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Malik had never been that close to being caught by the guards before. And inwardly he cursed Altair in every language he had been taught as a child. The goddamn novice hadn't shown up even after the ringing of the bells of the city had died down completely, the guards thinking that the assassin had left the city already. They had grown less alerted by now, not walking around with their swords in their hands.

Despite all of that, Malik was still mad at Altair. Because of the Eagle, he had left the bureau to look after him, walking around half of Jerusalem.

He finally found him in a corner, acting as if he was a sleeping beggar, the guards ignoring even the blood stains on his robes as long as he didn't move. They most likely guessed he was already dead. If they knew how wrong they were, they hadn't pointed at him, laughing at how stupid someone was to fall asleep and die out there on the streets.

When Altair had noticed Malik's shadow looming over him, he looked up, rising slowly, his eyes once again getting used to the bright sunlight. He was limping as he inched closer.

Malik hadn't seen the blood on his pants before as the stains had been hidden underneath his robes and the shadows.

"We… must hide… The guards are coming…" Altair whispered into Malik's ear, seeking support in the other's body. He leaning against the Dai heavily. Malik sighed and slipped his arm around Altair, pulling him still closer a little bit, so he could grab at the front of his broad belt, holding him up.

He felt the Eagle's body's heat against him, lack of the black rafiq's coat allowing him much more contact.

"Where, brother?" he asked, not used to hiding. Normally he wouldn't have to, with everyone knowing him as a wise man, missing an arm and a family, working day and night. They would talk to him, entertain him, when he went outside to buy ink and other necessary things for the bureau, to heal the assassins.

But unlike all that times, no one would recognize him now, with his hood pulled into his face, sleeve not pinned up but hanging empty against his side. He looked just like Altair, except for the missing weapons on his belt.

"Scholars… over there…" Altair replied, nodding towards a group of white-hooded men. He was tired, Malik noticed. He'd have to bring him to the bureau and look at his injuries as soon as possible.

The two assassins approached the group, the eldest of them already had spotted them before and slowed the group down to let their brothers catch up to them.

"Won't the guards grow suspicious at you? A scholar who doesn't know a single prayer?" Malik teased as they entered the group's midst, Altair bowing his head just like he was used to when blending in. The Dai could see a small smirk on the other's scarred lips, mostly hidden by the hood. Malik raised an eyebrow, watching Altair closely as he adapted the others' moves, blending in despite Malik still supporting him.

He took a deep breath.

Just as the scholars spoke the first words of their prayers, Altair's voice joined those of the group, words flowing from his lips smoothly, being learned by heart and spoken as if he truly believed in them. If Malik hadn't known the truth, he had supposed Altair was a real believer.

Malik still held him close, most of the weight on him as they got closer to the bureau, slipping from the group unnoticed by the guards. The entered the back alley of the bureau were both the ladder to the roof and the secret door were located.

Only now, standing in the safety of the shadows, did the rafiq ask Altair what he had wanted to know the whole time.

"How do you know the prayers? You don't blend in enough to remember them…"

But before Malik could continue his musing, he was already pressed against the cool stone wall, Altair standing so unbelievable close to him that the Dai had difficulties to even breathe properly. He could smell the other's scent, mixed with the coppery smell of blood.

The Eagle smiled at him, taking the last of his breath away.

"I might be a man of sins, brother… But I still crave for safety provided by a god and his followers, just like everyone else… And speaking a prayer I've learned as a boy and which reminds me of my mother is a little prize I'm glad to pay…"

And Altair truly was a man of many sins.

This, Malik knew as soon as lips were on his, kissing him tenderly even as a god might watch and despise them for their forbidden feelings.

They would pray for slipping from the Death's grasp over and over again, but believe in the creed when it came to their way of living, their feelings.

Nothing is true, everything is permitted.

Description
Malik had never been that close to being caught by the guards before. And inwardly he cursed Altair in every language he had been taught as a child. The goddamn novice hadn't shown up even after the ringing of the bells of the city had died down completely, the guards thinking that the assassin had left the city already. They had grown less alerted by now, not walking around with their swords in their hands.

Despite all of that, Malik was still mad at Altair. Because of the Eagle, he had left the bureau to look after him, walking around half of Jerusalem.

He finally found him in a corner, acting as if he was a sleeping beggar, the guards ignoring even the blood stains on his robes as long as he didn't move. They most likely guessed he was already dead. If they knew how wrong they were, they hadn't pointed at him, laughing at how stupid someone was to fall asleep and die out there on the streets.

When Altair had noticed Malik's shadow looming over him, he looked up, rising slowly, his eyes once again getting used to the bright sunlight. He was limping as he inched closer.

Malik hadn't seen the blood on his pants before as the stains had been hidden underneath his robes and the shadows.

"We… must hide… The guards are coming…" Altair whispered into Malik's ear, seeking support in the other's body. He leaning against the Dai heavily. Malik sighed and slipped his arm around Altair, pulling him still closer a little bit, so he could grab at the front of his broad belt, holding him up.

He felt the Eagle's body's heat against him, lack of the black rafiq's coat allowing him much more contact.

"Where, brother?" he asked, not used to hiding. Normally he wouldn't have to, with everyone knowing him as a wise man, missing an arm and a family, working day and night. They would talk to him, entertain him, when he went outside to buy ink and other necessary things for the bureau, to heal the assassins.

But unlike all that times, no one would recognize him now, with his hood pulled into his face, sleeve not pinned up but hanging empty against his side. He looked just like Altair, except for the missing weapons on his belt.

"Scholars… over there…" Altair replied, nodding towards a group of white-hooded men. He was tired, Malik noticed. He'd have to bring him to the bureau and look at his injuries as soon as possible.

The two assassins approached the group, the eldest of them already had spotted them before and slowed the group down to let their brothers catch up to them.

"Won't the guards grow suspicious at you? A scholar who doesn't know a single prayer?" Malik teased as they entered the group's midst, Altair bowing his head just like he was used to when blending in. The Dai could see a small smirk on the other's scarred lips, mostly hidden by the hood. Malik raised an eyebrow, watching Altair closely as he adapted the others' moves, blending in despite Malik still supporting him.

He took a deep breath.

Just as the scholars spoke the first words of their prayers, Altair's voice joined those of the group, words flowing from his lips smoothly, being learned by heart and spoken as if he truly believed in them. If Malik hadn't known the truth, he had supposed Altair was a real believer.

Malik still held him close, most of the weight on him as they got closer to the bureau, slipping from the group unnoticed by the guards. The entered the back alley of the bureau were both the ladder to the roof and the secret door were located.

Only now, standing in the safety of the shadows, did the rafiq ask Altair what he had wanted to know the whole time.

"How do you know the prayers? You don't blend in enough to remember them…"

But before Malik could continue his musing, he was already pressed against the cool stone wall, Altair standing so unbelievable close to him that the Dai had difficulties to even breathe properly. He could smell the other's scent, mixed with the coppery smell of blood.

The Eagle smiled at him, taking the last of his breath away.

"I might be a man of sins, brother… But I still crave for safety provided by a god and his followers, just like everyone else… And speaking a prayer I've learned as a boy and which reminds me of my mother is a little prize I'm glad to pay…"

And Altair truly was a man of many sins.

This, Malik knew as soon as lips were on his, kissing him tenderly even as a god might watch and despise them for their forbidden feelings.

They would pray for slipping from the Death's grasp over and over again, but believe in the creed when it came to their way of living, their feelings.

Nothing is true, everything is permitted.