Computer fried and caught fire (nah, just a lil smoke) last week xD everyone went straight for my laptop for a few days, but it's fixed now. Also, school starts next week and since I'm probably going to be bombarded in chemistry, AP classes, and geometry homework, I'm probably going to have to take long breaks in between writing.

Here ya go!

Altaïr groaned softly as a babe's cry interrupted his peaceful sleep.

He was exhausted from staring into the Apple all the day, but not nearly as exhausted as Maria no doubt. After caring for the children and teaching the novices swordplay, one would be tired after a hard day of work. The woman slept soundly beside him, her soft snores telling him that she did awake to Rakin's cries.

Groaning out again, he dragged himself out of their bed, dressed in a modest robe and began to stumble through the darkness, until finally he found the wooden door of their room. Altaïr continued to grope his way through the darkness, careful not to trip over anything as he followed the sounds his youngest son emitted from the nursery.

As he entered the small room, his eyes adjusted to the new light. The nursery window faced the rising sun and the moon, giving the room a beautiful light every night and dawn. It always gave Maria and him a sense of peace whenever they came into the room to care for their children while they grew.

His attention turned to the crib in the corner when another cry for adoration rang out. Altaïr yawned suddenly as he made his way over to his youngest son, chuckling to himself when he witnessed the five month old child squirm and kick at its' blankets. Altaïr picked him up as gently as he could and sat down in the rocking chair beside the crib, shushing the child in a soft undertone, amazing himself that he possessed such a feature.

Altaïr held Rakin close, offering familiar warmth to the child as it babbled and squirmed trying to get itself comfortable. Finally, Rakin settled down and began to slowly fall asleep in his father's arms, cooing softly and even suckling on his thumb.

It amazed Altaïr to no end on how Rakin came into this world. For one thing, Altaïr and Maria agreed to never to have more children after Zarif and Zahara were born – actually, Maria threatened him to never put his seed in her ever again or she would personally behead him then swing his body over the ramparts if he put her through the pain of childbirth for a third time. So, they planned their love-making precisely. Maria moved with the moon and told him when it was time and he had to be careful during the process. He couldn't help but emit a chuckle as he recalled their many nights, originally meant for solace, were instead turned into that of frustration and anxiety. But it worked, and they managed to avoid more children. Until Maria forgot to take the herbs and her belly began to expand one day...

There was also the second thing. Rakin was born...different than that of Haytham's and Zarif and Zahara's birth. When Rakin came into the world, he acted deathly still, not breathing, no movement whatsoever. He recalled that he, Maria, and some of the servants tilted their heads down out of respect, believing the newborn did not make it. One would expect it, considering the short amount of time it took Maria throughout the process.

But then, the midwife did something that Altaïr would have gutted her for:

She slapped the newborn on its' bare ass.

Rakin had let out a sharp cry of pain, blood trickled out of his mouth and he began to go into a spout of coughing and crying. Altaïr was appalled at the midwife, believing she had harmed his son, and prepared himself to leap at her with his hidden blade unsheathed. Until the midwife then began to laugh and wipe away the blood Rakin had sputtered out. A twinkle shined in her ancient eyes as she cackled, "Just a bit of blood in the lungs, the poor thing!" and she proceeded to wrap the child in warm cloth before handing him to the amazed and relieved parents.

Altaïr chuckled at the memory before looking down to his son, now nestled in the crook of his arm with his face buried into the robe. The Assassin began to stroke his son's head, pushing away the duck-fluff hair from the child's brow and watched as the child sank deeper into his robes and, at the same time, leaned into the warm touch.

Altaïr sighed, knowing his son was now comfortable and fast asleep. Sitting up with as little movement from his chest and arms as possible, he gently laid his son into the pillow-laded crib, tucking the blankets over and under Rakin to prevent him from obtaining a cold. Brushing his fingers over the child's face one last time, Altaïr stepped out of the room, his footsteps practiced and silent.

As he pulled off his robes and climbed back into bed, Altaïr draped his arm around Maria's waist, embracing her and pressing her body against his. He was just about to close his eyes and surrender himself to sleep when Maria suddenly muttered, "...Baby daddy..."

Altaïr's eyes snapped open upon these words and he looked over his partner's shoulder, catching a smirk before it disappeared back into sleep.

I said 'Baby Daddy' mainly because 1. it was all I could think of and 2. Altaïr struck me as the kind of the guy who would check on his kid in the middle of the night, but not be all gushy and showering it with adoration.

Did you enjoy it? Yes, it's shorter than the others, I know, but I felt like writing an Altaïr/Rakin oneshot aaand this happened.