Assassin's Creed I – Tales of Altaïr and Malik
A/N #1 – Thank so much for your reviews! Malik and Altaïr have had an... interesting forbidden youth and currently have a complicated tense relationship where they don't really know where they stand with each other. Trials and tribulations...
Malik chewed the inside of his cheek debating, and then he decided to leave the book there with Altaïr to hold in his slumber. He hadn't told Altaïr that this was the journal for him to write his insanity into. He was enjoying too much the way Altaïr fondled it delicately and almost hugged it in his sleep. Malik was glad he had guessed right that Altaïr still secretly loved to touch soft things.
Altaïr felt sluggish. Thinking was sluggish. Moving was sluggish. Malik was around sometimes feeding him or washing him, or checking the many wounds, or helping him stumble off to relieve himself. It was embarrassing. He wanted to protest. Malik had other things to do. Altaïr had other things to do. He knew the feeling of being drugged and hated it. But it was better than the agony he had felt when they wore off.
He found himself cradled in Malik's arms. Didn't Malik have just one now? Held comfortingly against the terrors that plagued him in the night. Malik would never do that, would he? Altaïr wondered if he was dreaming or if this was real. He had no idea even what time of day it was or what day this was. He tried not to speak as it came out slurred, at least to his ears and he could not control what he might say.
Silence.
Sometimes that felt tense. Sometimes, it was bliss. Like when he and Malik used to lay in the grass in a hidden place near the water in Masyaf. Their two secret quiet places were a hidden hay stack that sometime Kadar joined them at and the other was this difficult to get to place that challenged Altaïr's fears of water. To get there required creeping across long planks or tree trunks felled across a giant chasm with water rushing below. That is probably the best way to describe what it was like walking into the Bureau of Jerusalem with Malik as Dai. The anxiety and mistepping or making a mistake, the certainty of a terrible fate if you did.
The grass was soft. Malik was on his belly with a journal writing or sketching with a bit of charcoal. He was always doing things with his hands. And if they were not busy in that book, they were busy on Altaïr's body counting muscles and identifying parts of the body that Altaïr could not fathom existed inside him. He liked the feel of Malik's hands gliding over his body, Had more and more for nearly four of five years and more so since that one odd kiss. Not that either did not like women. They explained to themselves and each other that they were just practicing for when they did eventually have one. They tried to save this kind of intimacy for this grassy secret place or their bedroom. The hay, that was a risk. Kadar might sneak up on them and discover their forbidden actions. But was kissing so wrong? Was exploring each other so wrong? Nothing is true and everything is permitted. So... no.. it was not wrong, dammit. But it wasn't anyone's business.
It was lonely. He felt alone even with Malik nearby. They had not touched or kissed for years. He had tried not to think of Malik when he was with Adha and Nina. But there was something of the sweet memory of Malik's skin under the blankets when he was with those women. Nina somehow figured it out. Had she not been afraid of what the Master might do to her, Altaïr was certain she would have stabbed him in his sleep. In many ways, he was glad she left. She was like sleeping with a cobra. He missed sleeping with Malik. But so much, so many terrible things happened between them. He didn't deserve the amount of care Malik was giving him now.
Altaïr rolled over to see that book on the floor beside the bed mat. He wondered where Malik was sleeping. He had tried to sleep in the souk or on some cushions in this room, but found himself waking in Malik's bed every time. It smelled like Malik. The book sat tempting him. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of Malik again then studied the cover of the small book. Pale, soft, he wasn't sure why it was here. Did Malik want him to read it? He fingered the red emblem. Turning the book over, he recalled it had no design on the back. He liked this simplicity greatly, but it did not seem like Malik. Malik liked his journals of dark stiff leather embossed all over with designs. Altaïr flicked looks to the doorway curtain, wondering if Malik was going to step in and chastise him for looking. He lifted the back cover to peak a tiny bit.
Some things are true... how I feel, our friendship... and some things should not be permitted... It's always a choice, a moral one. Let me help you when you no longer know the right one. Malik.
Movement at the door caused Altaïr to drop the back cover closed. No, I was not snooping. You left it there. Next time, hide it. He rolled over gritting his teeth. The drugs that dulled both the pain and his thinking were wearing off. Malik set down clean bandages and a jar of salve. Altaïr tried to ignore the sounds behind him and stared at the wall willing full sensation through his whole body, failingly.
He heard Malik bring in a basin of water and drop the towel, before sitting patiently behind Altaïr. "You are healing better today than the previous days. I'm going to take out some of the stitches." There was no reprimand to opening the book. Altaïr did not understand why. "I sent word of your successful mission to Al Mualim. You did well, brother."
Was that... approval? Praise? From Malik? Altaïr turned his head to see Malik motion him to sit up. "You drugged me again." Altaïr's voice came out rough as if he had not spoken in a week. Had it been that long?
"You needed to be still to heal. You needed rest." Malik explained. There was no bite in his tone. It was very matter of fact.
"I am in your way. You have ... things to do, better things to do. And... I should get back..."
Malik now snapped, "Do you never listen to me? You needed... still need to be still."
Malik just didn't understand, wouldn't understand. Who was he to command him like the Master. He was not the Master. Altaïr pursed his lips and ignored the forthcoming pains as he stood and snatched his clothing. He dressed as swiftly as he could while Malik protested at him, commanding him to just sit his ass down and stop being such a novice, "You do not have to prove anything, Altaïr!" Altaïr ignored him till he was dressed save his armour. He could get more in Masyaf if he had to. Malik was pushing the barrier with Altaïr and about to pay dearly. Altaïr needed to get out before he lost control and took it out on Malik. Malik just did not understand how it felt to be trapped and confined like this!
A/N #2 – no art