[quote=@persianversion]
Even as Najla spoke, she could see him laughing in the darkness. She had never seen a man quite so uncaring as to his own death, especially not one who was willing to extend their sentence in such a horrible manner simply to hurt her in the process. Najla quickly determined that Ketill must have been the bravest fool in the world, or a madman. She took the flask from him, grasping it in her hands as he told her of the woman she had been. Najla would not answer his question as to why she’d been in Broacien, simply to avoid the name Jalil. She’d commanded him not to say the name Saina again, and he hadn’t, but Ketill was getting dangerously close to making her fulfill another promise.

Though she would not answer his question about her time in Broacien, the mention of her brother certainly drew a response from her. Anger kept her silent, but Ketill would easily be able to see how tightly she gripped the bar at those words, her knuckles turning white as he continued. How dare he speak to her of Jalil? She could barely hear his burial instructions as he returned to a corner of the cell, as Ketill seemed to have found the easiest way to provoke her. When he continued to speak of her brother, Najla could feel herself ready to scream at him once more, to insult him and rid herself of the anger, but she paused, biting her lip as he spoke of burying him beside her brother. His other words had only made her believe she was speaking to a madman. Now, he’d be able to see her anger beginning to slip, and perhaps he’d see in her eyes that his words had stung. A Servant’s words meant nothing to her, but to align his words with her brothers gave Najla pause. Jalil had been a warrior, if anything, and perhaps he would have agreed. It hurt that she would never know.

Najla leaned down and placed the canteen against the bars of the cell. He might have refused her offer before, but she had no use for it. As she stood up straight again, Najla dusted off her hands, her gaze fixed firmly on Ketill. For a long moment, she would only study him, both the hurt and anger dissipating as she watched him. Najla could not understand him. He had no motivations she could understand beyond those marks on his forehead, not even his own life. What man did not fear death? It had always been easy for her to use her position, to threaten and give as she pleased, but as Najla studied Ketill, she realized that perhaps she still had nothing he feared to threaten him with, and nothing he wanted to give him.

More than anything, Najla was confused. She could not imagine what kind of man would not fear death, nor be willing to bargain for their lives. Those that she’d killed before had always been fearful, whether one could see it in their begging, tears, or the forced bravery they put on. Ketill’s was none of those, he wasn’t even trying to be brave, he seemed like he truly didn’t care. Those she’d manipulated before had always been easy, as everyone had something they loved, whether they wanted more of it or taken it away. Ketill wanted no gold or glory, hell, Ketill hadn’t even been interested in fucking her, one of the basest desires beyond food and water. Najla was not trying to understand what he wanted however, but what she needed to do with him. She had wanted to offer him a chance to die by her hands as a sign of respect, as if it was a final confession that she was killing a man, not a dog.  She’d never seen Ketill like this in their time together before, and was beginning to wonder if she was killing a man after all. 


[i]“I would not bury you beside Jalil, not even if I could. You are not his equal in any manner of life or death.” [/i]

Neither was she, it seemed. With that, Najla turned, making her way out of the dungeon. She would return from the cramped cell that had been Ketill’s home for some time, returning to the world that had been hers, one with golden halls and bowing slaves. She walked past these hurriedly, returning to a familiar wing of the house, not where she was meant to find her sister and family, but someone whose voice had always provided her with clarity.

[hr]


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Some years ago, when Najla had been about 18, the Sultan had taken a wife from the Al-Suwaidi tribe, a tribe settled on the edges of the desert, where the land was just green enough to grow. She had been the daughter of their tribe’s caliph, and it had solidified their relations with one of the most important village federations in the Sultanate. Najla remembered the wedding well, where she had met a 20 year old Osman, the brother of the Sultan’s new wife. She had been taken with him even then, when he had just become a man, with no ability to inherit his father’s title. Her cousins had teased her about her childlike crush, as they believed it would result in nothing but a flirtation until the celebrations were over. 

Yet Osman remained. Long after the celebrations, long after his sister’s marriage had been solidified. He had proven himself a great help to the Sultan in the short time he’d aided in arranging his sister’s marriage, and had made himself quite useful to the Sultan in dealing with his father’s tribe. After two years, he’d been offered an official position on the Sultan’s court, to help advise the Sultan in keeping unruly tribes under his control. This came as joyous news to Najla, as the pair had since moved past flirtations at parties, and Najla had watched in admiration as her lover pushed himself up the ranks of the Sultan’s court, aiding him wherever she could. They had even spoken of marriage before, which would result in quite a powerful match now, but that had been before her disappearance, and in that time, he’d been promised to another. It had not shattered her heart as she thought it would upon her return, for Najla believed his devotion to her had not wavered. He had maintained that he could not resume their relationship so quickly, yet tonight he had abandoned his new wife in their bedroom and brought Najla to his adjoining office to speak to her privately as dusk approached. 

[i]<“I offered him a clean death if he apologized but he won’t take it, I know. I think he only wants to die in a way that will bring me grief.”>[/i]

[i]<“It doesn’t matter, you don’t need to let him hurt you any longer. Kill him. Just say you want a clean death and you’ll only have to swing a sword. Your uncle doesn’t care about this insult, he’s got some new additions in his harem, he’ll be busy with that for some time.”> [/i]

[i]<“You don’t think I thought of that already? I know uncle doesn’t care.”>[/i]

[i]<“What’s the problem then?”>[/i]

Najla paused at this, looking up at Osman. He was seated behind his desk, leaned back in his chair as he eyed Najla. She was seated before him, her hand wrapped around a glass of wine.

[i]<“I don’t-”>[/i] There was a long pause then, and though she could feel Osman’s eyes on her, Najla had stopped looking back at him. He was quiet however, merely studying her, and the silence forced her to speak again. [i]<“He spoke of Jalil. He said I could bury him next to my brother-”>

<“A Servant’s cruel joke gave you pause?”>

<“It was no joke, he doesn’t know. Besides, it wasn’t that. He said Jalil was a warrior, and that I wasn’t.”>

<“You’re not.”> [/i]

Najla let out a small laugh at that, finally looking up at Osman again. [i]<“No, I’m not. I’m not even a spymaster anymore. But Jalil was. He was so brave, and so devoted. He followed all of the laws of the Sawarim, even in war, even when it wasn’t easy.”>[/i]

[i]<“He was a good man, Najla, and his life will be rewarded with a better one. But do you think he would have asked you to spare a Servant?”>[/i]

[i]<“No. But Ketill-he saved my life, Osman. I told you. He didn’t touch me, gave me all that I needed, he was even willing to cut off a finger for me. He never liked me, yet I’m here because a Servant showed me mercy.”>[/i]

[i]<“Send him off into the desert then. If the Sawarim wills it, he’ll live. You will have shown your mercy, and if he dies, it will be because God has willed it.”>[/i]

Najla was quiet again for a moment, but her eyes remained on Osman, studying him as he did her. <“What would you have done?”>

[i]<“I’m telling you what I would do.”>[/i]

[i]<“Not with the Servant, with me. Would you have raped me? Sold me? Would you have let me die or saved me from my own mistakes?”>[/i]

[i]<“What the hell kind of a question is that? You know what I have done for you, what I’ve always done for you. Everything I did, I did because I had loved you, the Servant did so because you were his property. You are merely imagining this debt to him.”>[/i]

[i]You did what you did for a Sultana, not a slave.[/i] Najla kept this thought quiet however, and moved on rather quickly. Soon, she had moved past the topic of Ketill at all, and it seemed she had already made up her mind. While Osman would find this to be a relief, Najla would insist on making it anything but, and shifted the topic to his wife Elif, speaking only of their life together before she thanked him for his counsel and left to resume drinking with her sister.

[hr]

When they would drag Ketill into the throne room the next day, he would see a sight that would convince most men of their deaths. Najla was seated just beside her uncle’s throne, dressed even finer than she had been the last time she visited her former master. As if all that hadn’t been enough to prove her position, she wore a thin gold circlet on her head. She was speaking with her uncle carelessly, and the Sultan seemed to enjoy having a distraction from the endless stream of duties, as Najla knew he would. There would be a few new faces among this crowd, mostly those of Najla’s family who had been admitted to see her sentence the Servant, and Osman, who was within the cluster of the Sultan’s advisors. 

When Ketill would enter, the guards would not release him, a precaution drawn from his outburst the time before. Najla said nothing, merely watching as he would be forced to kneel before them once more, and her gaze did not leave Ketill as her uncle spoke up.

[i]<“Najla dear, you have decided what to do with him?”>[/i]

[i]<“I have, Sultan.”>[/i] 

Najla stood at this. She had wanted a chance to explain to him, but it seemed she’d have to make the request first. It would have made her more nervous to ask, but this was her family, her court, and her prisoner now. Her will would be followed eventually, and Najla was certain she could withstand whatever consequences followed. Najla turned to her uncle, then took his hand. She did not bow, but leaned down just enough to kiss his golden rings softly before making her request.

[i]<“Uncle, I know better than most that this man is a savage. I know how he insulted you.”>[/i] With that, she released his hand, and straightened up, looking back at Ketill briefly as she spoke. [i]<“But I would not have been here if not for his savagery. I told you of the men in the camp, who threatened me?”>[/i]

[i]<“Yes, you said he hit you as well.”>[/i]

[i]<“He did.”>[/i] She touched her cheek gently at that, as if remembering the bruising, but perhaps it would provide a hint as to what she was speaking of. [i]<“He would have done it again, and worse, if not for the Servant. He broke a Monarchist’s jaw and nose for a Sawarim slave. It was the first time he saved my life, but it would not be the last. As his savagery was a mercy to me before, I ask for the same now. Uncle, I ask you to grant the Servant life.”>[/i]

Whatever the Sultan’s court had been expecting, it had not been that. Many gasped, openly shocked, and a slow rumble of whispers began at the lower levels. Where she stood, she could see Osman stiffen, and though he seemed as if he wished to speak to her, a look from Najla would keep him seated. Najla did not let the noise continue for long, and as she continued to speak, the throne room quieted.

[i]<“I ask for the mercy he granted me uncle, and no more. Let him live as I did, as a slave to a foreign land. He is not a man that fears death, uncle, or else he would not have insulted you as he did. I would not let him die believing he is a martyr. Allow him to die as I once thought I would, when I prayed I would have slit my throat before my capture.”>[/i]

[i]<“Najla dear, you were the one who suffered under the Monarchists, and as such, I granted this to you. But do you truly believe it wise?”>[/i]

[i]<“Uncle, I suffered under the Monarchists. This is true. They are not a people who know mercy well, not to those who refuse their false gods. But for all that I suffered under Monarchists, I did not suffer under the Servant. I was never beaten, never touched, never humiliated. We praise our God as merciful, so if our god preaches mercy, and I do not show it, I place myself farther from my god than a Servant. This is not something I will allow myself to do. Let me show him all the mercy he showed me, and let him see just what it is worth.”>[/i]

One of the advisors leaned in now, a cousin of Najla’s, and when she glanced back at him she could see that Osman was angry. He had assumed her decision had been to end it as he would have done, and Najla had not cared to correct him before today. He’d be angry later, but Najla was his Sultana now, not his lover, and she’d make sure to remind him of that. 

[i]<“To keep him alive could be seen as betraying our faith, is this-”>[/i] Her cousin had spoken in a whisper, likely so as to keep this from the rest of the crowd, but he would not be able to get far regardless.

[i]<“I did not betray my faith in all my time under the Monarchists, you think I return to do so now? Refusing him mercy would betray our faith, for I will not demand blood where the Servant did not demand mine.”> [/i]

[i]<“Najla, what do you propose we do with him then? He can fight, but we cannot put a weapon in a beast’s hands.”>[/i] Her cousin’s voice rose with this new point, not in anger, but to allow the other advisors a chance to speak. 

[i]<“Perhaps we could make him a eunuch?”>[/i] This suggestion came from a familiar voice, and Najla was quick to reply, glaring at Osman before he could finish.

[i]<“[b]No.[/b] I will not see him mutilated.”> 

<“Then what, Sultana? Keep him as a pet?”>

<“No. Have him serve me, as I did him.”>[/i]

Before any of the advisors could argue this time, it was the Sultan that spoke up. He raised a hand, silencing the advisors and Najla, though his gaze was on Ketill when he spoke. [i]<“No, Najla. I will not have him serve you. He is a violent man, I did not forget how he acted here before. You have just been returned to us, I will not risk your life for a Servant’s.”>[/i]

[i]<“Uncle, if he wished to hurt me, he would have done it before. The Servant will not hurt-”>[/i]

[i]<“No. I will not risk your life.”>[/i] It seemed there was no further debate on this, and Najla glanced at Ketill swiftly, before turning her gaze back to the Sultan. She moved to sit then, realizing the decision had been pulled out of her hands. It was up to the Sultan to see if he’d grant her request, and his gaze lingered on Ketill in silence before a smile began to cross his face. 

[i]<“I suppose the only thing lower than a Servant is a slave. I will grant you his life, Najla, but I will grant his service to your cousin, Tahir. He will be able to put the Servant to use, and if not, he is to oversee the construction of a new palace temple. Perhaps he would appreciate a Servant as a laborer. ”> [/i]

Najla nodded at that, smiling at her uncle. It was not the result she had hoped for, but Najla supposed it could get no better than this. [i]<“Thank you uncle.”>[/i] 

The decision having been made, one of the Sultan’s advisors stepped forward to handle the formalities once more. The Sultan returned to conversing with Najla in lowered voices, while an advisor stepped forward. 

[i]<“Have him cleaned and fed. Give him new clothes and send him to Tahir.”>[/i] As the advisor was instructing the guards, Najla was standing from her seat, kissing her uncle on the cheek gently.

[i]<“You are cruel to abandon me to my duties, Najla dear.”>[/i] Her uncle joked, smiling widely. [i]<“Your company was appreciated.”>[/i]

[i]<“Father wished to take me riding to practice archery soon, please abandon your duties someday so that you can join us. I have much to relearn, so long as you promise not to laugh, I would be grateful for your company.”>[/i]

The Sultan laughed at that, and nodded. [i]<“I can make no such promise, but I hope to join you regardless.”>[/i]

Najla began to walk down the stairs, clearly in high spirits. Her uncle’s jokes and promises had left her with a smile on her face, and knowing that her will was about to be carried out, even if not to the fullest intent, had eased her conscience some. She stopped some steps before Ketill, making certain to be out of his reach, and her smile died somewhat as she looked upon him again. Perhaps he had guessed his sentence, and perhaps he hadn’t, but Najla would explain quickly before passing him. 

[i]“You’ve been granted your life, Servant. Make me regret this and I’ll make you regret it more.”[/i] 

The guards would keep Ketill held down and out of her reach as she passed them on the stairs, though if he wanted to speak or spit, she’d be within a close enough range. Just after her, some of her family had stood as well, though they would wait until the savage had been cleared from their path before they began to walk. 
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