Title: Soul of Grief
Author: Death Escapist
Pairing: Altair/Malik
Summary: What one man goes through dealing with grief can affect the other
Author's note: Be gentle ^_^ for this is my first fan fiction I have written. I hope to have captured the characters as close as possible. I know it a bit dark in some aspects, but that's just how I wanted this story to go. I love AC, and will try to write more in the future, hope you all enjoy this story!

Rated M- AltXmal /rape/torture/language

don't like, don't read, so be warned.


He would pay for what pain and anguish he has caused.

Pulling his hips roughly back earning a ragged gasp. He could feel the man beneath him pull away at the intrusion, making his grip tighten around now bruised hips. Malik tied a small ribbon used for holding onto loose scrolls around the novice's weeping erection. He didn't deserve release, this wasn't meant for him, this was for Malik. who knows if one day he could forget everything, 'could he forgive him?' he doubted it. He had far too much to make up for, which he didn't see happening in the novice's arrogant character. Hatred was all he saw in front of him.

"ah..Malik..nghh" he moaned as I roughly took him. Preparation was not used for the novice, since it being a spur of the moment act.

Malik had walked in on Altaïr asleep once again in his Bureau, debating whether or not he should just go up and kill him in his sleep. It was tempting.

He would never forgive him for what happened to him and Kadar at Solomon's Temple that day, all because of his arrogance. Not only did he loose his brother and his arm, but also his place as an assassin. His life.

"Shut up novice" Malik pushed his head down into the pillows and he sped up the pace thrusting into Altaïr's sore opening. Hoarse ragged breath's escaped the assassin underneath him. Not pulling away from Malik's aggressive punishment, but now merely accepting it. He just pushed his face harder into the pillows to suppress some of his moaning.


He had awoken to Malik harshly back handing him in the face and being pinned on his previous rest spot. Still shocked from being stunned awake. Altaïr tried to shake Malik off of him. "What in name's is this Malik!" how Malik had sneaked up on the man was simply incredible, the man obviously hadn't lost his assassin skills. And having the one armed man pinning him down was right out embarrassing. Was Altaïr loosing his touch?

"You have cost me everything… and yet you stroll about without care in my presence." Malik snarled at him. Still pinning him and harshly twisting his arm behind him. Had Malik wanted to kill him, he would have done it already.

"What do you want from me Al Sayf?" Altaïr snarled back. He got no response, only Malik undoing one of his belts and tying the novice's hands behind his back. "stop this!" Altaïr shouted at his assailant.

"Shut up, I have had it with your tongue novice!" Malik barked back as he started pulling down Altaïr's pants.

Altaïr's wrestled and tried to buck Malik off of him with no success, and that when he felt it. Malik was now sheathing himself into Altaïr's virgin opening.


A few more pumps and Malik felt his end nearing, he felt all his frustration melting into the body below him as he could feel Altaïr shudder with each hard thrust. Altaïr's voice was failing him, growing more hoarse with each minute that passed. Gasping for air as he felt his body burn all over.

Malik gave a sharp thrust forward, his nails roughly holding the hips in place as he came hard in the hot body beneath him. He let out a low groan as he spilled himself into Altaïr. Feeling him shudder as he pulled out of him as semen and blood spilled down his legs from the abuse.

It was over. There was a thick awkward silence between the men. Altaïr knew he deserved this somehow. All the while being roughly fucked, he thought about Malik. 'What had caused him to do this?.' he thought. But he knew. And he began to accept it.

Altaïr would do anything to make up for past mistakes. After the first day he had come see the Rafiq for some information, he had seen how much he had affected his life. His eyes were hard on him, and his tongue lashed out at him without discretion. It wasn't like the Malik he used to know, he was but a shell of his former self. He knew he was hated, and for once Altaïr felt pain in his heart knowing so.

Why hadn't he seen this before, how could he have been so reckless to have endangered his fellow brothers this way. he lay there in thought as he felt Malik stand behind him and fix his trousers back to their proper place. He undid the bind on Altaïr's wrists, not worried that he would strike him in his state. Standing up again and sweeping his hand through his now sweat soaked hair.

Altaïr just lay in the pillows panting and still hard from not getting release. The ribbon still tightly around his throbbing erection. Looking over at him, Malik noticed that even though Altaïr's face was covered by part of his hood and some pillows. Altaïr's eyes were held tightly shut and tear's could be seen there. Had he gone to far, had he broken the once high and mighty assassin of Masyaf. He wanted some release from his frustration and pain, and he took it all out on the novice.

Wanted to make him feel his hatred for him. So why did this sight bother him. He wanted to hurt him, make him feel what he felt….didn't he?

"Why do you cry novice, it isn't becoming of you" Malik tried to say with a harsh tone, though still seeming to carry a hint of concern in his voice.

"..." Altaïr didn't answer the man, he was too torn between guilt and self hatred at the moment. he curled into himself, and hoped that he would just leave him be. He should kill the man for what he had done to him. But in reality he let Malik do this to him, he could of tried to stop him, if not by force then with reason. The stagnant air smelling of sex and shame was making him feel nauseous and dirty.

Moments passed and Altaïr still felt the presence of Malik near him. unmoving. was he relishing in his conquest, laughing at him?

"I'm sorry Malik..." Quietly the once proud assassin spoke, now grief stricken against the mound of pillows.

Malik turned to leave and headed for the door "As I am..Altaïr" and he stepped back into his Bureau.

Altaïr thought Malik meant he to was sorry for Altaïr's past actions. But in truth Malik was sorry for their downfall, for his own horrible acts against his once fellow brother.

Malik walked behind his desk and felt as tears wet his cheeks, quiet sobs escaped his lips. He held his left shoulder where his arm used to be, throbbing under his hand. Disgust and grief filled his heart. 'Have I become a monster?' he thought. A broken man. He was crying for himself, his brother and also... for Altaïr. A man who was now forgiven, but at what cost.