"Italics in speech marks represents the Arabian language."

::Parseltongue::

Chapter One: Family

The Crusades were coming to an end, albeit briefly. The Christian's lost Jerusalem to the Muslims, but Christian's were able to make pilgrimages to the holy city. Considering the violence and hate war inflicts and causes, it was a relatively peaceful end to a long and bloody war. Though, that being said, every traveller was wary and cautious, many choosing to have armed escorts or to arm themselves in case bandits and the less favourable of people decided to take advantage of the distrust between the peoples of Syria.

It was one of the reasons Malik was glad he chose to move back to Masyaf with Bashir. Masyaf was bound by its own rules and laws. There were no enemies, only brothers. Muslims, Christians and Jewish people, lived united under one cause: protecting the freedom of humanity by eliminating threats to free-will. Although Altair was working to establish an international presence of assassins, Masyaf was the hub, the place assassin's came for peace, socialising and training. It was a place where all walks of life came together and bounced ideas and experience off of each other, old assassin's teaching young ones about useful tricks they'd learned over the years and younger assassin's teaching their elder's new tricks. It wasn't perfect of course, Malik did not believe in perfection, but it was close. The few times racism or bias was apparent, it was treated with great severity, the consequences suiting the crime.

For the most part Bashir would grow up in a relatively non-biased and open-minded community.

Perhaps the most extreme of this open-mindedness was the public debates between non-believers and the religious communities. The discussions getting louder and louder as the crowd cheered them on and offered their own opinions. And funnily enough these debaters were often the dearest of friends, crowds would look twice when they saw these men, who'd seemed so close to fighting, were in the local taverns sharing drinks and laughing as if they'd not spent hours debating the existence of God and God's purpose for man. It had become a sport for the people of Masyaf to rile these debaters up and trigger another round of discussions and debates.

People loved a good argument it seemed.

Even Bashir seemed to enjoy the noise, the hustle and bustle of busy streets. He giggled and laughed so much he tired himself out in Malik's arm. Many a woman seemed to swoon at the sight of the green-eyed boy and Bashir revelled in the attention when he was awake.

Fortunately, Bashir being so young meant that he adapted well to the new life-style around him. If anything, the only time Bashir seemed really distressed was the nights he had nightmares, each time he'd wake screaming. Malik had never heard anything as devastating and heart-breaking as a scream of pure terror from a toddler. It made his blood run cold and he despaired that he could not chase the demons that caused these nightmares away. A one year old could not explain those terrors, they did not know the words to say and Bashir was still speaking basic English words and a few Arabic ones.

One good thing about entrusting Bashir to Altair's two boys, Darim and Sef was that those two boys always seemed to bring out the laughter of the boy even on a bad morning. There was a bond growing between the boys, a bond that reminded Malik of his own comradery with Altair and his brother Kadar before that fateful day. Malik hoped Bashir's friendship was not as doomed as Malik's had been with Altair's. Although to be fair the trust between Altair and Malik had been falling apart before then because of Altair's arrogance. It still hurt Malik at times that so much sacrifice had to be made before Altair changed his attitude. But watching Altair making so many changes, doing so much good for the assassin order and the people of Masyaf made Malik so grateful that Altair had changed and matured enough to be such an influential and dare he say Altair was one of the best Mentors of the order.

Darim and Sef were equally as obsessed with Bashir as Bashir was with them and it took Altair a long time to ready the boys for the day and to usher them out for their lessons. Bashir would always get teary eyed as they left but at this age, he was somewhat easy to distract and his apparent love and attachment to his new guardian meant the distress at the boys' absence disappeared quickly. That and Altair and his sons had gone shopping and brought Bashir a lot of wooden toys, but one particular favourite was a little wooden block with etchings of heroes and horses. Most of the time the block was at Bashir's mouth being gnawed by little blunt teeth, and Malik was grateful that Altair made sure the blocks were big enough not to fit inside Bashir's mouth. The etchings were gradually being lost beneath indentations of teeth. Despite his apparent desire to destroy the block with his teeth, Bashir adored the toy and became upset when he couldn't see it but Malik knew children struggled to understand the concept of things existing beyond where they could see, so to Bashir the toy was forever lost unless the miracle workers, Malik, Altair, Darim or Sef made it reappear from the strange realm beyond his sight.

Malik would miss Bashir's innocent ignorance; obliviousness was something to envy when everything around them seemed damned. War and hate never crossed his small mind, he didn't notice Malik's skin was darker than Altair's and the boy certainly did not know how exotic he was. If Malik and the assassin order had not found Bashir first, Bashir would have ended up a slave and sadly he would have been a child sex slave. Men coveted beauty and Bashir would no longer have free-will and would become little more than property to such greedy, self-serving men. But that would never come to pass. As long as Malik and Altair breathed, Bashir would not know pain and suffering. And with Darim and Sef already full of adoration for the boy, the day Altair and Malik passed, Bashir would have those two loyal protectors, brothers in all but blood.

But that was a consideration for the future. For now, Malik had the task of teaching the little boy Arabic and keeping an energetic toddler out of trouble. Fortunately, little Bashir was not yet willing to walk, he could stand on his feet when supported, but the moment he was allowed he liked to fall to his bottom and crawl. Even Darim and Sef's encouragement would not have Bashir stand, the boy just loved to crawl. Malik suspected Bashir liked being small enough to hide from sight, to crawl under furniture, because more often than not he heard childish giggles as he entered a room and caught sight of two green gems peering at him from beneath drapes and from under seats. That natural inclination for hiding would be of benefit when Bashir was old enough to learn.

Altair and Malik had already decided Bashir would be trained as an assassin, but they would not expect the boy to follow in their footsteps. Instead Malik hoped Bashir would be more of a scholar but until he was older Malik could not know what Bashir would be passionate about. The reason the two elder assassins wanted to teach Bashir to defend himself was because Bashir was such an exotic beauty. Being able to fend off slavers and bandits would be indispensable for the boy when he was older. Malik had no doubt the cute little boy now would grow into a handsome, perhaps even beautiful, man.

"Bashir." Altair's voice reached Malik's ears as Malik entered the wing of the castle where the two families lived. It was simply easier to live in shared accommodation with Altair because Altair and his sons were incredibly supportive to an unexperienced father and an inquisitive little boy. There were rumours about why Malik and Altair shared accommodation but these rumours were unfounded. Malik had no desire to bed Altair, nor Altair him, their work and family took their full attentions, everything else was inconsequential. When he was younger Malik had thought he was broken, abnormal because he lacked the inclination to be intimate with others, but over time Malik realised that it was just an individual's choice and perhaps the norm was different for every individual. Altair was very understanding, even agreeing at times that intimacy and relationships did not need to depend on physical intimacy and that emotion, trust and respect were far more important.

"You are a torment." Altair stated, his tone full of reluctant amusement. It brought a smile to Malik's face as he listened to childish giggles. He followed the sounds and smothered laughter with his hand as he saw Bashir grabbing at Altair's quill and sucking the end of the feather before Altair managed to retrieve it from the boy's mouth. The state of the feather was abysmal, the once elegant shape was now a wet, drooping, tapered point. Altair sighed reluctantly, apparently unaware of Malik's presence as he placed the quill down out of the reach of small searching hands and turned to stare at the giggling boy. "You are going to get me in trouble with your father." The man scolded fondly.

In truth, Malik was not too concerned, the feathers were taken from tamed birds, cleaned and treated and deemed safe for even children to use for their learning. The vane and shaft were sturdy but flexible and each barb was not easily loosened, when the quill showed weakness it was soon replaced, so the likelihood of Bashir choking on a loose barb was remote, but something that was a potential risk which is why it relieved Malik to see Altair checking Bashir's mouth and ensuring no barb was caught in the little boy's throat. Still, Malik was pleased to see Altair give up on written work for the time being, and instead he rose to his feet, securing the boy on his hip. "Well since I am unable to complete my work, I suppose I should find another task that needs my attention, hmm?" Altair teased the boy.

Bashir was too busy staring at the pigeons fluttering outside the window to answer. Malik laughed, making a sound and alerting Altair to his presence. Altair didn't jump but he did turn quickly, only relaxing when he saw it was Malik. "Perhaps I can take Bashir and allow you to return to your work."

"There is no need. I'll need to purchase a new quill before I can continue with my work. Someone," Altair looked down at the boy in his arms in teasing accusation. "seems to have ruined all my quills."

"Or maybe, someone allowed a toddler to get away with ruining his quills because he is too soft on the boy." Malik answered teasingly.

Bashir finally realised Malik was there and made a sound of joy, reaching for Malik. Altair reluctantly relinquished the boy to his father and almost immediately Bashir began to talk, his words were indecipherable most of the time, more English sounds then recognisable English and Arabic words but Malik made sure to make inquisitive sounds whenever the boy paused encouraging Bashir to continue his grand tale. Once Bashir had finished Malik turned to Altair. "Other than your quills, has Bashir been any trouble?"

"No if anything, he saved a few novices from reprimand." Altair answered, lightly pinching Bashir's cheek and smiling at the little giggle the boy made.

"Imagine that, a novice reprimanding another novice." Malik teased, smile widening as Altair made a long-suffering sigh at the familiar teasing insult.

"I need you to do me a favour, friend." Altair stated softly. "I have been informed of intriguing circumstances occurring in Acre. Apparently there have been occurrences that seem to be the product of, well, no one is sure what to call it. Apparently, a healer, an herbalist managed to cure a virulent disease with a potion. Most people are gratified by his work, but there is talk of sorcery by those in power. I suspect the Templar's just don't want a skilled and powerful healer interfering with their plans but I would not have such a useful individual die, and if he can provide answers about Bashir's origins, we should at least try to reach out to him."

"You think Bashir is magic?" Malik asked.

"Strange things happen around our boy." Altair countered, Malik recalled one incident where Bashir had lost his wooden block and no one could find it, they'd been talking about how to replace the toy when the shrieks of loss Bashir had been making had stopped and when they rushed to the boy they'd found him sitting and gnawing on his wooden block. "If he has such a gift, we should find out so we can teach him to master and use it responsibly. If he hasn't got magic, magic may still have brought him to us, how else would he have gotten into the bureau that fateful day? We never found Petunia Dursley nor Albus Dumbledore and we found no evidence of tampering on the gate or around the bureau. Also, there are few English or French who live in Jerusalem, so how an English child got to Jerusalem and into the bureau is surely a product of magical interference?"

"You're just theorising. Why would magic take a young boy from his family and place him in the middle of a bureau of killers?"

"And do you think the child would have been better off with this Petunia Dursley, do you not recall the letter all but threatening this woman to care for the boy? If there is some sort of sorcery involved, perhaps it knew Bashir would thrive within the Assassin Order, with you as his father."

"Perhaps not, but the way you speak it is as if some God-like force interfered and thus far I have only seen war at a God's hand. This war is a product of the question 'which God do you worship'." Malik said softly. "So many good people killed, so many innocent people killed because they don't worship the same being. Why should I trust that this magic had good intentions?"

"Because of you Bashir is growing up laughing and causing mischief." Altair answered. "The joy of a child should be evidence enough that there was no evil involved here."

As if prompted Bashir laughed, the boy was making faces at his father, amusing himself more than Malik but the laughter the boy emitted brought a smile to Malik's face. "Perhaps you are right. I will keep my scepticism but I will support you in your investigations. What favour would you ask me to do for you?"

Altair nodded gratefully. "This task is too important to leave to a novice, I believe I need to meet the man for myself before I dare consider bringing him to the bureau or Masyaf. So, I will be leaving for a while and I would entrust my sons to you without hesitation if you are willing to take on the responsibility."

"Your sons will be safe with me. I may have only one arm, but any fool stupid enough to get into Masyaf and skilled enough to get passed the guard would pay for his arrogance." Malik assured.

Altair laughed. "I know I am paranoid. Masyaf is the safest place for my sons to be, but I will leave feeling better knowing the man I trust, one of the strongest warriors of our order was protecting them."

"And you will return to the boys being safe and in one piece." Malik reassured. "Make your preparations and make sure you say goodbye. We will wait for your safe return."

Altair nodded. "That's part of what I was doing here. Trying to finish up with the most major news and information before I go on hiatus for a while. Perhaps you would also do me a kindness of checking these letters, so the sooner I leave, the sooner I can return." He stated before bending to kiss Bashir's brow and clasping Malik's shoulder in fond comradery before leaving the room leaving Malik to his thought and trusting Malik would hold the fort until he returned. As Altair's second, his most trusted advisor Malik would automatically be expected to cover for Altair, Altair need not have asked at all, but Malik was grateful for the personalised request and the level of trust and vulnerability Altair had just showed.

Still, Altair's words and implications circled Malik's mind, was Bashir a product of sorcery? A sorcerer himself? Or manipulated by magic as Altair suggested? If so, what did that mean for Bashir and for the Assassin Order?

Malik would consider this later, when he had the time and quiet to formulate more than brief ideas, so far, his thoughts were just generating what if's and worries that Malik did not need at this time. He'd trust Altair to manage the investigation and protect the boys who had so quickly become the centre of his world.

Looking out the window that displayed the gardens, Malik watched Altair approach his sons, informing them off his plans. Even from so far away Malik could swear he saw the boy's disappointment. Darim gathered himself first, calming Sef and hugging his father. Malik now knew why Altair had been so reluctant to leave Masyaf after he was made master, if wasn't the responsibility that held him at the Assassin's base city, no, it was his love for his son's that made the roaming eagle still his wings.

If assassin's with families learned anything important throughout the years, it was that sometimes it was best to just go, and to return as quickly as possible, goodbyes could be incredibly painful. Much better to leave quickly and return as soon as was physically possible. Which was why Malik was not surprised to see Altair leave shortly after ensuring he'd embraced his boys, kissed their brows and firmly told them to behave before he left the gardens and disappeared back into the building. Malik knew Altair would not take that long to leave.

Malik watched Darim and Sef run off, no doubt to grumble about their father leaving before their tutor sought them out. In the mean-time Malek would make some headway in Altair's work, so the Master Assassin did not have to deal with a back-up of reports after he returned.

Placing Bashir down in his playpen, a little frame Altair had made to keep Bashir safe when both adults were working and the two older boys were off learning and training. At first Malik hadn't liked the thought of restricting the little boy's motion and activity but when he was alone like now, and with only one arm it would take him a second longer to put something down and chase the boy, so in the short term the play pen was extremely useful. Besides the pen was quite comfortable looking, the cold floor protected by silk cloth and pillows and his toys littering the cloth, and smiling at Bashir's coo of happiness Malik turned and approached Altair's desk. The letter Altair had been writing was a decree to the council of assassins that in the event of the unthinkable, Altair's death, Malik would become the boy's guardian until they were old enough to be classified as adults, Malik blinked in shock as he realised Altair had wanted Malik to see this, had not attempted to hide it. Malik carefully placed it to the side with a shaky hand and resolved to think on this discovery later as he took Altair's seat, pulling parchment to himself. The rest of the paperwork was the classic reports and documents. The Bureau Dai's had each sent thorough reports of the current political situation within their jurisdictions. Acre's Dai was to the point, Damascus's Dai was thorough and elaborate and Jerusalem's Dai, once Malik's second was descriptive without being too elaborate. And since Altair's execution of Robert and Al Mualim, things had somewhat calmed down, at least for a time.

Malik dealt quickly with the main reports, acknowledging reports, giving recommendations and commending good investigative practice, delivering relevant warnings and basically doing the 'boring' work as Altair and his children often called it. Malik agreed that sometimes reports were too generic or boring due to nothing happening, but that was no excuse for tardy work. He wrote relevant reprimands and filed the rest of the reports, finding it soothing to be doing any work and listening to wooden blocks being knocked together in the background.

Hours must have passed before Malik noted the fading light, the amber hue of the sun setting on the horizon. He turned and smiled at his son, napping quietly on his pillows. It still worried him when Bashir was too quiet but Malik suspected the trauma that kept his boy awake some nights was still having an effect, the boy was sometimes being quiet so as not to draw attention. But Malik believed Bashir being quiet now was merely the boy's exhaustion. The boy had tormented Altair for some time before Malik had arrived and to a still growing toddler the amount of activity he'd done was immense!

Laughing quietly, Malik rose to his feet and made to leave the room, albeit briefly to summon a novice for food. It was too late to go to the dining hall, and Bashir would soon wake up hungry. But to his pleasant surprise, Darim and Sef entered, Darim carrying a tray followed by a young novice who carried a second tray. Three meals of meat and veg and a bowl of oats for the young growing boy currently slumbering in his pen. "Thank you." Malik told the young novice, smiling as the other blushed and bowed before excusing himself. Malik turned and snorted with amusement as he saw Darim already bent over the pen, clearly wondering if he should wake Bashir or not. Sef on the other hand was already tucking into his meal with the enthusiasm only a growing young boy could have.

Bashir made a small sound, an indication that he was waking and almost before his eyes were open, Darim had him in his arms. Bashir blinked up at Darim uncomprehendingly for a moment before he shrieked with happiness, his hands clapping haphazardly together. Darim laughed then blushed as he saw Malik watching but Malik just laughed with the boy. "He'll be hungry soon. Darim. If you would do me a kindness, could you feed him while I finish some paperwork?" Darim's puffed his chest out in pride and was soon sat with Bashir in his lap, encouraging the toddler to eat. Bashir was much too excited at first, cooing around the spoon and barely swallowing his oats. Within minutes Bashir was covered with oats, his chin coated with off-white flakes and his hands sticky with milk, but Darim tolerated those sticky hands reaching for him with an amused smile and soon the bowl was empty, most of it being on Bashir's skin but still Malik knew Bashir had eaten his fill.

With an amused laugh Malik retrieved Bashir to allow Darim to eat. "Once you've finished your meal, go have a bath, Darim. I will clean up this troublemaker."

Bashir loved the water. The first time they introduced him to water they'd expected a tantrum, but Bashir had merely startled at the sensation then become fascinated, wanting to introduce all his toys to the liquid. In the end Malik had had to clean the floor and all Bashir's toys as well. And recently the boy had learned that if he flailed his hands hard enough to hit the water, he could splash his father or whoever was bathing him. So, needless to say, Malik was as wet as Bashir by the end, yet Malik could not scold his son's wastefulness of precious water, the boy did nothing wrong, he was just innocently playing. With a long-suffering sigh, he fluffed up his son's hair with a cloth, drying the worst of the water off and huffing at the messy nest that was his boy's hair before kissing his brow and laughing at the joyful shrieking laughs Bashir was emitting.

When Malik returned to Altair's office, Malik saw Sef sat reading several sheets of parchment, no doubt it was his homework assigned by one of his tutors. The Assassin Order valued intellect as well as strength. Sef huffed but was clearly dedicated to understanding his work which Malik silently admired as he gently lowered Bashir back to his little play pen until the older boys were ready to play with and supervise the energetic toddler.

Darim was absent, no doubt doing as Malik instructed and cleaning himself off, so for a time it was a peaceful quiet with no talking, just the quiet sighs of a studying child, the huffy laughter of a toddler as his dad teased him with a toy and the quiet reassuring presence of an adult. Slowly, almost shyly Sef approached. "Master Malik, I really don't understand this." The boy said, Malik saw the almost tearful frustration in the boy's face, his fear of disappointing his father and brother.

Malik settled Bashir and encouraged Sef to sit with him as he took the parchment from Sef's hand. A glance revealed basic mathematic equations and the beginnings of algebra, Malik could understand Sef's frustration, number theory was an ever-evolving system and getting young children to understand the growing interpretation of the world through numbers took years. Still, Malik knew this equation well and so he smiled reassuringly as he began to explain how the process worked. And that is how Darim found them, seated next to Bashir's pen, using Bashir's toys to represent numbers and discussing mathematic terms and how they effected the resulting value of the equations.

It was clear Sef enjoyed the lesson, his eyes wide and he looked excited and judging by the boys scribbled notes, Sef was finally understanding the basics of algebra. Malik was startled by Sef's gratitude, however, as the boy hugged him and then fled to his room. Malek sat stunned for a few moments, overcome with the emotion he felt before he laughed with joy at realising, he'd potentially become as important to the boys as the boys were to him. He glanced out the window at the fading sun and decided then and there that he would stop work for the evening to spend time with the boys, with one adult missing, the three needed the reassurance that they were not alone. And besides, Malik was already missing the joyful, innocent laughter of three boys as they played.

Author Note:

Believe it or not but a lot of modern mathematics is the product of many intelligent Arabic thinkers from the 10th-12th century AD. In fact, a lot of mathematic terminology is Arabic. Algebra, Algorithm, Cipher, Average, Cube, Degree are just a few examples of words inspired or translated from Arabic in reference to Mathematics.

Also, sorcery and witchcraft were not actively hated, rejected or persecuted until the famous witch hunts around the 14th century. In many ancient cultures, witches and or herbalists were the matrons and healers of society. From what I read, 'witches' and 'old-healers' tended to be women who lived beyond the expected life-expectancy, usually around thirty years and these women had a wealth of knowledge about herbs and plants, plants scientists still research today to produce medications such as paracetamol! -Men could also be accused of witches but it seems that a lot of the accused were women.
-To the gamers, this reminds me a little of Bothelda at the Hag's Cure in Markarth, Elder Scrolls: Skyrim. An old alchemist living long beyond her expected time and feared and respected as a result.

I was going to skip to an older Harry/Bashir but a young Bashir is too cute.