[quote=@persianversion]
The next couple of weeks were a beautiful mess for Najla, and though it was a chaotic assortment of tears and reunions, she had loved every moment. As soon as her father had brought her into the palace, Najla had received less of a ‘hero’s welcome’ as the slavers had joked about, and instead had been that of a beloved family. She found friends among guards, wealthy merchants, and the noblemen and women of the castle, all of who stopped her briefly, expressing their surprise and excitement. Her family would have been found everywhere, but her father first took her to the hall he resided in, a small wing of the castle dedicated purely to the rooms of Ali ibn-la-Wahad and his wives and children. Here, she was brought into her mother’s room, and saw her laying on the bed.

She had become frailer since Najla’s disappearance. Najla’s father had always told them of how his wife had been described as a ‘jewel of the desert’, and Najla had once been thrilled at how much she resembled the tribal beauty. Now, age and stress had made their marks where they had not on Najla. Jamile bint Nasir had been a tribal woman before, and thus should have been more accustomed to hardships, but here, her life had been her children. It hurt Najla to see her mother like this, weak and suffering, though she could not imagine she looked much better to her. Whatever they looked like, their reunion had been tearful, and Najla did not move from her bed as the rest of her family poured in. First her youngest brother Bassim was brought in, then Iffra, and slowly the rest trickled in, each taking a seat somewhere on her mother’s bed. Harith came too, and Najla swore she had never smiled wider than when she saw little Mehmet holding his hand as he walked in. Najla greeted Harith by holding him to her tightly, and upon releasing him, Harith would place his son onto the bed.

Mehmet paused when Najla reached a hand to him, trying to turn back into his father’s arms. Harith ordered him to go forward, to say hi to his aunt, and the smile on Najla’s face dropped at the sudden realization.

[i]<“You don’t recognize me, Mehmet dear?”>[/i] The little boy shook his head, and Najla forced herself to smile again for his sake. [i]<“I’m your aunt, Najla. I’m your father’s sister.”>[/i] She would try to convince the child some more, but upon seeing that he was nervous, simply stopped trying. Harith reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it tightly as he tried to soothe her. 

[i]<“It’s alright Najla, he will come to remember you once more.”>

<“I saw him at his birth. I was there, and he’s not even three and he’s already forgotten me.”>[/i]

[i]<“They took much from you, Najla. Don’t let them take your life here too.”>[/i]

Najla nodded at that, squeezing his hand before she released it. For a long time, Ali ibn-la-Wahad and all his children but Jalil and Nura, who would return to the capital within a few days, simply sat around their mother on her bed. They traded stories and tears long into the night, and even as everyone retired to their rooms for the night, Najla and her sister slept beside their mother, still unwilling to let go. 

She would forget Ketill for the next two weeks. Najla would not be able to forget his name, for nearly every conversation she had would involve the Servant that enslaved her. Time and time again, she’d read the shock on their faces when she held that he hadn’t touched or hurt her, and after a couple of weeks of this, it had begun to wear on Najla. Her life here would continue without Ketill, in a manner most could only dream of, but her conscience could not be free of him. The thought of Ketill in the dungeons gnawed at her in the moments where they asked, and yet, in the moments where they didn’t, Ketill would be forgotten entirely, lost among the multitudes of well-wishers.

[hr]

She would come to him after a couple of weeks. While Najla likely would have forgotten about him for far longer, one of the Sultan’s advisors had come to her, and asked her forgiveness before asking what she’d like to do, as he wanted to decide before the slavers had left. Clearly, they were enjoying the hospitality of the Sultan, though it would be over quite soon. Najla had heard of Ketill’s actions in the court, as her uncle had told her of the insult he had spit at him. As the Sultan, the youngest son of a powerful family, Kamil was a man with little worry in the world, and he had not seemed too upset at the insult, and had even laughed when she mentioned that it was the same he had spit at Uzeyir. 

It did not mean the insult had been forgotten. The Sultan was somewhat uncaring as to his fate, but some of his advisors had asked her to consider the year-long sentence. Najla could not bring herself to do so. Regardless of the pain it brought for Ketill, it meant a year where she’d spend every day beating a man to death slowly. Surely, this couldn’t be a just death? Their God has always preached mercy, especially to those weaker than oneself, and Najla knew that in this instance, Ketill was weaker. When it had been her, he had done as her God would have commanded. Did that mean she was less than a Servant in the eyes of her God then?

Najla had told the advisor that she would give her decision within a few days, and retreated to the temple. Those that had been in the women’s section cleared out somewhat quickly upon her arrival, and Najla set up guards at the door to make sure no others came, though it was unlikely at this time of night. She would spend most of her night praying there, and for the first time since she’d been in the capital, Najla spent the night alone, only to come to Ketill the next day. 

As if Najla didn’t look out of place in the dungeons already, the guards would quickly escort her to Ketill’s cell, at which point the disparity had become even more obvious. While Ketill had suffered in a dungeon for weeks, Najla had been reunited with her family, her friends, and all the luxuries she had abandoned. She was dressed finely, in a thin blue dress with a plunging neckline, her hair done up elegantly, and gold jewelry wrapped around her wrists, fingers, and neck. She looked healthier than Ketill would have ever seen her, already having gained back some of the weight she had lost, and her eyes were bright and lined with kohl. Her appearance aside, even Najla herself seemed more confident and cheerful, and she dismissed the guards with a wave of her hand. There was a canteen in her other hand, and she would throw it in between the bars of the cell, allowing it to fall on the floor. Ketill would likely hear sounds of a liquid sloshing around in there, not the water that the guards so sparingly gave him, but a wine she’d been told not to waste on him.

[i]“You are so [b]fucking[/b] stupid.”[/i] 

It was a strange sentence to hear from a Sultana’s mouth, but the anger in her gaze made it clear that she meant it. Her night in the temple had eased her thoughts somewhat, but Ketill had insulted her uncle. The Sultan may not have minded too much, but Najla was furious, not at the words themselves but the consequences he had brought on himself by speaking them. While there were plenty of thoughts swimming in her head as of now, Najla would not care to pick through them before speaking, instead unleashing her anger on Ketill at once.

[i]“I offered you a concession. A favor. I was going to let you die as a man, instead of as a dog. Now you’re going to die as something lower than either. You are [b]so fucking stupid![/b]”[/i] She stepped closer to the bars, glaring at him through them as she spoke. [i]“Do you have any sense in that thick skull of yours? You can’t insult uncle like that! He’s the Sultan, you donkey! [b]What were you trying to do?![/b] Did you extend your death for a year just so I would have to perform it?”[/i]

She stopped speaking then, allowing herself a deep breath. She wouldn’t look at him for some time, turning her gaze to another end of the dungeon, but when she brought her gaze back to his, the anger in her expression had not softened, neither had her voice, though she had managed to reel in the volume of her voice somewhat.

[i]“Do you have any idea what they’re asking for? You’re going to be lashed, every day for a year, then hung. Tell me the truth Ketill, did you want this? Did you do this on purpose so that I’d have to do it, or because you thought I couldn’t?” [/i]

Whatever his response, it would not temper her anger. The Sultan’s family seemed to share this temper, especially the spoiled princes and princesses that wandered the halls and courtyards, and while it certainly made their politics more interesting, for those that crossed their paths, it was a danger they needed to maneuver carefully. 

[i]“I’ll do it, Ketill. Did you think I was incapable of dirtying my hands? I have taken better men from this earth, you think a dog would give me pause? For that which your people have made me suffer, this would be a small retribution.”[/i] She would wait again, trying to steady her anger as she looked upon him. She could feel her irritation rising the longer she was trapped down here, speaking to Ketill in a dirty dungeon instead of lounging with her family. She had spent the day playing with Mehmet in the pools, and was looking forward to sharing some wine with her sister Nura and some of her cousins before bed. In between this, Ketill was less of a person, and more like an unpleasant task.

Yet when she looked upon him, Najla wondered if she was wrong for treating him as such. Perhaps he hadn’t been too pleasant to her, but when she studied him, Najla wondered if he was capable of anything more. The kindnesses he had shown her had been enormous, however, and Najla found herself glancing at his finger as she thought of these. She had been reminded of them often during the past weeks, as many had asked her how she had managed to make it back unharmed, and Najla could hardly tell that story without mentioning Ketill. Therefore, though the anger had not left her, it seemed as if Najla had made a decision.

[i]“I’d do it, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to spend the next year of my life lashing you every day, not when it has just now been returned to me. So I’ve come with a bargain.”[/i] She stepped forward at that, wrapping a hand around the dirty bars as she looked down at Ketill. [i]“I’ll give you a swift, painless death. But if you want it, you will apologize to my uncle tomorrow. You will prostate yourself before him and offer the sincerest apologies you can manage for how you spoke to the Sultan. If you do that, I will trade the leather for steel, this I promise.” [/i]

Before he would react, perhaps embarrassed at the thought of having to make a fool of himself in front of his enemies, Najla would continue to speak. Her voice grew far softer here, and her gaze made it clear that she was not trying to bargain with him or ease her way out of anything, but offering him a true gesture. Her night in the temple had given her this much, and she had spent much of it recalling Jalil’s face, remembering her pain when she was forced to leave him.

[i]“Where do you want your body sent?”[/i] She paused here, briefly remembering the sight of Jalil’s face again before she explained herself further. [i]“I will not have them feed your body to the dogs. Servant or not, you deserve better than that, at least. I do not know how your people are buried, but if you tell me, I will see it happen.” [/i]

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