A/N: Updating this story in here in case there is someone who wants to read it. This story is now completed and can be found in AO3 where I use the name Sorsa.
He had been following a false trail, making him feel like a complete fool. A terrible feeling pooled in his gut when he realised this. He had seen the vampire hunters from the Vatican arriving in Monteriggioni and had made himself scarce before he would be found out and before Malik's safety would be compromised.
When he understood he had been purposefully led away from Monteriggioni, he had immediately turned around. He had seen Ezio departing hastily from the villa and decided to fly over to investigate the general direction the Italian was headed.
He arrived in the middle of a scene of a massacre. Blood was everywhere, colouring the snow in red. Kadar's body lay forgotten in a heap, but that was not the important part. The important part was Malik, whose shallow breaths he could hear, who was missing an arm, and whose life was endangered by a clay golem still gripping Malik's detached arm while stomping towards him to finish the job.
Altaïr was not about to let that happen. Not this time. He was not going to sit idly by and watch the most important person in his entire life be killed a second time. He dived down with as much speed as he could build, aiming for the golem. The cold air pushed his wings tightly to his body and his vision blurred around the edges.
At the very last moment he transformed and braced himself for the impact. He hit the golem hard, the momentum sending them both to the snowy ground. The golem's massive form sent shockwaves throughout the ground and he felt them shaking him to the bones.
He chanced a quick glance at Malik. The man was no longer sitting but lying on his side. A surge of panic coursed through him. He turned his focus back to the golem. He needed to destroy the spell inside the creature.
He punched the golem in the face repeatedly, not allowing it to get up. He danced between its flailing arms that were attempting to grab him but the golem was slow and he was fast.
Then he managed to crack the golem's face with a sharp punch to its mouth. The face crumbled to reveal a paper slip inside which he grabbed just before the golem clapped its massive hands where his head had been.
He ripped the spell into pieces and the golem stopped moving instantly. He tossed the pieces to the snow and ran to Malik's side. He had no time to waste. He felt his chest being constricted by some unknown emotion.
He knelt down next to Malik. The man was eerily pale, he noted, and the snow was stained crimson red from the blood flowing from the remains of his arm. Malik was still breathing though it was laboured. He had to act quickly, if he wanted to keep him alive.
Altaïr turned Malik carefully onto his back. Malik's head lolled to the side as the entirety of his body was completely limp under Altaïr's touch. As he set out to arrange the tangling limbs he heard a fast-approaching horse come to halt near him. Somebody dismounted the horse.
"What happened here?" Ezio gasped looking around with disbelief at the scene. Then the Italian laid his eyes on Altaïr hovering over Malik's unconscious form and Altaïr could see Ezio's eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"What are you doing?" Ezio asked with an accusatory tone while his right hand was reaching for his sword. Altaïr tensed.
"Stay back!" Altaïr growled. A primal need to defend Malik nearly consumed him. He would allow no one to touch the man. Ezio did then stay back but watched on distrustfully. Altaïr resumed his doings.
He took out a dagger. Malik's breathing had turned ragged. Altaïr removed the arm brace in his left arm and dropped it to the bloodied, slushy ground.
"What are you doing with the dagger?" Ezio questioned alarmed. Altaïr glared at the man murderously. He needed to Italian to shut up but as he had no time for that he just cut his own wrist open with the dagger. The blood pooled quickly to the surface of his skin and made little streams on their way.
He directed his arm above Malik's head and with his right hand he made sure the man had his mouth open. The blood started trickling down his wrist dropping down into the unresisting mouth. He let his blood flow until the wound closed itself, stopping the bleeding. Now he could only hope Malik would finally wake up completely.
"You! What are you?!" Ezio hissed now right next to him. Altaïr realised there was a sword pointed at his head. He sighed. He could probably stop pretending at this point as Ezio probably had a very good idea what was actually going on. Malik started shivering.
"Put that thing away. It's of no use against me," Altaïr said as calmly as he could. Ezio glanced between him and Malik who had started convulsing, but the Italian lowered his sword hesitantly.
"Help me hold him down until the seizures pass," he commanded and they both sprang into action. Altaïr held Malik's upper body down and Ezio took the legs. In a way Altaïr was glad Malik was unconscious for this part since he had been told it hurt like nothing else, but then again he wished the man had his left arm intact because he knew that as soon as Malik would wake up he would be livid at Altaïr.
The amount of force Malik's body had surprised Altaïr and apparently did so to Ezio as well since the Italian was practically fighting with Malik's lower body. It was just another reminded to Altaïr how this Malik was different from the man he had come to know centuries ago. This Malik was a fighter with a fighter's physique whereas the Malik he had known previously was a lean bodied scholar opposed to any kind of violence. The contrast was stark.
Finally the convulsions slowed, then completely. The bleeding had stopped and Malik was taking steady yet shallow breaths. Altaïr breathed in relief as he gathered the limp body in his arms. He would have to get out of here before he was found out by the witch that must have been controlling the golem. He eyed Ezio, trying to figure out if he could trust the hunter.
"What did you do to him, vampire?" Ezio asked. The Italian looked conflicted as if he didn't know if he wanted to kill him on sight or thank him for saving Malik.
"I saved him," Altaïr answered truthfully. Ezio looked furious.
"By turning him into one of you?!" Ezio growled. Altaïr sighed in defeat. The Italian obviously did not have any idea of the true nature of Malik's being which had let him to be convinced the Vatican hunters would not either but he had been wrong. Now he wished he had been more careful but he had wanted to respect Malik's wishes and let the man figure things out on his own. It was just one more mistake in the list of countless mistakes he had made ending up hurting his long-time partner.
"No. Not really. He would have turned into one in time even without my interference. I just sped up the process," he explained while arranging Malik into a better position so he could carry him with more ease. The man was not going to walk out of here on his own after all.
"That is bullshit! People do not just turn into vampires. Somebody needs to turn them!" Ezio argued, clearly in denial. Altaïr was tired of this exchange because he had a shelter to find to house himself and Malik until the latter would regain consciousness.
"Who turned the first human into a vampire, Ezio?" Altaïr challenged in the hopes the Italian could piece the puzzle together and decide if he wanted to help him further or attack him. Altaïr did not care either way. If Ezio attacked him, he would cut the man down without any remorse and if he decided to help him or at least leave him alone he would welcome the gesture. He looked as the Italian's eyes widened with the dawning knowledge.
"It cannot be. I refuse to accept I have been friends with a pure-blood vampire my entire life. I do not believe you!" Ezio snapped. Altaïr got on his feet with Malik making the task slightly harder than it normally would be.
"Then don't. I don't care," Altaïr retorted and started marching towards the horse Ezio had used to come there.
"What do you think you are doing?" Ezio asked while running between Altaïr and the horse.
"I am taking Malik somewhere safe. Stand down or I will kill you," Altaïr threatened and fixed a glare at the Italian who was much more wary than he had been before the knowledge of pure-blood vampires. For a while Altaïr revelled in the knowledge he was scaring the Italian but then he remembered Malik still out cold in his arms vulnerable to any attacks; and he snapped back.
Ezio moved out of his way, letting him reach the horse. Hauling himself and Malik on top of the horse required a little bit of acrobatics, but he managed. Once he was seated he took the reins in his other hands and held his precious cargo in front of himself with his other. Ezio still looked at him confused.
"If you want to help, find the golem puppeteer and interrogate him," Altaïr said thoughtfully before adding, "And then kill him," his voice cold with anger. Ezio looked taken aback.
"Golem?" Ezio asked as if he did not understand what Altaïr had just said. The man was a simpleton and he did not understand how Malik could tolerate a presence like this. Altaïr nodded towards the golem lying on the ground as his hands were occupied otherwise.
"There is a golem right there. The puppeteer is most likely hiding in the forest," he explained annoyed. In any other circumstance he would have taken care of the problem himself but he could not leave Malik because even the idea of leaving Malik in his current situation terrified him.
"What about Kadar?" Ezio inquired. Altaïr was about to lose his patience.
"What about him?" he retorted because he honestly did not really care. He held no attachment to the man even if he knew he was Malik's brother.
"We should at least take his body back to Monteriggioni," Ezio said.
"I don't care," he said and ushered his horse into a canter before the Italian could respond.
Ezio looked on, his mouth agape as Altaïr sped away with his horse. He tried to understand what had just happened, what was going on, and what the implications of all this were. A friend of his had been killed, his best friend had turned out to be vampire, they had harboured a vampire among themselves for months, and the killer of his friend was still on the loose. This was all a fucking mess.
He looked around himself. It would have been beautiful night with the snow making everything seem much lighter than it actually was but it was not. There was a corpse lying in the snow. There was Malik's arm next to a golem. Then he noted Malik's sword and picked it up because he didn't know what else to do.
The runes weren't working in the sword, he realised, as he attached the sword into his weapons belt with a makeshift solution. He wished he could bring Kadar's body back to Monteriggioni and at the same time he was glad he didn't have to since he did not have a horse. The horse Malik must have ridden was gone and apparently Altaïr had materialised out of thin air to get there, or whatever fucking way a vampire travels.
What does a man do when they found nothing was true and apparently everything was permitted? When the whole world decides to take a giant shit and make everything so complicated all of a sudden? He wished things were the way they had been only a few days ago, when Kadar was still caught up in this weird semi-romance with his sister, when he had been best friends and rivals with Malik, and when there had not been any vampires to complicate things.
He found himself conflicted. He had helped a vampire which was against everything he had been taught, but then again if Altaïr was to be trusted he had grown up with one as his best friend. Then the matter of Kadar who he reasoned must have been also a vampire since he was Malik's brother but the man was just so human he had hard time accepting it.
Then he remembered what Altaïr had told him 'Find the golem puppeteer and interrogate him,' which finally snapped him out of his circling thoughts. He pulled out his sword and started making it to the forest with new-found determination.
He looked for any tracks in the snow because there were bound to be some unless the puppeteer had flown there which was unlikely. Everything left tracks one way or another. He knew the puppeteer could not be very far away either because he would have to be able to control the golem so he targeted his search near the edge of the forest where the massacre had happened.
Then he found the tracks and followed them. They led behind a large stone into a thicket. Ezio stopped to listen. The forest was eerily quiet except for erratic breathing coming from the bush.
Without a second thought Ezio then roughly pulled out a man dressed in priest attire, clutching on to something that he must have used to control the golem. The man was visibly scared which was in a way very disappointing since this was the man who had killed Kadar and robbed Malik his arm. Ezio scowled and punched the man in the face.
"Who are you? Why are you here? Why did you attack my friends and my sister?" Ezio demanded while shaking the man for intimidation.
"I'm a De Sable's man," the man answered quivering. Ezio punched the man again. The man attempted to cover himself with his arms.
"That only barely tells me you are from the Vatican. Why are you here? Why did you attack us?!" Ezio tried again.
"The two Arabic men were vampires," the man replied timidly and then begged for his life. Ezio punched him and blood burst from the man's nose but it stopped the man's pleads.
"How do you know this?" Ezio continued his interrogation.
"I don't. De Sable has something he uses to tell these things. Please let me go. I'm a hunter like yourself. We are on the same side," the man pleaded frantically but Ezio had heard enough.
"In this you are mistaken. I am only on my own side," Ezio retorted and looked on as the knowledge dawned on the man's face but before any real struggle could occur he snapped the man's neck. He grimaced as he did it and felt disgusted at himself afterwards. But he could not let the man live because he had most definitely been aware how he had helped a vampire and even heeded to Altaïr's commands.
He would have think these things through and he would have confront his father too about Kadar and Malik. He didn't even know what he should say about Malik. At least he had a really long walk back to Monteriggioni giving him plenty of time to think these things trough.
The barn Altaïr broke into was not the safest place he had ever been but it suited his purposes as it had no windows, only one easily guarded entrance, and was filled with hay for both comfort and insulation. He had set Malik down on the hay and taken to sitting against a wall next to the door so he could guard it from possible intruders.
His body was starting to demand rest but he was not going to succumb to it. He needed to stay awake until Malik woke up at least. A fear of being found settled in his gut making him eye the door suspiciously and listen to any surrounding noises.
But nothing happened and he found himself reflecting as he observed Malik's unconscious body. In so many ways he was relieved he had been given a second chance with the man but the reality was quite different from what he had expected. He had known a sharp-minded and quick-witted scholar who only killed the terminally sick or criminals for centuries and he had never quite figured out how the man ambushed his prey since he had no skill in fighting.
The man he had first met in Venice was just as intelligent and ready to speak his mind, but also full of unexplainable anger and violence. It was all very confusing to listen to the same man who had lectured him countless times to use less violence to rave how he wanted to sink his sword to any passing by monster.
It wasn't even that he didn't like the fact that Malik could fight because he had attempted to coax the man countless times to pick up even the most basic fighting tactics. In fact he found it extremely arousing in some weird primal way that told him his mate should be as strong as possible but it was in such direct conflict with the things he had come to expect over the course of time.
He sighed and pulled his hood a little bit deeper down. Then he grinned as he realised that Malik actually reminded of himself from the time they met. The memory flooded in his mind.
This was a city the humans called Jerusalem. It was full of hapless idiots bumbling around asking to be killed and sucked dry. Why he had not expanded his territory into this place before he could not figure out because there weren't even any of his own kind.
Or so he had thought. He had killed yet again this night. It had been a young woman because they were the ones who tasted the best. He was about to discard the body when he heard a voice from somewhere.
"You are in my territory, and you are making a mess of it with your thoughtless actions," a male voice said with a bite to the words but he could not pinpoint where in the alley way the sound was coming from. He snarled.
"I'll do what I want," he growled. Because he knew he could eliminate anyone in his way and he had done so already countless times.
"I have been observing you for weeks now. I am not terribly impressed," the voice was reprimanding him now. The gal the speaker had. Didn't the man see how dangerous he was? How he could rip them apart with ease?
"Show yourself coward!" he demanded. He wanted nothing more than to rip the speaker apart. Nobody lectured him. He was centuries old and he didn't have to listen to anyone's insults to his person.
A big owl flew silently through the air and landed on the ground, where it transformed into an unassuming looking man wearing black scholar's robes. It was not the first time he had seen another pure blood vampire but it was the first time he had seen one with a bird form besides himself. Being an owl was just about the only impressive thing about the man and the fact when he used his second sight he glowed gold. He knew what red meant and blue while most of the things around him were unimpressive grey but what was gold supposed to mean?
"You rampage through my city like an imbecile, leaving obvious evidence everywhere. Your operations here will compromise my existence. I do not want to leave the city and I do not want to be killed. You must leave," the man said while walking closer with an intimidating posture. It didn't work on Altaïr though because it was obvious the man was not carrying any weapons and from the way he carried himself he didn't know anything about fighting either.
"I will not leave," he retorted because nobody told him what to do. They circled each other in mutual distrust sizing each other up. Then the man stopped looked up at Altaïr as he was slightly shorter, looking like he had made up his mind about Altaïr.
"I cannot make you leave but you must be more discreet in your killings or you are truly a novice of a vampire," the man said with an air of superiority. Before Altaïr could react the man transformed back into an owl and flew away.
He had thought it would be the last time he would see the man but a few weeks later he happened upon the man once again. The man was sitting one leg crossed over the other on top of a fence forcing Altaïr to look up at him.
"You are still wreaking havoc in my city," the man said judgementally.
"It's not your city," he growled in response. The man narrowed his eyes and glared at him. Altaïr glared back.
"It is my city. I was here first. You are invading my territory so you should behave according to my rules!" the man spat in anger.
"There are no rules in this world!" he retorted. They were superior to humans so why should they limit themselves with rules? He could easily kill anyone who tried to cross his path and he would do so without any remorse.
"Yes there are, you small-minded brain-dead novice!" the man hissed. Altaïr snapped. He would no longer tolerate the other vampire in his presence. But just as he was about to lunge the man transformed into an owl and flew away disappearing between the buildings, again.
The third time they met he was not surprised like he had been the first two times. Apparently the man was very good at hiding himself among the humans. This time the man was leaning against a wall and reading a book in an alley Altaïr had entered. The man still showed up in a golden colour in his second sight.
"Are you following me?" Altaïr asked annoyed. The man glanced at him before returning to his book. What a pretentious ass.
"You leave enough bodies behind for anyone to follow you. I am surprised no hunter has killed you yet," the man said thoughtfully.
"What is this? No words of how I'm an idiot?" he growled. The man snapped his book closed and turned his full attention to him.
"Those will surely follow later on. But as it would seem you are not leaving my city and I do not want to be killed by you or by a hunter, I have a proposition for you," the man said with a neutral tone even if he was frowning.
"And that would be what?" Altaïr asked with a slightly more civil voice.
"I will teach you how to be discreet and in exchange you will not kill me," the man replied. At least the man knew where he stood and that was firmly under him. He did not need to be taught anything though, he was centuries old and had managed just fine without anyone meddling in his business.
"Why would I do that?" he argued and slammed his hands on both sides of the man's head, effectively trapping him there. He expected to see fear on the man's face but he was met with defiance.
"Because if I teach you this you will be the perfect killer; deadly and silent. Imagine your prey never even knowing you were there. Think about the advantage this will give you over our own kind," the man said without even hint of hesitation. Altaïr didn't like the idea he was being told he was not already perfect but some force drove him to say 'yes' and let the man escape him.
He would later learn the man's name was Malik Al-Sayf. It was an ironic name for a man who did not even own a sword and who did not believe in violence.
Malik was an unmerciful teacher. He kept berating Altaïr over every turn on how he was as graceful as a war elephant and as subtle as a street crier. It was not one or two times where Altaïr lost it completely but Malik was a true master of evasion, moving away before he could actually hurt him.
The man would always return to nag at him and at some point he grew used to it. Malik was infuriatingly stubborn in his conviction of non-violence which in Altaïr's mind contradicted their nature as creatures sustained by human blood.
One of the first things Malik demanded of him was to give up killing healthy young humans and choose his victims among the social outcasts. Sucking blood from lepers, madmen, and criminals did not sit well with him. Their taste was inferior to others.
"It is not about their taste," Malik said and paused to see if he had Altaïr's attention before continuing, "It is about choosing a victim who will not be missed by other humans. This way we lower our chances of being discovered. Humans do not hold love for their outcasts and are more willing to turn blind eye if that crazy madman suddenly disappears from their neighbourhood than if a wealthy merchant disappears."
"Why does it matter so much to you if you are discovered? You can always relocate," Altaïr asked in annoyance.
"I do not want to relocate. This is my home, you ignoramus," Malik said and threw his arms in the air. Altaïr did not understand what Malik meant by 'home'. Home was a human concept. Vampires did not have a need for homes; what they had were territories that they moved within. But he had complied with Malik's demands because he wanted to learn how the man sneaked around without being seen or heard by anyone.
He would learn the skill and then get rid of Malik because nobody told him what to do, not even a person glowing in gold. But he would have to play nice for the time being or he didn't have any doubt Malik would stop teaching him.
Then there were times when he forgot he was supposed to hate Malik like when they were running over the rooftops of the town, climbing walls, and jumping over the narrow streets. Malik's feet made no sound even when in a full-speed run. It was like looking at an owl fly through the night air, which he supposed was exactly what was going on. He was slightly faster than Malik on flat surfaces but the way Malik scaled the walls was like work of art.
Malik corrected him endlessly on how to do it properly. 'Put your feet like this', 'Use your hands like that' and it went on and on until he got it right. The first time he beat Malik in a race over the roofs he felt accomplished in a way he had never done. He remembered the small smile Malik had when he caught up with him and somehow it transformed Malik's entire being completely into something else. Altaïr had to blink several times to make sure he was still looking at the same grumpy man he had come to know.
At some point he had apparently gathered enough trust from Malik to be invited into his own personal lodgings. It was a small house in the outskirts of the city filled with maps and books. Malik had told him he was a cartographer and sold his maps to humans for gold. He didn't understand why Malik would lower himself to do business with their food. There was no point to it. But Malik had looked at him amused.
"It is the reason why I have my nice clothes while you look like a beggar," Malik commented casually. Altaïr frowned. He looked at his clothes which he had stolen from someone's clothesline. They served him well enough even if they were torn here and there and the pants were slightly too short for him. He was a vampire. What need did a vampire have for nice clothes?
In the end he grew tired of skulking in the shadows. He wanted to fight something to the death. He needed to have that feeling when his prey struggled in his hands and the satisfaction that followed when he beat them into submission. Malik had noticed his agitation because, as he had learned the man had an ability to notice everything that ever happened.
"The world is full of monsters. Humans even pay money for killing them. You can sate your bloodlust and use the humans this way," Malik had told him.
The first monster he had killed was demon-possessed rat. He had beaten the thing into a bloody mush with a stick and taken the remains of the body for the human who had posted the reward for it. He had been given some money which he had pocketed away because he didn't really know what he would use it for.
The next time he had returned to see Malik the man had smiled at him, and for some reason Altaïr thought it was important to see Malik smiling. He went out to kill more monsters the very next night and then the next night too. He managed to accumulate quite a lot of money in a short time from killing the monsters but he still didn't know what he would actually use the money for.
"You realise you could buy yourself some equipment with that money? A silver sword would enable you to take on bigger things," Malik had suggested to him in a tone that was far too amused.
"I had not thought about that," Altaïr replied honestly because he had not. Malik had chuckled and said,
"You never do, novice." It should have infuriated him to be called novice and being accused of not thinking but for some reason it did not.
He did buy himself a silver sword which he had to be careful with to not touch the silver blade himself unless he wanted burns from it. He then killed a basilisk and several other monsters. He used his earnings for more gear until one day he found himself at a tailor being fitted with custom-made robes made with his own needs in mind. It was then he understood why Malik drew his maps.
Then the inevitable day came when he was just as good at making his way through the town without being noticed as Malik was. It was the day he had sworn he would kill Malik as he had outlived his usefulness. But he did not find it in himself to actually perform the task which made him furious at himself.
He looked at Malik who stood beside him on top of a house. What had changed from the time he had entered the city and crossed paths with the man? Malik was wearing his permanent frown like he always did, looking down at the city like a predatory bird observing the humans walking the streets.
"I intended to kill you," Altaïr said truthfully. Malik turned his gaze at him.
"I know," Malik replied without hesitation. Altaïr was surprised now.
"I can't do it any more," he admitted. Malik closed the distance between them in leaned against him until their faces were only few centimetres apart. Malik was smiling with an evil glint in his eyes.
"I know," Malik answered with a low voice and then kissed him. Altaïr answered the kiss ferociously and wrapped his arms around Malik's form possessively. They bit each other in the shoulder tasting what the other was like. Malik tasted like nothing he had ever bitten into intoxicating him in a matter of seconds. Not even the sweetest of maidens could compare to the sensation Malik's blood offered him.
They ended up tumbling over the roof with Altaïr on top of Malik. They fucked together like two animals in heat both desperate for release. When he came, he also realised what the colour gold meant. He had been such a fool all this time not to realise it.
Years later Malik would admit he had manipulated Altaïr from the beginning to walk down the path he had taken. Malik also had admitted he had not expected their relationship to turn as it did. He had been more concerned about staying alive than anything else. Altaïr was not even mad nor even surprised. Malik was a cunning and calculating person who achieved his goals by manipulating everyone around him.
Altaïr smiled at the memory when he sat in the barn amongst the hay. He was glad he was no longer that individual who had entered Jerusalem all those years ago. He realised he had been without aimless just trying to find the next thing he could sink his teeth into. Malik had straightened him out.
Malik was still unconscious after a day in hiding but he knew it would take time so he was not too worried. Malik had lost a lot of blood and his body was not yet that of a full-fledged vampire but somewhere in between.
He was thinking of how Malik would react to discovering he was a vampire because as far as Altaïr knew the man was still ignorant to his true nature. He had to be or otherwise he would not have let the vampire hunters ambush him like they had done.
Then there was the matter of Ezio. He would have to find a way to deal with all of this. He didn't want his second chance to be ruined by thoughtless actions.
Malik stirred in the hay. Altaïr made his way over so he could comfort the man or hold him still in case of more tremors. Malik mumbled softly making Altaïr realise the man was actually waking up. The moment of truth had arrived which Altaïr braced himself against, ready to explain the situation to Malik.
What woke up was not Malik the 25-year old monster hunter filled with unexplainable anger but Malik the centuries old pure blood vampire. Altaïr knew it from the expression in his and he knew Malik knew everything now even without asking him.
Malik did not even glance at his missing arm but directed his gaze at Altaïr. Altaïr was at a loss of words so he did not say anything. But the most surprising thing was the first thing Malik said to him. It was filled with a kind of murderous intent he had never witnessed before and especially not from the man who spoke the words.
"Where is my sword?" Malik asked with a low growl.