betwixtbetween | (no subject)

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Dahi had said that he was better than Sef at climbing trees and that he could climb higher and faster than him anyway, so there. Sef had said he was lying, and anyway he was only seven and one half and not seven and three quarters like Sef so of course Dahi couldn't be better than him, that was stupid.

And then Hasan had said they should climb that big tree by the road and see who could climb the highest.

The three of them had gone along quite happily, Sef full of bravado and certain that he could make it to the top without fail and what was more, he was going to make it to the top faster than Dahi could. Hasan had picked up two sticks and whoever picked the longest went first- Sef's was only a stubby one so he had to sit pouting as Dahi got to go first. He made it up as far as the first big branch before he laughed and said that Sef couldn't go higher, and of course Sef knew that he could.

And he did.

But now he was stuck.

"Sef it's not funny anymore," Hasan wailed. "My mother will scold me if I'm late!"

"Go home then!" Sef called back, trying to sound like he wasn't scared as he clung to the branch like a cat.

"Come down, stupid!" Dahi shouted. "We're hungry, you've been up there for hours!"

It had of course only been twenty minutes, but when it came down to the serious matter of trees and being stuck in them, trivial matters like time tended to pale into insignificance.

"I bet I could stay up here all day if I wanted," Sef boasted, trying to make it sound like he really did want to and he wasn't scared half to death up the tree. "Watch me, I bet I can!"

Only Darim would probably pinch him and tell him he'd been reckless and silly and an Assassin shouldn't let something like pride get in the way of asking for help, and Mama would tell him he'd acted like an ass and would probably tell Master Rauf that he was still a baby after all and he couldn't possibly start training yet.

He didn't want to think what Uncle Malik would have to say. Probably that he was a reckless novice and his father would be ashamed.

Sef could feel his eyes getting hot and he sniffed; it wasn't worth wiping his eyes because then he'd have to take his hand away and he knew that if he did that he would fall and probably die and then it wouldn't matter what anybody thought and he'd never be an Assassin.

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Self-control and mental preparation allowed Altaïr to merely maintain a pleasant smile as he waited for Darim to come to him. He wouldn't have minded if the boy had run and jumped and squealed just as much as his little brother—such behavior wouldn't mean he hadn't been there for Maria and Sef over the past months.

But Darim was growing up all too quickly, and Altaïr had an idea of how important it was for him to remain dignified. Let him show it.

He held his shoulders straight and his head high as Darim bowed, just as he would to any of his men speaking a formal audience. It was difficult, in this moment, to remember the red, squalling baby his son had once been, and easier to picture the man he would be sooner than his parents would like.

"Thank you, Darim," he said, and held out his arms. Sooner than his parents would like, but not yet. "And what about a welcome for your father?"

Darim had told himself on the way towards his father and brother that he wasn't going to do anything that might embarrass them, or show any signs of childishness now that he was in training and on the path towards becoming an Assassin. He was nine years old now, almost ten, and it would be shameful to behave like a little boy.

But then his father opened his arms to him, and suddenly it was all Darim could do not to cry but instead through his arms around his father's waist and hug him fiercely, pressing his face against the rough, dusty robes he wore and screwing his eyes tightly shut. There had been whispers that something had gone wrong in Constantinople, surely the Master should be back by now, why was it taking so long? Darim had played them off, had told Sef that it was nonsense when his little brother would lie awake in their room whispering questions. They never talked about them around Mama. Darim knew she missed Baba more than she would tell him and Sef because she would grow quiet sometimes for no reason, and then when he would go to wish her goodnight sometimes he would find her wearing father's undershirts. She would always tell him not to worry and hug him especially tight before sending him off to bed with a kiss on the forehead.

Some nights he and Sef would climb into bed with her because Sef was worried she was lonely.

But now that was all forgotten, and Baba was home. They didn't have to worry about never seeing him again now.

"We missed you, Baba."

Altaïr didn't dare laugh as his son barreled into him, but a wide grin would do nothing to shatter Darim's hard-won dignity. He hugged his son back tightly, privately marveling at how much higher the top of the boy's head was on his chest.

On the way to Constantinople and once they were there, it had been easy to keep himself from yearning for his family. He missed them, of course—deeply, and when he couldn't fall asleep easily at night, they were always in his thoughts. But the work they had traveled so far to do occupied much of his time, and he'd had to focus in order to establish the Assassins' presence in the city—and when that hadn't happened, to bring them home safely.

But on the way back, there had been little to distract him. He'd wondered what they were doing, how the boys were growing, what he'd missed. Now, at last, there was no more wondering.

"And I missed you, Darim," he said, stroking his hair lightly. And then he did laugh when Sef tried his hardest to encircle both his father and his big brother in his arms. "And you, Sef," he said, and hugged them both.

"You were gone so long, we-" Darim stopped himself short as Sef interrupted, but instead of berating his little brother for being an insufferable attention hog, he let the smaller boy wriggle into the embrace.

After all, Darim wasn't the only son of Altaïr who had missed his father.

"Someone said you'd got lost at sea!" Sef added, sounding indignant. "But you didn't, did you Baba? You never get lost."

"How could he be lost if he's home?" Darim replied for his father, sounded exasperated with his brother's ignorance. "Constantinople's far away over the sea, Sef. It's not like going to Acre."

"Did you fight any Templars in Constandynosepull, Baba?"

"How many times do I have to tell you it's not called 'Constandynosepull,' it's 'Constantinople!'"

"Be quiet Darim I'm talking to Baba!"

"Darim! Sef! What have I told you two about bickering out loud where everyone can-"

Whatever reprimand the boys might have been about to face was swiftly cut short as their mother rounded the corner and immediately caught sight of the cause of their high spirits. She stood looking astonished at the sight before breaking into a run towards her husband.

"Oh habeebi!"

All three of them looked up at the sound of the familiar voice, but it was sweeter to Altaïr's ears. He knew Maria's face as well as he knew anyone's, but what existed in his mind was nothing compared to the real thing.

Gently, he extricated himself from his sons' arms, turning to face his wife just as she reached them.

Maria had none of the reservations of her eldest son when it came to embracing her husband, and as soon as she knew she wasn't about to collide with any smaller bodies, she threw herself at Altaïr and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly and saying nothing, thoroughly overwhelmed by the fact that he was home and safe and back again.

Oh god, oh god he was safe.

"You're home," she murmured. "You're home at last."

Half the training yard was watching them now, and the other half was pretending it wasn't. Altaïr didn't care. He wrapped his arms around his wife and rocked her, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek against her hair.

"Maryam." He said her name like he was savoring it. "I missed you, too."

Maria doesn't appear to give a damn about the audience or how much of a scene she's creating. She draws back a moment to take his cheeks between her palms before she starts to pepper his face with kisses, starting with his cheeks, his nose, his chin and then finally his-

"Bleugh, they're kissing!" Sef complained to his brother as he turned away in disgust.

Altaïr couldn't keep from smiling at his son's complaint, and ruining the (actually quite chaste) kiss with Maria. But that was fine; the welcome he wanted from her was not one to be accepted in front of their sons, much less the watching public.

"And you will have to suffer through it once more," he said, reaching out with one hand to ruffle Sef's hair again. "It is one of the down sides to my return."

Maria caught the hugely apologetic look that Darim was shooting her for his brother's conduct and laughed, resting one hand on her firstborn's shoulder while the other remained on her husband's cheek.

"I would not call it a downside at all," she chuckled, kissing her husband again on the cheek before she drew Darim against her side in a half hug. "Stop being a willful nuisance young man and come and hug the rest of us."

Altaïr barely waited for Darim to acquiesce before he drew his entire family into his arms, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling for along moment before releasing them.

"I see you've all made great strides in my absence," he said, fondness twinkling in his eyes. "Perhaps you don't need me around very much after all."

"No, we do! If you're not here then Darim gets too bossy!" Sef protested, sidling a little closer to his father to avoid any pinching that might follow from his pronouncement.

He nearly didn't avoid said pinching, but Altaïr deftly intercepted Darim's hand.

"In that case, I'd like to return to our quarters and change," he said. "If I'm to stay, I should clean up a little."

Maria shot both boys a stern look and positioned herself between Sef and Darim, putting her hands on their shoulders.

"As should you two if you want your supper. I don't want to see any dirt beneath your nails before we sit down. Sef what on earth have you been doing all afternoon? You look as though you've been dragged through a head backwards."

Sef shot him a pleading, wide-eyed look at that and despite his earlier caution on the value of honesty, he couldn't reveal the truth of his son's afternoon activities.

"Such is the danger of running around playing with friends." Altaïr ruffled Sef's hair affectionately and gave Maria a smile. "It seems you're the cleanest of us all, habeebti."

Darim looked at his father and brother quizzically, but chose to hold his tongue as he took Sef's hand.

"Come on Sef, I'll show you what Master Rauf taught us today if you want."

He hugged his father around the waist again and beamed up at him.

"I can show you too, Baba. We've been practicing together."

Sef managed to keep from sighing in relief at that, and Altaïr managed to keep his eyes from sparkling in amusement. It was a near thing, though; perhaps this was one way in which his younger son had already surpassed him.

"I do want to see, and I will," he said, squeezing the shoulders of both his sons. "But I hope you will forgive your father for bathing first. We've been on the road a long time, and hurried our pace as we drew nearer home."

At this point, he was half-certain that the dirt ran several centimeters thick on his skin.

"Do not complain, Sef," Maria said sternly when she saw her youngest open his mouth to wind up to his protest. "I promise Baba will not be going anywhere anytime soon. Hurry along and do as I've asked and let him have a moment to set himself in order."

After a few more protests and shot down arguments, the boys left to do as their mother had commanded and Maria needed only to look over her shoulder at her husband as she led the way back to their chambers, stopping only to ask a servant that the bath be filled for him on their way.

"I do hope you can manage with only myself as a bathing attendant," she said in a low voice as they continued on towards their room. "I am disinclined to share you."