[quote=@Odin]
[i]“You fucking rat, I’ll fu- [b]AGH.[/b]”[/i] Ketill’s words were echoed out by the shouts of the three men beating up on him. He didn’t stand a chance in all honesty, barely being able to defend himself against the slave master, let alone the guards that had ran in to help him. The kicks in his side meant that he couldn’t even lift his hands to punch back or try to wrestle with the man on top of him. The continuous beating in his face was enough to make him spit blood, and slowly his sight became hazy. The beating seemed to last forever, but ultimately was cut short. The shout of a familiar voice stopped the men, and they quickly got off of Ketill, leaving him in the sand covered tiling of the courtyard. 

He laid there, momentarily, looking up at the sky. He waited. One second… two seconds… three seconds… the men did not return, and he was not spoken to. The only sounds he heard were the faint talking in the distance – a female voice speaking to a male. Tahir and… someone. 

He rolled over onto his stomach and placed down his hands onto the tiles, stumbling to get up, but not quite managing. As his attempt to get up failed, he merely looked up at Tahir, only to see who had accompanied him. It explained so much – no, everything. The reason he was beaten had to be to show her just how subservient he had become. So that she could sate herself – her own lust for his blood. But not take the blame for it, nor the moral questioning inside her own head. 

The thoughts filled his head and he began trying to get up again, stumbling at first before finally managing to do so. The dust from the tiles kicked up as he did, and even more so when he set his first steps towards her. He had barely taken his second step before she had walked away with Tahir, seemingly not interested in Ketill at all. [i]As would befit you, Sultana,[/i] Ketill thought to himself, stopping in his tracks there. There was no reason nor rationale behind chasing her into the home. What would he do there – draw a blade and stab her? No, that would be too easy. It’d be too simple to think he could do that. 

As she left, he simply stood there momentarily, before letting himself fall backwards, barely catching himself with his hands, though it offered him no more comfort. His back hit the ground hard and he only just managed to stop his head from hitting the tiles. And so he laid there, watching the burning sky for some time before his eyes closed. Not out of free will, nor because he was tired – because his wounds had made him weary, rather. 

Over the course of the day he was dragged back to the slave quarters by the slavemasters, who found him to be a nuisance more than anything at that point. He slept until next morning, his face beginning to get swollen and the new cuts and bruises on his sides clearly being visible on his bare chest. 

When she entered the quarters, she’d find that the masters had awakened Ketill earlier, who was now sitting in the corner against the wall – a similar posture he had had in the cell, but yet [i]different[/i]. No longer with that brazen look in his eyes, the one that spelled he’d get back at Najla no matter what the cost. This look was renewed – revengeful for certain, but no longer yearning for death. He’d long surpassed that feeling of wanting to die. For the moment, he felt like an empty shell that lived day to day, not quite knowing what he did every day. 

He remembered building a palace with other workers, and being whipped every day. But he only remembered because the scars on his back had healed poorly and he could feel them when he tried to sleep. If it were not for that, he’d have forgotten that too.

But Najla’s face he could not forget, so when she stood there with Tahir first, and then alone with only the guards, he slowly got up. Seeing her face gave him that strength. It took him some willpower not to charge forwards like a wild beast, to rip her throat out. 

The guards were far too close for that – her sole protection. Coincidentally, it also made sure that they thought he was tamed. In retrospect, perhaps they had merely taught him how to pretend he was tamed. But he no longer believed in the Monarch – the one thing that gave him some respect for his enemies. He was a heathen again, true to himself and his heritage. The Gods above did not speak of respect for your enemies, only to kill them, after all. So he only had to pretend to be tamed, make them feel comfortable in their fake feelings of being safe within their own homes. Then he would take the chance, one day, and burn down the estate, slit their throats in their sleep.

His rather vengeful thoughts were interrupted by Najla, who spoke of mercy. He spat at the ground when she spoke of that. ‘Mercy’. He was certain she did not understand the kind of ‘mercy’ she had given him.

[i]“You were too scared to swing the sword, or to whip me for a year. Your brother would have done it, I am sure. You – no, not you. Instead, you surrendered me to this ‘Tahir’. You knew full well he was a brute, that he would beat me for days on end. But this way the decision and the actions were out of your hands – no need to blame yourself now, is there?”[/i]

She paid little mind to his words it seemed as she continued to speak to him, explaining what is what. She said she had no interest in causing him harm – as if she had not done that already. Her next words however, betrayed what was going to happen. Harmless to her, surely. To Ketill it only served to further his desire for revenge – he was not in his right mind, to be having these thoughts, but they were there none the less. His next words would thus surely surprise Najla. 

[i]“I see. That you may have many children then, o Sultana…”[/i]

[i]That I may hold them down and slit their throats while you watch,[/i] he added in his mind. He spoke his wishes for her with a smile, though not one out of kindness or happiness. Or, perhaps not happiness or kindness meant for her, more so for himself. 



[/quote]