AN: I would just like to say, it is not my fault that it took so long for this update…really! It's my brains fault for being all stupid and lazy whenever I get a new book. Have you guys ever heard of Eon and Eona? (SPONSOR!) They are these two freaking AMAZING books and I just got Eona and I read it and my brain was all "well if ur not gonna write awesome stuff like this I'm goin on strike!" and it did! D: So…yeah…Anyway, updates are not going to be very frequent for a while. I've got a million and a half ideas squirmin around in my head. I recently discovered that I'm in love with high school AU's so I'm gonna be trying one of those out here soon and then I reeeeally wanna do a Mass Effect FanFic but I have no idea what I'm going to do for that and I just…agh! Too many ideas! XD

Then, I would also like to note that I have a horrible habit of making things go faster than I'd like them too. It happens every time. I goin thinkin 'yeah! This will be the one I finally tease my readers to the point of insanity!' and then in like the very next chapter the main couple's already hitting it off. In this one, I might be relying too much on my time skips but I really am getting better at this if you look at my older stuff (please don't it's horrible!). Okay, this is waaaaay too long of an author's note. Just thought my lovely wee ones deserved an explanation… :P

ON WITH THE STORY!

Altaïr paced back and forth in his room. He had asked a guard to go and get Malik only a few moments ago, but it felt like it was taking forever. He half groaned half sighed as he ran his fingers through brown hair and tugged lightly. He sat on his bed and put his head in his hands, thinking of what he was going to do. His wedding was today and he was, quite frankly, freaking out. He needed Malik here with him, to even him out, keep him calm. The prince jumped up to his feet and began to pace again. What was taking him so long?

The door opened a few minutes later and Malik was assaulted by his older friend with a bear hug. The younger teen was caught off guard and wasn't sure what to do so he hesitantly returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Altaïr's waist, "What has gotten into you today?" he asked, slightly amused by his princes actions.

"What the hell do you think has gotten into me?" Altaïr exclaimed, pushing away from Malik and returning to his normal paces.

Malik watched with dark eyes as the other male ruffled his own hair and appeared to be hyperventilating, "Calm down, Altaïr. It's not the end of the world."

"The hell it isn't! Fuck, Malik, I'm getting married!" Altaïr's hysteria was only escalating.

Malik grabbed hold of the older male's shoulders and held him still long enough to bring their lips together. The action calmed the teenager almost immediately, as he melted under his servant's touches, "Better?" Malik asked when they parted.

"That…was a dirty trick." Altaïr pouted.

"Anything to get you to breathe. This should be a happy occasion. You like Maria, remember? She's coming to live with you."

"Don't remind me, please. I have no idea what I'm going to do. You know she probably won't let us see each other anymore?"

"Well, it's your fault for telling her what we do."

"I didn't think she'd make such a big deal about it." Altaïr's pout deepened.

Malik patted his friends shoulder and motioned for them to sit on the bed, "Come, tell me about this wedding."

"Well," the prince began, following Malik's suggestion to sit, "My cousin, Abbas, will be there along with his father. Other than him, though, I won't really know anyone there besides Maria. I would…like it if you came. Maybe if Maria meets you, she won't be so fussy about us seeing each other and…well…it would be nice…to have a friend there." He blushed.

So did Malik. He had yet to tell Altaïr of the uneasiness he felt about their entire situation; Altaïr getting married and he and Malik being physically involved with each other. His prince being married to a princess bothered him more than it should have. After all, that's what princes do. But that slight bit of confusion was nothing compared to the indescribable feeling he got when he and Altaïr had discovered what to do about the "problem" with their bodies. Whenever Altaïr touched him he felt…better than good. He felt as though nothing else in the world mattered but the two of them. Afterwards, he would be completely content in simply basking in the other's presence (which did nothing to deflate Altaïr's ego but still). All he wanted was to be with his prince and he grimaced at the thought of having to share him with some woman.

Malik blushed, realizing that he had been staring at Altaïr and turned away. The older teen misread this as being refused in his invitation, "You don't have to if you do not want to. It isn't an order. I just thought, maybe, if you didn't have anything else to do…" Altaïr began to rub the back of his neck, nervously.

"That isn't what I was…I would love to come to your wedding, Altaïr." Malik said with a weary sigh. Altaïr really did want to marry Maria. The least Malik could do was be happy for him, right?

Altaïr placed his hand over Malik's, "Thank you, my friend." He said with a warm smile.

Malik smiled back, silently begging his body not to send the blood rushing to his face at Altaïr's touch. That became all the more difficult when the prince rested his head on Malik's should, "A-Altaïr?" the younger boy asked, hesitantly.

"Shh," Altaïr responded quickly, "I'm tiered. Let me just rest my eyes for a bit."

Malik obeyed his prince and they sat quietly for several moments. The younger's thoughts began to wonder if Altaïr might possibly have similar feeling for the servant. Perhaps it was that sneaking feeling that compelled Malik to rest his head on Altaïr's. Maybe that was why he tangled their fingers together. Maybe that was why Altaïr didn't hesitate to kiss him all those years ago.

A knock at the locked door made them both jump, "Come in." Altaïr called, detaching himself from Malik.

The door opened and Abbas appeared in its place, "Our uncle has sent me to get you. It is time, Altaïr."

"That's Prince Altaïr to you, Abbas." It was no secret that the two cousins did not like each other and it was quite common to see them bickering whenever Abbas came for a visit. Still, it seemed unnecessary, from Malik's point of view, to continuously remind the older boy (by about two whole years) that he was not the air to the throne of Masyaf.

Abbas scowled and crossed his arms, "Your bride is waiting, Prince Altaïr."

"Yes, yes, I'll be just a moment. You may wait outside my door, if you like." The prince waved his cousin away and the door shut, "You'll have to wear something nicer than that, Malik." He pointed to the fine, cotton tunic and leggings Malik wore.

"These were the clothes you gave me. How much nicer could they get?" Malik blushed at his rash words, picking out the grains of intimacy that only he noticed.

"Silk would be more appropriate." Altaïr said as he crossed the room to his closet. Moments later, he reemerged holding a dark silk robe with white trip. He tossed it at Malik, ordering his servant to dress. The younger rolled his eyes and did as he was told, not bothering to slink off to a more private area. He thought he saw Altaïr out of the corner of his eye, staring at him but convinced himself that it was nothing.

When he was finished dressing, he turned to his prince for approval. The older teen smiled and waved for Malik to follow him. They marched down the hall in comfortable silence, Abbas trailing behind and clearly not happy about Malik joining the party. But then again, Abbas was never really happy about anything.

The closer they got to the actual event, the harder Altaïr's heart pounded against his chest. Malik noticed the subtle changes that signaled his prince was on the verge of another panic attack. The servant thought for a second before he decided to completely disregard Abbas' presence and took hold of Altaïr's hand. The older teen looked at Malik for an explanation but his servant continued to look straight ahead. In response, Altaïr squeezed Malik's hand in silent thanks. He couldn't possibly know how it made his friend's heart flutter, nor did he notice the slightly pinker tint of his cheeks.

They reached a pair of large, intricately engraved doors and their hands separated. Abbas came up from behind them and threw Malik an odd look before opening the doors for the prince and his honored guest, "Stand by me." Altaïr whispered to Malik before the doors were completely opened. The servant only had time to obey.

Maria already stood at the front looking only a little cross at Altaïr for being so late. The early evening sun filtered through the large window behind the podium that the priest stood behind, looking far more put out than Maria. The princess' father stood to her side and Al Mualim stood across from them, waiting for Altaïr to join them. The prince marched down the aisle quickly and took his place by Maria. There was a heavy silence when Malik took his place between Altaïr and Al Mualim. The servant was careful to avoid the stony gaze of the current king.

The ceremony was simple and quick. When the two were told that they may then kiss, Malik saw his prince stiffen and made sure the kiss was quick and nothing at all what he had Malik did when they were alone. The guests gave their congrats and filed out in an assembly line fashion. Even Al Mualim and the king of England left the three young teens to further discuss Marias new living arrangements. Perhaps the servant would have left with everyone else had Altaïr allowed him to do so. But the prince had a firm grasp on the younger's sleeve and giving him a look that seemed to say 'don't you dare leave me alone with her.'

"So," Maria stated in surprisingly fluent Arabic when the room was utterly empty, "Is this that Malik you told me about?" she said, sounding rather crisp in her words.

Altaïr's grip tightened and he was making a conscious effort to avoid eye contact with his new wife, "Well…yeah."

Maria looked at Malik, her gaze resembling that of a wolf eyeing its potential prey, "My name is Maria." She offered him her hand.

Malik moved instinctively and took it in his own, "Altaïr has spoken of you." He said, matching her too-polite tone.

"Has he now?" she said. The hungry wolf look faltered slightly.

"Of course I have. Why wouldn't I? We do too many interesting things for me to not tell my best friend." Altaïr said, sounding far too nervous.

"To say the least." Malik added, looking at Altaïr with a small grin.

The wolf's glare was back in a second, "Altaïr is my husband now. He and I discussed your relationship once before and I have decided that what the two of you have done in the past is none of my concern. However, now that we are married, I would appreciate it if you did not continue." She took Altaïr's free hand in her own.

Malik did not like Maria, "You cannot tell the prince what he can and can't do." He argued.

"The prince can speak for himself." Altaïr said with a slight look of dissatisfaction.

Malik visibly shrank back at the words and looked down at his feet as he uttered a quiet apology. He listened as Altaïr continued to speak with Maria, "Malik and I are still friends, Maria. You cannot simply wish him out of my life. I will continue to spend time with my friend. But if it truly bothers you so much, we will not…engage in certain behaviors…" the eldest teen seemed to struggle for the words. Maria pouted slightly but conceded to the terms.

Malik, however, sat quietly on the sidelines. He didn't want to stop being intimate with Altaïr. He wanted to be able to continue doing things with Altaïr as if everything was normal; like nothing had changed. But the dutiful servant would not speak against his prince. This was for the best, at any rate. He and Altaïr wouldn't have been able to continue their activities for much longer.

Malik was not a religious person. Though he believed in Allah as much as the next Muslim, many of his personal beliefs would likely end in him being shunned or worse were they ever come to light. However, Altaïr would be named king soon enough and kings did not engage in illegal acts…well, not good kings.

Altaïr looked to his friend and noticed the troubled expression on his face, "Maria, could you excuse us for a moment?" The girl looked slightly suspicious but made her way out of the large room shouting at a guard to show her to her new courters. "What troubles you, my friend?" the prince asked worriedly.

Malik hesitated for a moment before speaking, "May I speak freely, prince Altaïr?"

The older teen flinched. It had been sometime since Malik spoke to him so formally. He must have been really upset, "You may."

"I do not want us to… Why are you allowing Maria to give you orders? You are her husband after all." The servant stopped himself from making a rather embarrassing confession.

"She is your princess now, Malik and I would appreciate you showing her the proper respect. And I am not letting her order me around. I found a compromise. You should understand that we are married under Christian law. That does not allow me to be with whoever I want, no matter how much I want to." Malik blushed, kicking himself for not realizing that, "And besides, she tells me that the Christian Bible does not approve of two men being together as a man and woman would be. As does the Qur'an. And, though we have not exactly lain together, I can't help but feel what we do is the same." Altaïr looked away.

"Do…you believe that…? That it is wrong for two men to be together?" Malik would not look at his friend.

Altaïr was silent for a long moment before answering, "Do you?"

To Malik, that answer was as good as rejection, "Yes, I do. You are right. We should not see each other again."

. . .

Many weeks went by. Altaïr and Malik did not speak to each other. Malik had not even seen his prince in the time span. Not that he was making an effort to. In fact, he had asked Rauf to take his morning shift in the stables just so that he would not have to see Altaïr. Rauf, however, was fed up with it. Apparently, Altaïr had been in a foul mood every time he had gone in to tend the horses. He was blatantly refusing to put up with him any longer and insisted Malik get off his lazy ass and do his chores himself.

Malik dragged his feet the entire walk to the stables. He was not surprised to see Altaïr standing in front of Jack's stall. He did, however, feel his heart skip. Altaïr hadn't really changed in the time he hadn't seen the older teen. He might have been a little taller, a little more stubble on his chin, stance a bit more confident. That was one of Malik's favorite things about Altaïr. How even just standing around the other male could radiate confidence. Of course, that wasn't the case on his wedding day, but normally…

The prince turned and seemed to become significantly more nervous but regained his composure in seconds, not looking Malik in the eye but rather choosing to focus on his servant's walk. Altaïr regretted his fight with Malik, if you could call it that. Really, if it had been a true fight, his friend would have been thrown in jail. But one could really expect a servant to fully argue with the prince of Masyaf, even if given permission to speak freely. He had tried to come and talk to Malik several times but was never able to find him. He didn't want to send a guard, lest it seem like an order to forgive him. He needed to see Malik in person so that there could be no mistaking Altaïr's sincerity. Of course, that would mean he had to find the younger teen first. He quickly gave up on searching during the hours he was sure Malik would be off duty and relied meeting him in the stables. That was when he became fully aware of Malik's deliberant avoidance.

The servant went about his business in the stable, completely ignoring Altaïr in the process. The prince patiently waited for Malik to be done with all but Jack's stall. When Malik made to leave, he was stopped by his prince's command, "You did not clean Jack's stall."

"You are the only one who can handle him, prince Altaïr." Again with the formalities. Malik was really pissed.

"Perhaps. I would still like you to do it, Malik."

"Is that an order, your highness?"

Altaïr became visibly frustrated, "Yes."

Malik turned and walked obediently towards the stall but faltered when Jack took a snap at his hand. He dared a glance at Altaïr, wondering what the prince could possibly gain from this. The older teen crossed his arms and waited. Malik huffed in frustration and pushed into the stall, grabbing the stallion's halter off the wall and shoving it in Jack's face. He wasn't about to give the stubborn, ill-tempered, spoiled, pampered, mean-ass horse a chance to bite again. Without hesitation, the halter was on and Jack was being led out of the stall and tied to a post outside the stables. When the servant returned, he proceeded to clean stall in record time. He checked the feed trough and water bucket. Seeing that they were full of everything they needed to be full with, he turned to retrieve Jack only to find Altaïr blocking the entrance of the stall.

"I cannot finish my task with you blocking the way, Prince." Malik explained, attempting to go around the older teen.

Altaïr adjusted his stance to stand in front of his servant, "I have another order. Look there, in the very back of the stall."

Malik grumbled as he turned in the given direction. Upon closer inspection, it became clear there was genuinely nothing there, "Prince, there isn't anything—"

Altaïr pinned Malik against the wall and pressed their lips together. The younger didn't move, conflicting emotions hindering his thought process. When they separated a few long seconds later, the prince spoke, "I'm sorry." It wasn't much of an explanation but it broke Malik from his stupor long enough to ask for one, "What are you doing? What if someone sees?"

Altaïr gave a sly grin, "Jack's stall is surprisingly private."

It was true. No one dared come near the door to the stall and planks had been put up along the extension to keep the horse from biting anyone out of spite or whatever ran through the beasts head. Still, Malik had to look around, just to be safe, "Why…?" he asked quietly, without looking up at Altaïr.

"Because I'm sorry. I…I didn't mean to upset you at the wedding. I was only…trying to look out for both yours and Maria's interests. I didn't know you would be so mad…"

Malik wasn't mad. He could never be mad at Altaïr. Who he was mad at was Maria and her elegant female…female-ness! Every time he thought of her and his prince together it made his blood boil. It was her fault Altaïr didn't want him anymore. Malik sighed, heavily, "I am not mad…not at you, anyway. I know we can't continue our relationship as we have been." He still did not look at Altaïr.

The prince was quiet as he gently rested a hand on Malik's cheek and turned his head to look at him. Their brows touched they made eye contact but no words were said. Malik saw something flash threw Altaïr's eyes. It seemed the older teen was dealing with his own internal conflict. Malik guess that Altaïr was feeling his guilt and loyalty to his wife tearing at each other. If this was the case, then Altaïr was only being so kind out of a sense of atonement and not acting on feelings for Malik. This wasn't what the servant wanted. He wanted Altaïr to want this, to choose him over Maria…to love him. No, this wasn't love. That wasn't possible. They were both men. Men couldn't love each other. Then what was it that Malik felt for his prince? Loyalty? Admiration? Perhaps he was only protective of his friend. Maybe he was feeling jealous. But jealous of what?

Malik was ripped from his thoughts when he felt a pair of lips brush against his own. Altaïr's eyes were half closed and refusing to leave Malik's gaze. The younger teen desperately wanted to feel his prince against him in every way. But he was sure these actions were out of pity or guilt. His pride would not allow such weakness and he pushed Altaïr away with surprising force. He froze, realizing that he had just refused the prince of Masyaf. No one refused the prince of Masyaf. If he so much as hinted at wanting something from you, you gave it to him. But was it truly refusing if Altaïr didn't actually want it in the first place? Maybe he was hoping Malik would push him away. It would have freed him from his guilt, at the very least.

The servant looked up at Altaïr to try and read his expression but there was none. The prince was making a conscious effort to not show what he was feeling at that moment. Altaïr was confused. Very confused. Malik had wanted the kiss, hadn't he? Granted, the servant had said he believed what they did was wrong but the way Malik had reacted when Altaïr pushed him against the wall…but he was the prince. A servant would not refuse the prince. "Again, I'm sorry." Altaïr muttered before making a hasty retreat.

Malik sank to the floor. He felt the sting of tears at his eyes but fought them. He told himself that this was for the best. Things between him and Altaïr wouldn't have worked out anyway. And if they had, they were bound to be found out eventually. This was definitely for the best. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. There was no harm in crying just a little with no one around.

He practically leaped out of his skin when he heard someone clear their throat at the entrance of the stall. He felt his heart flutter, half expecting Altaïr to be standing there but that expectation only made the disappointment all the more crushing, "Why is Jack tied up outside?" Rauf asked, "And why are you sitting on the ground?…Malik, are you…crying?"

The other servant quickly whipped the tears away with a rather unconvincing, "No."

Rauf's expression softened and he went to join his friend in the stall. He didn't ask what had happened. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion but he wasn't going to jump to conclusions. He wanted Malik to tell him. And, it seemed, just sitting there without uttering a single word was exactly the way to get the information out of his friend, "Rauf…" Malik started strong but his bottom lip quivered before a sob exploded from his throat and he returned his upright fetal position.

Rauf sighed with sympathy and, not knowing what else to do, he wrapped an arm around Malik's shoulders in an attempt to comfort the other servant, "There, there, Malik. It will be fine, you'll see." Rauf was a master interrogator. Speaking as if he already knew everything and accepted it only encouraged Malik to continue. "He's…my best friend… he must hate me now, Rauf. I don't want to be without him… I can't explain it but…I just don't want to be away from him." The other teen said between sobs.

Rauf could put the pieces together from there. He had seen Prince Altaïr and Malik together several times before. Rumors of them being close were common, but none revealed just how far they had gone. The few words utter from a grief stricken Malik were confirmation that Rauf's personal suspicions were correct. It wasn't any of his business and he had nothing against it personally so he hadn't said anything. He was just one of those people that could simply tell when two people were intimately involved, "I know. I don't think he hates you, my friend. The prince does not know how to properly express his emotions. But, if he truly is your friend, he will come around." The teen said soothingly.

Malik just leaned against his friend as he tried to stop the tears.