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I had most of this fill written from an edited part of another fic I'm working on. I liked the prompt so much I decided to pull this back out and finish it. Please excuse the discrepancies and the exposition, it was meant to be part of a MUCH LARGER AU fic.

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PROMPT;

Maria wants to watch Altaïr and Malkin gettin' it on.
Maria gets what she wants.
Always.

Come on anon! Give Maria some love! I just kicked her ass in AC, and she deserves a little somethin' somethin'.

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Satisfy

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Chapter 1; Loose Cannon

It was the pregnancy, he knew it was. Pregnancy made women do crazy things… Another reason Altair didn't particularly like dealing with them.

Maria was standing in front of him, hands on her widened hips, stomach jutting out the front of her tunic just enough to be noticeable, her head turned in a domineering Holier-than-thou way. Her eyebrows were scrunched together, mouth pursed upward in a displeased pout she sometimes wore moments before throwing something, most usually something sharp, at Altair's crotch.

And Altair was sitting at his desk, both hands clamped over the edge of a large book, body tense, ready to move that book with lightning quick reflexes to cover his privates the second Maria's hand twitched.

Had it not been for the sideways, wary, almost fearful glance he was throwing her from under his hood, he would have looked normal, bent forward with his face close to the book and his back hunched.

As tempted as he was to ask what he'd done to afford being glared at, he held his tongue, because the bulge of her belly was evidence enough of exactly what he'd done.

"Malik is limping."

Innocent enough to an outsider, but Altair was not an outsider, and neither was the woman before him.

"He had it coming…"

She shifted her weight to the side and Altair flinched, pulling the book into his lap in a preemptive defensive movement.

"I don't think it's fair."

"What?"

She snarled under her breath, and Altair wondered if what Malik said was true and a woman with child displayed the temperament the babe would hold as an adult.

At that moment Altair wondered what unholy horror he'd unleashed upon his own mother and swallowed thickly.

"I don't think it fair that our marriage bed extends to him."

Altair swallowed again, bitterness flooding his mouth.

"The two of you can roll around like pigs in the hall, or in the library, in his room or in the cupboards for all I care… But the moment you brought him into our bed, you included me as well."

There was a fine line between worry and panic, and Altair found himself straddling it.

"You do know how badly I dislike being excluded… Don't you?" Her voice was deceptively sweet, her eyes narrowing, lips curling upward in a way that would have, in any other context been attractive and alluring, but at the moment made Altair cringe away from her.

He knew exactly how much she hated being excluded. She'd been quite forward about it the moment she'd found him in his study months ago, slouched on the cushions by the window with his hand in his pants.

Come to think of it, he was pretty sure her hatred of being excluded was the reason her womb was filled.

There was no reasoning with her in these instances. When Maria became fixated on something, she was like an infection, boring away and making life a living hell until she got what she was after. And she always got it too, either willingly, or out of sheer pigheadedness.

"What do you want."

And she straightened, patting her belly pleasantly, a genuine, rather beautiful smile pinking her pale, lovely cheeks. "I expect you in our bed tonight."

He blinked at her for a moment; "And…"

"Bring Malik with you." She turned and started to leave.

He sat back in his seat, squaring his shoulders. "No."

She paused in the door and turned to look at him, her eyebrows drawing down over expressive eyes. "Yes."

"I said no."

Her cheeks became a livid red and she hurried back to him, snatched his hand away from the book and flattened it on her stomach. "I said 'yes.'"

Altair at first looked perfectly insulted that she would be so brazen as to put his hand on her body in broad daylight in his study no less, where anyone could happen by them at any moment, but no sooner had the expression pulled his face into a twisted, unattractive scowl than her stomach jiggled firmly beneath his fingers.

Altair did not make a habit of associating with pregnant women, in fact, Maria's own was the first time he'd ever looked at a pregnant woman more than with a fleeting disinterested eye, and he had before then lived under the misconception that a baby was like a seed planted in the earth. Everything happened invisibly, without motion or notice until birth.

As fascinating as Maria thought the movement was, Altair pulled his hand back quickly with a startled cry, his eyes wide face gone pale under his tan. "FINE! Whatever you want! J-just don't— That— Not again!" And he slammed his book back onto his desk and buried his face in it.

Maria scowled again, staring at him in a confused, and yet somehow amused way, then shook her head and retreated with a flip of her hand. "Fine, we don't need your approval!"

A group of novices passed by the door and she shouted at them; "YOU!"

Two of the boys fled, the third and youngest, turned and stared at her with round, terrified eyes.

She towered over him with her hands on her hips; "Your master's wife starves! Go now and don't return until you've found grapes and a large bit of cheese!"

He nodded quickly, and darted away down the stairs.

Altair prayed quickly that she gave him only sons… He didn't think he could handle a daughter with Maria's tendencies.

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Night fell…

And Altair found himself hesitating as he made his way toward his bedchamber.

He returned to his study twice, tidying the books and papers. Cleaning quills and lining them up, first in order of size, then grouping them by color. Whether they had stripes or faded into darker color. Swept dust and dirt that had accumulated on the floor under a rug, crushed a few spiders that had built webs in the corners, or under furniture, moved all the cushions from the corner to make sure no snakes had gotten in and slithered back there. Rearranged them and—

"Your wife is looking for you. She's stomping about the Garden as we speak… I don't think I've ever seen the Doves so frightened."

He turned quickly and glared at the man in the door. Sneering at the rather cheeky grin on Malik's face before he stalked to the window and peered out…

He could see flitting billowy white figures rushing about as if in a tizzy, hear excited high pitched chatter.

"She doesn't frighten them…" He sighed, noticing how they scattered and weaved about as Maria tried to stomp up to them and speak.

Malik scoffed; "She frightens me!"

Altair glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up. "Then I regret to say, she is also looking for you."

Malik paled. "You jest."

"Something about how if our marriage bed extends to you she intends not to be left out."

He had only seen Malik turn that shade of green twice. Once as a teen when he'd swallowed a rather nasty tasting tonic supplied by one of the healers to cure a violent bout of hiccups, and another time when he'd got a nose full of some exotic 'incense' Altair had given him when they were much younger, that was actually just made of ground camel dung.

If he wasn't mistaken, one corner of the library still smelled of the stuff and it had been years ago.

"You haven't seen me." And Malik disappeared quickly, leaving behind only the fading soft thump of his boots as he fled.

Altair darted after him, shutting the door to his study, and practically running to catch up with him where he was trying to find an empty room to hide in. Hell, even an occupied room would suffice at this moment.

They wound up in a storage cupboard near the infirmary, tussling as they both tried to fit into the cramped space. Altair trying to force Malik out into the hall again, Malik slapping at his face and catching the other man's forearm between his teeth.

Jars rattled ominously on the shelves, and with one last shove, and a hard yank from Malik's teeth, they both tumbled out into the hallway again, right at the feet of a healer, who glared at them with sleepy eyes from under bushy brows and an even bushier beard.

They climbed quickly to their feet, fumbled with one another, trying to pull or push in opposite directions, before they both took off at a near silent sprint back the way they'd come.

"She's you wife! It's your duty to tend to her!" Malik growled as they both ducked into a dark, empty room.

"She's with child! What if I—"

"Be gentle! Have we not covered this?" Malik aimed a swat at his head, but it was too dark to see and he ended up catching the end of his nose instead. "I have experience in this area! She is more likely to come to harm chasing you around than she is during sex! You should be pleased she didn't try to kill you when she discovered us. I know my Zaria would!"

"She wouldn't kill me… My favor is mostly why none of the others try to harm her."

"Be glad she didn't geld you then!"

"She might yet!"

"I do not believe she would… I think she enjoys having her belly filled, have you seen the way she prances around? Like a well fed cat!"

"Malik…" His voice was a thin hiss and Malik could imagine him rubbing at his brow in the darkness.

And then the door opened.

She was carrying a lamp, her face rather clear of emotion. "There you are…" She beckoned them out of the room with a flap of her hand.

For half a breath Altair entertained the idea of shoving Malik at her and running for the windows, but decided he rather liked not having Malik completely furious with him, and instead, with his head bowed, he slunk from the room like a kicked dog, Malik close behind him.

She pointed down the hall; "Go on now. Both of you."

The grizzled healer watched with an amused look as the two of them trudged by like scolded children.

Maria called a quick thank you to him as she passed and Altair was tempted to throw a knife at the man.

He wouldn't have been so disapproving if he'd only known what Maria had in mind. Since she'd discovered the pregnancy she'd become quite unpredictable. She'd changed from the alluring goddess of his dreams, to a devious and calculating woman who used his wariness to touch her stomach to her advantage. Manipulating him to giving her what she wanted because he did in fact, love her unconditionally and would do anything for her. Including this it seemed…

Altair's personal chambers were set in two rooms. A private study where he kept his personal writing and a few odds and ends he'd collected over the years. A trunk containing his surplus weapons, and maps he'd sketched while peering into the Apple.

There was also a collection of things Maria had gathered. A trunk containing her own weapons and armor, as well as baskets containing gifts for their impending child. Blankets and swaddling clothes, as well as a small collection of Tunics and trousers made by the seamstress in gradually larger sizes for Maria since she refused to wear the dresses she'd at first been presented with, saying that living among assassins it was rather impractical, and she rather liked being able to move about without stepping on her skirts.

Malik thought she just liked showing off the increasing size of her stomach to all who happened to look upon her. A kind of visual confirmation that she was pregnant and it was Altair's doing.

Malik also liked to think that the almost wince on Altair's face whenever she shouted at novices to fetch things for her, was Altair realizing that he'd not only married, but married a woman who broke all the rules of how women should behave.

Yes, she was a woman, yes she could act properly, she'd proven that before, but part of her enjoyed the thrill of power when she realized Altair was afraid of the child growing inside of her, and all she had to do to get him to do what she wanted was shout, throw something at him, or catch his hand and press it to her stomach so he could feel the life residing beneath her skin move about.

Though she seemed to be overly excited about this herself, letting some of the women in the hold feel the movement, as well as a few wide eyed young novices who earned her favor.

Altair didn't seem to mind… So long as she didn't make him touch it. He'd confessed to Malik one night, the two of them lying in a tangle of limbs in Malik's bed, that it reminded him too keenly of rats moving about in the carcass of a dead horse he'd seen once, and that was all he could think about when she tried to force his hand onto her belly no matter how hard he tried to think of the little life growing within her.

Malik also knew how frustrated Altair was with this, because in all actuality, he was terribly excited for the impending birth of his child. Having grown a liking to the idea of a small squirming bundle like he'd seen frequently in the village, knew how much Altair wanted the baby. He'd even caught the younger man in his study chin propped on his left hand, sketching in one of his books images of small children and babies he'd seen in his day to day life in Masyaf, also seen the sketches of what he imagined the child would look like as a girl or a boy.

Malik wanted to tell him that being a father was more complicated than being an assassin. Especially if Maria's baby should be a girl. Malik's own children, two girls nearing six years, were mischievous little things, and had a terrible tendency to make large dark, sad eyes at Malik and somehow make him agree to the craziest things.

These once monthly visits to Masyaf from Jerusalem sometimes seemed more trouble than they were worth because when he returned home, the girls always had a new scheme, or new plans… And Malik had an increasingly hard time saying 'no' to them.

Maria pushed open the bedchamber door and sat the lamp aside while she barred it. Dusting her hands together she turned to the two men standing like scolded children in the middle of the room. Shifting warily on their feet.

"Now!" She smiled brightly at them then wandered over to a large mound of pillows and poufs and reclined on it with a sigh hand on her belly, seeming to covertly draw attention to it to wear down Altair's resolve. "Please, have a seat." She motioned to the bed and watched with happy eyes as they shuffled to it and sat, putting as much distance between one another as possible on the pallet.

Malik found himself twisting the edge of his robes in his fist nervously, trying not to meet Maria's eye lest he start blushing like a fool.

He knew that sleeping with Altair in this bed had been a bad idea… He'd just been so—And Altair was always—

"This is your fault!" He hissed from the corner of his mouth at Altair.

Altair's head turned slowly, eyes wide, brows lifted in surprise; "What?"

"You and your damned mouth! If it wasn't for you this wouldn't be happening! But you had to goad me! You had to pull that face—"

"What face?"

"THAT FACE! That—that—" He turned sharply to Maria and pointed at the white robed man; "You know what face he makes!"

Maria had her chin propped on forefinger and thumb, smiling pleasantly, her eyes dark and smoky looking in the low light; "Indeed… He does something with his eyes, lowers them and looks up at you through his lashes… It's almost a predatory look—Hungry…" Her other hand was slowly sliding down the curve of her stomach to rest high on her thigh. "And his lips… Yes, just like that."

Malik turned and stared at Altair, his brows raised, nose wrinkled up… And found himself staring at Altair's mouth. The soft curve of his lower lip, that pale scar—The slight shine of moisture from his tongue in the gap between them.

Malik liked seeing his lips parted like that, swollen and pinked, almost bruised, eyes heavily lidded but terribly, terribly intent, hazed and blazing from beneath sooty lashes. Liked seeing that little crease between his brows when orgasm was near… The flutter of his pulse in his neck.

"I've been curious, since I walked in on you in the upper library, when you had him sprawled over his desk with his legs on your shoulders, exactly how two men find pleasure in one another."

And Malik's throat constricted. He choked on a cough and heat flooded his face. He remembered quite vividly the door to Altair's private library opening and the surprised, openmouthed look on Maria's face when her eyes had landed on them, the shocked squawk and slam of the door again.

He'd been sure she was going to try to kill them, or at least expose them to the brotherhood, but she'd been surprisingly accepting. 'It seems he has needs that I am not capable of fulfilling… At least it's you and not that idiot of an assistant of his.' And she'd waved her hand and walked off without another word.

Altair turned quite pale though and his eyes widened further, staring at his wife in shock and maybe even a small bit of humiliation.

Maria was grinning deviously now, eyes narrowed in a seductive way; "Malik, did you know I caught him in his study once touching himself?"

The pallor of Altair's face suddenly became bright pink.

"He was moaning like a common whore, his face all flushed, legs spread… I'm surprised everyone in the keep didn't hear him!"

Malik tried to fight off a grin at the other man's expense, but failed miserably.

"I liked seeing him like that, Malik… He's a different man when he's thinking of you." Her knees fell apart, hand slipping to rest on the inside of her thigh. "He has only ever once let himself completely go for me… And it was—" A look came over her face, a longing, almost powerful look, and Malik could practically feel the hunger and need rolling off of her. "I should very much enjoy seeing him like that again."

Malik swallowed thickly and suddenly became aware of the tight throbbing sensation between his legs, as well as the prominent lump in Altair's trousers.

"D-do you intend to… to participate?"

She flipped her hand in a disinterested way, and reclined amid the mound of pillows like a queen. "I have no desire for it at the moment… But, perhaps seeing how you and he interact in bed will spur my… appetite." Her legs spread and her hand rested lightly on the mound of her sex, and Malik wondered briefly, a fleeting ghost of a thought, if his own wife would be as accepting if she were to see the relationship he had with Altair in such a light.

He doubted it. Zaria was a loving, but inherently jealous woman… She already locked herself away and refused to leave their bedchamber when he was visiting Masyaf. His daughters frequently voiced their concerns and whispered to him that she argued to the walls and cursed bitterly when he was not there, and had once tried to hang herself with her veil when he'd been gone for longer than was usual because of winter flooding.

Malik loved his wife, cherished her like a precious jewel and enjoyed spending time with her even outside their marriage bed. Sometimes sitting beside her while she sewed watching her short lovely little fingers work, or hooking his arm around her waist and drawing her into a platonic, but deep embrace just to feel the strength in her arms, around him. Or even standing behind her while she prepared for bed just to help brush the long ends of her hair where her arms could not reach… But he also loved Altair, in a strange way, and couldn't fathom his life without either of them.

And this. Well, Malik didn't really know what to think of this. He was a very private person by nature. He didn't like feeling as if he were on show like a horse or a prized lamb in the market. He didn't like feeling as if he were being appraised, even less so when he thought about being watched during intimacy.

Altair seemed to share his concerns, because the taller man was hunching in on himself, his face an almost livid red.

"Altair, I must confess, I've only ever seen you so red in the face when you came down with that fever two years ago… Are you feeling alright?" Maria tilted her head to the side curiously, and Altair could have sworn he saw a gleam of condescending light in her eyes.

He narrowed his eyes at her in irritation.

"All I want, dear husband, is to see you loosed, to see all the fear and tension in you released… I do so love seeing you at that moment. When there is nothing but your pleasure. And Malik won't be back until after our child is born… And I fear I will be in no condition to enjoy such a sight then."

Altair shifted uncomfortably and finally broke his silence; "Why do you want this? What good will it do?"

"You're my husband… And if I'm not mistaken, that bulge in you trousers is evidence enough that I'm not the only one who wants it. So what do my reasons matter in the end?"

He glared at her from under his hood, and Malik watched as her face scrunched up pathetically, eyes glistening.

"If I've made a fool of myself by asking just say it! I'm strong enough to handle being told 'no'!"

And her hand slid back up to her stomach, and Malik knew then that Maria was a master of manipulation. The tears, the tremor in her voice, all of it was a carefully orchestrated ruse.

If he hadn't been a pawn in her grand scheme, he would have had to congratulate her on such a well designed and executed plan. As it was he found himself experiencing an unsettling rolling, sinking sensation in his stomach when Altair's eyes followed her hand, falling right into her trap and with a sigh, turned to Malik with apologetic eyes.

Malik scowled and tried to put as much venom in his glare as possible, shouting in his head; You stupid novice…

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