Chapter Text
It had been raining on that first night. The first time she laid eyes on him. Thunder and lightning crashed overhead, every so often causing the very foundations of the bureau to shake. Every bolt sent a stabbing jolt up her left arm as she lay awake, for while it's strength left much to be desired, the nerves still functioned normally, reminding her of the folly that occurred beneath the very city she lay in.
Altair, in all of his bullheaded stubbornness, had charged ahead, facing the Templars directly; Only to be manhandled by the bear of a grand-master and tossed through a set of scaffolding, as if he weighed nothing, and effectively trapping the remaining two in the cavern. They stared each other down for all of perhaps five seconds before Robert de Sable ordered them to be cut down. Poor Kadar never stood a chance. Being sixteen and a fresh faced Journeyman, he'd never stepped foot outside of Masyaf before that mission and thus, had never seen combat. If nothing else, his death was quick.
The events after that were a hazy red blur of blood, rage, and steel. Malik vaguely remembered escaping the catacombs of the temple with the treasure, leaping over the rooftops of the city like the very flames of hell were at her heels. It must have been sometime then that she caught the poisoned arrow in her left bicep.
By the time Malik reached the gates of Masyaf, the treasure in hand, she could barely move her arm. When she reached Al Mualim's chamber, she was ready to drop. Altair was already there, delivering news of the missions failure and likely, hers and Kadar's deaths.
“Wait!”She'd called out, the exhaustion, both physical and mental finally catching up to her as a lower ranking assassin grabbed her and slung her free arm over his shoulder as her knees buckled.
“Malykah?”Al Mualim's voice turned from angry and hard to surprised. Malik refrained from snapping out her next words. Oh, how she hated her name; preferring rather, to go by the gender-neutral 'Malik' instead.
“I still live at least.”she growled, staring Altair down with icy violet eyes. He met her gaze calmly, as if her being there meant nothing; changed nothing, but she could see the emotions he tried to hide clearly in his eyes. Surprise. Curiosity. The slightest bit of remorse.
“And your brother?”
“Dead.”Malik's eyes shifted to the stone floor for a brief second before landing on Altair once again. The fury in her gaze could have frozen hell over, “Because of you!”And the other inhabitants of the room could have sworn the temperature dropped a good twenty degrees.
“Robert threw me from the room. There was no way back! Nothing I could do!”He defended feebly. If looks could kill, Altair would have been a Siberian ice statue.
“Because you would not heed my warnings! All of this could have been avoided!”Malik hissed, the tears bubbling up at the corners of her eyes, “And my baby brother would still live!”Her breaths became ragged as she fought back the emotions raging inside her head, her voice coming out in almost a croak. Amidst the grief, still so very raw,there was bitter satisfaction at the look of blatant shock on Altair's face; the shock that the energetic little bundle of novice, as he'd always put it, was nothing more than another fallen brother.
Yes, very bitter-sweet indeed.
Another earth-rattling crash of lightning jarred Malik out of her reverie, and when she sat up, she immediately noticed something amiss. A presence In the room when she could see no one. It was unfamiliar; nigh ethereal. And yet there was a familiar quality to it, almost as if someone she knew was there with her.
A ghost, perhaps?
No. A ghost would have been present when Malik had first arrived. It would have shown itself long before.
So if not a haunting spectre, then...what?
When lightning flashed across her window again, it illuminated a figure. Malik didn't get a very good look at it from the corner of her eye, but it was definitely male.
So that was one suspicion confirmed. There was some sort of spirit following her. Maybe it was her brother! A feeling of delicate hope filling her heart, Malik called out.
“I know you are there, spirit! Show yourself!”When nothing happened, she felt like a fool. Several minutes passed before the lightning came close again. When the window lit up again, the figure was there. When the light died down, he remained.
It wasn't Kadar.
It wasn't even a ghost. She was pretty sure ghosts didn't have wings.
And what beautiful wings they were. Even in the ephemeral lights cast by the fading lightning storm, the emerald highlights throughout his feathers shone handsomely in many shades and hues among the ebony.
He was tall, with a lean build from what she could tell under his loose-woven clothing; dark and finely stitched as it was. A silver hood with delicate golden designs on the hem kept many of his features in shadow, leaving only a charming little half-smile adorning his cupids-bow lips.
Malik stared at the winged man for probably a little longer than necessary before cocking her head to the side, eliciting a chuckle from him.
“Why are you here?”She asked him, turning to face him fully. He said nothing;not that she expected him to. However, what he did instead startled her...and intrigued her at the same time.
He knelt on one knee and took her free hand in his and bowed low, touching his forehead to her knuckle; as if in a sign of allegiance, then lifted her hand to gently brush his lips across the tops of her fingers. Malik felt her face heat, and when he lifted his gaze to meet hers, she couldn't help but feel that she knew this man; had seen his almost luminescent emerald eyes somewhere before.
“Who are you?”came the whisper, unbidden from her lips, and the winged man smiled almost sadly. He guided her to lay back and covered her with the silken sheets, leaning down long enough only to press his soft lips to her forehead and whisper a single word.
“Sleep.”
When she next awoke, it was from one of the most comfortable sleeps she had gotten in the holy city, the rising sun warming her bedroom nicely. Looking around, Malik sighed in disappointment at the absence of the beautiful winged creature that had graced her with his presence. She should have known he wouldn't stick around forever, but then again, explaining his presence would have been more trouble than it was worth.
Running her hand through her hair once, she grimaced at it's oily state. A bath was definitely in order.
Pulling into her robes sometime later, Malik noticed something strange sitting innocently on her windowsill. It was a rose. Just one, single solitary rose. But that is not what made it strange, no. The petals were a pretty dark azure, the very same color as her Dai cloak. When she picked it up gently, something odd happened. The very edges of the petals frosted just the slightest bit, as if preserving the flower. Not that she wasn't happy to keep it for a longer amount of time, it would seem that her abilities were once again getting a bit out of control. She would have to see to that.
It was mid-day when he dropped into the bureau. Malik was working on a map, determined to ignore him, until he strode into the main workroom like he owned the place. He froze when he saw just who was behind the counter. Malik could feel his gaze linger on her useless arm and she squeezed the compass in her hand as if it was his throat. He was the very last person she wanted to see.
If Altair noticed the temperature drop rapidly, he didn't show it.
“Safety and peace, Malik.”He greeted, the epitome of calm. She seethed at his apparent nonchalant attitude.
“Your presence here delivers me neither. What is it that you want?”She ground, placing the compass down on the counter.
“Al-Mualim has asked-”He starts, only to be cut off harshly.
“That you perform some menial task in an effort to restore your lost honor. So be out with it.”Anger makes Malik's words sharp, to the point that makes Altair almost seem to flinch from their intensity. He steels himself then, getting on to what she assumes is the main reason for his presence.
“Tell me what you know of the one they call Talal.”
“It is your task to locate and assassinate the man, Altair,”Yes, she thinks. His task; his duty to seek his own penance. It wasn't often that Malik questioned the master, but this was one decision she could not find peace with, as she felt that there was little honor for Altair to restore, if any. “Not mine.”
“You would do well to assist me. The death of this man benefits the entire region.”Altair argued, a slight defiant tilt to his chin. An eyebrow raised, Malik took advantage of his vague slip.
“Do you deny his death benefits you in a way?”She asks, a faint smirk curling at the corners of her lips.
“Such matters are none of your concern, nor are they mine.”Her smirk falls at Altair's words and she slams her fist down on the counter in her fury, rattling the incense pot and almost knocking the ink pot to the floor.
“Such matters are very much my concern, you bloody arrogant prick!”Malik hisses, the temperature dropping toward sub-zero regions with her chilly rage; the incense smolder snuffing out and ice beginning to form on the windows and edges of the garden fountains. Altair shivered, but stands his ground.
“Then do not help me. I shall find him on my own.”He says, the exhaustion barely discernible in his voice. As he leaves, still shivering in the frigid bureau, Malik thinks about letting him go; about letting him get himself killed, but then common sense calls up her anger and beats it into submission, sounding oddly like her father berating her when she was young.
“Wait a moment,”Malik sighs, reminding herself of her job as a Dai; pointing novices in the right direction. To give guidance, “It won't do having you prowling the city like some kind of nose-blind cat. Better you know where to look.”
Altair pauses before turning to regard her once more, his head cocked to the side, a curious frown on his lips. If she'd bothered to look, Malik would have seen the honest confusion in his deep green eyes, “Alright. I'm listening.”
“I can think of three places.”She started, heaving another hefty sigh, the exhaustion creeping into her own voice, “South of here in the market that lines the border between the Muslim and Jewish districts, to the north near this district's Mosque, and toward the east, in front of St. Anne's Church; near the Bab Ariha gate.”As Malik listed them off, she pointed them out on the map of Jerusalem in front of her; the one she was currently trying to finish off. Altair came in a bit closer, but only just, wary not only of Malik's frosty manner, but her touch as well. There was a reason she'd been called the Ice queen of the assassins; the name wasn't just for show.
“Is that all you can offer?”Altair asked, keeping his gaze lowered some. Whether out of sudden respect or pity, Malik couldn't tell.
“It is enough to start you on your way,”She sniffed disdainfully, “And more than I'd originally been willing to give. Now get out before I freeze your testicles to your behind.”
Altair's face, or rather, what's visible of it, takes on a satisfying pallor as he rushes up and out of the bureau so quickly, she almost fancies he's running away. Perhaps he values his balls more than she thought. Then again, it was always the same with men. Threaten their pride and they'll back off to a point.
When Altair returned a day or so later, the bureau has long since thawed out. He seemed haggard, more tired than she'd last seen him. Not that she'd feel pity for the bastard. Not after what he'd cost her. Her brother. Her career as an assassin. Her pride. She'd just as soon freeze Masyaf over than help him willingly.
“Malik.”He'd greeted tiredly. She didn't bother looking up from her current activity; something Altair stared at with great intrigue. A small swirl of water circled Malik's fingers as she idly toyed around with it, occasionally breaking it into small frozen spheres, then melting them again to swirl back around her hand. It was a lazy show of her now limited abilities, seeming to take little of her concentration.
“Come to waste more of my time?”She asked in a rather bored tone, never looking up from her toying with the water stream. Didn't she have anything more important to be doing?
“I've found Talal. I am ready to begin my mission.”He intoned as his eyes followed the lazy toying stream back to its goblet.
“That,”She said with no small amount of satisfaction, “is for me to decide.”
“Very well. Here is what I've gathered. He traffics in human lives, kidnapping Jerusalem's citizens and selling them into slavery. His base is a warehouse centered in the barbican north of here. As we speak, he prepares a caravan for travel. I'll strike while he inspects his stock. If I can avoid his men, Talal himself should prove an easy kill.”As he explains, Altair straightens, the look of weariness bleeding out of his frame almost instantaneously. His tone took on a confident lilt as he finished his report, causing Malik to bristle.
“An easy kill?! Listen to you! Such arrogance!”She snarls, slamming he palm of her hand on the counter-top, not paying the rattling of bottles any mind. It's as if the man never thinks before opening his mouth! “Have you learned nothing?!”
“Are we done? Are you satisfied with my information?”Altair asked, taking a slight step back from the irate woman.
“No, but it will have to do on such short notice, now won't it?”Malik spits, reaching under the counter for the delicate feather marker to be stained with the target's blood. She places it down, noting with some confusion that Altair's eyes haven't once left her form, “Rest, prepare, sulk in a corner. Do whatever it is you do before a mission. But if I hear one peep out of you, I'll have you frozen to the wall so quickly, your testicles won't have the time to fall off. Now get out.”With the dismissal and threat clear, Altair fled the workroom to the pillows in the garden and promptly plopped down, exhausted, like a puppet with it's strings cut. As Malik pulls out a map to work on, she hears humming. A very pleasing, tenor humming. At first, she considers complaining, but then, she calms, deciding to let the man have his peace.
When Malik comes down to the workroom the next morning, Altair is gone. Suitably so. She was grouchy at that hour at best and was liable to freeze his mouth shut rather than deal with any of the idiocy bound to pour out of his mouth.
Hours later, Malik is unsurprised to hear the city alarm going completely wild. And as she thought about it, knowing the culprit behind the city wide panic, she knew she wouldn't have to tell her informants to make themselves scarce, and to avoid wearing white and red in any combination until the city calmed.
She saw his shadow long before she saw Altair himself. She had half a mind to freeze his feet to the grate and smack him silly for causing such a ruckus, but refrained, the creed ringing loud in her head, When he drops in, he lands clumsily, his eyes wild like a cornered animal. There was a slice in his robes; with a slight bloodstain around the edges. She ignored it.
“Altair!”Malik greeted. Altair's gaze drew to her, wary at her cheerful tone, “Wonderful to see you back relatively whole!” The grin on her face was almost enough for him to bolt back out of the grate and take his chances with the Templars, “And...How fared the mission?”
At Malik's inquiry, Altair stepped into the workroom slowly; methodically, until he was standing opposite her. His aphotic green gaze never left her, keeping her in his sights at all times. He reaches into a pouch and pulls out the blood-dyed feather,holding it up between two fingers briefly before placing it down on the counter.
“The deed is done. The slaver has been put to rest.”Altair's answer was careful, as if he was ready to bolt at any second. His behavior was unusual,especially given his actions in the past. Malik had never known him to be so timid. Perhaps something had happened? Had he seen something? If he had, she didn't quite care at the moment. She was too taken by her frustration.
“Oh, I know. How can I not? The whole fucking city knows! Are you that much of a novice that you cannot be subtle with an assassination?!” She asked, shouting. Altair almost puffed up. There was no other way to describe his sudden posture change.
“A skilled assassin ensures his work is noticed by the many.”Altair replied, shifting in irritation at the reprimand.
“No! A skilled assassin maintains control of their environment!”Malik argues, hand slashing through the air in emphasis on this. How she longed to freeze his mouth shut! She'd been given the same lectures as he. How dare he twist them as such?!
“We can argue the details all you like, Malik! The point is, I have accomplished my task.”Altair's voice colors in impatience then, and he crosses his arms, his foot tapping a sharp candace. It is here where she stops short. Malik can say nothing, because he's right, and that's what pisses her off the most. From where she stands, this whole redemption quest is just another circle in their endless dance of death; that Altair will learn nothing from this.
"Go then.”She sighs, the anger dying down some as she reaches under the counter for the ledgers, “Return to the old man. Let us see with whom he sides.”Although Malik can already tell who he'll listen to on this matter. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.
"You and I are on the same side, Malik.”Altair says softly, tilting his head to the side a bit, almost like a curious puppy would. Malik turns up to say something and does a double-take. Staring at her from under the shadows of Altair's hood are those same luminous emerald eyes that had seen her to sleep three days previous. When she blinks and looks back again, they are their original dark green. Was she imagining things?
"Once, perhaps. And what did I get for that trust? An early end to my career and my brother's early death.”Malik snapped. To Altair's credit, he fights back a flinch at her venomous tone, “It will be dark soon. You may rest here for the night, but I want you gone by sunrise.”
He says nothing, just turns on his heel and goes to the pillows. Malik focuses her attention back on logging the successful mission in the ledger. Every now and again, she casts a glance back at Altair. He has pushed his hood back and was running a hand over his face and then through his hair. He looked worn out. His honey-brown hair was slightly dull from being damp with sweat, and the area underneath his eyes looked dark and slightly swollen from lack of sleep. The slight pallor to his skin didn't help much either. And even though she was exceedingly pissed off at him, Malik couldn't help but feel sorry for the man.
A while after the sun had slipped below the horizon, Malik gathered a simple dinner of dried meat and rice onto a tray with a small flask of wine and brought it out to the surprisingly still awake Altair. Neither said a word, and aside from a slight nod of thanks from him, he didn't acknowledge her, digging in to his meal slowly.
She didn't bother to watch him eat after that, and blew out the candles in the workroom before going up to bed. Her sleep was fitful at best, and when she trudged down the next morning, Altair was gone; the tray empty.
A name couldn't be put to the feeling that slammed into her chest at the sight.