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Iris	By : RotSeele Category: +A through F > Assassin's Creed Views: 2845 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Iris
- 2-Hibiscus
- 1
- 2
Then

“No. Forget it. I am not doing this.”
Malik glanced up at Altair from over the parchment in his hand. “Since when do you have a choice, novice?”
Altair’s golden eyes narrowed at Malik the moment the word left the Dai’s lips. Malik simply let a lazy smirk spread over his face. It had only been a year since Altair had defeated their master and systematically begun an overhaul of their entire brotherhood, and Altair still didn’t feel comfortable being the Master the younger assassins and the survivors of the purge referred to, or looked to, for answers.
“It’s easy from your standpoint, you realize.” Malik continued. “A simply warning to his Templar masters.”
“This requires cross-dressing, Malik.”
Malik’s smile grew a little wider. “You have the hips for it. And face it, Altair, for a man, you’re rather slim.”
Those golden eyes burned for a moment, long enough to make Malik wonder about his sanity in pushing his friend so. Altair finally averted his gaze, but Malik couldn’t erase the memory of those gold eyes darkening as they looked away from his face. “Fine,” Altair said at last. “By the way, I hate you.”
Malik’s smirk finally had bite to it. “I hate you too, novice.”
Altair surged up out of his chair and in a swirl of white fabric was gone. Malik remained where he was, still staring at Altair’s retreating back though it was no longer visible. His hand clenched around the parchment, but his body remained frozen.

Now

Malik knelt beside Hakim as the younger assassin peered around the corner of the palace roof. Across the way, Hakim’s partner, Ali, also peered out from his hiding place, and peered down into the darkened bowels of the Templar’s current lair. Ali made a series of short gestures before the young apprentice slipped like a shadow over the edge of the roof and plummeted silently into the darkness. Hakim leaned back and looked at Malik.
“He says Master Altair is being kept on the first floor, under heavy guard.” Hakim whispered.
Malik eyed the young assassin. “He saw all that from his angle?”
Hakim smiled. “He saw more than that, but it’s not meant for polite company.”
Malik held in his snarl. “We’re here to rescue Altair, not spy on whatever else might be happening!”
Hakim’s smile quickly left his face. “Many apologies, Dai.” He whispered, subdued.
Malik closed his eyes for a brief moment. His missing arm flared in remembered pain as he shifted his shoulder. When he reopened his eyes, he noted Hakim’s dark eyes were focused down below, where Ali no doubt waited. Hakim shifted. A small light flared below. “Ali is signaling, Dai.” Hakim whispered.
“Go.” Malik ordered. Hakim nodded and rolled over the edge of the roof, sliding down the rope he’d tossed down before him. Malik held a breath, then saw another spark. This time, the Assassin Malik had hidden beneath the Dai followed his two young charges down into the dark palace, the rope coiled around his leg and arm for a fast slide.
He hit the tiled floor with barely a whisper of sound. Hakim and Ali crouched nearby. Shorter than Hakim, Ali was also slighter, making him far quicker than his friend. Hakim was built a little heavier, meant more for hand-to-hand combat than stealth. But Altair hadn’t said a word when they were first tested to become novices, so Malik had let them progress. Now, he was glad to have kept the pair of assassins – and he was glad they had become partners, complimenting each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

Then

Malik leaned against the railing beside Altair, his gaze half on his friend, and half on the two youngsters in the practice ring below. “The one is built like an ox, and the other like a crane,” he said. “And you’re letting them test to become novices?”
Altair’s head tilted toward him. “Many things change. Our fight with the Templars is changing – our enemy is changing – and so must we.”
“Bad enough you’re letting women into our brotherhood now.”
Altair’s eyes met Malik’s and Malik just managed to stop himself from flinching. “They have every right to fight for their lives, too.” Altair said softly. “If we let such things go ignored, we will fail in our task.”
Malik jerked his thumb at the boys in the ring. “And so we send them to die, along with them?”
“We were younger than they when we became novices.”
“We also had a strict teacher.”
“And look what became of us.” Altair responded. “Malik, you’ve looked into the Apple right alongside me. You’ve seen what I have. If we do not let them be masters of their own fates, are we any better than our enemies?”
“I still say it’s a fool’s idea,” Malik grumped.
Altair smirked. “At least give them a chance, Malik. They may surprise you.”

Now

Ali held a small knife in his hand, the blade against his palm. Malik nodded at the boy and Ali gave him a quick salute before he led the trio down the hall. Altair had been right – these two had certainly surprised him. Now that he saw Ali and Hakim working together, he was reminded of his youth, with Kadar and Altair before Altair’s ego had become over-inflated – before Kadar was just a memory.
Malik was ripped from his musing when Ali stopped suddenly. Hakim took a single step back and to the left, placing his body between Malik and whatever was coming. Malik said nothing and simply watched. Malik said nothing and simply watched. He heard the soft hiss of a blade being unsheathed. Ali stepped forward quickly and low, his knife barely flashing in the minute torchlight as he came up under the guard’s reach and rammed his knife into his ribs. Hakim was already there, hand over the guard’s mouth to muffle his cry.
Ali turned to Malik. “Master Altair is down this hall, left, down that hall, second right. We shall keep watch and wait.”
Malik nodded slowly. “Should we escape alive, remind me to promote you.”
If Ali grinned, Malik didn’t see. He was already moving down the hall, his own blade naked in his hand. The halls were dim and dark – here and there Malik saw a bloodstain. The guards were probably occupied with Ali and Hakim, and that suited Malik fine. He increased his pace, following Ali’s directions until at last he came to the second right and was faced with a locked door. It had taken Malik months to regain his lost skills and he almost laughed at the simplicity of this lock. He had the door easing open in mere minutes and he stepped within. What he saw shocked him.
“Altair…”

Then

Malik almost didn’t recognize Altair when he saw him just hours before the master Assassin was to undertake his assignment. When he did recognize his friend, Malik’s jaw almost hit the floor. As he approached Altair, he said, “What in the name of Allah happened to you?”
Altair visibly flinched. Malik grinned at the small victory. They were alone in the great hall of Masyaf, which gave Malik the pleasure of time, committing Altair’s countenance to memory. The younger assassin wore a simply shift over what looked like a woman’s dress. Long dark hair, a wig, Malik realized, spilled over Altair’s shoulders and framed his face, and that was covered by a veil, leaving only his eyes visible. The sleeves of the dress covered his hands, but even Malik could see that Altair’s wrists were naked.
“You’re not going unarmed, are you?” Malik asked lowly.
“Of course,” Altair replied with a hint of sarcasticness. “I always go unarmed to kill a target.”
“This is the first time you’ve dressed up.”
“it doesn’t mean I’m a novice.”
Malik’s lips twitched at the title. “How long will it take you?”
Altair glanced up at the Dai and studied him for a moment. “No longer than a few days, perhaps. This isn’t like infiltrating the Hospitalier stronghold or slipping unnoticed into a party. I’m not going alone, either.”
Malik’s brow rose. “The great Altair, admitting he needs help?”
Altair’s golden eyes narrowed but he said nothing. He slowly approached Malik and raised his left hand, the one with the missing ring finger. Malik felt the whisper of digits against his throat and then a light brush of lips against his pulse. Malik felt heat rush to his groin – he shoved Altair back and held him at arm’s length. Altair simply watched him, then said, “You will be the first I ask for help.”
Before Malik could reply, Altair was gone. The Dai cursed the younger man thrice over, then rubbed his hand over his pulse where he could still feel the lingering touch of Altair’s lips. And despite himself, Malik found himself wishing that lingering touch was far more substantial.

Now

Altair hung against the far wall, his arms jerked painfully above his head and chained together. His ankles were bound by leather and his feet just barely brushed the ground. His lead lolled against his chest, which was bare and a patchwork of bruises and shallow cuts. A ring of purple surrounded his neck and the only reason Malik knew Altair wasn’t dead was due to the subtle rise and fall of his chest. The dress that had been Altair’s disguise was pooled around his hips. Malik slowly drew closer. Other than the obvious injuries, Malik didn’t see anything else wrong with his friend, but looks could be deceiving.
“Altair.” Malik whispered harshly.
The younger assassin cracked open a golden eye to peer at Malik. “Fool.” Altair croaked.
“Shut up and accept your rescue gratefully.” Malik said as he stepped closer to Altair. “What happened?”
Altair’s eye closed as Malik began to free him from his chains. “Betrayal.”
Malik stiffened. “The boys?”
Altair slowly shook his head. “Dead now. Killed him instead of the target.” He slumped into Malik’s arm as he came free of the wall. He clutched to Malik only for a moment, then struggled to stand under his own strength.
“You’ll tell me later.” Malik saw a flash of recognition in golden eyes at the order, but Altair said nothing. At the moment, he didn’t outrank the Dai. “Hakim and Ali are holding our escape route.”
Altair nodded and stumbled after Malik. Each step Altair took seemed to be agony, but Malik kept the pace up. He led Altair back down the hall toward where he’d left the younger two assassins.
Ali slipped out of the darkness and immediately flanked Altair. His eyes assessed; he said nothing. Malik was grateful, as he didn’t want to kill such a promising assassin. The three hurried to the rope and Malik saw Hakim already waiting above, ready to pull them up one by one. He looked at Altair. “You’re first.”
Altair gave him a long look but nodded. Malik pretended not to see the wince as Altair wrapped the rope around his arm and waist. Slowly, Altair started going up, leaving Malik alone with Ali. The young assassin twisted around suddenly; Malik saw torchlight flickering into existence and then faint shouting. He cursed and looked at Ali.
“Can you delay them?” Malik asked.
The boy’s hooded head cocked to the side. “Do you want a body count?”
“Just one,” Malik said. He told Ali exactly what – and who – he wanted dead. Ali saluted, then disappeared. The rope fell before Malik’s face and he grabbed it. Just as his feet cleared the second level, the room below burst into activity. Malik saw Ali moving like a flash of lightning, hamstringing soldiers as he fought to get to his target. Then Malik was hauled over the edge of the roof and he caught Hakim’s wrist before the larger assassin could go help his friend. “Your task is to see Altair makes it back to Masyaf.”
“But–!”
“Do as you’re told.” Malik snapped coldly. Hakim glowered at the Dai but moved to Altair, hauling his master up and over his shoulder like the elder man was a sack of potatoes. Malik followed closely until he was sure both Altair and Hakim were out of the way before he doubled back toward the Bureau. He could hear the bells tolling – he hoped it meant Ali had succeeded. The Rafiq of the Bureau greeted Malik at the roof top entrance and stepped back to allow Malik entry.
“Shall I seal it?” the Rafiq asked.
Malik hesitated. “Seal it.” He said at last.
He watched the other man pick up the pole and hook it into the grate’s mesh wiring. The bells continued to toll. The Rafiq closed the gate but at Malik’s order, he didn’t lock it. A tense moment later, there was the fluttering of feet and Malik saw a flash of white and red. Ali quickly made a circuit of the building before he slipped into the Bureau. Only then did the Rafiq lock the ceiling entrance. Malik looked at the young assassin and noted he sported a small wound over his right eye and the left sleeve of his otherwise white coat was stained red. Ali rose slowly and straightened, not letting his wounds bother him. He lifted his right hand – Malik couldn’t help the smile.
“Looks like you’ve passed a trial, novice.” Malik said softly.
Ali said nothing though he bowed to Malik. Ali dropped the head of his target to the ground then, wiped his fingers on his pants, and followed the Rafiq of the Bureau for medical attention.
Their returned to Masyaf was quiet and uneventful. As Malik and Ali rode into the assassin’s citadel, and up to the main keep, Malik became aware of someone watching them. Ali dismounted suddenly; Hakim appeared from the shadows of the buildings and somehow managed not to run to meet his friend. Malik was far more sedate when he dismounted; Altair slowly appeared to meet him.
“You look better.” Malik said softly.
Altair’s golden eyes still had hints of pain in them when he looked at Malik. “I’m mending.” He replied.
“I’ll take a look.”
Altair gave him an assessing stare at the tone of his words but said nothing to Malik. He simply nodded and led the way inside the stronghold to his chambers. Malik had a novice bring bandages and salve before he finally ordered for them not to be disturbed unless it was a dire emergency. Malik watched Altair settle on the mound of blankets and pillows that served as his bed, and begin removing his outer clothing. Malik sat beside him.
“What happened?” the Dai asked at last, after looking over yellowing and fading bruises, scrapes, cuts, and unwrapping old bandages.
Altair’s left hand twitched. Malik busied himself with checking the bruising on Altair’s chest, earning a sharp inhale as he prodded healing ribs.
“The disguise worked,” Altair said at last, “to a point.” His gold eyes glozed as Malik soaked a bandage in hot water and began to wash away dried blood on the cuts and other wounds that had been reopened by Altair’s movement. Malik said nothing, merely prodding a wound now and then to make Altair continue.
“I managed to get close. It should’ve been so simple. I should’ve realized my mistake sooner.” Altair slowly shook his head. “I killed the wrong man, but the one I killed was no less a target.”
“He switched places,” Malik reasoned as he opened the jar of salve.
Altair nodded. “He wanted to lure us out. Ali and Hakim were able to escape only because I stayed behind.”
“He wanted the boys.”
“Easier to break. He tried with me, but in the end, he planned to use me as bait.” Altair finally looked at Malik. “Somehow, he’d heard of the one-armed assassin. He planned to use me to catch you.”
Malik snorted. “Whatever he heard must’ve been far from the truth.”
“He let Ali and Hakim get away. He hoped you would come, that he’d have time to prepare.”
“He sorely underestimated us.”
Altair caught Malik’s wrist. Malik deftly freed his wrist and in one swift movement forced Altair onto his back and settled between the younger assassin’s legs. Malik stared into the amber eyes of his counterpart, then crushed their mouths together.
Fire sparked down Malik’s spine at the taste of Altair’s lips. He felt Altair’s arms come up and wrap around his shoulders. Malik drove his hips down into Altair’s and felt the man’s own hips lift in response. After a moment, Malik pulled back and stared down at Altair. “Why do you do these things to me?” Malik questioned.
Altair didn’t smile. His chest rose and fell in a silent sigh. “Because I love you.” Altair whispered so lowly Malik almost couldn’t hear.
For once, Malik al Sayf was speechless. Altair’s gold eyes closed. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.”
Malik snorted. “Insufferable, selfish novice!” he growled, then bit Altair’s pulse, all but growling a reply against skin.
Altair arched against him and their hips brushed together in the most delicious way. Altair’s hands slid beneath Malik’s coat, sliding the material off his shoulders. The coat found a new home on the stone floor before Malik’s tunic followed it, leaving him bare to the waist. Malik’s mouth moved from Altair’s neck to his chest, lips and hot breath ghosting across tanned skin until he reached his first prize. Malik’s tongue and teeth teased the captive nipple until it was a hardened nub. Altair’s fingers tangled in Malik’s short, dark hair and pulled. Malik looked up at his companion and all but chuckled at the way Altair’s head was thrown back, his mouth slightly open as he panted. Putting most of his weight on his legs and knees, Malik ran his hand over the bulge in Altair’s pants.
Altair’s breath left him in a rushing hiss. “Malik.”
His name was a command. Malik shivered. “Not yet, novice.”
“Don’t call me that!” Altair hissed.
“I can call you whatever I damn well want to.” Malik said as he ran his fingers over Altair’s clothed cock once more. “And you’ll let me.”
Altair let out a few brief curses and moved to sit up, to try and take matters into his own hands. Malik quickly caught Altair’s leading wrist and turned it sharply. To avoid injury, Altair turned his body with the movement, just as Malik expected he would. Altair realized his mistake at the last second and tried to correct himself, but it was too late. Malik at him on his stomach with his left arm crossed behind his back.
Malik leaned against Altair’s ass, letting him feel the Dai’s own erection. “I said, not yet.”
Altair’s reply was muffled, but Malik figured it threatened his health in some way. Malik leaned forward and bit the juncture of Altair’s shoulder and neck, earning a soft curse and tense muscles. Slowly, Malik released Altair’s arm, but the master Assassin didn’t retaliate. Malik slid his hand along Altair’s spine; slowly, Altair rose onto his knees, making himself vulnerable to Malik – a sign of trust.
Malik hooked his fingers in the waistband of Altair’s pants and watched Altair’s right arm work as he fumbled with the laces. When the material was loose enough, Malik slid Altair’s pants off and down, revealing brown flesh. Malik ran his fingers over the soft globs of Altair’s ass, then ordered brusquely, “Roll over.”
Altair obeyed after a few moments. Malik reached for the jar of salve and set it between Altair’s legs. He nudged those apart and stared at his companion – his lover. Altair’s face was flushed, his gold eyes smoldering. Both knew the risks, both knew what they were about to do – there was no going back. Altair gave a sharp nod. “Do it.”
Malik’s breath hitched slightly. “If our enemies knew, Altair…”
“I’m sure they already do.” Altair replied softly. “The brotherhood is devoted to each other, keeping each other safe from our enemies.” He paused and inhaled slowly. “But I am devoted to you, to keeping you safe, not just the brotherhood.”
Malik snorted. “Leave it to you, Altair, to say the most complicated ‘I love you’.”
Gold eyes narrowed. Altair sat up and wrapped his arms around Malik’s shoulders. His lips brushed Malik’s as he whispered, “I love you, Malik al Sayf.”
Malik’s salve coated fingers pushed inside that tight pucker of flesh and deep into Altair’s body as Malik replied, “You’re an idiot, Altair Ibn la Ahad. But then, you wouldn’t be you.”
Altair bit Malik’s earlobe and growled as Malik’s wrist snapped forward and drove his fingers deeper inside that hot passage. Malik hissed as Altair’s nails dug into his skin, leaving red crescents and welts, but he still drove his fingers harder and deeper, still worked to open that tight passage for himself. Altair’s hands slid between their sweat-slicked chests and to Malik’s crotch, fingers nimbly unlacing and opening the garment. Malik moaned quietly as Altair’s hot palm covered the head of his cock and stroked downward, working the shaft before sliding back up to tease the cap. Malik finally shoved Altair back and pulled the other man by the thigh closer to him. “Hold yourself open.” Malik ordered, his voice full of emotion and hot desire.
Altair blinked at him for a moment. Then, with a shiver, complied. His hands slid to his thighs and he spread his own ass open, though even Malik could tell Altair’s desire was warring with his training. He was vulnerable to attack; his arms and legs were ensnared; could he react fast enough to defend himself? Malik didn’t give Altair a chance to second-guess – he coated his cock in salve and pressed the head against Altair’s hole. Just before Altair tensed enough to ruin the moment, Malik thrust forward and sank deep into his lover. He held himself still for a long moment, eyes focused on their joined bodies.
Altair’s breath caught. Malik braced himself and Altair’s fingers dug into the blankets beneath him as Malik began to move. His cock slid out only to slide back in, slamming into the deepest part of Altair. The younger assassin panted and gasped, but years of training kept him from yelling or making any noise louder than a gasp or a moan. Malik was panting harshly by the time Altair began to tighten. Altair arched against Malik at last and gasped out a curse as he came, his inner muscles clamping down tight around the Dai’s cock as his own spasmed, sending little lines of white streaming down his shaft and onto his abdomen. Malik closed his eyes tight as he came and heard Altair inhale as he felt his bowels fill with Malik’s seed.
Somehow, Malik kept himself from collapsing onto Altair. He slowly pulled out and grabbed a sheet to clean himself off before tossing it to Altair. Altair gingerly sat up and winced as he twitched his shoulder.
Malik sighed. He rose, kicked off his pants, and fetched a needle and thread. He sat behind Altair when he returned. “You’re never going to heal.” Malik said around the needle as he expertly threaded it.
“I will.” Altair replied. “Especially if you’re the one healing me.”
Malik rolled his eyes at the smile in Altair’s tone. “Hold still, novice. Or I’ll sew your lips shut.”
Altair snorted, but he did remain very still as that needle pierced his skin.
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Iris