A Woman's Fate

["Felizia al-Bahir" <felizia@angelfire.com>]

1/17/02
Where the Great Houses vie for power in the Padishah Imperium....


The Citaonica -- Bajazet Embassy (Kaitain)

        Part reading room, part office, and part salon, the Citaonica is one thing above all else: private. The Sultan's own guards stand ready at the three exits from the room, and a handful of them are clustered against the far wall to serve in the event of any threat. They seem to crowd the small room, but none of its other occupants seem to notice them much.

        The Citaonica resembles the Chamber of Sultans in its homey, if somewhat spartan decoration. Thick rugs hang from the walls, covering them entirely behind abstract weaves of red and gold. A modest desk with a high-backed chair behind it appears to be the Sultan's workplace; papers, a few writing implements, a book or two, and even a communications device are arrayed upon its surface. A bright glowglobe is tethered to the edge of the desk, it's control pad neatly kept in the corner. A guard remains behind the chair at all times, a security precaution.

        Twin sofas have also been tucked into the corner for the few guests that the Sultan allows in here during more relaxed times: close family, mostly. Several books are stacked on a table nearby for casual perusal.

Players:

 Muradin                                            Ruhail

Exits:

 Darkwood Door <E> leads to Chamber of Sultans -- Bajazet Embassy (Kaitain) 

 Thick Tapestry <N> leads to Sultan's Court -- Bajazet Embassy (Kaitain)

        The Sultan and Muradin sit at his desk; the Sultan has what could be called a black frown upon his lips. He says nothing as Felizia appears.

Muradin motions towards Felizia, to take a seat near him, "Come here Felizia...my father would wish to speak with you."

Felizia enters silently, expression set in grim lines. Her eyes don't even lift from the floor, though she bows low with her usual gestures. Clad only in a simple chemise, with her hair hanging loose behind her, she pads over on bare feet to where she has been told to sit.

        The Sultan regards Felizia's state with an even deeper frown, if one can imagine it. "Tell me of Nuala, Felizia."

Muradin turns and watches Felizia enter, with some mixture of emotions in his eyes, then waits, and listens.

"She came to me, the night before she was found," Felizia begins immediately, having known she would be asked such a question. She stares down at her hands in her lap, not meeting the gaze of either man. Her quiet voice continues in an even cadence, "She told me she could not bear it anymore, the guilt she felt, and wished to make some peace with things before she went to Allah, if her soul might be permitted that far. She said she wished only to help me, since she knew of my feelings towards the Sultana, and how.. how I had once wished she might die. She said she'd tampered with the Sultana's food, and made her sicken. It was not long after that, that she died. When she realized what she'd done, she started to come forward, but, she kept quiet to protect me. I asked her to wait until morning, and we would both come speak to you, most beloved Sultan. I asked that she make her peace with the one who was wronged. She said she would think on it. But in the morning, she was dead."

        "As I had thought you would say." The Sultan's frowning lightens a moment, then returns anew. "I am moved to question, Felizia, why a simple girl of the harim would be moved to perform such a...political act. Surely some seditious whispering must have reached her to start her on this path."

Muradin turns towards his father, a bit wary as to why he is going this route. The culprit has been revealed...let it go.

"I complained to Nuala," Felizia answers quietly. "I complained to her, about the meddling of the Sultana in my affairs with my sister, and about the way she treated me. And, I complained about how Master Muradin disliked her, and his reasons. Nuala was the only one I voiced such things to. She... was in many ways, like a sister to me. And I to her."

        The corner of his lips tug harder. "And tell me, Felizia, why could you not come to me about such things? Am I not your Sultan? More than that, have I not love you as a father since you have come to this house? Have I not given you freedom?"

Muradin holds up his hand for a moment, "Father...surely Felizia has been through enough. She has revealed what she knows...and the culprit is facing her eternal justice..."

The woman's head droops even lower. "I did not feel my personal issues with the Sultana were worthy of your time and attention, my Sultan. The personal squabbles of the Seraglio... rarely leave the Seraglio. I did not expect that Nuala would feel moved to action simply by my inconsequential whimpers..."

        He looks between the son and the concubine, frowning, thoughtful. "Yes, Muradin, you are correct - she has been through much. But what of the House? Though you had no love of Sarina, she was my wife, and this assassination has left a vaccuum in our societal framework not easily or smoothly filled. How best can I mete out justice when it lies at the root of a woman's unhappiness?"

Muradin starts to speak, to answer, and then catches himself. His answer will most likely cause his father more distress, not less. He rethinks a response and develops another, "Father...I know you grieve, even still, but Felizia is not responsible..."

<<And that harpy plagues us, even in death! I wish I'd never set eyes on her!>> Felizia's thoughts whirl in her head, though her head remains lowered, and her lips pressed together to hold her silence. Her eyes even drift lightly closed. What will be, will be... she's accepted it.

        "Would you be so ready to dismiss it were you of the public, Muradin? Anywhere else in my realms she would be executed as an instigator." Oh yes, this is indeed a sticky issue - much more so than anything Ruhail would wish to face in even his best days. "So what can be done in order to soften things? Certainly, the entirety of Nuala's family has been dishonored, and the law dictates their executions. But what of Felizia? I cannot allow her to direct the seraglio now."

Muradin sighs, looking over to Felizia, then back to his father, "I gave Felizia my word I would protect her, and see that no harm came to her in this. She was not a conspirator...merely disliking and even wishing ill to another is nothing we can punish, only Allah can." He looks back at Felizia, "And I cannot allow the mother of Halil to be so shunned."

        "Be careful in the future, Muradin," replies the Sultan, "That you do not make promises you have not the position to enforce. But you are correct. If I were to punish Felizia for merely disliking Sarina..." A pause, and he lifts his hands a bit, "...I would surely have to punish you as well. Nevertheless, I cannot allow Felizia to further direct the seraglio - she has too much influence over them, our domestic enemies would say. We will give her the opportunity to resign the post, and she shall remain your concubine. Perhaps in the future, once this has all dampened down, we might be able to install her yet again. But not now."

She finds her voice, apparently, saying quietly, "Master Muradin has said already I am no longer his concubine."

Muradin looks over at Felizia, then nods back at his father, "She speaks the truth father...what she wants from me, I am unable to give, and I care for her, so deeply, that I cannot bear to cause her more pain."

        He nods. "Then she shall be the Lady al-Bahir, free to choose her own fate in accordance with the laws of our House and the laws of Allah." Ruhail looks to her then, his dark eyes still with buried sorrow. "You will tell us your desires, Lady."

Muradin nods once, turning to Felizia, to hear her wishes, but he speaks to Ruhail, "Thank you...father."

Stunned, Felizia sits very still a moment. But she swallows thickly against the lump in her throat. When she finally finds she can speak again, there is a definite tremble to her voice. "I.. have failed. I have failed Nuala, I have failed my teacher, I have failed Master Muradin, I have failed even the Sultana... and I have failed you, my Sultan. I do not feel worthy of such a thing. You said so yourself, I should be punished for my deeds, I should be executed. This embassy is still your realm, my Sultan, and I.. I cannot ask for special treatment. I would ask that tradition, and law, be upheld. Blood... was required, you had said. It should be mine, then. I spoke to Nuala of things I should have kept between myself, and Allah."

        "Blood will be spilled quite enough!" barks the Sultan. "I will not have any more death in my House this year, Felizia. You will stop this...this sputtering - you were not responsible for this. Nuala was. And now, she burns in eternal torment and her family will all be put to the sword. This is more than enough satisfaction for the Law, and may Allah be merciful upon me for bidding the headsman's blade swing so many times. You know as well as I that she had a larger family than most."

Muradin turns, a little surprised, but perhaps, strangely pleased with his father's adherance to the traditions and ways of the house. He turns to Felizia, reaching out a hand towards her, "Felizia...listen to my father. I told you I would protect you...listen to me now. Let it go...you did nothing wrong."

Felizia jerks at the raised voice, but her head does not lift. Not immediately, anyways. She inhales deeply, her shoulders even moving as she does so, and, in a very uncharacteristic outburst, she raises her head to look both father and son in the eye. "What would you have me choose then?!" She trembles visibly, her cheeks and eyes glistening wetly. Only pausing for a short breath, she continues only a little more quietly, "What else am I to do? All my life, I have been a slave. It was what I was trained to be, and nothing else. I was a gift that was hardly even looked at, and touched not at all by its recipient! Then, I am freed, and given and bound to a man who doesn't even want me as Concubine. Am I to be passed from hand to hand for the rest of my life? Always wondering if someone might /ever/ want me? I don't even know what to do with myself, outside of the Seraglio and this embassy. I just.. I just.. I just want to /be/ what I am." Anything else she might have said is choked off as she slumps down in her chair, her hands covering her face to smother her sobs.


        "And what are you, Felizia?" THe Sultan's voice is tender, but firm. "Tell us what you would be."

Muradin remains quiet....letting Felizia and Ruhail do the talking...for now.

Felizia sniffles behind her hands, then shakes her head. "Every time I start to think I am something, it is taken from me. I don't know what to be anymore. All I know is that I am not wanted here."

Muradin stops his father, before he continues, with a gesture. "You are wanted Felizia...I have never said otherwise."

"Stop confusing me!" Felizia darts a glare at Muradin. "You tell me you don't love me, and I am not your concubine, and then you say you do want me. Stop it! I don't want to hear it anymore!"

        "Felizia. Muradin is right," says Ruhail then, his voice ever gentler. "You are wanted here - you are the single brightest point in my life, in these times. It is because you have been tossed about that I wish to do this, to allow you to make the choice you have not been given before."

Muradin nods at his father's words, "I have told you that I know not the love you want from me...that I do not want you as a concubine...but I have never said I do not want you Felizia. I care for you, more than any woman in my life..."

Felizia shakes her head, as she rubs at her eyes. "You both are so confusing... I wish... I wish things could be like they were, when I first got here. Everything was so much simpler then... I knew my place, and I knew what was expected of me..."

        The Sultan's hands come up, supplicating. "Enough. Let us sleep tonight, my children, and we will speak of this tomorrow. Too much fire is in your blood of the moment."



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