[quote=@persianversion]
Najla watched the scene unfold before her as if in a dream. She did not hear the swings, nor Osman falling, all Najla heard was the deafening pounding of her own heart. Perhaps it was lucky that she was intoxicated, for she did not scream, not even as Ketill nearly reached her betrothed’s sword. It was only when the guard pulled Ketill back that the reality of the situation finally pierced through her haze, and Najla rushed off the bed. She stood quickly, intending to set the wine back on the table, but in her haste it would miss and clang to the floor. The stench of wine began to fill the room even as Najla rushed to Osman’s side. The guard would yank Ketill back, farther away from the Sultana even as she kneeled down beside Osman.
 
Both Ketill’s words and those of her guard rang distantly, nearly silent behind the heavy breathing of her lover. She rested one hand on Osman’s chest, as if comforting herself with the fact that it still moved, before turning to look up at Ketill. As she did, whatever fear was in her expression slowly faded, leaving it clear that it had not been meant for Ketill. For her slave, she held only anger and would spit this out harshly, even as she stroked her lover’s cheek gently.
 
[i]“You [b]fucking savage[/b]! What have you done?!”[/i]
 
She looked down at Osman again, stroking the hair out of his face as gently as she could. There was nothing she could do to help him, but worry would not allow her to leave his side. She considered calling for a healer, but a glance back up at Ketill and the guard was enough to allow Najla to realize it would be a bad idea. Right now, only the people in this room knew what had happened. She could allow the guard to drag Ketill to the dungeons, tell the world of what happened here, and Ketill would be punished heavily. It would not be too difficult to lie, to claim that Ketill and Osman met in a hallway, rather than her room, and perhaps she would be rid of a madman.
 
It seemed the easiest solution now, but even through the mist of drugs, drink, and worry, Najla knew better. She had vouched for the Servant. She had been the one to claim that he was tamed, that Tahir had done his job, she had even gone so far as to bring him to court before seeking the Sultan’s approval. It would be her name that suffered when they found out his crimes. Even worse, Osman was no royal. He was betrothed to a Sultana, but she would have to be the one to call for his death. Najla could not do so, not after she had given it to him before, though whether her conscious or court politics forbade her from this was unclear even to her. She sincerely doubted he’d die during any other punishment she could give, no matter how harsh it was. Letting this incident grow would be a mistake, Najla had realized this within moments, for while Ketill seemed beyond her control, Osman was not.
 
[i]“Senseless ass, you think you’ll get anything better than a beating now? I could have stopped a beating, not this!”[/i]

Najla did not look at Ketill as she spoke these words, for her gaze and touch were still upon her lover. Though her touch was gentle, her words and expression remained harsh when she finally looked back up at Ketill. She spoke through clenched teeth, and though her eyes were dulled and red, there was nothing but fury behind them.
 
[i]“[b]You[/b] are the only reason you’re here. I did not want you here. You told a man that you raped his betrothed, did you expect he would congratulate you? And to claim I wanted you again? He should have taken your useless cock for that insult, just like I should rip out your ugly barbarian tongue for lying.”[/i]
 
She looked down at Osman for a brief moment, satisfied that his breathing was steadying, before looking up at the guard. In her anger, she had ignored his question, but Najla wanted Ketill out of her sight. She had wanted to spend her engagement night with her betrothed and watch Osman sneak off as the sun rose, but now she would be praying he was not unconscious, at least not long enough to get them caught. Despite her threats, her command insinuated that Ketill’s fate would not be quite so harsh, though he would not understand just yet.
 
[i]<“Take him to the dungeons. Do not speak a word of this to anyone. If they should ask, tell them that I have ordered it, nothing more.”>[/i]
 
Najla could see the guard’s surprise, and had expected this, but Najla knew he would follow her orders. He was a man loyal to her, who not only respected her father immensely, but had learned that Najla was generous with those who kept her secrets. Careful not to jostle Osman, she reached towards where her dress lay on the floor, snatching two golden bracelets out of the fold. One was plain, while another held a detailed inscription, likely a blessing or protection of sorts, though Najla had never read it. While one hand returned to stroke Osman’s hair softly, she held the bracelets tightly in the other, resting them against her lover’s chest.
 
[i]<“For your silence. Go now, and return quickly.”>[/i]
 
She would need help lifting Osman into the bed, and had no intentions of leaving him on the floor the night of their engagement. Najla could not tell if he was unconscious, but she knew that when he rose, regardless of how many minutes had passed, he would be furious. Perhaps the drink would take his memory, but Najla did not dare to ask from such a far-fetched blessing from her God, especially not when it was partially to save the skin of a Servant. Though Osman’s temper would cause her grief later, the way Najla touched him now left no question as to how deeply she cared for him. To many men, that might have meant a worse punishment, but Najla knew her pain was likely causing Ketill some happiness.
 
[i]<“Should I return with a salve, Sultana?”>[/i]
 
Though Najla did not look up at the guard when she answered, his words caused her to reach out and pluck yet another bracelet from the pile. Something would have to be given to Osman in order to ease his wounds, but in her worry and anger, Najla had forgotten. It seemed that the guard would be rewarded for her forgetfulness, though Najla felt she would have thrown all her gold at him simply to get Ketill out before Osman rose.
 
[i]<“Yes, discreetly. Now go, I can’t stand to see his face any longer.”>[/i]
 
Even as the guard was dragging him out, Najla leaned down, resting her lips on Osman’s forehead for a moment. She would not look back on Ketill again as the guard began to pull him out, but her anger would fade as soon as she looked upon Osman again, replaced only by worry. Even her voice grew softer, though she did not doubt that they’d be able to hear still, her words a mixture of chastising and soft pleading for Osman to hurry and open his eyes.
 
[i]<“You foolish, proud drunk, hurry. Ya Sawarim, hurry. Please, my love.”>[/i]
 
[hr]
 
Osman would wake just before the guard arrived, leaving Najla to help him sit up and return to the bed on her own. When the guard finally returned, she took the salve and passed him the gold bracelets as payment just before ordering him to return to his duties, or bed, if he had none. The interaction itself was swift and painless, but the explanation would not be, and Najla braced herself for this as she turned to Osman.
 
[i]<“You intend to keep this quiet? You’re not going to punish him?”>[/i] He spat the words from the bed, and moved to stand towards her, though Najla was quick to stop him.
 
[i]<“My love, sit. Don’t get angry, you need to-”>
 
<“You protect a savage over your husband, am I not allowed to be angry?! He struck me!”>[/i]
 
[i]<“I know, Osman.”>[/i] Najla’s voice was soothing as she returned to the bed, stepping over the puddle of wine she had left to settle beside Osman again. [i]<“I sent him to the dungeons. I intend to punish him, I do. I would never let such a slight go unanswered. But if you must speak, do so softly.”>[/i] She reached out and took his hand then, trying to calm him as always. [i]<“You will only cause yourself pain if you yell.”>[/i]
 
Suddenly, she felt the warmth of his hand leave hers as Osman snatched his hand back. Still, Najla would not give up so easily, for she could see that morning was near, and she would have little time to settle this with Osman and send him back to his wife. She scooted closer to him on the bed, her eyes tracing where Ketill’s fists had landed.

[i]<“I am thinking only of you. You know what would happen if they found you in my bed tonight.”>

<“You have been willing to risk it before.”>[/i]

Najla frowned then, and reached out to take his unbruised cheek in her hand. While her touch was soft, she would not allow Osman to pull out of her grasp this time. [i]<“Yes, to have you, not to punish a Servant. But we cannot act in anger, not now. I do not want to tell the court of how a Monarchist knocked my husband to the ground.”>[/i]

While Najla had smiled at this, clearly not intending to insult her husband, she could sense Osman tense under her grasp. He reached up and grabbed her wrist, forcing her hand away from his cheek. He did not let go now, and continued to grip it tightly, though it was not enough to hurt her, and so Najla would not react.

[i]<“I will tell the truth, if you wish. I will tell any truth you want me to. But you will not be able to hide that bruise, and people will ask. What would you have me tell them?”>[/i] She could feel his grip tightening, and his gaze was nothing short of furious when he looked upon her, but she would continue to speak regardless. [i]<“I could tell them you were drunk, that you slipped-”>[/i]

[i]<“Yes, go tell the court your betrothed is a drunken fool.”>

<“You were. I warned you.”>[/i] It was a mistake, Najla knew, and she could feel his grip crushing her wrist now. Releasing the salve, she reached her free hand towards him, digging her nails into the skin of his wrist. [i]<“I told you what kind of beast he was-”>[/i] Her words were interrupted again when his other hand reached up to pull her hand away. Though both of her wrists were trapped in his hands now, Najla would not fight back any longer, and her words would not stop. [i]<“He lied to you, he taunted you, all for this. Did you not hear his laughter when he first saw us? Do you think he didn’t want this? I want him punished for this, not you.”> 

<“I will not allow you to tell the court I am a worthless drunk. Not for a dog.”>[/i]

The weight of his hands on her wrists was unrelenting, and though Najla let out a small whimper, he would not release her. She had always been able to convince Osman before, despite his temper, and it worried her that she could not do so now. Had his pride been wounded so deeply? Najla could see that it had, though she knew it was not the blows that had done so. Whatever Ketill had said to him before had nestled in Osman’s mind.

[i]<“Osman, the Sultan will take him, he will return him to Tahir, after all I have said to bring him here. After all that Tahir has done for us, you would-?”>

<“Enough. You think I don’t know you better than that? You’ll keep talking until I can no longer remember wanting anything else. The dog will be punished for what he has done, and I will not be made the fool to see it happen.”>[/i]

[i]<“Fine.”>[/i] When Najla finally yielded, so did Osman. The tight grip of his hands eased at this, though Najla was not worried about the marks it was sure to leave behind. She was thinking only of the situation before her. When his grip had eased enough, Najla was quick to slip her hands out of his grasp, though she felt as if she could still feel their grip, and picked up the salve she had dropped. With an aggressive motion, she thrust it at Osman, pushing herself off the bed and out of his reach. [i]<“I told you, I’d tell whatever truth you wanted. Tell them he attacked you in the halls, that you fought the savage off valiantly, I don’t care. But you will not sully my reputation before the Sultan, for both of our sakes.”>[/i]

[i]<“Then what are you suggesting?”>[/i] Osman had pushed himself to sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly far less aggressive than before. Najla wondered if it was simply because she had acquiesced to his demands, but she could see the way his eyes rested on her wrists, almost as if he was remorseful now. This would not soften her heart however, for Najla quickly walked over to where Osman had stripped his clothes off before crawling into bed with her. She picked up his tunic with a hand, and flung it at him, watching Osman catch it before it fell into the wine on the floor.

[i]<“My uncle must know the truth, at least. I will tell him the truth, that you allowed your anger to override your judgement. And you will apologize to him.”>[/i] Osman moved to interrupt her then, but Najla would continue speaking, not allowing him to do so. [i]<“I know how my serpent’s tongue will confuse you, so I will not convince you. You know as well as I do that the Great Sultan holds my words in high regard, even if you do not. If you allow a slave to jeopardize the Sultan’s trust in me, you will have convinced me that you are an irredeemable fool.”>[/i] Osman began to pull his tunic on as he stood. He walked towards Najla even as he did so, though she would turn her gaze away from him in anger.

[i]<“You command me as if I am your slave. Should you not be speaking to me as gently as a wife to her husband?”>[/i] His words were slightly teasing, a notion which irritated Najla more than if had been angry with her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned her glare back to him, spitting out yet another command.

[i]<“I will be too busy fixing your errors to watch my words. If you want someone to coo over your wounds, return to Elif. Go. Before she wakes, your absence will be much harder to explain than your bruises.”>[/i]

[hr]

With Osman sent away, Najla fell asleep and would not rise until noon the next day. Sleeping in the stench of wine had given her a headache, as if the awful cocktail of drink and drugs had not done enough the night before. Combined with the events after her engagement, it was enough to leave Najla in an awful mood, though she would not allow herself to linger in this. Rather than head down to the luxurious baths she normally used, Najla called for a slave to draw one in her room, as well as finally clean up the mess from the night before. Thus, when she finally emerged from her room, there were no traces of the previous night in her demeanor or face, though it could not leave her thoughts.

She immediately set about meeting with her uncle, hoping that her voice would be the first he heard of the incident, but it would not be long before this hope was tainted. Apparently, Elif had awoken early to see the bruises, and Osman had told her the story of how the Servant attacked him in the hallway. It would not stay quiet for long, and Najla was nearly at the Sultan’s quarters before she was approached by one of the Sultan’s advisors, a cousin of hers, who kissed her cheek even as his slave bowed to her behind him.

[i]<“Congratulations again on your engagement, may your union be blessed.”>[/i] Once Najla had thanked him, any joyous talk of the celebrations the night before were cut short. She could only sigh at her cousin’s words now, for she knew what they were before he could even speak them.

[i]<“I would go visit uncle, he wants to speak with you.”>[/i]

Najla obeyed the Sultan’s wishes. She was allowed into his chambers without hassle, and was greeted with the sight of the Sultan reclining on some cushions, a couple of his wives around him. Some of his children played around him, either taunting the guards or each other. A girl about seven sat on the Sultan’s lap, but she would stand up instantly at the sight of Najla. She bowed to her uncle, and as she lifted her head, she was startled to see the young girl sprinting towards her. Najla reacted quickly, sweeping the young girl up in her arms with a grin. 

[i]<“Su’da, you frightened me!”>[/i] The young girl giggled, and Najla set her down quickly, kneeling down so she was eye level with her. [i]<“Aren’t you supposed to be at your lessons? What are you doing here?”>[/i]

[i]<“I was bored.”>[/i] Najla grinned even wider at the girls answer, though her eyes went to the Sultan. He motioned for her to join him, and Najla straightened, taking the young girls hand in hers. She sat facing her uncle, and moved Su’da so that the young girl was sitting in front of her. Softly, she took the girls long black hair in hers, braiding it aimlessly even as her uncle spoke to her.

[i]<“You came quickly.”>

<“Truthfully uncle, I was heading here before your command. I wanted to be the one to tell you the truth.”>

<“I see. I heard that the Servant violently attacked your betrothed on the night of your engagement. Is this not the truth?”>

<“Yes uncle, some of it.”>[/i] 

With that, Najla launched into some more of the truth. Not all of it of course, for she would not tell her uncle of how they had invited the Servant into her chambers, nor how she had begged Osman to hide this incident altogether. Instead, she told him that Osman had been drunk and let his anger get the best of him. Somehow, Najla managed to speak as if his endless harassment had only been out of devotion, both to his God and his wife-to-be, though she could not tell if her uncle believed her. They would dance around the topic of the beating itself, both well aware of the children scurrying around them, though the Sultan’s wives were trying to distract themselves from the conversation by tending to these children. Once the Sultan had been convinced that Najla truly wouldn’t be in danger, and they had discussed an appropriate punishment, Najla moved to ensure that Osman would do as she asked the night before.

[i]<“I did not bring the Servant here to cause you trouble, uncle, and I sincerely apologize for all that he has brought with him. Osman will come to you as well, I believe, I know he regrets his actions.”>[/i]

The Sultan laughed at that, and Najla could not help but grin as well. Though they were talking of her betrothed, Najla could hardly take insult to her uncle’s laughter, for she knew he was right. He’d punish Ketill today with a few lashes, perhaps spit another insult out at him as he did, but hopefully that would be it for some time. If the bruises had not taught him otherwise, surely the ordeal of apologizing and humbling himself before the Sultan would, especially now that he’d have no choice. 

[i]<“Will you punish him today?”>

<“Yes, I am tired of dealing with the Servant so often. I wish to return to my other business as soon as I can.”>

<“You must be excited, then.”> [/i]

Najla frowned for a moment, confused, before she realized what her uncle was saying. She had meant returning to her network, to the whispers she’d been hearing from tribes across the Sultanate, and the endless fight to have a solid contact in Coedwin. Her uncle had meant the wedding. Perhaps she would have corrected him, but Najla had far too much on her mind, and besides, she was just grateful her uncle trusted her judgement on this matter. 

[i]<“Yes uncle, very. I only hope my husband will not find another black eye at the wedding”>[/i]

The Sultan smiled widely at that, raising a glass in the air as if toasting lazily to her words. [i]<“May God will it so.”>[/i]

[hr]

It would be well into the afternoon when Ketill was finally brought out of the dungeons. This would be a blessing for some time, as the heat of the day had already passed. He’d be given a large ladle of water, but no more, just enough to keep up his strength for the ordeal ahead. No one would inform him of his sentence, but as he was dragged out of the dungeons and brought to the surface, there would be no question about what was to come.

It would likely be a familiar sight to Ketill. Situated somewhere between the guards barracks and where the palace laborers slept, there was an ugly, empty patch of sand with only a few posts set up. There was no question left as to their purpose, and though they were empty now, this was not always the case. Ketill would be dragged here, his arms tied up over his head, and left to wait under the blazing sun. It would not be long however, before the guards were joined by others.

First, a small crowd of slaves had gathered, curious about what was going to happen to the Servant, but most would disperse once more important people began to gather. First came Najla, and though her father was not present, her brothers were. Harith was an imposing figure, taller than the average Sawarim, with flashing eyes, an easy smile, and a curved sword against his hip. It was not ceremonial as many others were, and his scarred figure and crooked nose left little question as to how often he used it. He came with his wife Adina upon his arm, who did not look as if she wanted to be there. Najla was escorted by her younger brother Basim, a boy just edging out of his teens. He was nowhere near as imposing as his older brother, for he had nowhere near enough muscle to fill out his lanky frame. He carried no weapons besides a ceremonial dagger, for while he struggled to follow in the footsteps of his brothers and father, Basim was not a boy who understood or took to violence. 

They were followed by a few curious cousins, and finally, Osman would appear. The bruises on his face had been made far worse by the few hours that had passed. His eye was swollen and blue, his jaw now decorated with a growing green spot. It was a sight that would likely bring pleasure to Ketill, but Elif hung on his arm, watching these bruises with worried eyes. If Ketill had not understood why Najla had been left alone on the night of her engagement, Osman’s interactions with Elif would clear that up quickly. He would leave his young wife where the others stood, on a small platform that raised slightly above the sands. It was meant for the slavemasters to watch the punishments, and was too small for even this tiny portion of the royal family, but it seemed that Ketill had drawn a curious crowd. Osman and Harith walked off to speak to a couple of the guards, likely discussing the coming punishment. Meanwhile, Najla and her younger brother walked towards Ketill, ready to inform him of what was to come.

Najla walked across the sands slowly, lifting the hem of her dress so that the silk would not drag in blood-stained sands. Basim was far more eager than her to reach Ketill, and darted across the sands excitedly, nearly forgetting who he was meant to escort. Najla could only smile when he remembered and turned back, reaching his hand out to her. She took this gently, though she had to speed up her pace some to match her brothers before they reached Ketill.
 
[i]<“Ya Sawarim, would you look at him? No wonder Osman looks like such shit.”>[/i]

Najla reached out and slapped her brother's arm, causing him to grab it as if she had hurt him. Still, the wonder did not die out from his expression as he turned to look back up at Ketill, and Najla did not seem angry, only amused. Still, Basim would have to learn to speak more respectfully about his brother-in-law, though Najla doubted he would ever learn to bite his tongue.

[i]<“Hush, you’re not here to gawk. You’re not supposed to be here at all.”>[/i]

[i]<“Yes I am, father told me to.”>[/i] He could not tear his eyes off of Ketill, looking up at him as if he’d never seen a man before. [i]<“Does he speak our tongue? I want to ask him some questions.”>[/i] 

The amusement did not die off Najla’s face at that, though likely this was because she had barely looked at Ketill, despite the fact that he was only a few feet in front of her. Still, she could see Basim edging closer, and reached out to grip his elbow, pulling him back towards her.

[i]<“If you studied like you were supposed to, you could speak to him in his tongue. Now shut up for a minute, they’re nearly ready.”>[/i]

Basim made a face at her words, but would not approach Ketill again. He merely stood beside Najla, eyeing the Servant as she finally moved to look up at Ketill. The amusement had died off her expression quickly, for Osman would be approaching to deal out the punishment soon, and Najla did not want to be standing between him and the Servant again. It did not matter how incapacitated Ketill was, Najla still did not trust him.

[i]“You’ve been sentenced to twenty-five lashes. Ten for each blow, five for threatening the Sultan’s advisor. It is fair, no?”[/i] She studied his reaction curiously at that, but she would not speak with him for long before Osman began walking up. When Basim turned his head to see Osman approaching, Najla glanced back as well, only to look back at Ketill and speak to him quickly before her betrothed approached. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she spoke, and the thick bracelets that circled her wrist fell towards her elbow for a brief moment as she did. Thankfully, Basim could not seem to look away from Ketill, and would miss the brief, unwitting glimpse of Osman’s anger upon her wrists. 

[i]“I cannot protect you from everything, Ketill. If you cause any more trouble for me, I doubt I will be able to stop anything.”[/i]

She doubted the warning would be enough to keep him quiet, but it was partially true. She could continue to invoke her title and position for some time after this, if she wished, but Najla was running out of reasons to try. Najla took Basim’s hand then, forcing him to escort her away from Ketill before they were briefly stopped by Osman. He bowed to Najla and Basim, and from his interactions with Najla, it would seem that she held no anger towards him. He had apologized to the Sultan, though he had not wanted to. She had allowed him to punish her slave, though she had not wanted to. It would seem that this was enough, though Osman would not speak to Ketill as he passed by him, a long whip coiled in his hand. 

Najla allowed Basim to lead her back to the platform again, where she stood between her brother and Elif. The sounds of a prayer would come from behind Ketill, at which those before him would bow their heads, some mumbling along, others remaining silent. Seconds of silence followed this prayer, broken by the crack of a whip against skin.

She felt her brother flinch beside her, and Najla glanced over at him, though she would look back at Ketill just in time to see the whip strike his flesh for the second time. Again, she felt Basim flinch, and Najla reached out to take his hand, whispering in his ear even as her eyes were trained on Ketill.

[i]<“You must not react. They will notice.”>[/i] It was unclear who this ‘they’ was, but as part of the royal family, one had to assume this ‘they’ was everyone and everywhere. The crowd along the platform seemed to reflect this. Elif’s horror was apparent on her face, and even Harith’s wife Adina looked unhappy to be there, but beside them, Najla’s face was free of emotion. So was Harith’s, who had been used to this, but Basim had not yet seen his senses dulled to this violence. She felt his grip dig into her hand at another crack of the whip, but he did not flinch, and she looked up to see that his face was not reflecting his horror any longer. [i]<“Good. It will get easier.”>[/i]
[/quote]