Eight | A Single Story Told Over the Ages

[eaglesonofnone]

WHO: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
WHERE: House 31
WHEN: March 25, evening
OPEN TO: Malik Al-Sayf
WARNINGS: Old marrieds being old marrieds

---

For nearly two weeks now, after Malik had left for the bakery, Altaïr had followed. His route was more surreptitious, though only once in the possible sight of the building Malik had claimed. He had spent days away from the house, only remaining when he had obligations to fulfill: he still instructed those wishing to learn parkour, mourned those who had disappeared back to their homes, patrolled his promised shifts on the watch. But each day when there was not a commitment, he went north.

Today, he had gone for only as long as it took to walk there and return. He had gone to the storehouse afterward to claim some vegetables and some meat, and then he had begun to cook.

The house was redolent in the scents of well-prepared meat, spices, fried vegetables and tender rice. He'd not been able to make falafels, but there was an approximation made with lentils, and a pan of kibbeh baked to perfection - all waiting for Malik to return home.

Comments

[loyalrebel]

Malik is back home at his usual time, for all that he is as paranoid as the next Assassin he's still fond of his habits. HE makes enough noise coming in to not startle Altair, and then hums and the scent filling the air.

"You have been busy." He announces, a smile both in his voice and on his face.

[eaglesonofnone]

"I had been putting it off for too long. Waiting for an occasion," he answered as he came over to hand Malik a cup of warm mint tea. There was a decisive tone to his voice, as if he was more than satisfied with the conclusion he'd reached. "I finally have decided that an occasion will not come, so I must make one if I wanted to do all the cooking I'd planned."

[loyalrebel]

Malik darts in to kiss at Altair's cheek as he takes the tea. "What sort of occasion have you decided on making?" He asked, "Not that I find one always necessary to have a good meal."

[eaglesonofnone]

The kiss he gave to Malik's cheek was longer, more lingering, his now-shoulder-length hair brushing Malik's jaw. "Before I came here, I spent years with you as my dearest friend, but I was horribly ignorant of such things as love. So I have decided that tonight, the end of my ignorance should be celebrated. Because I love you, Malik Al-Sayf."

Altaïr nuzzled in close, murmuring, "'Iinaa lak alan."

[loyalrebel]

"We spent a good few days celebrating if I remember correctly." Malik chuckled, wrapping his arm around Altair and leaning in to the affection between them. "And I yours for as long as the stars hang in the skies of this or any world. However, I would like to eat this meal you have made us before it gets cold."

[eaglesonofnone]

"First, a moment. There is one more thing to do. Something that should be rightfully returned to you."

With a light touch, he guided Malik to the kitchen and, though he knew Malik might protest, took the tea from Malik's hand. He kept that hand lightly clasped, and turned it palm up. "For as long as I have known you, your conscience has been your guide. Your words have always held a core of truth, and the weight of consideration. You have ever been unafraid to speak your mind and guide any who came to you onto the path of light. When you became a Rafiq, it was due to injury caused by my own arrogance. When you took that role and made it your own, rising above to become a Dai, that was your own strength that lifted you. But through it all, one more thing was taken from you that should have remained."

Reaching into his robe, Altaïr withdrew the object that had taken his attention for the last weeks and he placed it against Malik's arm, where it stretched nearly from elbow to wrist. The metal was delicately engraved. The leather bracer holding it securely was intricately embroidered, two patterns intertwined. Together, they read Al-Sayf-Ibn'La-Ahad over and over again, from buckle to brace. And with the blade in place, Altaïr fastened the bracer, speaking with quiet confidence: "You are, you have been, and you always will be a Master Assassin, Malik. And I will let none take that from you now."

[loyalrebel]

Malik's expression shifts to something somber as Altair speaks, a little furrow forming between his brows when the bracer and blade are strapped to his arm. There's a conflict of emotions in his chest at the sight of such a thing being strapped to his arm once again after so long without.

Pride, because for all the inabilities of his injury he still clawed his way back to the top of most anyone's skills. To be recognized for it in a tangible way for others outside of Masyaf to know and see.

There was the doubt too, whether this was something he'd actually earned or simply being given out of some sort of strange obligation on Altair's part now that they were devoted to one another romantically.

HE also knows that it isn't necessary for anyone that actually matters that he has one or not. He and they know his skills and his mastery of them, regardless of whether or not he wears the hidden blade.

"I... the only question I have is if you did this before?"

[eaglesonofnone]

"I did not," he answered quietly. "It was always there, in my thoughts. Something that needed to be done. But as we fought to rearrange what Rashid had put awry, as I found myself with sons, as you fought the more distant bureaus into order...

"As I went into Mongolia-- I should have done it before I left." The memory would never feel like anything but a knife to his gut.

"There was never the opportunity. Better said, it always seemed understood that you were a Master, no matter if they called you Rafiq or Dai instead. It seemed something that could be done tomorrow. Ever tomorrow. Now, at ninety-three, I have learned the value of today instead of tomorrow. The blade is yours - because of your skill, your strength, and your perseverance." But then his fingers traced the leather, where he had embroidered their patterns together over days of work. "This... This is because I love you."