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Description
Altair woke up, groaning, his whole body sore to no end.

He sat up, looking around in the dark. He was in the Jerusalem bureau. The moon and the stars shone down onto the room, painting the cushions with weird patterns of ivy and the ceiling's grating, the shadows almost dancing. It was silent, not even the sounds of writing to be heard from the adjacent room. For once he was glad that Malik slept instead of working on his maps.

"Damn…" he whispered to himself, holding his head and thinking.

Something had woken him up. Not a noise but…

A dream. That was it! He had dreamt of one of his targets again… But, god… he had never dreamt about any of them that way before… He couldn't quite stop the blush from creeping over his face and neck upon actually recalling most of the details…

He looked down, onto his lap.

Altair fought the urge to yell, getting up from his place quietly, hissing upon a more or less uncomfortable move. He struggled into his clothes, cursing all the while, chiding himself. He knew he should stay in the bureau, at least for the night… but he didn't even want to imagine the humiliation of Malik finding out about his dream…

The great Altair Ibn-La'Ahad actually acted like a goddamn novice, not only while scrambling up the wall.

He ignored his hard-on as he climbed up and out of the bureau, the graze of a cat which he normally showed suddenly vanished. Still he didn't make a single noise as he stepped up onto the roof. He left the bureau for the sake of fresh air, forgetting this damn dream as he jumped over the gaps between Jerusalem's buildings.

If this dream just hadn't felt this real! He could still hear the other's taunting voice as it grew huskier with every thrust into the assassin's body…

Could feel the body heating up on top of him, but still shivering as his orgasm approached…
He still remembered the feel of this chapped lips on his own scarred ones, kissing him so gently…
On the other hand there was pain, cuts all along his body burning as the other flicked his tongue over them, causing Altair to cry out as emotions overwhelmed him.

Altair shook his head furiously, both disgusted and annoyed. He jumped down from the roof, landing in a hidden garden, and walked over to a water fountain, dunking his head into freezing water. He needed to calm down.

But damn, he simply wanted - needed - to see him again... to feel him, hear him…
It was worse than any addiction he had heard about.

Only now did he look up from the floor, hands stroking through wet hair, water dripping down onto his robes, hood down against his neck. No one was out at this hour anyway. He looked at the building in front of him over, again and again. But there was no mistake.

His feet had brought Altair to his place of all the possibilities…

Swallowing, he let his gaze wander over the walls of the house. He noticed the open window, a rare sight in the city.

He had obviously waiting for Altair to come. And the assassin wouldn't make him wait any longer…

He simply didn't want to.

Altair wanted to forget those cursed dreams, replacing them with real memories.
He was sure that he would get what he wanted.

Smirking, he scaled the wall, stomach fluttering and heart pounding in anticipation.

He was looking forward to what the night would still bring, despite the still lingering stinging pain in his backside. He was already getting used to it, not limping as badly as he had been at first.
They had been that way since about a month now.

After Altair had allowed him to bed with the assassin for the first time, he had always came back, craving for more of that pain and pleasure, those fights which always led to something much more intense… Altair normally missed those feelings as soon as he had left the other's quarters in the morning to return to the bureau…

Altair stepped into the dark room, eyes fixed on the bed at the other side of the room.
Truth be told: His gaze only lingered on the naked body on top of the white sheets, not caring about anything else. He had already stopped caring about the Templar's armor and the weapons in the room some time ago. He ignored anything else in the room as he watched the man from afar.

His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted. He murmured something in his sleep, in a language Altair didn't understand. His body was sprawled over the bed comfortably, right hand resting on his stomach. One of his knees was propped up, the piece of white fabric covering his midsection almost falling off.

The assassin frowned, then smirked, upon recognizing the cloth.

It was some kind of undershirt he had worn the last time he had been here. After returning to the bureau the next morning, he had wondered what had happened to it.

Never would he have thought that his lover had it.

Altair stepped closer, licking his dry lips.

It wasn't often that he - or anyone else for that matter - saw the great Templar Robert de Sablé as vulnerable as right now.

Slowly the assassin inched closer, careful as to not make any sound that would wake Robert. At one point he had almost tried to shrug his robes off, not being able to stand the heat and restriction anymore, but stopped his fingers at the clasps of his belt. He would surely wake him up when stripping right now… and he could imagine Robert's reaction to waking up with a half-naked Altair in front of him…

Altair already stood at the end of the bed, thinking back to his dream. He shivered despite the warmth of the night and his robes.

He climbed onto the bed, praying in his mind for the bed to not creak because of the additional weight. It didn't. And Altair had reached his goal.

He was straddling Robert's waist without really touching him, upper body leant forward, weight resting on his elbows on both sides to Robert's head. There were mere centimeters between their faces, begging for the distance to be overcome in seconds. Altair could feel the Templar's hot breath on his lips.

His patience was vanishing at once, making him lean down and kiss the sleeping form fiercely. His left hand, freed of the hidden blade for once, trailed down the other's trained chest and abdomen, stroking him through the piece of cloth when reaching his midsection.

Altair was quite curious now. How long would it take until Robert woke up from his ministrations? Would he immediately notice that the touches were real, not only existing in his dreams? And… how would he react?

Altair stopped thinking as soon as lips moved against his, followed by a tongue asking for permission to explore, deepen the kiss. It was gladly grated by the assassin who clang onto Robert's shoulders, prying his eyes open not without a bit of hesitation.

His own hazel eyes were met by cold grey ones, darkened with lust. The Templar smirked, hands starting to yank at the assassin's robes at once, almost ripping them off in his haste.

Altair moaned as clothes were finally removed from his body. The two lovers only parted once as Robert pulled Atlair's hood over his head, tossing it away carelessly. Robert rolled them over, Altair now lying on his back, naked, wrists pinned down to the mattress on both sides.

He growled lowly as Robert moved away from him, still gripping his wrists tightly as he sat on Altair's hips. He grinned down at the assassin, watching the rare emotions in his almost glowing eyes. He could see that he wasn't very pleased with the stop of their activities, close to snarling and snapping at him.

Altair simply wanted more of those touches, struggling like crazy underneath the stronger man. He felt like a drunk who wasn't allowed to get alcohol. But he would not beg for the touches, never.

"So my little eagle came back to me sooner than expected…" the Templar teased, causing a low growl to escape Altair's throat. He simply smirked down at him. With surprisingly great power, despite just having woken up, Robert yanked both of the assassin's arms up, holding them down above his head with only his right hand. His left stroked downwards, stilling at Altair's waist.

"Hm…" the Templar mused, eyeing the marks he had left behind the last time, "You must still be quite sore, right, my little eagle?"

Altair bucked underneath him, trying to throw him off. He was soon reminded of the other's strength as nails dug into his skin, bruising.

"You are trying to struggle? You should have known from the beginning what would happen as soon as you came here…"

The assassin's hips bucked again, this time to get closer, as Robert's hand wandered yet lower.
"Stop… teasing…" Altair ground out, having apparently difficulties with talking. Robert laughed, hand once again flat on the other's stomach.

"Quiet eager, aren't we? Last time I still had to convince you of the fact that you wanted this… What changed?"

"Shut up… bastard…"

Altair hissed as punishment for his words hit him. Nails scratched over his stomach and hips, leaving red trails, his skin burning. For once he was glad to be without his weapons, because Robert surely would have taken one of his throwing blades otherwise. The scars of their first time were still visible, white lines on tanned skin, moving slightly as muscles rippled and tensed underneath, accompanied by all those of their following meetings.

"Don't get too cocky, little eagle…" Robert whispered, leaning down to kiss Altair briefly, not allowing to deepen the kiss, just teasing the assassin, "You'll get what you crave for soon enough..."

Altair hissed, fingers invading him, burning. Preparation was only brief, none of them wanting to wait any longer, looking forward to the pain and pleasure that was yet to come. Altair almost yelled as he felt the first thrust into his body, another mouth covering his swallowed the sound.

"Don't scream" Robert panted against his mouth, murmuring between the kisses and thrusts, "If the guards hear you, you're as good as dead… They don't care if I'm the one inside you…"

Altair shuddered, feeling oddly aware of the fact that it was his enemy on top of him, soon his target even. The man who killed one of his only friends and caused his other to lose an arm. A man he would have to kill in the end.

He was in the Templar's area, guards everywhere, just waiting for him to come and die with their arrows or swords pierced through his chest.

He couldn't care less as Robert once again started moving, each thrust slow, thorough, causing feelings so intense to curse through Altair's veins that they almost overwhelmed the assassin as he arched his back.

The surroundings, no, everything besides Robert was forgotten completely as he whispered into Altair's ear, hot breath tickling him, moves stilling.

"You know what's forcing you to return to me again and again? What's making you forget that I'm a Templar, that I could kill you any second if I just wished to?"

Altair groaned, then nodded shakily the best he could. God, he pretty much hated Robert at times like this. Always teasing him, making him think when he felt as if his brain was just fucked out of his head, for the lack of a nicer formulation. But still he nodded, knowing that otherwise the Templar would almost stop.

"A…ddic…tion…" he ground out, biting his lower lip. He didn't want to talk, he wanted Robert to fucking move.

He did.

And chuckled while he did so, voice sounding strained as he talked once again.

"Assassin through and through… not even knowing one of the most important emotions of us human. But… just think about it… It's not addiction that's making you act underneath me like you do right now…"

Altair knew that Robert was right.

No sane man would do what he did every few nights. No one would come to his enemy for a night of pleasure, of pain he loved, risking his life while doing so. Neither would anyone leave in the morning, before sun would rise, while the guards were replaced by others so no one would notice. If he were sane, he wouldn't return to Robert sooner or later, the whole cycle starting anew.

He was sure that only one emotion, hidden deep within, would cause him to commit acts of such foolishness.

But never would he admit it to himself without being sure...

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"Safety and peace, brother…" Malik greeted him as soon as he set foot in the main room and walked towards the desk. The Dai raised an eyebrow upon seeing Altair deep in his thoughts.

"Did something happen, Altair? You've been gone since midnight, haven't you? I heard you curse and leave…"

Altair swallowed heavily. Only good thing was that Malik hadn't noticed anything but his departure. He didn't want to explain his behavior to the other and was glad that Malik hadn't looked after him in the middle of the night.

"I… have a question…" he murmured, feeling slightly embarrassed for doing so without his usual confidence, "What is it called when you are… addicted to… someone?"

He bowed his head to hide the flush on his cheeks behind the hood.

His neck tingled as Malik stared at him, then chuckled amused, leaning against his desk.

"You remember Adha, I suppose… The love you felt towards her was only one possible kind, more like what a brother felt towards his younger sister, caring for her. And, as it seems, you just found out about another way to love someone… To have a growing desire to be close to them as often as possible… Otherwise you wouldn't have left the bureau about every second night without telling me where you are going, right?"

Malik smiled as he saw Altair blushing. Bull's eye apparently. He walked around his desk, approaching the other assassin and pulling him into an awkward embrace.

"I'm happy for you. It's like a new start, isn't it? Now, that you are another man…

And, will you introduce... her to me sometime soon?"

Altair's expression darkened visibly at that. He shook his head, feeling a bit sad formulating the words, he was about to say, in his mind.

"No… it… won't last…"

"If you say so… But don't forget to tell… him about your feelings…"

Altair tensed, staring at Malik, quite shocked.

"H-how?" he stuttered. How did he know about his preferences? He had never talked about them with anyone. And he wasn't the only one who had experimented as a novice, so no one should have noticed anything.

"Well…" Malik grinned, tapping at Altair's chest to make him flinch and hiss in pain, "No woman would like it as rough as you… And you don't appear to be one who can stand a woman's nagging for longer than a few hours… You simply didn't show any interest in women beside Adha… So I kinda figured that you were…"

Malik didn't finish the sentence for Altair's sake, the assassin coughing. But he couldn't keep himself from grinning. Altair smiled at his friend cheekily, feeling more than just a bit exposed.

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?"

Malik froze at once as he saw the emotions of the other freely on his face. He had last seen this kind of expression as they were still children, novices.

Whoever the man was, he had changed Altair – for the better.

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"You found out about your feelings, my little eagle?"

"I did…"

"And the result of your brooding?"

"…Nothing new to you…"

Robert laughed, a sound that wasn't anything but foreign to Altair.

"So…? Voice your thoughts…"

"I… I'll stick to calling it "addiction", despite it not being the whole truth…"

Robert raised an eyebrow at Altair, who simply ignored it, stepping closer. The hood hid his eyes, but his lips were pulled into a barely visible smile.

"Because… you can fight addiction – but you can't forget love towards another unless you feel hate… At least, that's what I've been taught…"

Altair pulled his hood back down, eyes glowing as he met Robert's gaze. The Templar was shocked, having never seen the assassin smile like this, having always thought of him as an emotionless, heartless creature, raised to kill.

"I really wouldn't want to hate you… habibi…"

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When Altair returned to Robert's place, two nights after the confession, it was normally meant to say "Goodbye".

He had been given his next target.

Robert de Sablé.

But when the assassin reached the house, he found it empty. No one inside, no weapon, no armor. Only memories of the nights he had spent here.

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Their next meeting was in front of Richard, on the battlefield. It was their last one at the same time.

The addiction was gone as soon as Robert fell to the ground in front of him, informing Altair about his master's betrayal. And as he kneeled down, closing his lover's eyes gently, feeling the skin growing cold underneath his hands, only one emotion was left.

Now he couldn't even convince himself of the fact that he had been lead by addiction.

Love was all he felt as he left the battlefield, leaving behind the dead body of Robert de Sablé.

Love was what made him shed silent tears as he turned away from Al Mualim's body, from the Apple, facing Malik.

"He's gone…"

Description
Altair woke up, groaning, his whole body sore to no end.

He sat up, looking around in the dark. He was in the Jerusalem bureau. The moon and the stars shone down onto the room, painting the cushions with weird patterns of ivy and the ceiling's grating, the shadows almost dancing. It was silent, not even the sounds of writing to be heard from the adjacent room. For once he was glad that Malik slept instead of working on his maps.

"Damn…" he whispered to himself, holding his head and thinking.

Something had woken him up. Not a noise but…

A dream. That was it! He had dreamt of one of his targets again… But, god… he had never dreamt about any of them that way before… He couldn't quite stop the blush from creeping over his face and neck upon actually recalling most of the details…

He looked down, onto his lap.

Altair fought the urge to yell, getting up from his place quietly, hissing upon a more or less uncomfortable move. He struggled into his clothes, cursing all the while, chiding himself. He knew he should stay in the bureau, at least for the night… but he didn't even want to imagine the humiliation of Malik finding out about his dream…

The great Altair Ibn-La'Ahad actually acted like a goddamn novice, not only while scrambling up the wall.

He ignored his hard-on as he climbed up and out of the bureau, the graze of a cat which he normally showed suddenly vanished. Still he didn't make a single noise as he stepped up onto the roof. He left the bureau for the sake of fresh air, forgetting this damn dream as he jumped over the gaps between Jerusalem's buildings.

If this dream just hadn't felt this real! He could still hear the other's taunting voice as it grew huskier with every thrust into the assassin's body…

Could feel the body heating up on top of him, but still shivering as his orgasm approached…
He still remembered the feel of this chapped lips on his own scarred ones, kissing him so gently…
On the other hand there was pain, cuts all along his body burning as the other flicked his tongue over them, causing Altair to cry out as emotions overwhelmed him.

Altair shook his head furiously, both disgusted and annoyed. He jumped down from the roof, landing in a hidden garden, and walked over to a water fountain, dunking his head into freezing water. He needed to calm down.

But damn, he simply wanted - needed - to see him again... to feel him, hear him…
It was worse than any addiction he had heard about.

Only now did he look up from the floor, hands stroking through wet hair, water dripping down onto his robes, hood down against his neck. No one was out at this hour anyway. He looked at the building in front of him over, again and again. But there was no mistake.

His feet had brought Altair to his place of all the possibilities…

Swallowing, he let his gaze wander over the walls of the house. He noticed the open window, a rare sight in the city.

He had obviously waiting for Altair to come. And the assassin wouldn't make him wait any longer…

He simply didn't want to.

Altair wanted to forget those cursed dreams, replacing them with real memories.
He was sure that he would get what he wanted.

Smirking, he scaled the wall, stomach fluttering and heart pounding in anticipation.

He was looking forward to what the night would still bring, despite the still lingering stinging pain in his backside. He was already getting used to it, not limping as badly as he had been at first.
They had been that way since about a month now.

After Altair had allowed him to bed with the assassin for the first time, he had always came back, craving for more of that pain and pleasure, those fights which always led to something much more intense… Altair normally missed those feelings as soon as he had left the other's quarters in the morning to return to the bureau…

Altair stepped into the dark room, eyes fixed on the bed at the other side of the room.
Truth be told: His gaze only lingered on the naked body on top of the white sheets, not caring about anything else. He had already stopped caring about the Templar's armor and the weapons in the room some time ago. He ignored anything else in the room as he watched the man from afar.

His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted. He murmured something in his sleep, in a language Altair didn't understand. His body was sprawled over the bed comfortably, right hand resting on his stomach. One of his knees was propped up, the piece of white fabric covering his midsection almost falling off.

The assassin frowned, then smirked, upon recognizing the cloth.

It was some kind of undershirt he had worn the last time he had been here. After returning to the bureau the next morning, he had wondered what had happened to it.

Never would he have thought that his lover had it.

Altair stepped closer, licking his dry lips.

It wasn't often that he - or anyone else for that matter - saw the great Templar Robert de Sablé as vulnerable as right now.

Slowly the assassin inched closer, careful as to not make any sound that would wake Robert. At one point he had almost tried to shrug his robes off, not being able to stand the heat and restriction anymore, but stopped his fingers at the clasps of his belt. He would surely wake him up when stripping right now… and he could imagine Robert's reaction to waking up with a half-naked Altair in front of him…

Altair already stood at the end of the bed, thinking back to his dream. He shivered despite the warmth of the night and his robes.

He climbed onto the bed, praying in his mind for the bed to not creak because of the additional weight. It didn't. And Altair had reached his goal.

He was straddling Robert's waist without really touching him, upper body leant forward, weight resting on his elbows on both sides to Robert's head. There were mere centimeters between their faces, begging for the distance to be overcome in seconds. Altair could feel the Templar's hot breath on his lips.

His patience was vanishing at once, making him lean down and kiss the sleeping form fiercely. His left hand, freed of the hidden blade for once, trailed down the other's trained chest and abdomen, stroking him through the piece of cloth when reaching his midsection.

Altair was quite curious now. How long would it take until Robert woke up from his ministrations? Would he immediately notice that the touches were real, not only existing in his dreams? And… how would he react?

Altair stopped thinking as soon as lips moved against his, followed by a tongue asking for permission to explore, deepen the kiss. It was gladly grated by the assassin who clang onto Robert's shoulders, prying his eyes open not without a bit of hesitation.

His own hazel eyes were met by cold grey ones, darkened with lust. The Templar smirked, hands starting to yank at the assassin's robes at once, almost ripping them off in his haste.

Altair moaned as clothes were finally removed from his body. The two lovers only parted once as Robert pulled Atlair's hood over his head, tossing it away carelessly. Robert rolled them over, Altair now lying on his back, naked, wrists pinned down to the mattress on both sides.

He growled lowly as Robert moved away from him, still gripping his wrists tightly as he sat on Altair's hips. He grinned down at the assassin, watching the rare emotions in his almost glowing eyes. He could see that he wasn't very pleased with the stop of their activities, close to snarling and snapping at him.

Altair simply wanted more of those touches, struggling like crazy underneath the stronger man. He felt like a drunk who wasn't allowed to get alcohol. But he would not beg for the touches, never.

"So my little eagle came back to me sooner than expected…" the Templar teased, causing a low growl to escape Altair's throat. He simply smirked down at him. With surprisingly great power, despite just having woken up, Robert yanked both of the assassin's arms up, holding them down above his head with only his right hand. His left stroked downwards, stilling at Altair's waist.

"Hm…" the Templar mused, eyeing the marks he had left behind the last time, "You must still be quite sore, right, my little eagle?"

Altair bucked underneath him, trying to throw him off. He was soon reminded of the other's strength as nails dug into his skin, bruising.

"You are trying to struggle? You should have known from the beginning what would happen as soon as you came here…"

The assassin's hips bucked again, this time to get closer, as Robert's hand wandered yet lower.
"Stop… teasing…" Altair ground out, having apparently difficulties with talking. Robert laughed, hand once again flat on the other's stomach.

"Quiet eager, aren't we? Last time I still had to convince you of the fact that you wanted this… What changed?"

"Shut up… bastard…"

Altair hissed as punishment for his words hit him. Nails scratched over his stomach and hips, leaving red trails, his skin burning. For once he was glad to be without his weapons, because Robert surely would have taken one of his throwing blades otherwise. The scars of their first time were still visible, white lines on tanned skin, moving slightly as muscles rippled and tensed underneath, accompanied by all those of their following meetings.

"Don't get too cocky, little eagle…" Robert whispered, leaning down to kiss Altair briefly, not allowing to deepen the kiss, just teasing the assassin, "You'll get what you crave for soon enough..."

Altair hissed, fingers invading him, burning. Preparation was only brief, none of them wanting to wait any longer, looking forward to the pain and pleasure that was yet to come. Altair almost yelled as he felt the first thrust into his body, another mouth covering his swallowed the sound.

"Don't scream" Robert panted against his mouth, murmuring between the kisses and thrusts, "If the guards hear you, you're as good as dead… They don't care if I'm the one inside you…"

Altair shuddered, feeling oddly aware of the fact that it was his enemy on top of him, soon his target even. The man who killed one of his only friends and caused his other to lose an arm. A man he would have to kill in the end.

He was in the Templar's area, guards everywhere, just waiting for him to come and die with their arrows or swords pierced through his chest.

He couldn't care less as Robert once again started moving, each thrust slow, thorough, causing feelings so intense to curse through Altair's veins that they almost overwhelmed the assassin as he arched his back.

The surroundings, no, everything besides Robert was forgotten completely as he whispered into Altair's ear, hot breath tickling him, moves stilling.

"You know what's forcing you to return to me again and again? What's making you forget that I'm a Templar, that I could kill you any second if I just wished to?"

Altair groaned, then nodded shakily the best he could. God, he pretty much hated Robert at times like this. Always teasing him, making him think when he felt as if his brain was just fucked out of his head, for the lack of a nicer formulation. But still he nodded, knowing that otherwise the Templar would almost stop.

"A…ddic…tion…" he ground out, biting his lower lip. He didn't want to talk, he wanted Robert to fucking move.

He did.

And chuckled while he did so, voice sounding strained as he talked once again.

"Assassin through and through… not even knowing one of the most important emotions of us human. But… just think about it… It's not addiction that's making you act underneath me like you do right now…"

Altair knew that Robert was right.

No sane man would do what he did every few nights. No one would come to his enemy for a night of pleasure, of pain he loved, risking his life while doing so. Neither would anyone leave in the morning, before sun would rise, while the guards were replaced by others so no one would notice. If he were sane, he wouldn't return to Robert sooner or later, the whole cycle starting anew.

He was sure that only one emotion, hidden deep within, would cause him to commit acts of such foolishness.

But never would he admit it to himself without being sure...

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"Safety and peace, brother…" Malik greeted him as soon as he set foot in the main room and walked towards the desk. The Dai raised an eyebrow upon seeing Altair deep in his thoughts.

"Did something happen, Altair? You've been gone since midnight, haven't you? I heard you curse and leave…"

Altair swallowed heavily. Only good thing was that Malik hadn't noticed anything but his departure. He didn't want to explain his behavior to the other and was glad that Malik hadn't looked after him in the middle of the night.

"I… have a question…" he murmured, feeling slightly embarrassed for doing so without his usual confidence, "What is it called when you are… addicted to… someone?"

He bowed his head to hide the flush on his cheeks behind the hood.

His neck tingled as Malik stared at him, then chuckled amused, leaning against his desk.

"You remember Adha, I suppose… The love you felt towards her was only one possible kind, more like what a brother felt towards his younger sister, caring for her. And, as it seems, you just found out about another way to love someone… To have a growing desire to be close to them as often as possible… Otherwise you wouldn't have left the bureau about every second night without telling me where you are going, right?"

Malik smiled as he saw Altair blushing. Bull's eye apparently. He walked around his desk, approaching the other assassin and pulling him into an awkward embrace.

"I'm happy for you. It's like a new start, isn't it? Now, that you are another man…

And, will you introduce... her to me sometime soon?"

Altair's expression darkened visibly at that. He shook his head, feeling a bit sad formulating the words, he was about to say, in his mind.

"No… it… won't last…"

"If you say so… But don't forget to tell… him about your feelings…"

Altair tensed, staring at Malik, quite shocked.

"H-how?" he stuttered. How did he know about his preferences? He had never talked about them with anyone. And he wasn't the only one who had experimented as a novice, so no one should have noticed anything.

"Well…" Malik grinned, tapping at Altair's chest to make him flinch and hiss in pain, "No woman would like it as rough as you… And you don't appear to be one who can stand a woman's nagging for longer than a few hours… You simply didn't show any interest in women beside Adha… So I kinda figured that you were…"

Malik didn't finish the sentence for Altair's sake, the assassin coughing. But he couldn't keep himself from grinning. Altair smiled at his friend cheekily, feeling more than just a bit exposed.

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?"

Malik froze at once as he saw the emotions of the other freely on his face. He had last seen this kind of expression as they were still children, novices.

Whoever the man was, he had changed Altair – for the better.

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"You found out about your feelings, my little eagle?"

"I did…"

"And the result of your brooding?"

"…Nothing new to you…"

Robert laughed, a sound that wasn't anything but foreign to Altair.

"So…? Voice your thoughts…"

"I… I'll stick to calling it "addiction", despite it not being the whole truth…"

Robert raised an eyebrow at Altair, who simply ignored it, stepping closer. The hood hid his eyes, but his lips were pulled into a barely visible smile.

"Because… you can fight addiction – but you can't forget love towards another unless you feel hate… At least, that's what I've been taught…"

Altair pulled his hood back down, eyes glowing as he met Robert's gaze. The Templar was shocked, having never seen the assassin smile like this, having always thought of him as an emotionless, heartless creature, raised to kill.

"I really wouldn't want to hate you… habibi…"

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When Altair returned to Robert's place, two nights after the confession, it was normally meant to say "Goodbye".

He had been given his next target.

Robert de Sablé.

But when the assassin reached the house, he found it empty. No one inside, no weapon, no armor. Only memories of the nights he had spent here.

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Their next meeting was in front of Richard, on the battlefield. It was their last one at the same time.

The addiction was gone as soon as Robert fell to the ground in front of him, informing Altair about his master's betrayal. And as he kneeled down, closing his lover's eyes gently, feeling the skin growing cold underneath his hands, only one emotion was left.

Now he couldn't even convince himself of the fact that he had been lead by addiction.

Love was all he felt as he left the battlefield, leaving behind the dead body of Robert de Sablé.

Love was what made him shed silent tears as he turned away from Al Mualim's body, from the Apple, facing Malik.

"He's gone…"