Age 14:

True to his promise to his mother, ever since his parents' death, Malik took full responsibility for caring for Kadar. Of course, a couple of other assassins offered to take care of the two boys, much like how Al Mualim took care of Altaïr and Abbas when the former's father was killed and the latter's father disappeared, but Malik declined them. In his mind, he thought that they didn't think he could handle the responsibility of caring for his little brother, and he wanted to prove them wrong.

This put Malik in an interesting position, acting both as an elder brother and a parental figure to Kadar. He acted as a brother most of the time, but he took over the responsibilities their parents had had, such as washing their clothes and cutting Kadar's hair, among other things. He would speak to Kadar's master, asking where in the assassins' curriculum he was falling behind, and studying them intently, so that he could teach Kadar how to do it properly. This helped Malik to almost catch up to Altaïr, who seemed like he was constantly practicing, even when he should have been asleep.

However, caring for Kadar left Malik with very little time to himself, which he mostly spent either trying to catch up on sleep, or studying. As a result, he didn't have time to do anything fun. He often lamented this, missing when he was a child and would run around Masyaf with Altaïr and Kadar, but Malik knew that he had obligations now, and he needed to be responsible for them.

One morning in late June, just as the dawn had broken over the mountains surrounding Masyaf, Malik awoke in the bedroom he shared with Kadar feeling like he was forgetting something important. He rolled over in his bed blearily, looking over at Kadar's bed, to find it empty and unmade.

This did not surprise him. Lately his little brother had been getting up early to watch Altaïr train, who seemed to be getting up earlier and earlier each day to do so, hoping to learn some new techniques.

Malik sat back in his bed, rubbing his eyes with a fist, and running his other hand through his hair, making a mental note to reprimand Kadar for not making his bed. He sat up slowly and yawned hugely, stretching his arms into the air, before swinging his legs out of bed and clothing himself in his Novice gray uniform. However, as he got ready for the day, there was still that nagging thought in the back of his mind that he was forgetting something.

Malik left the room once he was ready, heading towards the courtyard where he usually found Altaïr practicing in the the ring and Kadar on the outside edge, watching him attentively, to collect the two of them for breakfast. However, when Malik exited the fortress, he found the courtyard empty accept for his master, Labib, who seemed to be preparing for the day's lesson by making sure he had the proper medical supplies for whatever he had planned.

"Master, have you seen my brother?" Malik asked Labib.

Labib looked up vaguely, the sleep still evident in his eyes. "Ah, yes, Malik. I have seen him. He headed down to the village with Altaïr about ten minutes ago." he said, turning back towards his little box of medical supplies.

Malik scowled and found himself gritting his teeth. "May I have permission to-"

"Yes, yes." Labib said, sounding amused, "And you may want to remind Altaïr that he is to ask permission for such things as well." he added.

"Altaïr thinks himself above the rules, sometimes." Malik said stiffly, nodding his thanks.

He walked down to the village, his fists clenching and unclenching as he walked. He would have to remind Altaïr that until they became full members of the order he would have to ask to leave the fortress, and Malik would have to tell Kadar that he was not to go anywhere without him knowing where he was and that Altaïr can be a bad influence, and he should be more careful around him.

Malik wandered around the village looking for his brother and Altaïr, steadily becoming angrier and angrier, until he saw Kadar's back as the eleven year old looked at the small, useless baubles that a merchant was selling. Malik stomped up to him and grabbed his shoulder, whipping him around so that he was facing him. Guilt and horror flared in Kadar's blue eyes as he looked up at his brother.

"What in the name of Allah do you think you're doing!?" Malik hissed, his tone slow and deadly.

"I- um- we-" Kadar squeaked, "Altaïr said-"

"You do not listen to Altaïr, you listen to me," Malik growled. "And I told you not to go to the village without me, and especially without permission."

Malik paused, looking into Kadar's wide, guilty eyes. Malik closed his own and grimaced, inhaling deeply and releasing it with a sigh. He weakened his grip on Kadar's shoulders.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Malik admonished.

"I'm sorry Malik." said Kadar sincerely.

Malik sighed and straightened, releasing Kadar. He cast a glance around the market, suddenly realizing what was missing. Malik scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Kadar again with one eyebrow raised.

"Where is Altaïr?" he asked.

"He ran back to Masyaf to, uh," Kadar suddenly looked nervous. "To drop something off." he finished somewhat lamely.

Malik's scowl deepened and he took Kadar's hand, practically dragging him back to Masyaf with him, ignoring his growling stomach. They met his Novice group with Labib at the main gate. Altaïr was already there, looking at him curiously from behind their master. Malik glared at him.

"I see you found him." Labib mused.

"Go find your Novice class, Kadar." grumbled Malik.

"Try not to be late anymore." said Labib as Malik sidled past him and took his place next to Altaïr. Kadar ran past then back to the main fortress.

Once Kadar was out of sight, Malik turned swiftly and kicked Altaïr hard in the shins. Altaïr yelped in surprise and shock as he immediately shoved Malik, who stumbled back a couple of feet, fuming.

"What was that for!?" Altaïr yelled angrily.

"Why did you lure Kadar down to the village like that!?" Malik shouted, "And you left him there, all alone! He could have been hurt!"

"Save it, boys," Labib advised them loudly, cutting Altaïr off. Labib often tired of the two boys' bickering. "Now's not the time."

"What are we doing today, master?" Rauf asked quickly, changing the subject before Malik and Altaïr could start fighting again.

"We're going to practice roof jumping today." said Labib, pleased for the change of subject as he started walking down the path, "We're going to jump from rooftop to rooftop around the village five times. Whoever gets back first is the winner, and no cheating. That building there," he pointed to a building near by. "is the start. Get ready."

The boys got into position, lining up shoulder by shoulder. Malik, who was on the very end, had Altaïr to his left. He was staring determinedly forward, trying to ignore Altaïr completely.

"Go!" Labib yelled.

They took off, running to the wall of the building that their master had pointed out before scaling it and reaching the roof. They jumped from roof to roof, Altaïr taking an early lead with Malik not far behind him. After about the second lap, Altaïr slowed down a bit and kept pace with Malik, who continued to try to ignore him, mainly focusing on getting to the next roof.

"I don't see why you're so upset." said Altaïr as they began their third lap.

"Yeah, of course you don't." Malik replied snidely, before he could stop himself.

"Why are you so angry?" Altaïr pressed.

"You just randomly took my little brother down to the village without permission!" Malik exploded.

"It wasn't random." he said defensively.

"Not only that, but you left him down there alone when you wandered off to Masyaf to do Allah knows what-" Malik went on, ignoring him.

"Kadar wanted to stay down there longer to look around and see if he could get something better." said Altaïr as they started their fourth lap.

"Better!? Better than what?" Malik said harshly.

The two ran in silence for a minute or so. As they ran, Malik noticed that one of the other Novices had kicked a pot to the edge of the building. Taking care to avoid it, they leaped to the next building before Malik took up his rant again, and Altaïr did not respond, letting him fume in peace.

"Why did you go down there, anyways?" Malik snapped eventually, part way through their fifth lap.

Altaïr looked genuinely surprised at that. "You... don't know?"

Malik glared at him, annoyed. "Would I have asked if I did?"

Altaïr's lips curled into an amused smirk. "I thought that Kadar would have given it away for sure."

Malik turned to glare at Altaïr and ask what he was talking about, when his foot landed on the dislodged pot from earlier. Malik jerked forward, as the pot rolled back, launching him off of the roof. Malik, who had not yet fully been taught how to fall in a way to avoid injury, yelled as he fell, reflexively throwing his arms forward.

When he hit the ground, there was a sickening crack-crunching sound, and a horrible pain exploded from Malik's right wrist. He sat up on the ground, swearing loudly as stars danced in his vision. Malik clutched his broken wrist, gritting his teeth, his entire right arm throbbing with pain, his wrist the epicenter.

Once the pain had dulled to a vague numbness, Malik staggered to his feet, still holding his wrist gingerly, and hobbled over to where Labib and Altaïr were standing, the latter of which was the only one of the pair who looked remotely worried.

"Malik! Are you okay?" Altaïr asked at his approach.

"Of course not, you asshole." Malik spat, furious, "I just fell off a fucking roof!"

"Broken wrist?" asked Labib, appraising him.

Malik nodded, wincing from pain. Labib rifled around in his box of medical supplies and sat Malik down while he made a splint for him before sending him off, back to Masyaf, where he got proper medical attention in the infirmary, where he was met with a kindly-faced medic who gently tended to him.

"You're lucky the break wasn't worse. If it was, we probably would have had to cut off your hand." the medic informed him as he tended to Malik's injuries.

He proceeded to tell him that if he didn't move his wrist a lot he would make a full recovery, and that meant no training until then. After his injuries had been tended to the medic sent Malik back to the bedroom he shared with Kadar, where he stomped around grousing out loud angrily to himself.

This went on for about an hour until there was a sharp rap on his door. Malik did not answer, but the door boldly opened anyways and Altaïr sidled in, his hands behind his back.

"What?" Malik snapped.

Altaïr did not say anything, but from behind him Kadar rushed out and threw his arms around Malik's waist. Malik winced, for the physical contact was rough on his injuries. Kadar, noticing this, stepped back.

"Big brother! Are you okay!?" Kadar asked, a note of desperation in his voice.

"Yes." said Malik, who saw no reason to trouble anyone, especially his little brother, with his woes.

"I'm sorry." Altair muttered, "If I hadn't distracted you-"

"You hold no guilt." Malik said flatly, turning away and crossing his arms with another wince.

The three of them stood in silence for a moment or so until Kadar said timidly from behind him, "Happy birthday, brother."

Malik's mouth fell open, and he whipped around to gape at Altaïr and Kadar. "What?"

"Happy birthday." Kadar repeated, his eyebrows still drawn together in worry.

Malik couldn't believe it; he totally forgot that it was his birthday. He, of course, felt incredibly foolish now that it was pointed out. He felt rather ridiculous for not remembering, after all, he wasn't that old. After all, he was only... Well, fourteen now. The best Malik could figure was that he had been so focused on caring for Kadar that he had forgotten all about it.

"Th- thank you." Malik stammered.

Altaïr, surprising both Al-Sayf brothers, broke into a wide grin; Malik honestly couldn't remember the last time he did that. Altaïr, his hands still behind his back, looked at Malik, amused.

"Judging by your face you didn't remember." he said lightheartedly.

"I didn't." Malik admitted, almost sheepishly.

Wordlessly, Altaïr brought his hands out from behind his hands out from behind his back, revealing something small that was wrapped in cloth. He handed it to Malik, who gently took it and unwrapped it to reveal a small cinnamon date cake about the size of his fist.

Malik stared in surprise at the little treat, mixed emotions racing through his mind. When his parents had been alive, his father would always bring him some new, interesting text, whether it be a book or a scroll, from the places he visited on his missions. His mother would always find a creative new recipe for something and make it for him. Kadar's birthdays were similar, accept that their father would bring him a new toy, or some random bauble, rather than something to read.

"Kadar wanted to get you something, and so he woke me up early to go to the village to have this made." Altaïr explained as Malik stared at the dessert, touched that his brother and his friend had remembered.

"Do you like it?" Kadar asked nervously, shifting his feet.

Malik put the cake down on the table and pulled his little brother close into a one armed hug, still being mindful of his broken wrist, ruffling Kadar's hair affectionately.

"Of course, Kadar." said Malik, "Thank you so much."

Over Kadar's head, Malik nodded his thanks to Altaïr, who was still smiling, but there was a touch of sadness in his golden eyes.

Malik frowned. He remembered that in a couple of weeks, he too would be turning fourteen, and that he did not have any family to celebrate it with; hadn't in almost three years. Malik felt a pinch of guilt in his stomach, even though he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Malik released his younger brother and rifled around in his dresser, drawing out his father's old knife, making sure that it was clean of blood, although he had no doubt that it would be. Not only did his father take very good care of his weapons, but in the weeks after his death, Kadar cleaned and polished his father's weapons repeatedly as a sort of coping mechanism.

Malik took the knife somewhat awkwardly with his left hand, all assassins were trained to be ambidextrous but Malik often found himself unintentionally favoring his right, and cut the cake into three, mostly even slices. He handed one to each of them, and they sat down, Malik next to Kadar on his bed and Altaïr on Kadar's.

The three ate their cake in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, until Malik finished his last bite, reveling in the final bursts of flavor in his mouth. He leaned over and hugged Kadar close to him, catching the eleven year old by surprise.

"Again, thank you." Malik repeated, then added, "Both of you."

So, another chapter done. I would once again like to thank everyone who have been taking the time to review my work. I love getting feedback on my work, so that I can improve it if necessary. I would also like to remind everyone to tell me if you all want me to continue the story into Malik and Altair's adulthood, or just stop it at about age twenty-seven, as I had originally planned.

I would also like you all to know that my stupid laptop hasn't been working properly of late (damn thing isn't even quite three years old yet, and its screen has just been black ever since yesterday morning. Thus, I am using my mom's new computer. :( ), so I may be a little late with upcoming chapters. I just wanted you to know, but I will update whenever possible. Thank you for your patience.