Diaco’s “feasts” after fights soon became a normal part of his expected routine, though Diaco began having Sayid trained in other areas of operation when he wasn’t fighting, in reward for his success and obedience. He learned to read and write, learned how to interpret maps, and a variety of other skills and knowledge. Diaco sometimes assigned him other jobs, thievery or mercenary work, when there were longer gaps between fights. Luck seemed to follow him in these new areas of work as well, surviving more than one incident that should’ve spelled his death. 

When he wasn’t actively working Sayid would drink to further numb the emotions he worked hard to block out. Telling himself as long as he was alive that was good enough. Though the embers of resentment smoldered in his bones. He loathed the “feasts” he obediently tolerated and despised the wealthy guests with their hungry eyes and empty praise. Those were the moments he felt most like some pet or livestock, to be fought and bred. 

One night a couple of days before his next fight he sat on his cot with his back leaned against the wall, drinking to prepare himself for the usual routine to come. He glanced toward the doorway at the sound of footsteps, watching Roj carry in a tray of food and more wine with glassy eyes. 

“Just leave it there and get out.” He muttered, nodding to the small table beside his bed before turning his gaze away and taking another swallow from his cup. He heard the tray set down, but when the footsteps didn’t retreat Sayid turned to snarl. “I SAID GET-” When he turned Sayid was met with the swing of a dagger, twisting his body to avoid it getting embedded in his chest but it knicked his side. Roj’s eyes were wide, clearly not having anticipated the drunk warrior to still move with such speed. The older man backed away quick as Sayid scrambled to get to his feet, seeing red and ready for a fight.  

“What d’you think you’re trying to pull?” Sayid growled, swaying a bit on his feet from the alcohol, grabbing the tray and flinging it at his assailant. 

“Damn it.. c’mon..” Roj muttered, ducking around the thrown tray and taking another wary couple of steps back. 

“The fuck are you whispering about? You wanna fight?! Come on!” Sayid hissed and launched himself at Roj, tackling him to the ground. Sayid was larger and a more skilled fighter, swiftly disarming the other man and then began to swing, punching the older man. He was ready to keep beating Roj to death, so focused he didn’t immediately notice the feeling of pins and needles spreading through his limbs as the paralytic Roj had used on the dagger as insurance began to spread through his system. Sayid’s blows gradually became less controlled until his limbs no longer responded properly, slumping onto the beaten man. Trying to bite, to still do anything to fight to keep himself alive.

Roj was bleeding and was sure he had broken ribs, but knew his window was running slim, shoving at Sayid to get the warrior off him and scrambling to retrieve the dagger. “It’s nothing personal, Sayid. Just business.” Roj said, gripping Sayid’s hair and bringing the blade to his throat. A ripple of fear ran through Sayid knowing death was imminent. Before the edge could bite through the soft flesh of his throat there was a hard crack and the dagger clattered to the floor again as Roj fell back reeling from a blow. Above him, Sayid could see Kochar in the corner of his periphery, the older man bristling with rage.

Kochar leaped on Roj, fighting to restrain and pin him as he screamed out for the other guards. Sayid struggled to try to turn his head to see. He could hear numerous footsteps growing louder as others hurried to the commotion. Roj wrestled with Kochar, trying to squirm free. Like Sayid, Kochar was bigger and more skilled, but Roj was younger and desperate to try to make an escape. Sayid saw the second it happened, just one momentary mistake, but it gave Roj the opening he needed to reach the dagger. Sayid tried to wheeze a warning, but it was too late to do anything but watch as Roj plunged it up into the underside of Kochar’s jaw. Kochar’s screams for assistance cut off, his eyes bulging as he clawed at Roj, still trying to keep him restrained. Roj pulled down on the dagger, trying to drag it down the length of the older man’s throat. The other guards reached his room, hastily restraining Roj. 

Diaco wasn’t far behind the guard, his gaze sweeping the room with a surprised expression that quickly grew to fury. “What is going on here?!” He demanded.

“I was bringing Sayid’s meal and caught Kochar in the act of trying to kill Sayid! I think the blade was poisoned, Sayid was having trouble fighting him off when I found them.” Roj hastily lied. Kochar twitched and writhed as he bled out, his eyes fixed on Roj. Sayid wanted to tell Diaco that Roj was lying but it was getting hard just to breathe with the paralytic still coursing through his system, saliva running from the corner of his mouth. 

Diaco’s eyes widened at the mention of poison, “Get Sayid to the infirmary immediately!” He shouted and people jumped to do as he said. As he was carried away Sayid blacked out as his respiration slowed. 

When Sayid woke Diaco was sitting beside him, watching over him with a concerned expression. When Diaco saw he had come around his face smoothed and the familiar smile pulled into place. “I was concerned I had lost you, my lucky gem.” He cooed in that syrupy sweet tone Sayid loathed, stroking the warrior’s hair.

“I wouldn’t be very lucky if I died,” Sayid murmured.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t be.” Diaco chuckled briefly before his expression turned more serious. “I need to ask you something. Roj claims when he brought your meal that he found Kochar trying to kill you. Is this true?” 

“No,” Sayid shook his head, “Roj tried to kill me. Kochar knocked him off me before Roj could slit my throat.” 

“I thought so.” Diaco nodded, satisfied with the confirmation. 

“And Kochar?” Sayid asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer. 

“Dead. He didn’t survive his injuries.” Diaco said, no hint of emotion for the lost guard in his words. 

“I see..” Sayid frowned. One mistake and the mentor he knew was no more.

“I’m going to have Roj interrogated to find out why he tried to kill you. Once I have my answers I will allow you to choose how to dispose of him.” Diaco said. 

“Yes, sir. Gladly.” Sayid said. He did want to kill Roj. To watch the life pour out of him like it had Kochar. 

“Always so good for me.” Diaco smiled wider, leaning in and kissing Sayid deeply. Sayid let him do as he pleased, opening his legs for Diaco as the other man pushed the blanket down and moved on top of him in the infirmary bed. Sayid was already nude beneath the blanket and Diaco wasted no time touching and teasing him, grinding against him, pulling sounds of pleasure that were muffled in the kiss. When Diaco parted from his lips to lick down his neck Sayid stared up at the ceiling, thinking about how he was going to kill Roj. 

“Only I decide when you die. You belong to me, my lucky gem. No one will ever take you from me.” Diaco gasped, his breath hot against Sayid’s ear as he lined himself up and thrust into the warrior beneath him. Sayid did what was expected, moaning and moving his body, but his mind was far away. He felt cold to the soul. The only one here he had ever allowed himself to feel a sense of camaraderie with was gone. Once Diaco had finished inside him he was fawned over and pet a bit more before the man left Sayid to rest for a bit before being returned to his normal quarters. 

A few days later Sayid was informed the next fight had been called off, but was still dressed up and instructed to report to the main building the evening after the fight had been supposed to happen. When he arrived he was met with a sight quite different than normal. The usual parties were there drinking and feasting, but at the center of the room, Roj and two of the rich people he recognized were bound in kneeling positions and gagged. Roj looked the worst for wear, missing fingers, toenails, and ears. Strips of missing skin here and there along his back and arms. Beside the three was a table with an assortment of weapons and torture implements laid out.  Sayid arched a brow, looking at Diaco. 

“We have some special entertainment this evening.” Diaco smiled, “You see, these two are the culprits. Since they couldn’t condition decent warriors capable of defeating you they paid off Roj to attempt to kill you.” 

Sayid stared at the three, narrowing his eyes. “May I begin, sir?” Slowly moving toward the table of implements and looking them over. 

“You may,” Diaco nodded, “Give our guests a good show and make an example of what happens to those who attempt to take what’s mine.” He said, giving a pointed look to the other wealthy folk. 

Sayid knew this was more about sending a message to the other rich folk, but he would take it if it meant he could get revenge. He took his time with them, starting with the two wealthy folk. He wanted to save Roj for last, to watch him squirm as he waited for death to come. In the pit, he was focused on ending his opponents as quickly as possible before they could do so to him, but here Sayid got his first taste of indulgent cruelty. There was something intoxicating, being the one in control. He wondered if this was what Diaco felt when he used others. The first he peeled the skin off from head to ankle, sticking the skinning knife into their gut when he was done. Taking salt from the table of food when he’d finished, dumping it into his hands, and grinding it into the eyes and exposed facial muscles of his victim. 

The second he took a heavy hammer, shattering the bones in their hands and then knees and shins first before forcing them to a kneeling position. Sayid stared into Roj’s eyes as he undid his pants and gripped the hips of the wailing rich man on his knees, thrusting into him viciously. Thriving off the fear he saw in Roj’s eyes. When he was close he moved his hands from the rich man’s hips to his neck, strangling him to death as he finished. When he was done he dropped the dead man and reached for the blade he’d left in the other’s belly, dragging it across to spill their guts as he pulled the knife free. 

“Now you…” Sayid growled as he moved to Roj, grabbing a fistful of his hair with his free hand. Sayid leaned close, staring into Roj’s eyes, and very slowly pushed the knife into the soft underside behind his jaw in the same spot Kochar had been stabbed and then just as slowly dragged it down and across. Holding him still as spurts of arterial spray turned the silk tunic that hung from Sayid’s shoulder bright red. He watched the life fade from him as it had from Kochar, only dropping him when his twitching and ragged gasping ended. Staring down as he stood over him. 

“Well done, my lucky gem. Come here to me.” Diaco praised, drawing Sayid’s gaze from the bloody mess. Diaco sat with his pants undone, stroking himself slowly. Sayid moved as he was beckoned, straddling Diaco’s lap and seating himself. As Diaco and the other wealthy people set about their normal entertainment using him Sayid stared at the bodies. The taste of power lingering on his tongue.