Assassin's Creed I – Tales of Altaïr And Malik

A/N #1 – Heehee... more Tibah! You asked for a little more Kadar. It is tiny, but it is here... so is a little yaoi subtlety between Malik and Altaïr!


"Les flammes de l'enfer vont te dévorer." The templar raised his sword to deal a final blow. "J'étais t'áttendre, assassin. Ça me donnerais plaisir," gloated the Templar as his sword arced down upon Altaïr.

Altaïr stilled, measuring each painful breath and waited. Parlez moins, Templar.

*CLASH!*


Altaïr's attitude had definitely been changing over the year. He seemed to relatively be holding to the Creed and understanding of the Order. He did, however, still kill with enough recklessness to set off all the city alarms when he ended the life of someone in power within the city. Malik hoped this would not be the case, but resigned himself to the fact that it likely would be. Altaïr always accomplished his task, even if he abandoned discretion and any sense of self-preservation. That last thought left Malik's stomach in knots. He had better report in after each thing he finds.

*CRASH!*

Malik stared down over the counter where his ink pot fell and shatter on the stone floor messily. At least the Acre map was not ruined. He chastised himself quietly for being distracted with worry for a man who vexed him as much as Altaïr did. The red spill of ink on the floor seemed ominous and his stomach clenched. I'll kill him myself if he does not return.

Walking around the counter through the gate, he dropped a cloth on the spill to soak up the ink. He fetched a pail for the mess and knelt to clean it up. The door opened while he was there. "Rafiq?" Tibah's delicate question interrupted his worrying. He dumped the remains of his bottle and ink into pail and greeted her. She smiled pleasantly, "Let me help you, rafiq." She came and finished the cleanup before he could refuse. Her brother entered and left several times, depositing boxes. "I brought supplies as promised." Her brother frowned at her forwardness again, but said nothing.

"Thank you, Miss Tibah. We should discuss the ... ..." he could not finish his statement as he perused the supplies. The boxes contained more bandages than he could ever buy in one venture and of extreme quality, bottles of disinfectant quality alcohol, spools of waxed thread, salves and lubricants, herbal medicines and teas. "In the name of..."

"Rafiq, one should not risk taking the Lord's name in vain," she gentle reminded.

"It would not been in vain but a true prayer of thanks," he breathed. "I can never... Miss Tibah..." There were even supplied of the most refined surgical blades. "Where did you? How did you?"

She smiled at how he could not complete a single sentence or question. She rinsed the rags with fountain water and returned to dry her hands on her layered skirt. "Do they please you?"

Malik had no idea what to answer. This was the best set of medical supplies he could have ever wished for. Not even the Bureau supplied him this well. These supplies in totality could cost someone the price of a smaller estate property. He wondered where she obtained this money. For a girl of only fifteen, she was already darned amazing... and maybe dangerous for that. "They... they please me greatly, but I cannot compensate you."

"I think you can. Remember, I ask only for your trust." She tucked her head scarf more neatly.

"Yes, trust... and something else," he mentioned warily.

Tibah smiles softly, a veiled smile. "I will ask it of you later, but it is not anything impossible, I assure you. Will you be visiting the stall this week? Should I plan to have anything in particular for you? Maybe... red ink?" she deftly changed the subject and it reeled him. She peeked on the counter at the map.

Malik caught himself and came over. "The map for your father will be ready by the end of the week. And yes, I suppose I will need more red ink. I'll come by tomorrow."

She dipped a tiny curtsey before leaving.

Malik stood feeling a bit dumb, a lot invaded, and totally entrapped. These supplies were needed. The best doctors alone had these wares. He wondered if his brothers and God had a hand in this provisioning. The map forgotten for the day, he spent it moving the boxes and supplies into his back room or up into the storage room, lining the shelves with the jars and bottles. He inspected the small scalpels in amazement. The strange thread spool of a substance he did not recognize confused him, as did some curved needles. Excited with the new finds, he delved into the medical books he had for clues as to their used. He found no references and concluded he needed new books.

Trust...

Malik wondered about that. Who could be trusted? There were the few informants he maintained and a select few new ones he established on his own here. There was the ex-Bureau rafiq. His trust in the rest of the brotherhood and in Master Al Mualim was shaking though. A glimpse through a window told him that it was already close to midnight. He double checked locks, cleaned the souk and set out extra pillows. In a vague hope that Altaïr might return this night, he set out some food with a basket over it to prevent the pigeons from attacking it. He wondered if that spilled ink was really an omen. The sinking feeling in his gut kept reminding him. Was it a coincidence that all the medical supplies he could need arrived today because they were going to be needed? He looked up through the lattice of the souk. The breeze proved quite chill so he set out an extra blanket.

Trust...

He wondered when the last time he and Altaïr really trusted one another. It was a few years ago when Al Mualim gave Altaïr his series of solo missions. Altaïr had been in private discussion with Al Mualim for hours, but would tell Malik nothing of the missions. Malik tried to not be jealous. he had just earned his own full ranked assassin whites as Kadar received his greys. Altaïr was a master assassin with the neat black stitching on his robes to indicate it. His arrogance proved the rank change too. But that last night together, Altaïr was anything but arrogant.

The three ran out to the farthest stack of hay to stare at the stars together. Kadar was as excited for his brother as he was for Altaïr. The teen's idolization of Altaïr also bugged Malik and made him a bit jealous. Tonight was a night to abandon all things. They would be separated by noon the next day. Malik wanted to know why. Partners were a common practice that Al Mualim was changing this year. He let it slide so as not to start a fight, not to part company in argument. Kadar was already asleep and cuddling against Malik's back. He rolled his eyes facing Altaïr in the hay. There would be nothing private this night... or likely any other after this. Altaïr reached out and gripped Malik's hand. Malik ran his other fingers through Altaïr's hair. He always loved how incredibly feather soft Altaïr's hair was.

"Remember our promise to each other, Altaïr?" Malik asked.

"Yes... and don't you forget it," the arrogance slid into Altaïr's and then vanished in wariness, "no matter what, even if... just... no matter what happens between us."

There was always this slight lack of trust and yet total trust. Something Altaïr was always hiding and yet the almost desperate trust in his golden eyes would make Malik just nod. "No matter what, I will be here for you. You will never be alone. You can always... and I mean always... trust me."

Trust...

They slept together in that hay trusting in their safety, relaxed with the peace between them all. Safety and peace. Kadar nestled behind his brother, softly snoring. Altaïr slept with his arms tucked under his head facing him, tensing in phantom dreams that always plagued him. Malik stayed awake to watch him as long as he could. This... the last day they truly shared trust.

Even as Malik curled on the carpet of the souk, he wondered if trust would ever be regained between them. He drifted off to sleep there unintentionally.


A/N #2 – Chapter's flashback was brought to you by the-evil-legacy's adorable art of our three boys (remove the spaces to see the art). http:/ the-evil-legacy .deviantart .com/art/Sleep-in-the-hay-149961454