Closure ((MalikxReader One-Shot))

Closure

Winds blew with such force on this peculiar day that sand burned your eyes and managed to sneak its way into your mouth from time to time; thus a bitter taste rest in your mouth now mixed with a metallic tint as you spit out blood that wasn't your's. Red and white cloth kicked up from behind you in the wind, the colors that marked you an assassin but didn't make you one. Anyone could wear the clothes of an assassin and say they were one, but nobody could fake the natural skills you had. With another spit-take, followed by the torn skin of an unfortunate Templar to cross your path, leaving your mouth you brought your hidden blade to his neck and thrust your wrist forward to bring out the sharp weapon, holding it to the man's neck. "I assure you that one move is all it will take..." You muttered in a cold, monotone voice that lusted for death and you no doubt scared the poor, young Templar whom you felt no guilt for whatsoever. It was obvious because he trembled with fear and in a matter of seconds had pissed his pants. Shameful, really, but you only laughed maniacally before moving forward with the man tightly in the grasp of your arm tightening around his neck.

His partner had ceased from attacking you in fear of losing his best friend, from the sounds of his pleads and cried along with promises to your victim that everything would be okay. That wasn't true, not one bit but you kept your mouth shut for creating a false sense of hope was beneficial and extremely humorous to you. How could these two Templars', your sworn enemy, the ones who killed your brother, and whom threatened the existence of all of your allies, have any hope left at all? The sweat dripping down your face, creating a strong smell that emitted from you whilst staining your thin robes, along with blood, sand, dirt and what you supposed was bile covering your very form along with open wounds scattered around your face that was now showing, due to the fact you absolutely hated wearing a hood, should very well be a sign you've been doing your job as Master Assassin and wouldn't stop until every Templar in the area you were assigned to clear was dead. Not to mention the long trail of blood and bodies following your every footstep leading up to these last few from behind you.

Another sand storm decided to take its wrath upon you, and you squinted your eyes out of reflex to avoid losing sight of your enemies. Unfortunately, sand worked its way into crevices that burned like Hell since they hadn't been explored yet, and though young the two Templars' eventually noticed how weak you were in the midst of this storm and took advantage of that fact. One angry, forceful swipe of the friend of your hostage was enough to pierce the cloth of your armor and penetrate flesh, digging deep enough that you swore it reached muscle, if not bone. "Fu-!" You squealed out in pain and jumped back, yet another mistake of your's made so far which allowed both men to have you cornered in the abandoned, broken down, century old building you'd nearly cleared out. Nearly. Crimson liquid gushed from the throbbing, pain wracking wound that made you fairly dizzy since it'd been so long since you've been wounded so severely, or been on a mission due to a temporary hiatus on your side that would end as of today.

With dulled senses, you grabbed the handle of your sword and moved to pull the long, sharp blade from its holster on your hip, but found you couldn't as another sword jabbed your way. Jumping back, you barely avoided death but luckily a plate of armor around your stomach, underneath all the robes since that was how you preferred it, prevented the attack from being successful. With both men on either side of you slashing away, you moved your sword to and fro so that metal clashed and created sparks here and there. You could easily kill both of these weak, pathetic men but the arm you always used... the arm you only used was now swollen and not able to tolerate the handling of a weapon, or even movement at that. Clenching your teeth, you swung your sword in almost perfect motion with the other two who were intent on avenging their Templar brothers, or so you assumed as that's what you'd be doing as well. Back and forth, right to left, you were extremely tired and on the verge of passing out until a light-bulb clicked on in your head. Unleashing the terror of your hidden blade once the sword of the man to your right was knocked out of his hand, you penetrated the kidney of whomever he was and shoved his body forward to cause the other to accidentally shove his sword into his friend. "No...no...no. Please." You watched with no remorse or emotion showing in your face as the other held his brother solemnly, sincerely, limp as if this scene was enough to kill him itself.

You let this last for a few moments, enough to wear out your patience. Slowing moving towards the bodies, one still twitching in its best attempts to remain alive while the other embraced the dying man as tightly as possible. The one still alive, to one to accidentally assist in the murder of his friend shifted his gaze up to your face, his eyes clearly tired and worn which seemed to be that of an old man's. He was ready to die and you were willing to deliver the killing blow. With one clumsy, weak but clean movement you sent your sword straight through his neck which wouldn't be the quickest death but most likely the least painful and easiest place to attack at the moment. With a huff of intolerance you tapped your foot and placed your sword back into its protective cover while awaiting the moment both would officially reach the state of death. Once the moment happened, you pulled a feather from a place in your trousers and stained the fluffy, light object with the thick crimson liquid of both men's blood as they were your last kills of the day. Really, this didn't need to be done since the assassinations of today weren't exactly your most important, but you loved to show off around the rest of your brothers in arms and knew the feather would be needed as proof. "Rest in peace." You whispered before bending down to close the eyes of your enemies, knowing this showed a sign of respect to the dead even if you didn't care or really mind what had happened to any of these Templar fools. Pulling the red cloth that held your robes together for the most part, you used this as a bandage for your arm still bleeding and tightened it around the wound once all signs of it had been hidden beneath the ribbon.

Time to head back to headquarters, to clock in your day's work and receive even more orders for tomorrow. How you dreaded work sometimes, even though you loved violence and lived for the rush of feeling a body grow cold underneath your touch. That's why you became an assassin anyways, besides the fact that your brother was hunted by Templars' due to being in the trade himself. Luckily you inherited those natural skills and quickly rose to the top alongside Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad whom you'd befriended more or less. You were his rival, so hatred was expected but there were those brief moments where friendship decided to shine through immense arrogance and disgust. However, lately your "friendship" of sorts was definitely broken due to an incident involving Altaïr himself and a mission to Solomon's Temple. Just the thought of what happened made you grit your teeth, and you cursed Altaïr under your breath just because, though you wished to be at his side like before and to restore what was lost deep inside. This whole time more than plenty of thoughts had been fueling your very existence and journey back to the assassin headquarters. Trudging next to a horse slowly, hanging onto the saddle with your bad arm which was swollen to the point where it had numbed all by itself, once your destination became clear in the sky you mentally rejoiced and cringed as you stood to your full height with sore legs. Instead of heading to your master, you switched directions and headed for a certain bureau despite fully knowing the Rafiq inside would be sleeping as the sun had disappeared hours ago.

You had to sneak your way into the bureau which was simple, as you'd been here so many times before that getting in even when youweren't wanted had become instinct. The smell of candles that'd been blown out long ago and yellowed novels hit your nose instantly, and relaxed your body that you hadn't even realized was tense in the first place. Huffing loudly, you leaned against a wall and smirked at your stupidity even if you survived the ordeal; the whole incident still bothered you nonetheless as you were hard on yourself 24/7. There was no way you'd fall like Altaïr had, no way you'd ever let yourself bring shame to your name or fail a mission because as far as you were concerned there wasn't enough time in a day or in your life to make a mistake.

"(y/n), what are you doing here at such an hour?"

The slightly rugged, yet obviously sleepy voice of the Rafiq caused you to jump and jerk your eyes open that'd closed without you even realizing it. You pretended not to be surprised, though you knew even in the darkness that Malik could sense your movement and short-lived fear. Running a hand through matted, sweat-soaked (h/l) (h/c) hair you shrugged and crossed your arms whilst standing up straight. You whimpered much to your dismay when your wound was touched but not wanting to draw attention to the cut you kept your arms the same and decided to simply squint your eyes as if that stopped the throbbing pain shooting through your arm. You heard shuffling and soon enough the Rafiq was next to you, and with a rough jerk he grabbed your wrist roughly and brought it close to him. With a turn of your head you avoided his you're-an-idiot glare and gritted your teeth as he unwrapped the cloth and touched around the edges of your cut.

He shook his head and seemed rather annoyed by your presence, motioning for you to follow him to his front desk. Malik moved his hands around your waist while you used your good arm to pull yourself up onto a wooden counter. The touch, for an odd reason unbeknownst to you, felt foreign though you'd known Malik almost your whole life... it felt tingly. You shook off the feeling and strange thoughts as he returned from the back of the bureau with a needle and thread. "Why?" A groan escaped your lips and you frowned, while whining about the only remedy to your wound. "I could go back to a peaceful slumber and leave you to die from infection if you would like." Malik suggested, grinning lightheartedly as he lit a few candles that brightened the dark area around you because he knew he won the argument with a simple sentence. You stared at his tanned face, glowing in the flame of surrounding candles and immediately felt comforted, knowing you were in safe hands. "Might I ask what is on your mind?" He raised a brow and asked, though you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was completely concentrated on healing your wound. "But first, take off your robes."

Complying with his orders, you slowly peeled off the top layers of your assassin robes, biting the inside of your cheek as the cloth rubbed against open flesh. You smelled awful, and Malik refrained from commenting so but the look on his face showed how hard he was trying to avoid thinking about the stench and that silly expression caused a laugh to echo in the room. "Don't make that look. I don't smell half as bad as Altaïr does when he returns from those missions, and you know it." Malik seemed to furrow his brows and his mouth twitched into its natural frown at the mention of the former Master Assassin. With your skin revealed, only armor covering your stomach and loose, thin cloth around your chest, you shivered from the cold but the warmth from Malik's touch as he worked the wound with his magic almost engulfed your body and the organ beating against your chest seemed to become louder and louder. "You have not gotten over the incident? Malik, it has been a month and as much as I dislike the bastard you have to forgive him at some point. He's ou-"

"He. Killed. Kadar." Malik muttered with such hatred it almost sounded demonic, which caused you to jump and he accidentally pierced the wrong skin on your arm. With (e/c) widened eyes, you stared down upon the Rafiq who was now trying his best to make up for his mistake, though your arm was back to a numbing state so the pain was barely registered luckily. You gulped and tried to wet a dry throat, think of something to change Malik's mind but you knew he was dead-set on blaming Altaïr for the death of his brother. Whether or not that was true, you felt your heart swell just thinking about what the Rafiq was going through... you almost forgot he only had one arm and still managed to perform tasks that should be impossible for someone like him. "I-I... Sorry." You couldn't think of anything to say for once, and now wasn't the time for your usual attitude and snappy remarks which was strange honestly. When was the last time you'd felt this way? ....Right, when your very own brother died. Shit. Malik sure was good at draining all of your thoughts whenever he was around, and you still were oblivious to your feelings for him. "I forgive you. Just don't ever talk about what happened. For me, okay?" He took a moment to lift his head and gaze into your orbs, and since you'd already been staring you nodded. "You wanted to know what was on my mind?" You mentioned, leaning your head back to lock your eyes on the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing you'd ever seen. Malik hummed as a signal that he was listening and wished for you to continue as he returned to sewing up your now half-stitched wound.

"I would like to say a lot has been passing through this small brain of mine lately. I think about my brother now and then, as I assume you have been doing the same lately, and how I would and will do anything to avenge his death even if it means my own life is taken. But then I wonder if it is all worth the sacrifice... I would not ever want to lose those close to me like he had just for a Creed I must follow to be a true Master Assassin... I would not ever want to ruin our relationship like Altaïr has done, you mean too much to me. However, you have to think of how he feels. Even under all of that idiocy and recklessness there is a heart that is capable of feeling remorse for all that he has caused despite the situation and way he acts. After all they do say in order to be forgiven you must forgive and to be free you must forget."

Malik pursed his lips as you closed your eyes and continued to stare at the ceiling, finishing the wound and bandaging it up for you. "All better. You may stay the night if you wish. I have extra robes for you, they might be baggy since they used to be Kadar's but I'm sure you will manage quite well in them." He stated, moving to the back again to retrieve the old robes of his deceased brother. You thought that speech of your's didn't work and that Malik would never be able to feel anything but hatred for Altaïr... for some reason you suddenly felt a hint of guilt in your life for the former Master Assassin. This proved he truly was a friend of your's as you'd defended him even at the risk of losing someone so dear to you, how foolish of you to test Malik in the first place. Malik cleared his throat, which brought you back to reality, and helped you off the desk while holding your hand. He seemed to firmly squeeze your hand for what felt like an eternity to you when it was only a couple of sentimental seconds, before assisting you in the changing of robes. You pulled off your under-armor and boots, quite flustered without noticing it until Malik commented on the redness of your face in which you replied with the roll of your (e/c) eyes. He smiled, and you smiled, now comfortable in baggy clothing that Malik trusted you to wear. You placed a bloodied, crusty feather before him when he moved behind his desk and Malk shook his head. "You know you are not required to return with those anymore. Have I not warned you about stealing from my feather collection?" Malik couldn't hide the amusement from his voice no matter how hard he tried to scare you away with a twisted expression. "Yes but it is surprisingly fun to prove my skills, and even more so to let you know that I am better and fully capable of stealing from you." He scoffed, turning his back to you before muttering an almost inaudible "goodnight" to you, which caused your heart to flutter though you returned the polite gesture and moved away to the front of the bureau.

You created a make-shift bed on the floor with pillows which was more than enough for you, and Malik poked his head out from the back which was covered with a privacy curtain once you'd blown out all the candles and propped yourself comfortably on your back. "(y/n), I may not know how to forgive yet but perhaps you have taught me a lesson this evening. I will keep your words in mind. My sincere thanks to a beautiful fellow assassin that I am proud to be the friend of." A blush covered your face as silence took over the pitch black room, and luckily that was so because you'd be embarrassed to let Malik know you were red in the face from a simple comment.

On this night, you'd realized how much you missed Altaïr and how much you truly did want to let him know you were still an ally and always a friend of his at night. No matter how foolish he would dub you in his mind for saying so aloud, or how much he would tease you, in the end both of you knew that their was a bond that couldn't possibly be broken between the two of you and for that you were grateful. Perhaps Malik has discovered the same thoughts and feelings as you had, but was far more stubborn and bent on never forgiving Altaïr for the death of his brother. There may not be enough time in this world for you, but there was still chances to repair what has been broken no matter the situation. Maybe even... time for brief moments of romance...

~

In the morning, quiet but plenty of chatter and blinding light hitting your face awoke you from deep slumber.

"(y/n) you were snoring rather loudly, I'm not surprised." A voice, one you recognized not to be Malik's, came from the end of the room which lead to you jerking upwards and opening your eyes quickly to see Altaïr leaning over Malik's front desk with his hood pulled down. A smile plasterd itself across your face as you noticed the two had been sharing brief conversation, and had softened expression... that of ones who'd experienced closure.

"Leave her alone, novice. Now go do your job and do not dare come back until there is blood on that feather." Malik responded, shoving a feather in Altaïr's hand before waving the former Master Assassin off.

"Does your blood count?" Altaïr smirked, jumping back as Malik swatted at his figure angrily, giving you a small wave and sincere grin that was an apology in your eyes, one that proved Altaïr was truly changing for the better, before leaving the bureau.

"I will never understand that fool." Malik shook his head, dipping a feather in ink before sketching something on brown paper.

"That is something we have in common." You replied, moving to sit on Malik's desk and watch him work contently, deciding today could well be a day off for you despite what the master would say to you upon your return. These moments were the ones you wanted to live for from now on, not going on missions and assassinating the enemy. And to you, that was definitely alright.