[Flashback] The Concubine-in-Training (ha'na & ifran)

[Ifran]

"Within reason," he said, seemingly amused. "You will never be Pressorah of the Eypharians, but I think Rabat's wife has already guided you toward a new set of ambitions. Surely these are not the ambitions into which you were born." A grape. Two grapes. One had to remain hydrated in the desert city. "Wisdom and clear-thinking are necessary to rise to meet one's ambitions, but fortune does favor the bold. Or so history would teach us."

[Hana]

“The only ambitions I’ve ever had were to get married to a good man and have a family,” she said quietly. There was a tiny shrug of delicate shoulders at what she said. She peered up at him curiously as she leaned over, taking up a piece of fruit for herself. It was placed into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed before she added, “Those don’t seem very reasonable anymore… Perhaps I do need new ambitions.”

[Ifran]

"You are more ambitious than I thought," he said, chuckling. "I have never met a good man." That said, he left the food behind and crawled into his bed, only recently vacated by the Benshira beauty. His sandals fell off his feet and onto the floor before he turned and sat with his back to the headboard.

[Hana]

“Are you not a good man, Lord?” she asked innocently. Her attention traveled with him, a small smile curling onto the very corner of her lips. She wondered if the heat rising in her face was noticeable, and for a moment she was worried that she would faint again if she couldn’t keep herself calm. But then he climbed onto the bed. She silently panicked. And though she was terrified of the situation, she knew those taking care of her would be very upset if she was to displease Lord Ifran. However, she didn’t know what to do. After a moment of lingering behind, she moved slowly towards the bed, lingering at the side of it as she nearly whispered, “Your eyes are too kind to be a bad man…”

[Ifran]

"I suppose it depends on my judge, Ha'na. Good man, bad man... just a man? Time will tell." He didn't beckon her closer, but merely waited to observe whether her own nature would draw her closer as he surmised, and to watch her strung between her self and the training with which Rabat's wife was inculcating her.

[Hana]

After a bit of hesitation, she took a seat on bottom corner of the bed. She peered up at him, looking him over and seeming to weigh out either his body or the situation she was in. Or both. She was so young, and there was an aura of tired innocence about her that only seemed to grow with each lesson taken instead of vanishing. But she was in training, and she wasn’t the most inexperienced. “I think, perhaps… If you are a good man, to find a way to please you would be my ambition,” she said softly, tipping her head to the side. Her hand caught his foot, thumb pressing into the arch before she twisted to cup his heel, holding him there. She bent down, pressing her mouth against the inside of his ankle. For a moment she simply sat there, breathing against his skin with warm breath. She ran her lips there, catching the bottom one against the curve of bone and skin. Her blue eyes continued to watch him, attempting to gauge his reaction. What she said was the truth, even as she whispered, “But if you are a bad man… My ambition would be to be your savior.”

[Ifran]

The smile that crossed his face and traversed the space between them was almost sweet, almost sick, and almost despairing. Almost bowing before him was a good woman, a pure woman, though she would not in all modesty call herself such. He could recognize her goodness, even understand it to a point: she was the hidden oasis in the desert. He could despoil her or keep her safe from others who would despoil her; he couldn't find the faith in his soul to believe in the strength of her purity. Intellectually he understood the strength in the branch that bent, the control of the person who yielded, but to have faith in Ha'na was to have faith in something beyond even the gods, who were neither perfect nor perfectly good. "You are too good for me," he said, then hesitated. It was not a theatrical pause. "Do you wish to stay with me tonight?"

[Hana]

She peered up at him for another long moment. Too good for him? She clearly didn’t believe that statement. In fact, she was rather sure it was the other way around. If she was too good… If she was good at all, she wouldn’t have been there. She would have been in Yahebah, married to some farmer who she would learn to love eventually. Instead she was there. Intellectually she almost understood that far too many women would have killed to be exactly where she was. In their dreams they had heard him say what he’d just said to her. But there was still that part of her, that sad little piece, that wasn’t happy enough with what she was being offered. She wanted more. She wanted what she couldn’t have. But still she crawling up his leg, kissing his skin here and there. This is what they wanted her to do. This is what, in a way, she wanted to do. She skipped up to his arm, grazing the tip of her tongue against it, up to his neck and then his ear to whisper, “I want nothing more than to stay with you…” No one could have taught her the lessons she already seemed to know.

[Ifran]

He smiled at her, bemused for a moment. If she was truly a spy of some sort, she was the best he had ever seen. Surely Rabat's wife could not have taught her what she already knew. Yet no traditional Benshira woman became a concubine without giving up more of her culture than Ha'na had. She was, then, a mystery to unravel. Skillfully, he used all six hands to lay her bare; she was indeed beautiful, an Eypha fit for a Royet, a pliable doll in the hands of a puppeteer. He too kept his eyes on her, gauging her reaction even as he appreciated each bit of cloth drawn back like the petals of a flower until he hovered over her like a hungry honeybee. Hands caressed her, all six. Even his toes flexed against hers. "May you not live to regret it," he said, and claimed her mouth.

[Hana]

She parted her lips, taking in the taste of his kiss as if experiencing some wondrous sweet for the first time in her life. There had been no protest to the removal of her dress, some great Eypharian invention meant to make her more beautiful, but once nude she shivered and shook as if freezing in the desert. She broke the kiss, moving her mouth over his jaw towards his ear. Her trembling arms wrapped about him tightly as if she had any strength to keep him pressed against her. And while she had watched him carefully through the kiss, she closed her eyes once she could safely take them off of him. It was only then that she whispered almost pitifully for only him to hear, “Please, Ifran… I am yours. I will be only yours if only you’ll have me… Don’t make me go back to them. I want to stay with you. I want to be yours…”