Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns the rights to Assassin's Creed. This is a work of fiction and is strictly fan-made with no intentions of profit.
Chapter 2
Altiar doesn't remember shutting his eyes. He remembers being draped over on Malik's bedside with his head nestled between his crossed arms and his friend's hand in his. Any memories of what happened after that are foggy and Altair is too tired to wade through the grey.
The master assassin blinks open his pale eyes and is happy to see the world is the same as when he left it. In half-baked consciousness, Altiar upturns his hand, smiling to himself as he feels Malik's fingers still intertwined with his own.
Altair would have bet any amount of gold on their hands separating from each other while he was asleep, but tonight it seemed the two men found something to agree on. Altair smirks and tightens his grip on his friend's hand. The novice makes a soundless vow to lock them together in an everlasting bond. Even if other man wishes to see their ties severed from each other, Altair will weave the threads back together.
Determined to keep awake, Altair tries to find something to preoccupy the time. Thought... he hasn't thought in some time now. Maybe this was a good time to catch up.
His first thoughts are of wonder; wonder of this being the longest time the two assassins have stayed in each other's company since childhood. That thought brings a smile to Altair's face. He had forgotten what a menace he had been as a child and the fun that came with it.
Young Altair had kept book lessons entertaining for himself and the rest of the class with a daily show of pranks. Most of them ended with a swift paddle to his ass if he failed to push the blame onto someone else. Of course there had been days when Altair was too sore to reap the punishments of his powder keg instructor and the jaded novice would kill the hours by staring at the back of a boy who sat a row in front of him. Malik would squirm in his seat, nervously glancing behind him in an attempt to figure out what he had done to warrant such attention. Altair found it amusing to watch the reserved boy fetter. After Malik witnessed the other boy use a blade for the first time, he became proud of Altair's ogling.
They didn't know much about each other back then. All that changed the day Altair felt very, very motivated. He had devised an ingenious plan to frame Malik for one of his pranks for the exclusive chance to see the genius's mortified face.
Altair's plan was executed just as he was dreamed it would. At first, the Rafiq didn't believe Mailk would do such a thing, but thanks to Altair's fabricated evidence, Malik's was deemed guilty in the end. Malik's face was it how it should have been: horrified and betrayed as he was dragged out of his seat and beaten in front of the entire class. Altair had thought he would feel paramount from such a victory, that he would even laugh, but as he watched the dark haired boy endure the false punishment, shame consumed him.
They had come to know each other's names quite well after that, but never spoke a word to one another. Not until the Rafiq, out of sheer desperation, forced Malik to try and teach the eagle boy grammar. Malik had given Altair's first lesson in diffidence while the eagle boy was silent. After many failed sessions together, they grew familiar with each others existence. Malik nearly fell off his chair when Altair pointed to the word "qalam" and asked for help with the pronunciation.
Sadly, the fleeting admiration felt between Masyaf's two best assassins was not meant to last. The brotherhood was hungry for a swift conquest of their enemies, and in their haste, they turned the two boys fragile friendship into a self-destructing rivalry. Indeed the two men grew stronger from their cancerous hate. A few seconds in each other's presence was all either man could tolerate before they both were on the ground kicking and biting each other.
Altair and Malik hadn't changed much over the years. A young troublesome Altair was the same as the now proud Altair. And Malik had never forgiven him. They still hated, still loathed, and rarely spoke to each other.
Where would they be if now if their friendship had never taken that devastating loop?
Altair breathed out a contented sighed as the warmth of their joined hands ran up his arm and an eased over his entire body.
-It would probably feel something like this.-
Altair is convinced now. This warm sensation wrapping around him from the inside out is Malik's revenge.
Altair stops thinking. He's done more than enough of that. Instead, he flips over Malik's hand in his own and studies it. He brushes his thumb along the raven's scraped knuckles, runs his fingertips down his friend's palm, trying to discern if it is just the softness of his skin that attracts him.
That was one more thing different about them. Malik tended to his skin. He kept it young with a number of remedies found in his collection of books. Malik's hands are so unlike Altair's beaten ones which are left to heal on their own should they encounter dryness or cuts.
Altair presses their palms together, sizing up the two. Altair silently announces himself the winner of the broadest palm contest. Malik wins the title of the tallest fingers. Their hands are equal, but in different ways.
Malik's body twitches abruptly. Altair thinks nothing of it. He's used to Malik tossing in his sleep. It is only when the raven shakes the entire bed with his flailing limbs that Altair raises his head in concern.
"Why? Why did you leave us to die? Do we mean so little to you? Is there nothing you won't sacrifice if it means saving your pride?"
Altiar scowls. He's growing increasingly tired of this topic.
"Malik please, won't you ever understand?"
"No! You don't understand! Kadar! He-he-!"
Malik shudders, reliving the memories of his brother's murder behind his sealed eyes. Sweat trickles down from the raven's brow as he fights for his life against enemies that no longer exist.
"What of Kadar? Tell me!" Altair demands.
A guard outside hears the commotion and kicks open the door to the room. The guard draws his blade. Malik recoils in fear of the sound.
"What's going on in here?"
Altair throws his arm toward the door in a soundless message for the guard to take his services elsewhere, "Sheath your sword and then get out! You're making him worse!"
"It was me!" Malik confessed, "I was the one who couldn't clear my head! I had nearly lost my arm stealing the piece of Eden from them!"
"You mean that's him?" the guard asks.
The guard sheaths his sword and looks at Malik as if he's a ghost.
"Malik, he's the one that retrieved the treasure from those bastard templars. Everyone on that mission was said to have perished..."
Altair ignores the guard's ramblings. He has more important things to do. He reaches for the cloth in the water basin and wrings it out. He dabs Malik's forehead with the cool liquid, "Shhh. It's alright Malik. There's no reason for you to fear them. I am here."
Malik won't hear it. He throws his head back and forth and blocks Altair's aid.
"Don't lie to me! You left us to die in there and it's all I could think about! And he saved me! My little brother gave up his life for mine!"
Tears rolled down the raven's face, "His death is my fault. I've lost my only family because I couldn't stop thinking about you!"
Such a confession has Altair's eyes shocked to their limits.
"Me...?"
Altair's body feels like stone.
"No Malik, that's not true. You're ..." the next part is stuck in Altair's throat.
The novice assassin swallows, trying to urge the words out. His voice achieves a crackle. He's losing his ability to speak more often and Altair's frustration has towered high because of it. His rage now searches for an out.
His fierce eyes target the meddlesome guard who insists on watching Malik brave through his darkest hour as if it's a riveting street performance. This violation is all Altair can think about and his anger explodes. The master assassin springs to his feet, knocking over the stool he was sitting on in the process. The guard is startled by this and takes a step back from the terrifying golden eyes branding him as their next victim. Altair spares no time in separating the distance between them. Emphatic strides bring them closer together and the guard backs up all of the way out the door where he proceeds to fall into a group of similar men with suspicious eyes.
"If I need your help I'll ask for it! NOW STAY OUT!"
Altair slams the door in their faces and runs back to the bed. He takes up his friend's hand and searches for where he left off in his speech. Somehow, the words come easier for him this time.
"Malik you're not the only one who made a mistake that day."
"He said ... he said ...," Malik croaks out between hicks.
"It's alright. It's alright to take a breath," Altair soothes, cupping his friend's cheek and touching their foreheads together.
Malik seems to calm down. His eyebrows knot against Altair's and he complies.
"Kadar said I had to come back to you. He said it wasn't my time to die ... that ... I should forgive you because ... he forgives you. He said that he would gladly give his life to see the both of us live on and be happy. My little brother said that! Who would have known he was capable of being so mature? I wonder if I even knew him half as well as I thought I did."
Altair is glad the man beneath him cannot open his eyes.
"How can you formulate such nonsense? Of course you knew him better than anyone. You are his brother, you loved him dearly."
"You posses great skill Altair, but that alone does not make you a master. Just as well, Kadar is my brother, but it seems I knew little about him. He's hidden things from me, so many things. When he threw down his swords and lifted me onto his shoulders I never knew he possessed such courage. You know my brother, seen how awkward he is in combat. But you should have seen his eyes then, how they looked at me! He believed it was his destiny to save me that day!"
Malik sniffles, streams of tears overwhelming his face that it's burned red.
Cottons planted its roots in Altair's throat. Flies hatch and fill his stomach. Altair does not know how to console, but he does know the distraction of the flesh. Altair styles Malik's dark bangs to the side and kisses his forehead. He kisses the corner of his friend's left eye, moving down to do the same to his lips. Malik's hysteric breathing finally relaxes and his face is relieved of the harsh signs of grief.
Altair dries his friend's stained face with a careful thumb and knuckles, planting arbitrary kisses on whatever skin he happens to choose.
Malik blinks open his eyes and feels a looming shadow beside him.
"Altair?"
A stray tear travels down Malik's face and Altair is quick to remove it.
"I've come back to save you; to bring you back home with me."
Altair seals his lips over Malik's before there can be any silence. Both men close their eyes for the long satisfying kiss that follows. There are no foul intentions of lasciviousness. It's a simple gesture of pleasure and reassurance. Altair pulls away slightly, feeling Malik's hot breath blows against his cheek. Altair nuzzles his nose against Malik's.
The peaceful smile that crosses Altair's lips becomes disfigured as the master assassin starts to cry. Altair sobs to himself. It's a loud array of pathetic sounds even by his standards. Tears have started to trickle down from his eyelashes, warm liquid landing onto Malik's closed eyelids. Malik is unaware of any of it and drifts back into a less fitful state of dreams.
TBC…
Thanks for Reading!
Chapter Completed: Monday, July 25 2010.
Comments and Questions Welcome.