It takes six full days for Tazim to gain the courage he had long since lost. The games had ended not long before then, just three days, and Tazim had spent the remaining time in search of a light of hope.
His only shame was searching for something that did not exist.
Nahir and Gadiel avoid him as though he were a poisonous snake. They weren't wrong to begin with, though it still hurt like any stab wound would. The evasion. The abandonment.
During meals, Tazim is on his own. Outcast like a runt with no place to belong. The assassin's send him pitiful gazes, while Nahir and Gadiel leave the hall entirely if they spot Tazim. Even Basilio has his abnormal group of friends to eat with, their laughs and snorts never difficult to hear. Though, it's still painful.
On his seventh day outcast, when Tazim finally confronts Nahir and Gadiel on their disregard of him, it's for a high price.
Had Gadiel been alone, perhaps he would have ignored Tazim. Or parted ways with him in a resentful manner. Cut ties with him, respectfully, though with an obvious lick of anger so Tazim would never return to them again.
That was not the case.
Nahir and Gadiel savor the feeling of victory and rage alike. Neither care how much of Tazim's blood or spit falls on their robes or stains their boots, as long as he carried his parting gift with dignity. Tazim didn't dare shed a tear during his beating, knowing fully well that if either of the boys took notice, his whipping would only start over and get worse.
"One of you will die," Nahir had reassured him before carving his foot into Tazim's back, "Soon."
They leave him deserted in a vacant area near the outskirts of the village where Tazim had first found them. Once they are gone, Tazim has no energy to even weep. Instead, he revels in the pain of each forming bruise and the burning of his slashes and scrapes while curled into himself.
Particularly, a frail cut alongside his throat is weak yet long, starting just below his ear and ending near the base of his chin. That one burns in pain the most. Had Nahir been carrying a knife to attack, instead of his nails, Tazim would have a different tale to tell, or none at all.
Feeling the dry patches of grass scratch against his cheek, Tazim forces himself to sit from the discomfort. His back cracks as he slowly moves, groaning in exhaustion and agony. He stares at his hands, equally calloused from the years he spent working in the stables as from his nights spent in training. Now, they lay tainted in his own blood.
Tazim feels like crying, but nothing came out. Like a sickness blossoming at the pit of his stomach and scratching its way out from his chest but never making a proper escape.
There is only one person Tazim wishes to see next. To offer calm words of comfort. It was still early in the afternoon, perhaps none of the men would be gathered. Still, it was a chance Tazim was willing to take.
If Nahir and Gadiel didn't beat him to death, maybe the loyalists would.
Looking to the sky as though it were to give him any answers, Tazim silently prays for forgiveness. He prays to his father, mumbling through painfully clenched teeth as he forces himself to stand and find the hidden refuge of their loyalist camp nearby.
Would your father be proud of the bastard you've become?
There was no bigger embarrassment, even in death. Nahir had been wrong after all. What a joke.
When Tazim arrives at the hideaway, he notices a distinct change. While some of the men there, he knew from before his absence, there were others of whom Tazim had not known. New recruits. New loyalists.
Younger teenagers being taught by the more experienced of the bunch. A sight Tazim was familiar with. An aura of which he found himself missing. Even now while holding his hurting arm against his core, timidly. No one seemed to notice him as they busied with other, more important tasks.
A group of boys in the far end were being taught to throw knives against a dummy by Rafi. Not too far away, Tarek stood scolding another fresh recruit who was drenched head to toe in water. Sitting alongside their creek, Ruben tended to those wounded by scratches and scrapes. Though, among the bustle of movement and serenity alike, Basilio was nowhere to be found.
Eventually, some sent Tazim glances, noticing the disheveled state of his attire and bloodied face. The way his hair stuck oddly with pieces of grass in it, Tazim looked as though he'd been in a bout with a giant. Lucky for him, none bothered to confront him for being there in the first place, only stared darkly in his direction.
Once gaining courage, Tazim finds himself limping over to ask Tarek himself on the whereabouts of Basilio. With an irritated growl and an even equally heated wave of his hand, Tazim is sent to the far end of their small refuge.
Hidden comfortably behind a boulder, Basilio sits cross-legged with three fresh novice recruits around him. Each one with an eager wide-eyed expression across their muddy faces, listening intently to the words of their superior. No doubt they were being schooled on their old tenants and ways of life.
When he spoke, Basilio's hands went along with him. Boisterous in hand movements as he always had been, his shoulders swaying with each word coming from his mouth. Even with his shortened hair to make him more frightening, as Basilio spoke, his kind spirit escaped.
"They're young," Tazim tries with a lighthearted tone once he nears enough for them to hear, "Younger than we were."
At his voice, Basilio's demeanor suddenly falters. His shoulders drop, and his hands move to rest on his knees, the eager smile on his face now gone. He speaks next only to address the boys in front of him, hastily sending them away before giving Tazim his attention.
"Younger than you were." Basilio corrects, standing and brushing off his hands, "so you finally return, tail between your legs."
The words themselves don't hurt as much as the way they're said. Even more, by who spoke them. Just the same, Tazim knew he deserved that lick of cruelty against him.
"Basilio…," Tazim starts, tilting his head the slightest bit upward, squinting his eyes vaguely, "Is it too late?"
At this, a familiar glint of interest flashes across Basilio's eyes.
It was dangerous in all the most tempting ways. He smiles, although it's different to the smiles from before. There was something behind Basilio's façade of friendship. A recreation of emotions Tazim had rarely seen in their latest years as friends and more so in the last few days. Something sinister.
"Never," Basilio beckons with a nod of his head toward the more crowded area. "You are precisely on time."
When they reach the training area, several men keep their gazes strictly on Tazim. All equally curious why an acquaintance of Nahir would be in their private refuge, and why Basilio walked with him. Tazim, limping at his side, feels as though he's entered a lion's den.
From nearby, Tarek stood, his head low while examining the scene before him. Rafi joined him not a second too soon.
Tazim wished to talk with Basilio alone. Holding his arms closely to himself to keep from any severe pain, it was impossible to not feel as though he were being ridiculed in secret by the others.
"I came to talk," Tazim firmly admits once more as he feels the growing space between Basilio and himself as the other ignored his words. The ever-present worry that he would be falling into a trap among those he once called peers. Tazim acted out, not as a blossoming assassin but as a fearful boy, begging forgiveness, "Basilio!"
It's enough to stop the other boy in his tracks. The sound of Basilio's sudden dry gasp draws Tazim's attention. He stands at arm's length, back turned. His shoulders shake and there is no way to distinguish it as mock laughter or crying.
"You left us," Basilio chokes out, something reminiscent to a sob escapes him but when he turns, he smiles, "I would have never left you."
"I came back," Tazim offers desperately
Shaking his head in discontent, Basilio spits back, "You think everything is so simple."
Looking around them, staring back at the angry, confused eyes in the gathered crowd, Basilio scoffs. The corners of his lips curl upward yet the rest of his face is dangerously calm. He turns his attention to Tazim before him, the epitome of all forms of misery.
"Why don't you hit me?" Basilio offers after a moment, vaguely opening his arms as if to prove a point.
Hit me, coward.
Tazim scans his face, "What?"
Accepting his hesitation as weakness, Basilio stomps forward without missing a beat, punching and sending Tazim to the ground with a heavy thud. It shouldn't, but the impact of bruised skin hitting bare knuckles, it felt… good.
Struggling for breath, Tazim curled into himself, waiting for the next hit that never landed. He peeks upward, through an already swollen eye. Basilio stands close, rubbing at his fist before dropping to his knees, taking handfuls of Tazim's robes and pulling him back up.
"Fight back!" Basilio countered.
Struggling against him, hurting his own arms no less, Tazim feels the heat of rage between them. When he speaks, he's forced to growl through clenched teeth, "I don't want to hurt you."
In his current state, Basilio was no better than the boys Tazim formerly called friends. None of the surrounding men dared interject their sudden brawl, all too eager for Tazim to get his belated punishment. Just the same, not one soul had the heart to flinch as the boy's wounds reopened and bled.
Basilio let him drop to the ground again, "Of course you do."
You already have.
Nudging Tazim's boot with his own, beckoning for some sort of retaliation, Basilio grew further annoyed and kicked. When that provoked nothing, Basilio dropped down, close enough that he could feel the sweat hitting his face as he let his fists rain heavily on Tazim's chest. Clenching his teeth, Tazim refused to once more be a puppet in their drawn-out act. He held his arms up, shielding as best he could.
"Defiéndete!" Basilio begged with each strike, close to tears, "Hit back!"
Not once did Tazim consider retaliating. Whether it was due to the exhaustion or the pain of his injuries, he wasn't sure. He'd fallen onto the path of becoming a traitor. Somehow, he must go through with a punishment. It was only fair.
Growing desperate, Tazim barks, "No!"
Sweat morphed into hot tears, staining over Basilio's cheeks. It was like yelling at a wall, punching it no less. Hurting none other than himself in the process. When the hits across Tazim's chest and arms did nothing, Basilio was quick to stand and kick at the body beneath him.
None had the courage to stop him.
After a few more kicks to his side, each getting weaker than the previous, Basilio takes a step back, away from the body before him. Exhausted and crushed, he holds his face in his hands. He ignores the men who stare in silence, pleased for the justification before them, no matter how aggressive it became.
When it seemed his punishment had come to an end, Tazim spits out the blood coating his tongue and sits up as best he can, flinching at the pain in his arms and ribs. A glaze of defiance washed over his eyes.
Tazim knelt, defeated. He gazed upward, the setting sun shining warmth across his bloody face. Basilio took a step toward him, the sunlight behind him made it seem as though he were on fire. Once Tazim's vision cleared, he drew a heavy sigh.
With an honest smile, and even more loyal alliance, Basilio shakily offered his hand.
There was no denying the flutter within him. The unending gratitude. Tazim took a moment to ponder whether he deserved the mercy, tasting the blood across his cracked lips. Tasting all the blood he had yet to spill. Tazim pulled at the grass beneath him, questioning his own actions.
In front of him, Basilio never wavered. His sniffles were quiet and his tears silent, visible only to Tazim. Resilient yet sensitive, unable to mask his emotions as he always had been.
If it didn't hurt to do so, Tazim would have smiled. Instead, he pulls himself on a knee, grasping Basilio's hand firmly.
Brother, Tazim thinks, in all but blood.
When the crowd dispersed and Tazim's wounds calmed enough to walk, they departed. Though grateful for the sliver of privacy offered from the men, Tazim kept his head low in shame and embarrassment.
Basilio is merciful enough to help Tazim back to his room. Taking him carefully under the arm and making sure to take gentle steps, the two leave for the night. Neither of the boys' comments on the newly acquired cuts and bruises on Tazim's body, all fitting well with the ones Nahir and Gadiel had given him.
It wasn't as though he didn't deserve them.
Tazim doesn't blame Basilio for his angered thrashing. Just the week before, Tazim wanted to kill him. Maybe tonight, Basilio wanted to kill Tazim as well.
He felt afraid at the thought.
His throat tightened painfully during the walk. His grasp on Basilio's robes seemed to loosen with the tremble of his fingers, following each step they took. Tazim knew he was going to cry. He knew Basilio could sense it, given the way he kept his gaze forward and mouth shut. Basilio knew most everything. That was just the way he was.
Tazim hated it.
He hated that he wanted to cry, and he hated that Basilio was beside him, holding him up like a true comrade would. He hated being so vulnerable. So weak.
Letting most of his weight be carried, Tazim is quiet. In his own head. The cold breeze of the night is refreshing on his skin, kissing the silent tears staining his bloody cheeks. Keeping his head low is not enough to hide the faint tremors traveling across his body. Basilio at least has the decency to look away, but somehow it still isn't enough.
Roughly, Tazim rips himself from Basilio's grasp. He nearly falls after a few steps but catches himself. Setting his hands on his knees as though he were going to throw up. He felt like throwing up.
Close behind, Basilio ambles forward, worried, "Tazim-"
"Don't touch me. Don't."
Tazim dropped to his knees, his spirit breaking. Closing his eyes was not enough to stop the tears from falling. He wanted to disappear. He no longer wanted to exist in such a world. Not in a world in which Assassin's drew breath. Those men- no- boys, they were good for nothing but taking up space on their earth.
Was Tazim the same?
Basilio came to his side anyway, his own knees being soiled in dirt as he held Tazim up in place. Basilio whispered comforting words to him, though the boy only felt the warmth of his friend's breath against his cheek. Tazim did not push him away. Instead, grabbing hold of his robes and sobbing into them. Basilio held him firmly, rubbing his back soothingly.
Tazim could not help but wonder, had his father held him this way when he was a boy?
Was he ever comforted in such a manner as a baby? Wailing through the night, had his father swayed him to sleep once more? Held him close to his chest or kissed his head goodnight?
There was no denying the agony burning in Tazim's chest. The hole of which only grew larger as he wept in Basilio's arms.
"It is alright to do it here," Basilio reassures, his own voice as soft as ever.
Somehow, the comfort is enough to get Tazim walking again soon after, Basilio keeping him from falling completely unconscious. Both their robes now soiled in dirt, blood, and tears alike. Tazim found it troubling, even with the help of his friend, to trudge on through the darkened halls, Basilio's own curses being the only sound that night.
It took less time than he had initially believed to reach Basilio's room.
Gently, Tazim was settled into the other boys' blanket. Basilio helped him undress, having taken few items from Ruben to better treat their wounds. As Tazim lay, Basilio tended to and wrapped the cuts and scratches on his arms and torso before blanketing him once more.
Believing Tazim to soon fall asleep, Basilio walked around his room, kicking at his trunk of belongings and poking at the trinkets on his table such as a forgotten flower and blunt knife. Tazim watched, amused.
Settling near a far corner, he leans against the farthest wall, reminiscent of he and Tazim's first meeting together. Interestingly uncomfortable. So much was different since then. All the same, so much had remained unchanged.
Basilio's gaze never falters while he watches Tazim's expression calm as he grows comfortable in the warmth of blankets. Without having to explain it, Tazim knew why Basilio had brought him there instead. Out of fear for his friends' well-being. The possible chance of Nahir ambushing Tazim in the middle of the night while he was most vulnerable.
Although worried, that did not keep the annoyance from taking charge either.
Curling into himself with a blanket up to his chin, Tazim croaked painfully, "Why do you keep staring at me?"
At that, Basilio smiled, a twitch of his eyebrow before pushing off the wall, he begins to take steps in Tazim's direction. Though their unfortunate problems had only just come to a halt, Basilio was never uncomfortable when speaking his mind. Even more so toward Tazim, angry or not.
His voice is low when he speaks. Frustrated and near enough that he can rip the blankets off Tazim if he wants to. "Say it."
With a heavy sigh, Tazim tiredly says the only words he knows his friend wishes to hear, "I should have listened to you."
"You were a fool!" Basilio scolds, hitting Tazim behind his head, "Infantil..."
"Enough!" Tazim defends, pulling his blanket up in attempts to shield himself, "I was punished already!"
"A man-child. What did you expect them to have done?" Basilio retorts, his shouting is much like a mother. Before he can say anything else, the sudden vibration of a muffled laugh resonates from behind Tazim's blankets. When Basilio pulls them down, Tazim's face is mixture of pain and delight as he holds a bruised hand over his grinning face.
"Oh, now why do you laugh?" Basilio demands.
"Are we truly men?"
It's difficult not to smile at such a question. Basilio's lips curl in a peculiar manner, making his eyes crinkle in the most innocent of ways. It was a smile that reminded Tazim of his mother. A smile that was almost close to tears.
"No," he offers, "Not just yet."
"Good. If this is what being a man is like, there are none in this fortress who are ready."
Tazim hadn't known when he fell asleep. When he wakes, the room is dark, and he instantly searches for Basilio.
Sitting comfortably at his desk near the farthest wall, Basilio hummed to himself. Cowl brought down, the awkward marks of his shortened hair were left bare to witness. He studied the scratches and carvings on the table before him, his thin finger tracing each groove. If he took notice of Tazim being awake, he did not show. He seemed uniquely calmed, tranquil in the company of his friend once more. His child-like features darkened and he looked as serious as a man. Equally hardened and hurt by life.
"You were looking for your father," Basilio mumbled passively, keeping his attention on the carvings beneath his finger.
Tazim felt the knot in his throat tighten but did not respond. He let his head fall to the side, gentle against the blankets tucked underneath him. Had that been Basilio's doing? How long had he been resting for?
"In your dream," he explained further, in case Tazim was still disoriented, "You were looking for your father."
I'm always looking for my father.
He says nothing to Basilio. All his energy has been drained, and the pain from his wounds had settled into a hot coal of misery in his throat. Even then, there was nothing Tazim needed to say to justify himself. He was accepted as he came.
It made him feel sick.
"Are you always lost?" Basilio asks after a moment of silence, curious.
"In most," Tazim whispers roughly, his throat hurts when he speaks.
In the future, Basilio would ruefully admit of thinking about his own father that night. He would have wished Tazim had a more favorable childhood, had his father been present, just as Basilio's had been, no matter how brief the time.
There was nothing more important, Basilio believed at least, than to be raised in devout tenderness, even if just for a short period. To be loved was to be given the chance of adoration and acceptance.
"You've been nothing but a loyal friend to me," Tazim pushed through the pain of possible tears, "I don't want to fight you ever again."
Basilio softened his expression, a boy once more, "Then don't."
Okay so firstly, thank you for the kind words of encouragement they mean so much! I've put a lot of energy into this project which was originally just supposed to be a side project, quick to finish (maybe over a summer) but welp that didn't happen so now I'm finishing this out of spite and love hehehe
Now! These next chapters will be something (ngl I'm guessing it will just be another 10 or less idk) The next hmm "wild" plot point will be a little treat as the start to the end hehe
Anyway! Happy thanksgiving week! Happy holidays! Stay safe and we'll catch up on the next chapter!