Chapter 8
'Wake'


It was really, really too early to be awake.

In fact, Malik was not awake. He was sleeping comfortably upon a mess of sleeping rugs with his blanket tucked up to his chin. It was chilly outside, the whole of Masyaf covered under a layer of snow. Nobody but the guards were awake, and nobody who was awake wanted to be.

Except for two boys.

Two boys who, after failing to drag their extremely unamused father out of bed, found themselves hovering over the lightly snoring Malik. Supressing their laughter with all the subtlety of a six-year-old and a four-year-old could manage (meaning to say, they didn't do it very well), the two boys grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked it off of their sleeping 'uncle'.

Malik snapped awake with a jolt. Years of training had him tensed and prepared for a fight, but then he heard the half-hidden snorts behind mittened hands. He let out a long sigh and looked over his shoulder. Darim and Sef stood close by, both dressed for the cold and looking excited. Darim grinned with all the unholy mischief he could muster- he was the idea man behind this assault, Malik guessed. Beside him, Sef's yellow-gold eyes were practically glowing.

"Darim," Malik groaned, then rolled over and wrapped his arm around the boy's waist. Darim giggled as Malik dragged him to the ground, and Sef squealed loudly as he was subjected to the same treatment in short order. Malik tucked both of the wriggling boys close to him. He rested his chin on Sef's head. "Darim. Sef. What are you two doing? Surely it is too early for such young ones to be up."

"That's what baba said," Darim said smartly, twisting so that he was lying his head on one of Malik's cushions. Sef wiggled around beside him until he was curled as close to Malik's chest as he could get. He yawned loudly and his eyes slid closed for a moment, and Malik hid a smirk. Clearly, it was indeed too early for at least one of them. "We came to see if Uncle Malik is as lazy as baba."

Malik barked a laugh, reaching up to rest his hand on his neck, scratching an itch at his nape. Grit came loose under his nails and he grimaced- it was too cold to bathe in the river, but washing himself in the basin was proving not to be helpful when he spent his days roughhousing with two overexuberant boys.

Malik looked at the two beside him. It really wasn't a bad way to spend his days, he decided.

"I am not lazy, you brat," he chuckled finally, and Darim grinned mischeviously, "...But your baba and your uncle are old men. You should let them get their rest. And your brother seems to be asleep too."

Sure enough, Sef had fallen back to sleep, one small hand tangled in the folds of Malik's sleeping robe and the other curled under his chin. Darim watched him for a little bit and Malik watched Darim, considering. He and Kadar had been five years apart- enough so that Malik felt responsible for his younger brother. When Kadar rested, Malik let him even if he had wanted to play. Sef and Darim were barely two years apart, however, and when there was mischief to be had, Darim could be extremely demanding.

Finally, Darim relaxed and let out a yawn of his own. Malik smirked a little and closed his eyes, listening as Darim shuffled and wiggled around for a little bit, trying to stubbornly prove that he wasn't tired. True to form, however, he fell still, and Malik listened as the boy's breathing evened out and lengthened. When he reopened his eyes, Darim was asleep.

Malik chuckled and reached back, grabbing the blanket that the boys had yanked off of him. He pulled it around them and let himself slide back into a comfortable sleep.

Perhaps, when they awoke at a more auspicious hour, he would coerce Darim and Sef into throwing snowballs at their father while he slept.


fin


Altair was meant to have an appearance, but I think Malik convincing the boys to attack their father in his sleep with snowballs later is far more appropriate.

...aaaaaaaaand rest.