“Again!”
“No way this is going to work.” Malik stayed on the ground despite your protests, only wielding his hidden blade, his left side still in bandages on full display, naked because of the blazing sun, sweat glazing on his skin. “You are a nurse anyway, what do you know about how assassins fight?”
“By the wounds, they cause to each other.” With a dagger in your hand, you stood still, ready to fight.
“Alright, then why do you care about my skills (y/n)? They worse than ever, is that good to watch?” Malik spit on the ground in anger and got up.
“I do care, I healed you, became your lover and now I have no intention of losing you. Al Mualim maid it clear that you will not be dismissed from the assassins, your help is still needed.”
“As a rafik.” The late assassin untied the straps of his hidden blade and dropped it into the sand. “Rafiks don’t carry blades.”
“Well, you can be the first one to do so.”
“And if I don’t want that?” Angrily Malik left the training grounds. “I’ll rest for a while, leave me alone.”
His problem became psychological rather than physical, and with that, you couldn’t help him as an ordinary healer. You wanted him to feel good again, bud after he lost his arm, his brother, his title. Kadar would surely guide him through this…
“We found a wounded man!” You heard suddenly from the gates. Two novices carried another one from their rank, as you noticed the look of his bloody robes. “We think it’s Kadar.”
Like if the air stopped flowing around you, you couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. Malik, still at the big door of the castle, must have been felt the same as he stumbled and almost fell on his knees.
“Let me take a look at him!” Shoving every personal thoughts aside the doctor came to the surface of your mind as you ran next to the novices. Without a second glance, you right away recognized Kadar under the many layers of blood and dirt. He was half-dead and unconscious
“This is Kadar indeed, get him to my room. Quick!”
Malik, still by the doorframe, watched his brother getting taken away until you grabbed his right to make him pay attention to your words.
“You have to come too… Kadar’s state is critical as I can tell now, he needs his brother, just as you need him.”
“But…”
“No, there is no ‘but…’, he is here and alive, do you want to lose him again?”
“No.”
“Then come!”
The procedure was gruesome, Kadar had many open wounds, most of them infected, framed with black and dead skin.
“Whether he is going to make it, it’s up to the lord’s mercy.” You couldn’t say any promising words to Malik. “Hopefully his fever will go down by the morning, until that… pray for his soul.”
Malik’s heart ached in pain, he finally got his brother back, only to lose him again? How much more Altair’s mistake will cost him? He waited past midnight, then he left his brother’s bedside, he couldn’t do anything for him, you did everything you could, there is nothing else to speed up the process of healing.
He found you in your chambers, almost naked, only wearing a gown, brushing your (h/c) colored hair, sitting at the edge of your mattress. At the sound of his arrival, you interrupted your nightly routine.
“How is he?”
“Bad…” Malik muttered, slightly trembling. The happenings of the day caught up with him slowly. “If he will die… again…”
“No such thing supposed to happen as long as you see me. Come here!” Beckoning to him you invited the rafik into the hold of your arms. His weight pressed you down to the bed, his hot breath tricking the skin of your neck. Tears stained the fabric or your gown already. You didn’t mind that he was heavy as long as you could hold him close to yourself, make him feel safe after a long time living in doubts and fear. Malik needed you, only he didn’t admit it.
“Everything will be alright soon, you got somebody to fight for.”
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