cut off when the white man abruptly slashed the sword across the assassin's chest.
'No!'
With a new fire sparked inside him, Malik ran to the white man and almost blindly swung his blade across the latter's thighs. The man fell with a yell that didn't last long as Malik buried his sword deep into his chest. Leaving it stuck in the dead body, Malik turned to his brother.
'Kadar!' he screamed, running over to the body on the ground. With his right hand he rolled his brother over onto his back and with shaking fingers pulled up the hood. Kadar Al-Sayf was dead, his eyes blankly staring and a trail of blood coming from his mouth.
Malik felt his eyes burn with tears and his heart clench in pain, sorrow and anger. Damn Altair, it was all his fault! He was the arrogant one who brought attention to us. He was the one who was chucked out of the room like a mere child. He was the one that killed Kadar!
'I will kill him,' Malik had growled, a hand on his dead brother's shoulder. 'I will kill that damned assassin!'
Tears slid down Malik's cheeks as the memory faded and he raised a hand to his face. He could remember the emotions afterwards, the pain of his amputated arm, the sorrow of losing his sibling and the extreme anger at the man that caused all his woe. Many times all he wished was to grab a dagger a stab it through Altair's throat but he never did and after a time he began trusting Altair again.
His shoulders shaking with sobs, Malik pressed his hand harder against his wet cheeks. Why do I trust him? I should hate the man to no limits!
Malik heard as Altair pressed closer to him. 'I strike bad thoughts, Malik,' he said quietly. 'Would it be best if I leave?'
Malik wanted to grab Altair, to hold him so that he would never leave. He wanted to show that now, after everything that had happened, he needed Altair. But he had no arm to reach out so instead he just shook his head, feeling as his salty tears trickled from his lips and onto his tongue.
For some time the two stood in silence over the grave, only Malik's chokes heard as he tried to stop the tears. Malik felt grateful at the respectful privacy Altair gave him and truly knew that the man from Solomon's Temple has vanished and gone with a new, better person in its place.
Taking deep breaths and wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand, Malik raised his head to the sky, still tinged with the grey of an early morning. The tears dried and his breaths became even again.
'Lets go back to the bureau, Malik,' Altair said softly, placing a calloused hand on the other's back. 'We have both paid our respects and you need something to get your mind off it.'
Malik couldn't help but give a laugh. 'I'm not some sort of fragile woman, stupid novice,' he said with a shake of his head but allowing the assassin to turn him around and begin walking back onto the streets. With a small smile and secret pleasure, Malik noticed that Altair's palm didn't leave his back and felt glad of its friendly warmth.
Pausing at the cemetery's entrance, Malik gave a final look back at the grave before walking off with Altair. Rest in peace, Kadar.