(no subject)

[madeinacre]

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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[madeinacre]

It had been quite a while since Sef had heard his father's voice, and as he was currently hugging a tree to keep his balance with his eyes screwed shut, he didn't have the luxury of confirming his rescuer's identity with his own eyes. It was nice to hear that someone was coming for him though.

When someone grabbed him by the waist though, he started to panic as his balance shifted and he flailed about before he flung his skinny arms around his rescuer's neck and it was only then that he registered the familiarity in the man's voice.

"Baba?"

The man was whiskery and covered in dust, but as Sef clung to him and peered at him through bleary, tear filled eyes, he was able to recognise him and he hugged him all the tighter.

"Baba!"

[pushesgently]

Up a tree or not, nothing could stop Altaïr from holding his son tightly, and not to keep him from falling to the ground below. It had been months, and Sef didn't fit the same way in his arms—he was a little larger, his arms and legs a little longer. But he was a welcome presence nonetheless.

"This is a surprising welcome," he said, smiling into Sef's hair. "Hold on tight."

It was a little tricker to climb back down with arm, as the other was wrapped firmly around Sef, but a minute or so later and they were on the ground.

[madeinacre]

Sef clung to his father like a limpet, not caring that Altaïr's robes were caked in dirt and that Dahi and Hasan would see; it was Baba and he was home! He had kept his promise he'd come back before he started training and what was more, he was rescuing him. He snuggled in as close as he could, trying to stop crying and to be brave but he couldn't help it, and it wasn't just because he was scared of being up the tree.

Even when they were on the ground, he still stuck to his father like a vice.

"Baba, Baba!"

[pushesgently]

"It's all right, Sef, you're safe now." He held the boy for a few moments longer, stroking his hair with his free hand. It looked a little curlier now. "Don't be scared."

This was what he'd kept in mind all the way back from Constantinople—one-third of it, anyway. It was some distraction from his frustration and bitter disappointment at their failure. Here and now, that began to fade away.

[madeinacre]

"Are you really back home now Baba? Are you going to stay?"

He sniffed back his tears but still kept his face buried against Altaïr.

"I wasn't scared."

While he might have been clinging to his father as though he might never be torn away from him again, he couldn't admit to being scared in front of all these people. He would never live it down.

"You're not going away again are you?"

[pushesgently]

"I will be home for a long time, Sef," he said, squeezing him tight once more. "Do not worry."

He couldn't promise never to leave, but it would take a matter of great importance to draw him away from Masyaf for the indefinite future. Over Sef's head, he caught Nasib's eye and nodded toward Sef's little friends, then walked over to his horse.

"Let's get you up here and we'll ride back home. Do you know where Darim and your mother are?"

[madeinacre]

"Darim is with Master Rauf and he said that he was going to learn the fence," Sef hiccuped, getting his words muddled as he snuggled into his father's embrace, completely ignoring everything else that was around him. "Mama is maybe with Negma because she is getting really big now and Mama wanted to try a saddle for her and she said maybe that but I don't know and Baba what does the fence have to do with being a novice?"

He was happy to be lifted into the saddle, but as soon as his father joined him he was right back to asking questions.

"Baba did you bring me a present? Did you kill any Templars? Did you bring me a helmet? Can I start my training now that you're back because seven and three quarters is almost eight?"

[pushesgently]

None of the questions were funny, but Altaïr chuckled all the same. It was wonderful to hear the excited stream.

"We brought a few things back," he said from behind Sef. "I'll save the tales of our journey for when we're all together, so your brother and mother can hear them as well."

It might have been his imagination, but it felt like his horse picked up on his mood or their proximity to home and moved with more spirited, despite the additional rider.

"As for your training, we'll see. Have you been good while I was gone?"

[madeinacre]

"Yes," Sef said a little too quickly, and then decided to elaborate. "I washed behind my ears and went to bed when Mama said I should and I even didn't use that word you told me not to use before you went away Baba, even though Dahi really was one when he said you weren't going to come back."

Although he had got in trouble with Mama for that and sent to bed with no sweet after dinner, because he had punched Dahi in the nose and then that grumpy man Abbas who always frowned at him and Darim had had to pull him off him by the collar of his shirt and it had torn, and Mama had been really annoyed because after Abbas had gone she had called Abbas the same thing that Baba had told him not to call Dahi.

"Baba you can tell me about Constandynosepull now and I'll pretend that I didn't hear when you tell Darim and Mama, I promise."

[pushesgently]

Altaïr frowned as Sef explained, not particularly bothered by boys scrapping but very much against his sons' hearing that he might not return. Yet he couldn't deny such a thing was always possible; he trusted in his skills and his men, but none of them were immortal.

"It would take a great deal of time to tell you, Sef, and we are nearly home. Have patience."

Indeed, he could now see the spires of Masyaf rising above the hills as they came around them. They were nearly home now, and might as well consider themselves already there for being on Assassin land.

[madeinacre]

"Oh but-"

But Sef knew how to recognise his father's tone and pouted just a little as he knew it was an argument he couldn't win. Instead, he busied himself with playing with the horse's mane and tried not to sound too disappointed. Suddenly though, he was reminded of something and he turned back to look at his father, his small face full of concern.

"Baba, you're not going to tell Mama I was up a tree are you? Because she would be upset and you always say we shouldn't upset Mama."

Especially when Mama had made her views on him climbing trees without an adult knowing extremely clear, and her displeasure even more so.

"So we shouldn't tell her. That would be good."

[pushesgently]

That sort of nervous hedging was a good deal more familiar to Altaïr, and he had to fight to keep a straight face and avoid chuckling.

"Sef Ibn'La-Ahad, are you suggesting I
lie to your mother, when she's worked so hard to take care of you in my absence?"

[madeinacre]

"No! Because, um-" here he frowned, and then parroted in his most obedient voice as he traced the patterns in the leatherwork on his father's belt. "Because lying is wrong and dishonest and boys who lie go to bed with no dinner. But Baba, if she doesn't ask about climbing trees and you don't tell her then it's not lying, I promise!"

He did his very best to look earnest and as honourable and grown up as he knew he should be aged seven and three quarters and about to start training to be an Assassin.

"Besides even if you did lie then Mama would know. It's her special power."

[pushesgently]

"That's true. It's hard to fool her."

Maria was very perceptive, though he knew that quality to be a natural trait honed by experience, nothing more. His own extra sense was more akin to a special power, but the boys didn't know about that yet. He was waiting to see whether either of them had inherited it, and didn't want to put ideas into their head.

"How about this," he suggested. "We go home now, and if you don't mention it, I will not mention it. If she asks...we shall see."

[madeinacre]

"How about," Sef continued, "if Mama starts to talk about trees to you then I can change the subject to Constandynosepull, is that allowed Baba?"

He did his very best to look sincere and well behaved before he wrapped his arms around his father's middle and hugged him tightly.

"I missed you, Baba."

[pushesgently]

Novice attempts at dissembling aside, Altaïr could not resist wrapping one arm around Sef's shoulders. He was tired, disappointed and dirty from traveling, but he was home now—and he could see the gates of Masyaf up ahead. It was good to be back.

"I missed you as well, Sef."

[madeinacre]

With the hug out of the way, Sef had other more important business to attend to.

"Baba, did you know, um, I grew this much since you went away?" He stretched out his arms to demonstrate. "And I can swim now! Mama taught me, she said that all little boys should know how to swim. Oh and my uncle Malik says I'm incorrigible? Are you incorrigible too Baba? What is incorrigible, is it a good thing, Baba?"

[pushesgently]

"I can see that." He chuckled, first at Sef's demonstration and then at his new vocabulary. "Whether or not it is a good or bad thing depends on one's perspective, Sef, but I suspect we are all incorrigible at one time or another."

Before the boy could pepper him with further questions, they rode through the main gate of Masyaf, where the sentries were suddenly standing that much straighter now that the Mentor had returned.

Once inside, Altaïr dismounted first before lifting his son off the horse. Then it was several of his most senior men who came to him with questions, which he tried to answer as best he could without going into details. Yes they had returned safely, no things had not gone precisely as planned, but the story could wait—he wanted to speak with Malik first, and more importantly, he wanted to see his family.

This led to Altaïr, Sef and one or two hangers-on walking up the slope and toward the practice yard, which was ringed by a whole class of novices but currently contained only Rauf and one familiar, much shorter figure.

[sonofsonofnone]

Of course they weren't practicing with real swords yet; they might have started on the basics of their training already but there was no way Master Rauf was willing to let his pre-novices loose on each other with live steel just yet.

"You will give a finger to the Brotherhood in due time, I do not wish to see you lose them unnecessarily before your time and neither does Al-Mualim," he had told them all.

Darim had tried not to look too disappointed and had tried his level best not to let on to all the other boys that he agreed with them when they came to him begging him to ask his father to reconsider. He knew precisely what Baba would say anyway: absolutely nothing because Mama would cut him off with a stern glance before he could even raise the subject with him.

"Al-Mualim may be my father," he had told his cohorts in a tone of voice that sounded remarkably like his mother's, "but he is our Master and if we want to be master Assassins someday we have to learn to respect his wishes."

Aswad had tried especially hard to knock Darim down after that and his knees had shown the bruises for at least a week afterwards.

Today though, Darim was concentrating fully on Master Rauf and the task at hand. It was simple enough, a step into a counter parry which he had been practicing long and hard to get right. Master Rauf had been impressed enough to ask Darim to show his classmates how it was done.

[pushesgently]

Altaïr had every intention of passing on his knowledge and skills—as much as such things could be passed on—to his sons, but he equally had no intention of setting them apart by being the only one who instructed them. Even if he had the time to do so, Darim and Sef would benefit more from fully joining the brotherhood and participating in its methods of training.

Rauf was the teacher, and Altaïr had trusted him to do well by Darim and the other boys in his absence. As he approached the training ring it became clear that the man had lived up to his trust; the techniques that Darim was demonstrating were simple but executed with skill for a newcomer to the blade.

Their arrival in Masyaf had caused some stir, but most of the boys surrounding the ring had been so focused on the lesson that they hadn't noticed. That is, until the Grandmaster arrived beside it to watch, making no move to interrupt.

[sonofsonofnone]

Darim, for his part, was much too focused on the task at hand. He had been working hard all afternoon, his stomach had that same hollow feeling that usually hailed his desire for supper, but right now he had to ignore his stomach to get this done right. Aswad was watching, and he had been useless at parrying ever since Master Rauf had shown him the steps. He was two years older than him, but Darim was determined not to let that hinder him.

Breathe. Focus. Move.

Master Rauf moved towards him and Darim stepped forward, raising his practice sword and moving to deflect the blow.

Block and step and move again.

"You see? That is how it is done," Master Rauf was saying as Darim sat and took a breath as he moved his practice sword back to his side.

He was so fixed on keeping himself calm and composed that he missed the smile on Master Rauf's face as he looked at the assembled audience and grinned at one of the adults.

"Do you have anything to add, Master?"

[pushesgently]

There was something bittersweet in seeing his eldest son like this—taller, stronger, more skilled. Life had gone on while Altaïr was away, as he knew it must, and wouldn't have wished otherwise. But there was still a yearning to have done the impossible and been in two places at one—the master and the father, both doing their jobs.

The part of him that felt this was outweighed by the part of him that felt a considerable amount of pride in Darim's development, though, and he smiled back at Rauf.

"No, Dai, I can see that their training is going well," he said, raising his voice slightly to be heard across the circle. "You have some promising pupils."

[sonofsonofnone]

Darim started immediately at the sound of his father's voice, his head whipping around so fast that it was a wonder he didn't manage to get whiplash. Sef was being embarrassing- like always- and was hopping up and down by their father's side, waving and pointing at him and trying to get Darim's attention. He stood very tall and straight, squaring his shoulders and bowing his head very deeply and respectfully in Al-Mualim's direction, determined not to act like a child now that he was in preliminary training.

Master Rauf clapped his hand on Darim's shoulder and addressed his pupils.

"That will be all for today. Do not let your heads grow too big with the compliments and work hard to perfect the art of not tripping over your feet when you step. You are dismissed."

It was earlier than usual, but judging from the way that Master Rauf's eyes seemed to smile more than usual, Darim had a reason to suspect it might be down to the return of his father. He politely thanked his teacher and returned his sword to the rack, all the while trying not to let his hands shake with excitement or run to his father like a small child. He had been told to be the man of the family while his father was away and he wasn't about to revert to being a boy now that he was back.

"Darim, Darim! It's Baba! He's really home!" Sef squeaked as his brother joined them.

Darim stopped just short of them and bowed deeply and respectfully, just like a good and grown up Assassin should.

"Welcome home, Al-Mualim sir."

[pushesgently]

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?"

[sonofsonofnone]

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."