A/N: Inspired by Doubleleaf's "Moonlight" on deviantArt.
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed, though I could deal with owning Malik for a day.
Moonlight
Altair was sleeping in the Jerusalem bureau, and Malik, working in the main room, could not concentrate. His eyes kept flicking up from his map to the sliver of white he could see of Altair's hood. It was illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the roof. All Malik could think was, Blood looks black at night.
He looked down at his map again and saw that he had left the tip of his quill on the page. A large blot now stood for one of the synagogues, as well as the road nearest it. Malik gritted his teeth and tucked the quill into his sash. Beneath the counter, he pulled out his old sword. The idea that was forming vaguely in his head was a beautiful one, made all the more so because Altair trusted him when he said the bureau was safe. While that wasn't exactly a lie, Malik hadn't meant that it would be safe for Altair himself. And while he hadn't actually been thinking about spilling any of that pompous blood, the moonlight made Altair look far too pristine for comfort. So Malik took his sword and went into the fountain room.
Altair looked weak lying amongst the pillows, like he was sick, or fighting even in his dreams. He looked pale and bloodless, and the look about him only served to entice Malik more into seeing if there was in fact any blood within him. Malik walked until he could cut Altair's throat without even having to reach. He briefly thought that Altair must be sick if he wasn't waking up, for Malik was making no attempts to be quiet. This was to be judgment. Malik raised the sword. If Altair didn't manage to block what fell upon him, it was his own fault. Malik wouldn't even put any force behind the downswing. The sharpness of the blade would do all the work, and no one would be at fault but the soul of arrogance lying so helpless before him.
Malik's eyes felt hot. This is for Kadar, he thought, and why should I lie to myself? It is also for me. Then Altair made a small noise as he slept, and Malik froze. Altair's fingers were twitching upon the pillow and for a moment he looked distressed. He reminded Malik of a child. In a moment Malik was remembering a time when he watched Kadar sleep, and held the sword as a symbol of protection rather than revenge. Kadar had made a similar noise, like a grunt of discomfort or pain, and he had twisted over to lie upon his back. Malik remembered thinking that perhaps his back was hurting him; he heard it give a series of cracks as Kadar moved. And suddenly Malik was looking at Altair, but he couldn't really see him. The tears were difficult to see through, even though they were streaming down his cheeks.
Malik lowered his sword. Altair turned his face into the pillow slightly. Malik released a shaky breath and this seemed to stir Altair, who opened one eye blearily to look at who had woken him. But Malik could tell Altair couldn't really see him, either.