Efflorescent Feelings

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Only going to say this once, since well, everyone reads the first chapter...right? Well I do not own any of the characters except Malon Al Damon and a few side characters that will pop out of no where from time to time. They belong to Ubisoft, no matter how much I wish they belonged to me.

Notes before the story begins: The setting is 7 years after the Temple of Solomon incident, yet I am taking it as if this was Altaïr's second visit, to give Malik some reason to be angry still. I am aware that they get friendly to the point where Malik does not see Altaïr as the same person as back then in the temple, but hell this is a story, take it as you will.

Warnings: Later on there will be yaoi scenes, not to sure if there will be hardcore yaoi scenes yet, but there will be blood, gore and all that stuff. Fighting, language, and death. But you assumed that right? It is Assassin's Creed after all.

Pairings: Altaïr/Malik with brief mention of a slave master type of thing with Al Mualim/Altaïr, Al Mualim/Malik.

It wasn't a day any different than normal, yet Malik was treating it as if it was a day to be feared as he paced back and forth behind his desk. A carrier pigeon arrived on his window early this morning, sending news from Al Mualim that Altaïr was being sent to him. Of course, this is what the Dai had wanted. Four times, different Assassins had attempted to eliminate a single target by the name of Malon Al Damon. He had to send in for the best, despite how much this annoyed him. It had been nearly seven years since an incident took place where Altaïr had caused Malik to lose both his arm and his dear brother Kadar. He acted like a fool, and although he had been stripped down to a novice and forced to crawl back up to the top again, he had not won back the favor of the Jerusalem Dai. He may had won the favor of Al Mualim and everyone else, but he would not win back Malik's favor. There were some things you did not do, and allow one of your brothers in the brotherhood to be killed and injured such as Malik had, just to follow your own greed was one of them. At least, that was how Malik viewed it...

The sound of the soft thud, and footsteps was heard, making Malik freeze. He quickly pulled out an unfinished map, inking his pen, and starting to work on it once again ignoring as Altaïr entered. He felt Altaïr's eyes staring at him, making him shiver slightly as he looked up.

"Ah."

That was all Malik could muster out of his mouth as he set his quill down. Altaïr gave him a knowing look, making him scrunch up his nose in annoyance. The assassin lowered his gaze, feeling the dislike radiate off of the Dai, as they locked eyes for a breif moment.

"You sent for me?" Altaïr questioned, wondering if it was a mistake that he had been sent. Having not been welcomed in the slightest, it was enough to make anyone wonder, even though he knew Malik already was still sour with him.

"Yes..." Malik said softly, turning his back to the other man, searching for a map, in his collection of them. It took a moment before he pulled out the right one, and let it unroll in front of them, taking a moment to scratch his cheek as he overlooked it, ignoring Altaïr's curious eyes as he nudged forward to look over the map as well. It was another few seconds before the Dai's finger shot out to point at a marking of a tower "This is the tower your target Malon Al Damon sleeps at night, if you have to, kill him while he sleeps. Do not give him the honor of dying on his feet, this man has killed four of our brothers, and seeks the blood of innocents for his daily tasks. Start tomorrow at dawn, search for his whereabouts, learn what you can from others about him, then return to me at midday and tell me what you have learned, then tell me your course of action, this man is no fool. He knows that the assassins are after his head, and he takes care in knowing that.

"He will kill you the moment he sees you, whether it be by his own hands, or the hands of his many Templar followers..." Malik looked up at Altaïr, and for a moment, Altaïr swore he could see a hint of worry in those dark globes. "Take caution, I do not want to have to add you to the death toll." Altaïr gave a small smile, lowering his gaze so that his hood covered his eyes, before he nodded, staring down at the map.

The next thing that happened, surprised even Malik later on. "Oh and, remove your hood when you enter that doorway. I would like to see your face when you enter my bureau," Malik stated, turning his back to Altaïr once again, and walking away from the desk, tending to a plant in the corner.

Altaïr blinked, staring at Malik's back. He wanted him to what? Not even Al Mualim asked him to remove his hood, Al Mualim himself wore a hood! He furrowed his brows, puzzled, but did as he was asked, and slowly removed his hood from his head. He wasn't going to lie, but he felt naked without it, but he also wasn't going to disobey the orders of someone like Malik. Was Malik always this way with assassins? In his previous trips, he never remembered so, but maybe something had happened to make Malik want to see the assassins faces?

Malik slowly turned, and looked back at Altaïr, who only had one imperfection with his face, and that was the scar on the right side of his lip. It was strange for an assassin such as him to have only one scar on their face. "Good... You are free to do as you wish, let me know before you leave on your mission tomorrow morning," he stated, walking back to the desk, and starting on his map once more. He listened as Altaïr climbed up the wall after he pulled his hood back on, and vanished into the city. He let his quill drop once more, and flopped back into his seat as he sighed, rubbing his temples.

Why did he let that man get to him so much? And why did he tell him to remove his hood? The last thing he wanted to do was see Altaïr's face. Maybe it was to rid him of some comfort? It had to be it. He slouched in his seat, taking a hold of his stump of a left arm, cradling it close as he closed his eyes, breathing deeply. It wasn't long after, when sleep overcame him thrusting him into a dream. A sad dream of his brother being killed over and over again. One that always seemed to plague the young man.

Altaïr stood on top of a tower, looking over the city he had visited only once before. He knew Malik was still sore at him, even though he had repeatedly apologized, and tried to prove how sorry he was in everything he did. The glare he felt the man give him as he entered the Bureau only confirmed how much the other man hated him. But that slight worry he saw him give him was the thing that bothered him the most. Had Malik forgiven him? He couldn't tell, since at one point he was glaring, then the other he was worried. It troubled him not to know the answer. He plopped down on the wooden plank, letting his legs dangle below him as an eagle landed behind him.

"Hello old friend," he said softly to the eagle, who hopped slightly closer to the assassin. Of course, he wasn't sure if this eagle had been the same one from his previous visit (It most likely wasn't) but the man saw himself in the eagle at times. He flew much like it as he dove down onto his prey striking them with such precision to leave them dead. No, he couldn't fly upwards to his dislike, but still, he thought of himself much like the bird. "I wonder if I'll ever win Malik's favor back?" he asked the bird as it started to preen it's feathers. "I think of him as such a dear friend, and brother, yet he stares at me with such cruel eyes..."

He looked down below, watching as a group of men walked down the alleyway, laughing and cheering rather drunkenly. They didn't seem to be causing any problems, only having a good time with one another. At moments like these he envied every day people. People who could go about making mistakes and not being punished so harshly for them. People learned from their mistakes, but Altaïr only got judged for his. Sure he was one of the highest ranked assassins in the brotherhood, but it didn't mean he had to like the fact that he couldn't get away with making a mistake every once in a while.

He dropped down, landing in a pile of hay, as he rolled out, only a old beggar man noticing him as he did so. The man seemed shocked by his feat of jumping down from the tower, that he didn't even bother running up and begging him for change. He felt his stomach growl as he passed by a house, which emitted the smell of freshly made bread. He was starving, as he should be from not eating since leaving Masyaf early that morning. He decided against returning to the bureau, in fear of seeing those angry eyes the Dai seemed to like giving him, and headed to the market to purchase some fruit to snack on. Not exactly an ideal lunch, but something that would hold him until he returned to Malik.

He paused, looking around as he entered the alley that was suppose to be the marketplace. Nothing was set up, no one was selling anything. Anyone who was down the alley was either a beggar, or a group of people trying to rush out of the bleak neighborhood. "Excuse me, where might I find the marketplace?" Altaïr asked to a elderly man, figuring he had just forgotten the way.

The man's face twisted to confusion, then sadness "There hasn't been one in two years. Malon Al Damon forbids them, claiming it was a coverup for an assassin hideout. That to many people were grouped together in one spot. I see that you are not from around here, so I will tell you this, there are underground markets, but I cannot say where. They are well kept and hidden so that the guards cannot find and destroy them," he said looking around to make sure no guards heard his explanation.

"Thank you... safety and peace," Altaïr whispered, watching as the elderly man rushed away, so not to be seen talking with anyone he didn't know. It puzzled Altaïr as to why someone would even dare to take away something like a marketplace. It disgusted him that someone would be so paranoid as to stoop that low. This alone disgusted him, and gave him one reason to why Malon Al Damon should be killed.

There was no point for Altaïr to walk about to try and find a marketplace, and decided it was best to just return to the bureau, even if there were angry glances waiting for him. Although he wanted to find more information about the disgusting man who seemed to rule Jerusalem, his stomach was protesting by growling loudly, and cramping up in attempt to get Altaïr's attention. He swiftly climbed up a wall, hopped over a few alleyways as he rushed across the roofs, and jumped into the bureau with a slight plop of his feet hitting the stone ground. It was then that he took the time to look up from where he had just entered and wonder how Malik climbed the walls to get into the bureau, let alone get out. He shook his head, remembering to remove his hood as he stepped inside.

He was a little shocked to see Malik not glaring at him, but even more shocked to see the man asleep, curled up in his chair. He decided against disturbing his slumber as he walked past his desk, and into the storeroom where he got an apple. He swiftly walked past Malik, so not to disturb him, and sat down on a cushion, taking a bite of the fruit. He took the time to mull over what all had been going through his mind. His master, Al Mualim, was an issue that he was glad to be rid of for a few days, at least. He was tired of the old man gazing at him like some object, instead of an actual person. He shivered, pushing his master to the back of his mind as he recalled what the old man had told him earlier.

Malon Al Damon seemed to be a terrible man, only with the knowledge of his killing of his brothers, and the forbidding of marketplaces. Where were they suppose to get their food if they had such a trade like black smithing, tailoring, or any other profession that did not provide food, only money. Hell, how did beggars get their food without being able to steal from time to time? It was bleak, very bleak, and he was scared to find out more about this man. He simply shook his head and stared up at the ceiling, letting his thoughts drift to daydreams as he dreamed he was able to fly, and flew around Jerusalem in search for his prey: Malon Al Damon.

Slow first chapter is slow... But I promise it will pick up! Please review if you liked it, and please let me know if you notice anything misplaced. It has been a while (quite a while actually...) since I played AC, and I'm much use to Ezio more so than Altaïr and Malik, despite me having such an obsession over the pair, lol.

Until next time~